Chapter 1
"Tag! You're it!" giggles.
"Aw, man!" running.
"What's the matter Charlie? Don't you wanna play tag? It's your favorite game, innit?"
Charlie sat to the side of the playground. "No, not really. I feel… sad."
"Why?"
"I don't know…" Charlie sighed.
Charlie didn't feel sad. He didn't know it, but I did. He felt depressed; his seven-year-old mind just didn't know the word for it. Why do I know this when even the boy himself did not? Because I made sure he'd be depressed.
Me. What do you want to know about me? Well, it started long before the scene on the playground, but you'll find that out later. You see, I'm the storyteller as well as the main character in this tale. I'm the curly haired girl who sits in the back row of your class, the girl who watched the Eifel Tower being built, the Parthenon's critic.
But let's focus on today's story.
My name is Leesha. I am, for your purposes, fifteen years old and attending high school. Charlie is my next door neighbor, and he's more irritating than that unreachable itch on my back. I caught him digging in my lawn. All I did was stare at him, but without my sunglasses.
February 2, 2009. I woke up, and I put on my usual ensemble of black skinny jeans, a grey long sleeve, and dark sunglasses. Walking outside, I picked up my small town's newspaper, saw the headline, and smiled:
Seven-year-old dies slitting his wrists