Lunch that day had gone pretty much as expected. Larry was the first
one there. Taking a seat, he took out his lunch and a book. Sure enough,
the table took on it's typical daily defect and apparently became
radioactive as everyone passed it by, walking at least a foot around it.
Some of the lunch tables had eight or nine people scattered about them.
Some sitting on each other's laps to make room. However, no matter the
lack of space, still, no one came to sit by him. Even the other geeks
seemed to have their own clique that Larry just didn't fit into. Yet lunch
wasn't the worst part of the day. Larry took this time to sit and read his
favourite Science Fiction novels or sometimes get some homework done. As
long as he didn't think about how pathetic he was, there was a bright side.
The rest of the day went by very slowly. Even with the lack of friends and failure to become invisible, Larry loved school much more than his homelife. He managed to drag out every second of the day, getting fulfillment out of every moment away from home. Still, the day passed by too quickly and soon, Larry was on the school bus home. Once again, sitting in alone in a seat at the back of the bus.
"Mom?" Larry said loudly, entering the front door. Even in his own home, he felt uncomfortable and out of place. As usual, he followed routine and walked in with his head down as quickly as he could. Suddenly, he was stopped by a hideously scruffy laugh and a hand affectionately messing up his hair. It was his father. Larry fleetingly wondered why he was home from work so early, yet the question was soon replaced with the need to devise a plan for a quick exit. There was another man, standing in the center of the living room, adjacent to the coffee table. The man was about the same height and stature of Larry's father- pretty tall, with a large, protruding gut. He wore a black collared shirt and khaki slacks. A grey toupee was ambiguously draped over his head, attempting to blend in with the other hair but failing miserably. The man had thick, heavy eye brows that matched his hair, a large nose and piercing black eyes.
"Larry, my boy," his father bellowed out. "I'd like you to meet my old college buddy, Mitch."
Mitch aggressively forced out his hand. Still staring at the floor, Larry obliged, shook his hand quickly and retreated back to his slouched position.
"Charlie," Mitch said, addressing Larry's father, "you've got to teach your son to be more assertive. Look at yourself boy. All slouched over, starin' at the ground. Are your shoe laces really that interesting?" At this, the two men let out a sickening din of laughter that resounded through the house. "Seriously though, you should shake my hand like a man, not like some sissy boy." The man sounded exactly like Larry's father with each word he spoke. The only difference was that this man had a slight country drawl.
"You know Mitch, I tell him the same thing all the time. Oh, but this boy, this boy," he said the last part more gruffly, shaking his hand around in Larry's hair again. He just won't listen to a word I tell him. I say, "Go join the football team, you'll make friends," but no, football's not good enough for this one. His too busy with his Star Flick meeting and what not."
"Star Fleet, dad, Star Fleet."
"Whatever the hell it is son, that stuff's for fags. Why can't you be like your brother? He's off at college on a football scholarship, making his father proud. Why don't you join a sport or something?" Larry's father's voice echoed through the hallway. The heavy smell of his cigar smoke was just sinking into Larry's nostrils making him cough lightly.
"Dad, I already have three academic scholarships," Larry said, a tinge of anger in his voice. Still, he dared not get too angry. His father would win. He always won.
"It's not about the money son! I have pleanty of that. I'll send you to whatever college your little heart desires. The point is, putting effort into something worthwhile. You know, workin' at it and havin' it pay off. That's what I'm proud of. Now if only you-"
"It was nice meeting you," Larry said, completely unconvincingly. "If you'll excuse me, I have homework." He left abruptly, lugging his books with him upstairs with him, trying to ignore the strengthening sounds of laughter coming from the living room. Once upstairs, he slammed the door shut and locked it. His room was like a headquaters for the Star Treck fan club. It was covered in posters of his favourite sci-fi tv shows, movies, books, etc. Bookshelves covered all the remaining space of the room, stretching high, up to the ceiling. Each one was covered in hundreds upon hundreds of books, most of them science fiction, still others good classic novels. One bookshelf that sat near his computer desk, held around 200 of his favourite DVD's. His room was slightly messy, a few pieces of clothing scattered around the bed and the floor. Every day was the same when Larry got home. He snuck up to his room, making every attempt to avoid his parents and once there, he would pass the time away reading, watching movies and messing around on his computer. Today though, he felt no energy pushing through his body. Only guilt that he'd never be good enough- for anyone. Instead of partaking in one of his normal activities he slouched into bed and drifted away.
