Imagine a picture of the human Tobias, morphing into a red-tailed hawk…

Front Cover Quote: "There's about to be a change in line-up…"

Inside Front Cover Quote: "Forget what you once knew…"

My name is Tobias, and I doubt that you've ever heard of me before. It's fine. I won't hold it against you; I'm not what you would call an outgoing person. I'm the type of person that sits in the very back of the classroom; the guy who has his nose behind a book, secretly hoping that the teacher doesn't call his name to answer the math problem on the board…yea, I'm that guy.

"Come on Tobias, it's an easy one." The teacher would say, beaming at me.

"I'm sorry, Ms. I really have no idea…" I would reply. My face turned a deep shade of red. People would start staring at me, turning around in their chairs just to gawk at me. When the clueless kid in class starts blabbing about, that's when things get interesting; that's when everyone is suddenly wide awake in first period math.

"So, you aren't even going to try?" she would frown. "How do you know you're wrong if you don't even try?"

I shrugged and hid behind my math text book. Apparently, the teacher decided that she wasn't done with me quite yet. She walked right over to my desk, walking through the aisle of students like she was Moses crossing the red sea, and knelt down before me. I remained hidden behind my sanctuary of numbers and word problems; hoping that x-4y+x +5y would protect me from embarrassment. It didn't…

"Tobias, you have to participate in class occasionally," she whispered. People were really staring at me now. I can't imagine that there was a deeper shade of red than the colour of my face at that very moment. She added, "What will your parents think when they see your progress report in a few weeks?"

I put the book down on my desk, and gave the teacher a long, cold stare. Then, I said the words that nearly tears to my eyes, "I don't have any parents."

I can't imagine that she forgot about my current living situation, but she looked as though she made a social faux pas. She looked at me, horrified, and started stuttering and mumbling about, "I'm sorry Tobias…I forgot…you don't have to…does anyone else know the answer?"

Like I said, my name is Tobias. I'm also known as the loner, the new kid, and the orphan; at least, that's what my class mates call me when they can't remember my first name. I never knew my parents. I was put under the loving custody of a maternal aunt—who changes lovers more times than I've changed my shirt— six times out of the year, and an alcoholic uncle—who's barely conscious during the time I'm living with him—the other six months. They treat me as if I was their own pet…maybe they treat me worse than they would treat a pet. I have a pet; a cat named Dude, and I'm surprised that they let me keep him. Then again, they hardly notice that I'm living with them, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised.

The bell rang, bringing another awkward end to an even more awkward math class. The students shuffled out the door; friends laughing and joking around with each other, and the girls were texting their boyfriends to tell them to meet them at their lockers, etc. I swung my backpack over my shoulder and grabbed my math textbook, avoiding the eyes of the teacher. She looked as though she wanted to apologize again, but I left the room before she could even bother. I knew what she would say: "Tobias, I didn't mean to make you feel so awkward in class, please forgive me. If you ever want to talk about your home life, I'm always free…" Which was pretty much routine, by now.

That's how I live my life; routine. If you stick to your routine, then you'll do fine. I've always thought of life like a jungle: some people are born to be lions and tigers and bears—oh my— while others are born as antelope, wildebeest, and rodents. And, if you're one of those unlucky rodents, then you have to do your best to avoid getting eaten. If the lion or the tiger is feeding at the watering hole, then you wait until he's finished and leaves; you stick to your hiding place in the tall grass, really quietly and hope that nobody can hear you breathing… And if you think that you're safe out there in the fields, minding your own business, then you're wrong. It's only a matter of time before some hawk comes around and grabs you. When you're prey, you have to live by routine.

I was walking through the halls—the tall grass in the savannah— hoping that I would remain hidden from the eyes of all the tigers, gorillas, and lions. I kept my head down, staring at the floor; clinging to my math text book. My locker was just down the hall, and there was an entire pack of wolves hanging around my den…I knew that they were waiting for me, hoping that I hadn't seen them; that they would be able to take me by surprise. But that's where they were wrong; I was expecting them! Like I said, I live my life according to routine: keep yourself out of the way at school—don't wander around during lunch—stick to your guns, get out as soon as the bell rings, and don't cause too much trouble for the big lion at home. Routine has kept me alive so far. And it would keep me alive on this very Friday afternoon.

I didn't go to my locker after first period math class. Instead I walked directly to second period: my favourite class, English. I like English for a few reasons: the teacher pretty much reads from a book for seventy-five minutes, so nobody was inclined to answer questions unless they had asked one; the class was so bored by Shakespeare and the classics that they didn't bother to pick on me; and I really did love literature.

