They
never knew what I was gonna say;
Punch me and kick me and run
away-
You know who you are so
Now look at me what do you have
to say?
-Jonathan Davis-
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Tuesday, September 6, 1967
Mom and Dad don't know I'm keeping this. Diaries are supposed to be private, so I've got a pretty good hiding place for it. I keep it one of the loose panels of my closet. Dad would be worried about me if he found out I was writing in a journal. He says I need to grow up. I'm only 15! How grown up am I supposed to be?
My grades are getting worse, but if I don't stop showing off those kids are going to beat me again. Last week I came home with broken glasses. My parents weren't happy. Mom scolded me on picking a fight, but when I tried to explain that I didn't pick it, Dad jumped in and tried to lecture me on how men don't fight. I guess maybe he meant I should stop whatever was irritating them. Ruining the grade curve is what it is, so I guess I need to act stupid.
Well, it's getting late and if I don't shut off the lights and get to bed I'm going to get it. I hope Charlie's in a better mood tomorrow.
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Wednesday, September 7th
"Hey Carosella! Nice pants!"
Guido looked down at his trousers. He donned a pair of gray-green shorts, sort of puffy, and cuffed at the bottom. What was really being pointed out was the huge stain he'd acquired at lunch. A couple of wise guys had decided it was funny to put a glob of chocolate pudding in his assigned seat. Not so used to inspecting his seat before taking it, Guido had sat down and-SMOOSH-the end result was a large, brown stain, suggestively located in the seat of his pants.
"Aww, shaddup, Michael!" Guido called, covering his backside with his books. The taller, older boy gave his two cronies a snide expression. A gleam of cruelty flashed in his brown eyes.
"Hey, Carosella! Is it true what my dad said about Italians?"
Guido observed him with an antipathic silence for a moment. Not really waiting for a reply, Michael continued, nudging the meatier of his two friends in the ribs.
"My
pop says you Italians are inbred. So, were your Mommy and Daddy
brother and sister before they were married?"
A
familiar and surging energy ran up into Guido's chest. Fury. He
pounced forward, allowing his books to fall to the way side, and
tried desperately to land a punch. Michael was faster though and he
stepped aside then grabbed a handful of Guido's shirt. He was
hauled off the ground like a bag of potatoes and then was dropped
flat on his back. It felt like a cannonball had been fired on
Guido's chest and all the air in him left. Coughing and sputtering
he clawed at the air a moment as if it would provide leverage.
Michael and his friends laughed and took to a round of kicking him in
the ribs.
"Let's see if he finished his homework."
"Yeah, I could use a study guide."
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Wednesday, September 7, 1967
We just got home from Doctor Cecile's office. She says my ribs are fine, but I bruised Michael bruised the big muscle in my back. I got another lecture too, over why I should just walk away instead of "irritating the situation". I even told Dad about the inbred thing, but he just said that I shouldn't let things like that bother me—but I'm not inbred!
Charlie did talk to me some more at lunch. He's always real sad about something but I don't know what. He's the only kid at school that really talks to me: And not just for homework answers. He even played tetherball with me at recess!
Now, though, there's this girl. She keeps winking at me in the halls. Sheila McCann's the most popular girl in school! Wow! Do I ever feel special. I think maybe she's even prettier than June Cleaver!
Oh man, there's Dad to check on me!
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Thursday, September 8, 1967
Guido sat in the Guidance Counselor's office with his feet in the chair and knees against his chest. The slight boy was perfectly compact in his seat across from the desk. His counselor was tall, full figured, and blonde. Large, round glasses took up most of her face, but she was gorgeous. She often wore suits, skirts, and very high heels. Guido had fantasized about her a number of times, but he'd never outwardly made any gestures of affection toward her.
He found it hard to talk to girls. Being skinny—only about 100 lbs—and having glasses (huge glasses) made him bully target numero uno. His ash blonde hair was always combed back except for a stray bit that never seemed to stay down, no matter how much moose or styling goop he applied. The clothing his mother had chosen didn't lend much to his cause, either. Everything about him was nerdy, and he was a self proclaimed geek.
However, he figured that overcompensating with mischievous antics would somehow make his classmates like him more. Once he'd slapped a sign on his teacher's back that read, "Spank me, hard!" That one had gotten him a good three weeks grounding and nearly half a year of detention.