The rest of the day went by very slowly. Even with the lack of friends and failure to become invisible, Larry loved school much more than his homelife. He managed to drag out every second of the day, getting fulfillment out of every moment away from home. Still, the day passed by too quickly and soon, Larry was on the school bus home. Once again, sitting in alone in a seat at the back of the bus.
"Mom?" Larry said loudly, entering the front door. Even in his own home, he felt uncomfortable and out of place. As usual, he followed routine and walked in with his head down as quickly as he could. Suddenly, he was stopped by a hideously scruffy laugh and a hand affectionately messing up his hair. It was his father. Larry fleetingly wondered why he was home from work so early, yet the question was soon replaced with the need to devise a plan for a quick exit. There was another man, standing in the center of the living room, adjacent to the coffee table. The man was about the same height and stature of Larry's father- pretty tall, with a large, protruding gut. He wore a black collared shirt and khaki slacks. A grey toupee was ambiguously draped over his head, attempting to blend in with the other hair but failing miserably. The man had thick, heavy eye brows that matched his hair, a large nose and piercing black eyes.
"Larry, my boy," his father bellowed out. "I'd like you to meet my old college buddy, Mitch."
Mitch aggressively forced out his hand. Still staring at the floor, Larry obliged, shook his hand quickly and retreated back to his slouched position.
"Charlie," Mitch said, addressing Larry's father, "you've got to teach your son to be more assertive. Look at yourself boy. All slouched over, starin' at the ground. Are your shoe laces really that interesting?" At this, the two men let out a sickening din of laughter that resounded through the house. "Seriously though, you should shake my hand like a man, not like some sissy boy." The man sounded exactly like Larry's father with each word he spoke. The only difference was that this man had a slight country drawl.
"You know Mitch, I tell him the same thing all the time. Oh, but this boy, this boy," he said the last part more gruffly, shaking his hand around in Larry's hair again. He just won't listen to a word I tell him. I say, "Go join the football team, you'll make friends," but no, football's not good enough for this one. His too busy with his Star Flick meeting and what not."
"Star Fleet, dad, Star Fleet."
"Whatever the hell it is son, that stuff's for fags. Why can't you be like your brother? He's off at college on a football scholarship, making his father proud. Why don't you join a sport or something?" Larry's father's voice echoed through the hallway. The heavy smell of his cigar smoke was just sinking into Larry's nostrils making him cough lightly.
"Dad, I already have three academic scholarships," Larry said, a tinge of anger in his voice. Still, he dared not get too angry. His father would win. He always won.
"It's not about the money son! I have pleanty of that. I'll send you to whatever college your little heart desires. The point is, putting effort into something worthwhile. You know, workin' at it and havin' it pay off. That's what I'm proud of. Now if only you-"
"It was nice meeting you," Larry said, completely unconvincingly. "If you'll excuse me, I have homework." He left abruptly, lugging his books with him upstairs with him, trying to ignore the strengthening sounds of laughter coming from the living room. Once upstairs, he slammed the door shut and locked it. His room was like a headquaters for the Star Treck fan club. It was covered in posters of his favourite sci-fi tv shows, movies, books, etc. Bookshelves covered all the remaining space of the room, stretching high, up to the ceiling. Each one was covered in hundreds upon hundreds of books, most of them science fiction, still others good classic novels. One bookshelf that sat near his computer desk, held around 200 of his favourite DVD's. His room was slightly messy, a few pieces of clothing scattered around the bed and the floor. Every day was the same when Larry got home. He snuck up to his room, making every attempt to avoid his parents and once there, he would pass the time away reading, watching movies and messing around on his computer. Today though, he felt no energy pushing through his body. Only guilt that he'd never be good enough- for anyone. Instead of partaking in one of his normal activities he slouched into bed and drifted away.
