You always admire what you really don't understand.

-Blaise Pascal


I've never understood teenagers. Being one myself this may come off a bit retarded, but here me out.

I'm not your typical teen. Really, I'm not. I'm a military brat; thus this makes me un-typical. I've lived in seven states throughout my life and I don't miss any of them. I currently live in Michigan, a very dull and somewhat uncomfortably pessimistic state. I have an older brother who is amazing at everything and I love him very much even though I don't express it. I have a strict but caring mother and a father whom I still don't know much about despite being his son. I was home schooled all my life up until now, I don't have a best friend (matter of fact, I don't have any friends), and I like to plant flowers and read children's geography books at my local library for fun. Oh, and I'm also a bad-ass when it comes to scrabble. I'm talking about some major ownage.

So as you can see, I am not a typical teenage boy. And In my opinion, this is not always something to be proud of.

I was born the day after Valentines Day during a blizzard that nearly knocked the power out in my home. I was born in Minnesota, and no, I don't remember it. My mother says I was an ugly baby. My mother loves me, don't get me wrong, but she's not afraid to speak the truth. And she was telling the truth. I was ugly.

I was born bald, as most babies are. However I was also born with a large bump on top of my head. Most babies aren't born with those. To make me feel better about being an ugly baby, my mother calls that bump my 'sweet spot'. Thankfully, the bump is no longer there and hopefully I can gather up enough courage to tell my mom that 'sweet spot' is a very perverted term. Hopefully.

What also made me an ugly baby was my small size and bug eyes. I was a premature baby born three months earlier than I should have. My mom calls me a fighter, but my dad calls me weak when he thinks I can't hear him. Because of being born early, I have very bad asthma, a weak heart, and chronic muscle weakness. Basically, I can't run without passing out on the street, I can't stress myself out (though believe me, I'm always stressed), and I'm almost always worn out. I'd like to say I'm alright with all this, but I'm not. It sucks major ass.

My older brother Reed is the complete opposite of me. Sometimes I want to kill him…not literally though. Reed is tall, about 6'3 like my dad, very muscular and extremely attractive both inside and out. He's also great at sports and a complete social butterfly. He's stupid though. That's one area where he fails. But seriously, who really cares about how smart you are when you're a star athlete going to play football at the University of Michigan? That's right, no one.

Me and Reed get along fine though. He's always been there for me. I know it sounds really bad, but I love Reed more than I love my parents. Well I love him a teensy bit more than my mom. That sounds better. Reed and I have always been best friends. He's one year older than me, I'm 17 and he's 18. We used to do everything together up until about four years ago when he started high-school. Then we sort of separated and Reed made friends while I stayed home and begged my parents to let me go to public school. It killed me to see Reed making all his new friends and leaving me behind. I guess I should be used to it now, but I'm not. Today Reed's headed off for college and I feel like I'm losing him all over again.

I'm sitting in our SUV and its friggen hot outside. I don't care though, I'm depressed. Reed is outside of the car with a gathering of some of his high school friends (of whom I hate just to let you know). There's about nine of them altogether. Four guys, four girls and Reed. The girls are pretty hot, one is blonde, one is a redhead and the other two are Latinas. I am so jealous of their long black hair. I love black hair. And of course, Reed has black hair.

The guys are cool to, but I won't go into detail. Though I could if I wanted to. And no, I'm not gay. I just…admire human attributes. No harm in that.

Reed is in the middle of the group laughing at something the blonde haired girl said. Oh, how I envy Reed and his wonderfully straight white teeth and caramel colored skin. He takes after my mother in appearance. She also has caramel colored skin and black hair which she keeps tied back in a pony-tail most times. She's very short though, unlike Reed, and very feminine.

I take after my father mostly, though I do not look completely Caucasian or African American. My dad is tall, something I did not inherit, and he has blonde hair and blue eyes. I'm about 5'6, puny as can be with tan skin and sandy blondish brown hair. I'm an odd mix and everyone I've met has let me know that. I could care less though.

Anyway, Reed is telling some story now as my parents have yet to come out of the house with the last of his dorm room crap. I can't help but feel annoyed that Reed hasn't paid me any attention today even though he's moving three hours away and won't see me till Christmas. I know getting worked up about it won't help me though, as I shouldn't stress my poor little weak heart. Bullshit.

The car is really getting hot now and I really should get out, but I won't. I'm stubborn like that…and I don't want Reed's friends to see me. I'm shy, I admit it. I'm starting to feel the effects of a dreaded asthma attack though. I tend to get those when it's really hot. However, I am determined to stay put until Reed and his annoying ass friends leave.

Fifteen minutes later I find myself on the ground near the car, Reed hovering over me with a panicked look on his face, my mother yelling at him to find my inhaler and my father yelling at me for being the total idiot that I am. Reed's friends are off to the side, whispering to each other in both amusement and worry.

I have never wanted to die more than I have now in my life.

And wait…there's someone else watching me across the street. Hold on, there are a lot of people watching me across the street. Not to mention the ones looking out at me from their windows. Nosy ass neighbors.

"Are you crazy?! What the hell were you thinking?!" Is all I can here right now. My dad has a loud mouth. His voice is like a rake scraping across the sidewalk…or like nails on a chalkboard. Take your pick.

