Prologue

As he walked slowly, calmly, down the hallway a cacophony of noises echoed off the white walls. Noises of laughter, arguing and the ear splitting sound of lockers slamming reverberated around the halls as if in a symphony. He always noticed the unseen, the overlooked. That is what made him so special. He dared to look deeper into things that no one else could even fathom. He was analytical. Now, he didn't believe in labels, but he credited himself with that one word.

His way of thinking was different than his classmates. They were superficial and false. They cared only about what was skin deep. His peers had the thinking that intelligence had no real meaning in their lives. There was one thing that everyone could agree was the most influential factor in their school: sports. Sports of any kind were worshipped by his classmates.

He detested sports—as well as his peers—for one reason. Sports glorified the concept of gloating and looked down at those who weren't good at them. He was pathetic to his peers, superfluous and uneccessary. In their eyes, he had enough worth as to that of a dead animal. He began to clench and unclench his fists furiously as he watched them walk unaware to their sports practices. They laughed and joked now, but they would stop very soon.

Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks. He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Something was wrong. He whipped around and a hard object collided with his face. He yelled out in pain and landed on the linoleum, clutching his nose. Laughter, loud and cruel, filled his ears. He slowly opened his eyes and through his cracked glasses saw his attackers.

Bret Stone and Adam Beck were holding their sides, howling with laughter. He looked beside himself and saw what had hit him. A football. A FOOTBALL. He felt rage flare in his chest. How dare they! He was minding his own business and they had the audacity to assault him? Even worse, it was in the middle of the hallway where everyone could see them. He saw teachers walk through the hall, turning a blind eye to his humiliation.

They would regret their actions. They would very, very soon or he would die trying.