Dib awoke to the blaring sound of his alarm clock as it disturbed him from his sleep at six in the morning. He pressed the snooze button, and then turned onto his back to stare at the ceiling. Only one thing coursed through his mind, the same thing that he thought about every single morning.
School.
He sighed sadly. He never really liked school, mostly because he never wanted to go. Ever since he could remember his classmates had always insulted him and made fun of how he acted. And when Zim came into his life, the insults became worse.
The boy bared his teeth and clenched his fists as he thought about that first day when the alien had first entered his class seven years ago. Everything he said clearly defined that he wasn't human, and the students and Ms. Bitters had fallen for the whole "skin condition" lie. As the days dragged on into weeks and later into years, Dib had always tried to convince people that Zim was an alien. But of course, no one believed him, calling him crazy and making fun of his big head.
"My head's not that big," Dib mumbled to himself. He continued to stare at the ceiling until his alarm went off again at 6:10. He decided that he should get ready for the dreaded hellhole known as high school, so he sat up, grabbed his glasses, and proceeded to get himself ready.
He stood at the bus stop, chewing on a candy bar for his breakfast, thinking about what tortures awaited him once he got on the large yellow vehicle. No one sat with him, but they threw stuff at him and sat near him just to flick him or annoy him.
"Being seventeen without a license sucks," he said around the food in his mouth. At seven o' clock the bus pulled up and he got on. Met by silent stares and suppressed giggling, Dib sat near the middle on the left hand side. As usual, anyone sitting near him would move as far away from him as possible, leaving him to only stare out of the window to think about the hellish day about to unfold. His eyes widened slightly as a new thought came into his mind; he was so intent on it that he didn't even hear the students making fun of him.
The only time that this thought exited his brain was when he was in class. The learning helped distract him and get his mind off of things, but as soon as a class was over he continued to think about it. He thought it was a little bit drastic, but figured that it would help him get through everything the students had put him through, but more importantly it would stop everyone from bullying him.
Lunch was horrific for Dib, as usual. He sat quietly by himself, sometimes sneaking glances at the other tables around him. There were the football jocks, goofing off and almost wrestling each other to see who was stronger. Next to their table were the cheerleaders, gossiping and discussing new cheer routines. As Dib's eyes went down the line of tables to look at the different cliques, he realized that he wasn't welcomed into any of them. Not even the group of friends that weren't in any extracurricular activities.
"Friends," he muttered. "What I would give just to have at least one." When he looked up again he noticed that the football table was snickering and pointing right at him. "What are they laughing about?" His question was answered as he felt a strong, sharp pain behind his head that made water come to his eyes. As he massaged the back of his head he looked down to see an apple rolling on the floor next to his chair. He glared at the jocks, only to have them laugh even harder than before.
By now, all of the other students were looking between the two tables, wondering what was going on. Dib just looked sadly back at his tray with mashed potatoes and Salisbury steak that tempted his not so hungry stomach. "Could it get any worse?" he whispered before having the same football player who threw the apple at him grab the back of his head and dunk it into his food. The entire cafeteria erupted in laughter when they saw his face covered in potato and gravy. Wiping the food off of his glasses, he glared around the room, the only response being pointing fingers and laughing students. His face softened into a look of sadness and grief, and as his hazel eyes continued to scan the room he noticed only two people who weren't laughing at him.
The first person was his sister, Gaz. He knew that she was completely aware of what was going on around her, but with her eyes glued to the screen of her Game Slave Five she ignored it. Dib's eyes widened as he looked at the second person that wasn't laughing. They locked eyes; the look on Zim's face almost seemed to say, "I'm sorry." Dib got out of his chair and ran out of the cafeteria, continuing to have the mocking laughter of his peers pound on his eardrums.
As Dib stood in the bathroom, cleaning the food off of his face, he couldn't help but think about the look on Zim's face. Did the alien really care that Dib was going through hell right now? Or was the black-haired boy just imagining things? He had learned a long time ago that the mind could play tricks when you wanted to see something. After the food was gone, he walked into his sixth period class, only to be met by teenagers trying to keep from laughing. Blushing with embarrassment, Dib took his seat and tried to pay attention, but it was hard to do when his classmates were laughing at him throughout the entire period.
After the last bell rang Dib quickly made his way through the hallways to get out of the building as soon as possible. As he pushed open the front doors and smelled the air outside, he thought he had freedom until tomorrow morning. But of course, that didn't happen. Taking no more than five steps outside of the school did he feel something on his back when suddenly, the feeling pushed him forward. As he fell down the last of the stairs and onto the hard ground, he heard the mocking laughter of some people behind him. Soon after, other people gathered around and started laughing at him, calling him names like "Klutz" and bringing up the incident in the cafeteria again. Dib didn't even bother trying to get up; he knew he'd just get pushed down again, so he just lied there, on the hard surface, feeling tears form in his eyes.
After what felt like hours of lying there, the crowd finally dispersed to go home, but still Dib didn't move. The feeling of hopelessness washed over him when he heard someone walk towards him. He squeezed his eyes shut, only thinking about the fact that he was in the perfect position to be kicked. But the pain never came, and instead he heard a voice.
"Dib," he said softly. "It's time to go home." Dib looked up and stared into the eyes of his mortal enemy, his fake contacts holding true emotion within. Dib only sighed and laid his head back down on the ground.
"What's the point?" he muttered sadly. "The same thing is just going to happen to me again tomorrow. And the next day, and the day after that…" His voice trailed off. Zim knelt down and held out his hand to help the poor boy stand up. Dib looked up at the gloved hand in front of him, sighed again, and grabbed it. Zim pulled him up and looked him straight in his hazel eyes.