When you're alone twenty-four hours a day, you tend to appreciate the stories you read in books. It gave me a chance to lose myself in somebody else's head; even if it was only for a few dozen chapters. And, if I wasn't interested in reading fantasy or sci-fi novels that day, I would read some non-fiction books; mostly books on birds and dinosaurs. And it's not like my aunt or uncle bought books for me; God forbid they should bother with my intellectual development. So I would have to borrow three or four books from the library. A guy like me has to take whatever he can get. Prey like me take what we can get.

Second period passed by uneventfully; like I said, my teacher just reads from the texts, and tries to get us to understand what had been said. That period, he had been reading Hamlet to us. He was really appalled when he got to the line where Hamlet meets the players, and they recite the myth of the Trojan War.

"Haven't any of you kids read any sort of Greek mythology?" he asked. He just stared back at his thirty or so students. "I find that hard to believe…and it's a tad sad, to be honest." He sighed.

I really liked this teacher. He was what a shrink would call eccentric, but kids my age would call him lame. He dressed in dark colours; mostly he would dress entirely in black, but there were some days when he would were navy blue jeans and a black, button up shirt of some sort. He wasn't really old, but he wasn't exactly young either.

"One of you kid has to know something about Greek myths." He said.

Again, he looked around the classroom, only to see two hands raised; none of them were my own. I did, in fact, know a lot about Greek Mythology; I just decided that making others aware of my knowledge in this particular subject area would just prove to be a nuisance in the long run. I already get beaten up every other day; I don't need anybody else on my ass.

The teacher, Mr. Leary, sighed. "Do any of you know why our friend Hamlet is so upset with Gertrude at this juncture?"

"He's ticked off at her for marrying his uncle?" Christian McNamara suggested.

Leary sighed. "Are you asking me, or telling me, Christian?" then he added, "And, please, try not to say things like, 'he's still ticked off at her."

"Sorry, sir. I meant to say that Hamlet is upset with his mother, because she married her brother-in law so quickly."

"Yes…that is definitely the correct answer," Leary agreed. "But there's another. Do any of you know why else?"

Nobody answered. Leary didn't say anything for the longest time. I think I saw Christian sweating in his seat; his answer had been rejected by the teacher. I knew how the guy felt. But, at least this teacher didn't ask him about his dead parents.

"Alright, going back to Greek Mythology," Leary sighed. "Hamlet is also upset at his mother, because he has an Oedipus Complex…I'll spare myself the time asking if anyone knows what an Oedipus Complex is…Just know that Hamlet is jealous, because his father got to have sex with Gertrude, and now Claudius—Hamlet's uncle—gets to have sex with her as well."

"Wait a minute…" Nicole Grimshaw said, catching on to what Leary had just told us. "Sir, are you implying that Hamlet wants to…to have sex with his mother?"

"Indeed I am, Ms. Grimshaw." Leary nodded. "That is what an Oedipus complex is; those psychologically troubled men who wish to have sex with their mothers. The term was coined by Sigmund Freud, and was inspired by the tale of the Greek king, Oedipus."

Leary then went into detail about the myth of the doomed King Oedipus; fated to kill his father and marry his mother. Long story short, Oedipus did, in fact, kill his father—albeit, unwittingly—and married his mother. After realizing what he had done, Oedipus gouged his eyes out.

"It is ridiculous, really." Leary scoffed. "It's saddens me that there isn't a soul amongst you who knows this stuff. Jeez, kids; aliens could be out there, right now, attacking the very planet you live on, and you wouldn't even take notice." He sighed, perhaps for the millionth time that period, and said, "If any of you wish to pass this class, you'll start reading the classics."

The bell rang, and Leary let us go. I overheard a few kids talking about what they had just learned in English; boys wanting to have sex with their mothers. Two of those guys shared a locker next to mine, so I followed them. Along the way, they made fun of one of their buddies, saying that he secretly wanted to sleep with his mother and give his father the axe. Even I had been surprised about what Leary had said. I've heard of Oedipus, but I never thought that such a thing was real…it made me start to wonder about those kids who never knew who their parents were; how would those kids turn out?

"Hey, Tobias!" someone called.

"Oh shit…" I mumbled.

"Looks like he's in a hurry," a second guy said. He was bigger than the other wolf.

I was in a hurry. I had grabbed all the books for my next few classes, and slammed the locker door shut. I started to scurry away, like the prey I really was, hoping that I would get lost in the shuffle. But the wolves were gaining up on me. I would be a delicious snack in a few seconds.