"I'ms sworry…" I manage to say, my words slurring. Reed then comes running out of the house, looking like the fool he is, empty handed. Expecting my inhaler, I am suddenly feeling faint and dizzy. Oh, and I'm also embarrassed as hell and want to slap Reed silly for not finding one of my ninety inhalers that all happen to be located in my room!

"Dad, I searched all over the house…I can't find any of his inhalers!" Reed yells, exasperated. What an idiot. Just another example of typical Reed behaviors: completely ignoring the obvious.

"They…" I say, pausing to try and take a breath. No use. "in ma room…dumb-ass."

"Cassidy, watch your mouth. God frowns on language." I hear my mother say. I could seriously care less about what god thinks right now. Screw god. Yeah, I thought that.

I start to wheeze pitifully, one of the many symptoms of asthma, as Reed rushes inside the house to get an inhaler. Reed's friends are still whispering and one is actually laughing. What the hell? He thinks this is funny? I am so going to kick him in the balls after I get my puffs!

I cough a few times, trying to get just a little bit of air to my lungs. I hate asthma attacks. They make me feel so pitiful and scared. I usually cry when I get them, which is bad because then my nose gets stuffed up and I really can't breath then. I won't cry now though because then I'd never be able to face Reed or his friends again. I'd rather die then cry in front of the boy whom I was going to kick in the balls.

Finally, after what seems forever, I see Reed running back out of the garage. What could've taken him so long? I will never know. He's Reed, enough said.

"I've got it!" He yells, tossing it to mom who quickly hands it to me. I hate looking at my inhalers, but they really are my best friends. I need them. After a few moments I can finally start to feel some relief. Yet my embarrassment is now in full force because everyone is standing around me awkwardly as inhale greedily on my little friend.

"You okay now?" My mom asks, taking the inhaler when I hand it back to her.

"Yeah…" I say, looking at the ground and hoping everyone would go back to what they were doing before I had burst out of the SUV gasping for breath while yelling a certain four letter word between gasps.

"Well…" Reed said slowly, trying to clear up the awkwardness. Not really working Reed, but thanks for trying.

"Well…" My mother picked up from Reed's failed attempt. "I think we should be going now. Reed needs to get settled in at school and I'm sure you all need to pack for your schools, right?" Wrong. They're all headed for community college as Reed would be if he wasn't a sports star. My perception skills are amazing. I know stupid people when I see 'em. Trust me.

The teens sort of mumbled their responses and made their way over to Reed to say goodbye. I stood up awkwardly and leaned against the car, still feeling a bit out a breath and tired. Not to mention a huge headache was forming on the top of my head. Directly on my 'sweet spot'. My mother has cursed me for life.

"Cassidy you're staying home." My dad said gruffly, throwing the last of Reed's stuff into the trunk of the SUV before shutting the door.

"What…why?" Staying home?! What was my dad thinking? I wouldn't see Reed again until December! I at least deserved to make the ride down to Ann Arbor to see him off.

"You just had an asthma attack, you need to rest. You know you get sick after asthma attacks and I don't want you puking all over my new car." Okay. Ouch. Thanks a lot oh concerned father of ill child.

"But dad…I wanted to see Reed off." I whispered, trying not to call anymore unneeded attention to myself.

"You'll see him again, besides you guys don't really hang out with each other anymore so it shouldn't really bother you."

"But he's my brother!"

"I don't care, now shut up and go inside." He says, jerking his hand in the direction of the house.

Now I could be unintelligent and think that my dad was seriously worried about my well-being, but that's not me. I'm a smart kid. I knew that he and mom were itching to have us both out of the house and couldn't wait till I actually left. So, they were going to cross the border into Canada and have a pre 'children are gone, let's relive the honeymoon' party and of course, don't want me there. And now that I think about it, I really don't want to be there either. But I'm still pissed. Why couldn't they take their little trip some other time and let me have a rare three hours of Reed to myself?

I stomp up to the front of my house and sit down hard on the porch. I shouldn't have done that because now my ass hurts like hell, but it was worth the scowl on my dad's face. After a few more tearful goodbyes from the hot girls and claps on the back from the…handsome…boys, Reed and my parents piled into the car and drove off.

I think a little bit of my heart left with them.

And I'm mad.

The teenagers are starting to walk over to the junky mini-van they road up in, but I have unfinished business. I quickly stand up, wince at the pain in my poor ass, and jog quickly across my yard up to the teens.

Now normally I'm a very nice and sweet guy and normally I don't do things like this because normally I'm thinking normal. However, I am not normal today.

"Hey kid," The boy who was laughing at me before says as I approach, a big smirk is plastered across his face. "Next time don't burn your-"

Now I'll tell you something that I'm not afraid to admit. I like my balls. I really like my balls. And I hate it when my balls get hurt. So I can understand this poor pathetic teenager's pain as he writhes on the ground cursing at me, his friends staring at me in shock.

I feel like I have won and I'm not so mad anymore. But then they laugh. And then he laughs, and then he cries, and then laughs some more.

I guess I lost.

I will never understand teenagers.


R&R peace.