WEEK 4!!!! Yay… week four… only me and my sister this week, Juju's still on vacation.
Throwing off Glass
In science class, seventh grade, the teacher taught the class about ducks. And how ducks, and most other birds, preened their feathers. This preening helped make the feathers waterproof, letting the drops of rain roll right off of them.
Later that year, in a meeting with the school's counselor, the woman had told Rick to let the insults roll off him, much like rain off a duck's feathers. Rick had nodded sagely, knowing what she was talking about. He pondered this analogy a bit, then returned to class. Where he was called an unsavory name and promptly immersed himself in another fight.
Four years later found him a junior in the same school, but he was taking to heart the counselor's advice, and letting the insults that rained down upon him slide away, like rain on a duck's back. A few particularly vicious insults were a bit harder to ignore, but he managed it all the same, continuing his solitary trek to his last period class.
Rick was an average boy, always had been. His clothes were a bit poorer than the majority of his classmates, but that was nothing to him or the people who made it their business to make his life a living hell. Rick had average brown hair, average height, average weight and average brown eyes. He wasn't handsome, he wasn't butt ugly. Again, he was average, a fact that he reveled in, as it didn't bring down more unwanted attention.
But he seemed to attract more than his fair share, especially by the most popular guys, who were always tripping and shoving him, stealing his papers and insulting him behind and in front of his back.
It had been building up since seventh grade he thought, as he stayed still, not wanting to move. The animosity had just grown, even as he had tried so valiantly to ignore it. He watched with morbid curiosity as the small puddle of blood in his line of vision started to slowly soak into the concrete.
He wondered idly how well blood came out of concrete, a low wailing sound in the background. A thousand aches and pains were shooting through his body, though his mind felt like it was floating.
The duck came to mind, that damnable duck with it's waterproof feathers. He wondered vaguely if the duck would be just as good at throwing off glass as it was throwing off water.
The wailing was getting louder now, and he winced, as much as he was able. It was too loud.
Then running pounding feet, a muttered curse and a bunch of shouted – too loud – orders later, he was floating again, but this time it was the stretcher being lifted off the ground.
The ambulance made it to the hospital, with Rick McAllister inside. Two emergency surgeries later, the prognosis was made. Rick McAllister, beaten severely by a small gang of high school students, would not live the night.
Only his mother cried.