"Guido . . ." the counselor sighed. She swiveled in her chair and looked straight at him, her blue eyes meeting his own. "We have to talkabout this."
"Why?" He asked dryly. "It's gunna be like every other time we've talked about it. I get in trouble and they get away . . ."
"Now, that isn't true. The last time you got beat up we had a conference with the boy's parents."
"So? He still spits at me in class and calls me names at lunch."
"Spitballs and names are better than bruises and scrapes, aren't they?"
He didn't see how. As far as he was concerned, they were just as bad in a different way. The bullies just didn't know when to quit. Sitting around in the counselor's office was just a waste of time.
"Well, we've given Michael detention for the week."
Guido shrugged in a languid manner. "Whassit matter? He's in detention every day anyways."
"Well . . ." she said in a defeated manner, "what do you suggest we do?"
What Guido wanted to say was somewhere between revenge and human nature. Michael needed a good thrashing by someone bigger than him. Show him how it felt, having the wind knocked out of you. Being teased and tormented day after day, getting stains on your clothes. Only, Guido wanted to break something else of Michael's, because he didn't have glasses.
"Guido . . . I know you feel like nobody likes you, but I do. I think you're a great kid, but I also think you're confused. You don't have to pretend to be something in order to get people to like you. C'mon now . . . give me a smile."
He flashed a satirical grin and rose, "Can I leave now?"
The counselor sighed restlessly and tapped her pen impatiently on her notebook. "Yes."
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Thursday, September 8, 1967
Mom came in on me. It was really scary to be caught like that, but I couldn't quit thinking about Sheila.
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Friday, September 9, 1967
"Hey Guido, you wanna see who can get to the other side of the playground first?" Charlie Ronalds smiled a bit at Guido. It was a hardened expression that, at first, seemed a bit forced.
"Sure." Guido answered and the two got up from the swings and walked to the edge of the pea gravel.
"Ready?" Charlie asked, bending over in a sprinter's pose. Guido imitated his posture awkwardly but with a determined manner.
"Ready."
"Okay. . . GO!"
The two took off across the green crabgrass, almost at the same time. Legs pumping they fell into a synch, rushing 'cross at a speed that seemed to others fast. To them, however, time seemed to stand still. A momentary lapse that slowed to a crawl while the ground floated by underfoot. The reprieve ended with the fence of the baseball field.
Guido grabbed onto the chain link as though it were a life anchor. Charlie, only a second behind, collapsed happily against it and breathed in deep lung-fulls of the dying summer wind. He laid his head back and laughed a little. It too sounded if nothing else, a bit artificial.
"Wow . . . y-you're fast."
"Th . . . Thanks, I . . ." Guido stopped as he looked up, over the fence. A recreational baseball game was going, bases loaded. In the bleachers, among a lotus of friends, Sheila was looking over at him. Her big, round eyes unblinking, then a thin smile bent her rosy lips upward and she winked. Guido felt his face burn hot and he turned away, crumpling to the ground with his back against the chain link.
"What was that all about?" Charlie asked.
"Nothin' . . . just . . . aw, nothin'."
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Saturday, September 10, 1967
"I don't want any complaining from you." Dad waggled one thick finger in Guido's face. Mr. Carosella's hairy wrists were being squeezed by the suit he'd managed to fit into. He'd done a lousy job of combing his thin, white hair over the tremendous bald spot that had dominated his head.
"But Dad," Guido whined, "this jacket's too big for me."
"Whaddid I just say? Whaddaya, stupid or something?" Mr. Carosella asked incredulously. The Misses, in compliance, scoffed:
"Lookin' at his test scores you'd think he's retarded. I can see why those kids thought he was inbred."
On the way to the theater, Guido said nothing. He curled up with his face to the window and tried not to let Dad see him crying.
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Monday, September 12, 1967
The day seemed as though it would never end. Dragging out into long, drab hours. They seemed to slip past at a snail's pace, falling into the silence of studying and whispered conversation. Finally, though, the bell rang at three and the school turned into a zoo.