Dramatically, I fell to the floor; my books flying every which way. I heard a few kids laugh, and I saw a few bystanders look on, shaking their heads at what was about to happen. And yet, nobody was going to do a damn thing to stop it…

"Are you ready to go for a swim, Tobias?" one of the wolves asked.

"His buddy Jake isn't going to save him now, right Tim?" his buddy grinned.

"Oh no…I don't see Big Jake anywhere around here."

"You'd better leave him alone." A new voice said. A lioness!

"Shit…the bitch…" the second wolf said under his breath.

A beautiful girl my age suddenly walked over to where I lay on the floor. She stood in between my pathetic form and the two wolves. I couldn't tell from where I had been sitting, but I think she had been giving them a threatening look. Whatever it was, they were scared shitless. These two punks were afraid of Jake, because Jake had an older brother; a junior. But they were terrified of Jake's cousin, Rachel.

"You guys are never going to try something like this again." Rachel told them. "Right?"

"You can't watch him every second of the day," Mitch replied. "You can't protect Toby forever."

"That's not his name," she said angrily. Then, she turned to me. "What's your real name?"

"Tobias…" I mumbled. I think my voice cracked…great!

Rachel gave me a comforting smile and turned back to the wolves. "You're going to leave Tobias alone from now on, alright. Because you know I'm going to be right around the corner when you try again…got it?"

"Yea…yea…" Mitch grumbled, walking away with his buddy. "We were just having a bit of fun. There's no need to get all testy…"

"Was that a joke?" she snapped. "I don't like jokes like that, Mitchie."

"Alright, calm down," his buddy said. "We're going."

The two wolves walked away, looking back every once in a while to glare at Rachel. Rachel ignored them and helped me pick up my books. I dared not look at her, for fear of turning red.

"I thought Jake talked to them already," she said, handing me my copy of Hamlet. "I heard about the…uh…washroom incident. They should be glad that I wasn't there."

I said nothing in response. I shoved the rest of my books into my backpack, but I couldn't get the damned thing to close…the zipper wouldn't budge…

"There are too many books in the bag," she laughed. "Why don't you put the rest in your locker?"

"I like going home early," I lied. But it came out like a whisper, so I doubt she heard me.

"I'm Rachel Berenson." She said. "You probably know my cousin, Jake."

"Yea, we've met." I said. This was the fourth time Rachel has introduced herself to me. The first time had been at lunch, just a few months before, after Mitch and his buddy tossed my books into the trash. The second time had been in the library, where I was hiding from Mitch and his buddy. The third time had been a few days before the dreaded "washroom incident", after her cousin Jake stopped Mitch and his buddy from giving me a swirly…I guess Mitch and his buddy bring people together. They must do wonders during the holidays. Maybe they should start a business, helping families with their problems…

"I've seen you around a lot." Rachel said. We were both on our feet now, and there was a very uncomfortable silence. I guess I don't have to tell you that I'm not exactly a ladies man. If I must be completely honest with you, I'm quite terrified of the fairer sex. I mean, I'm straight; I like girls, and fantasize about girls, but they make me nervous. They have their own way of speaking, and they expect you to say something funny or charming every five seconds. And Tobias the loner—Tobias the orphan—is not a ladies man, by any means.

"Well…I'll see you around." She said cheerfully.

"Yea…maybe." I said, looking into her eyes for the first time. They were blue; it was nice. And when she walked away from me, I swear I thought I would fall back on my ass all over again. There seemed to be a light emitting from her body, as she walked down the hallway, and it was blinding; like an angel that fell from the sky. And she actually spoke to me.

The rest of the day passed by rather uneventfully; which meant I had a pretty good day. Now, I had an entire weekend of neglect to look forward to. I initially planned on spending it at the library. But as I stepped out of the school building I saw Jake with his friend Marco. I wasn't sure if we were friends or not. Sure, he saved me from getting my head dunked into a toilette, but that didn't exactly mean that we could hang out all of a sudden. And I was pretty sure that Marco didn't like me very much. I thought I overheard the two of them talking about Space Invaders. They were going to the mall…

I guess I'll be making an appearance at the mall tonight…

Hopefully, if capnnerefir is reading this (HA! Doubtful) then he won't mind that I stole his idea for the bold heading at the top of this page. He always starts his neomorph stories with, "Imagine so-and-so morphing into a something-or-other…"

I also realize that Tobias already morphed into a red-tailed hawk on the cover of the encounter, but this is a new series, so bear with me. And, like the second quote says, "Forget what you once knew…there's about to be a change in line up."

T.M.P