"It'll get better, Dib. Trust me." Zim then turned around and started walking in the direction of his house. Dib stood looking after him with an almost dumbstruck expression. Trust Zim? It was almost against his instincts. And Zim hadn't called him any names, not that he needed to feel any worse than he was now. After Zim had turned a corner, Dib started walking the other way, continuously thinking about the alien's words.
Dib closed the front door as he entered his house and looked around. He assumed Gaz was in her room, but his dad was in the kitchen, apparently busy with something. When he heard the door close, he didn't look up.
"How was school today?" he asked, still not taking his eyes off of the project he was working on. Dib started walking up the stairs to his bedroom, but paused to answer.
"It sucked," he said sadly. Surely his dad would be there for him, right?
"That's good, son," Professor Membrane said. "Glad you're doing well in school." Dib's jaw dropped in astonishment before he ran upstairs and slammed his door shut.
"Not even my own dad cares about what I'm going through right now!" he shouted, feeling tears of anger form in his eyes. "Nobody ever has or ever will care about me." He collapsed onto his bed, pulled the covers over his head, and cried until he fell asleep.
When Dib awoke, it was 3:30 in the morning. Not being able to fall back asleep, the thought that had entered his mind yesterday morning appeared there yet again. After ten minutes of not abandoning the thought, he got out of bed and sneaked down to his father's lab. Gazing around at the elaborate technology, he tried figuring out which one would kill him the fastest. That's right, the thought that had been buzzing around in his head for the entire day was suicide, and Dib was completely up to the idea of it.
He stopped walking when he saw one of his dad's older, but powerful inventions. He had created it in case someone ever tried to break into the house, but since no one ever did he had stored it in the lab. He remembered his father had called it a gun, and that they had stopped being made after the very last war on Earth hundreds of years ago. But Professor Membrane wanted to make one, just to see how it could function and to use it for safety precautions. But Dib knew it worked, so he quickly grabbed it and went to the other side of the room.
The metal was cool in his hands, and it had a little weight to it. When Dib opened it he found only one bullet, but that was all he would need. Slowly, he brought the weapon to his forehead and put his finger on the trigger. His hand shook slightly, and as he thought about all the hellish things that had just happened to him, he kept asking himself why he didn't just pull the trigger and end it now. And then he knew why.
The scene from after school flashed before his eyes, and he remembered the caring yet upset look that was in Zim's eyes as he tried to help him to his feet. His words echoed in his ears, louder than they had ever been.
"It'll get better, Dib. Trust me."
Dib blinked his eyes and took the gun away from his head. He stared at it, with a blank expression at first that quickly changed into a look of disgust. He stood up and put the gun back where it had been before he walked into the lab. He turned around to go back to his bedroom and smiled to himself because deep down, he had always trusted Zim.
Dib decided not to take the bus to school the next morning, and as he was walking he continuously thought about almost killing himself. What if Zim hadn't been there after school? Would he have pulled the trigger? He knew the answer was yes, but he was thankful that he didn't end his life. A smile escaped his lips; he didn't care if he was bullied everyday in high school. Just knowing that someone would be there for him was enough satisfaction.
As soon as he walked onto school grounds, almost everyone seemed to stare at him. But he ignored them, continuing to walk towards the front door. But before he could get there, the jocks from yesterday blocked his way.
"Can you please move?" he muttered, only to be met by sneers.
"Why should we?" one of the asked. They didn't give Dib time to answer; they shoved him back, but Dib kept his balance and didn't fall. His small victory was cut short when another jock took out a football and threw it with all his might into Dib's stomach. The impact of the object did get Dib to fall, clutching his stomach from the pain. The students that surrounded him and the jocks did nothing but stand and watch, and as the boys came closer to his fallen body, Dib knew that he was going to get a morning beating.
"Knock it off!" someone shouted. The football players were a bit surprised that someone was finally sticking up for Dib, but they were even more surprised when it turned out to be Zim.
"Why are you sticking up for him?" another asked. "You guys have pretty much been at each others' throats since fifth grade!" Zim knelt down to help up Dib before turning to face the football players.
"That is true, and still is. But I never did any of the things that everyone else has been doing to him. Our battle has been a battle of wits, but all of you," he motioned to the jocks, "have only ganged up on him, insulted him, and injured him." He then turned to the bystanders that stared in awe. "But this isn't even about that! All of you just sat back and watched it happen, and you thought that since it wasn't your responsibility you shouldn't have to solve a problem that isn't about you." Zim had everyone's attention at this point in his speech. "But this is our problem! This is just one of the daily scenarios that we choose to close our eyes instead of doing the right thing. If we make a choice and be the voice for those who won't speak up for themselves, how many lives would be saved, changed, and rearranged? Now it's our time to pick a side, so don't keep walking by just because you don't want to intervene because you just want to exist and never be seen. So let's wake up and change the world. Our time is now!"
There was silence for a moment, but Zim stood his ground in front of Dib, waiting for someone to do or say something. Suddenly, somewhere in the back of the crowd, a clap was heard. Dib started smiling as other people joined in, and soon the entire crowd was applauding and cheering. Zim had made the point clear, and now that someone had stuck up for somebody else, everybody wouldn't be afraid to do it, too.
The morning bell interrupted and the students filed into the school. Dib turned to look at Zim with a wide smile. "Thanks, Zim," he said gratefully.
Zim just shrugged. "I told you it'd get better," he said quickly before walking into the building. Dib shook his head and followed.
"You also told me to trust you," he muttered to himself. "And I'm glad I did."