Guido put the books he didn't need in his locker and pulled out the ones that needed to be looked over. It was time to bring those suffering scores back up. Since there was a test coming up in a day or so, Guido was planning on inviting Charlie over for some studying and other stuff. Dinner was probably out of the question. Mr. and Mrs. Carosella had a habit of pushing new people out of the picture.
Outside, Guido was happy to feel the sun on his face. The classrooms were kept so drab that it was almost like being in a prison cell. The walls were painted slate gray, even the floors were an ugly slug green. The lawns were just fine though, even if the grass was a bit prickly.
Kids were running in every direction. Whether they knew where they were going or not was up to them. It was not an uncommon occurrence for several students to miss their bus home. Some even pretended to get on board in the morning, and when their parents went to work it was time to goof off. Guido couldn't do this. For one thing, he walked to school, and for another his mother was a "homemaker". This meant, as far as Guido was concerned, that she stayed home gossiping with friends and playing black jack.
Just as he began onto the side lawn where the busses were parked and waiting for their passengers, Guido caught sight of a skinny, blonde figure walking past. Her usual crowd was no where to be seen, but Sheila was there, getting ready to board her bus. She stopped slowly as Guido froze squarely in his steps, beads of sweat forming on his brow. What to say? So many things would be appropriate. Then, so many things would be inappropriate.
When he looked up, unsure of exactly what to say, Sheila was gazing fully at him with a luscious smile, white teeth pressed beautifully between full, glossy lips. For a moment he wondered what they would taste like, he wondered what she would think of him. Would her parents hate him too?
"????????"
Guido had no idea what slurry of words had just slipped out of his mouth, but it landed him a fist to the jaw. All his lights popped off at once, like someone flipped a switch. When Guido came too again, he realized he hadn't been out long. The busses were still idling at the curb, but now Sheila and her entourage of friends were gathered about. Mixed with them were her boyfriend and his goons. They were all laughing, hard. Even Sheila. After a round of laughter, the boys separated from the girls and began a horribly grotesque game of kickball.
The passing of one moment to the next was marked only by pain and frustration. Hard legs kicked out and found ribs, kidneys and other spots to land in. Guido tried to stand, but any number of the kids would knock him back down. His lip cracked on the inside, on tooth came rolling across the crab grass, and he saw his world shatter in a flurry of broken glass. Everything went skewed to one side or another and blurred together again. He could no longer see which shapes were who, but it didn't matter. Guido squeezed his eyes tight and tried to keep the tears from coming but they found their way out.
"That'll teach ya t'mess with my girl." One of the figures barked. "What kinda coward just lays there and takes it?"
An eruption of laughter filled Guido's hazy brain. The high tinkle of Sheila's giggle sent him over the edge. Something inside reared its head. A cup within overflowed and spilled into him. Guido rose slowly and struggled to do so, his entire body feeling as though it had the consistency of lead. Soon, though, a pain unlike any other tore down his right arm, from his neck to his fingertips and spread across his chest.
"What the—!" Someone exclaimed, but whatever they had prepared to say was never finished. Guido's anguished, throat torn cry filled the lawn and everyone in the vicinity went silent as the scene unfolded.
Guido's arm was swelling. Perhaps a little inflammation was normal, but the limb was now at least twice as long as Guido and perhaps three times as thick.
Completely blinded, Guido stumbled backward, all the while dragging the deformed limb at his side. It was no longer his, in his mind, now it was something new and foreign: Except, it was his.
B-KOOMF!
"Aw man! Lookit that! Guido just got hit by a bus! And . . .look at him!"
"Arrrghhhhh!!"
Massive amounts of energy flowed from Guido in tendrils of light and vapor. His chest had more than doubled in size and was continuing to swell. The effect proved the same for his arms, some but not much of the energy went flowing into his legs. It distended every part of him, filling the void and putting mass in places Guido had no idea were even there. But all of this was far from his mind.
He could think of nothing but the pain. It coursed through every inch of his embellished anatomy and blinded him. He stayed blind until much later.
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Wednesday, September 14, 1967
"There is a possibility, Mrs. Carosella, that your son is a mutant."
"One of those freaks? No, no, no! That is impossible! Everyone in our family is normal!"
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Author's
Note:Hope you liked
it! In the next Chapter, Guido builds a relationship with Mary
Bradley and learns what happened to Charlie. Thanks for reading!
Guido certainly deserves the time.
