Please allow me to explain myself, first and foremost.

I will not disclose my name, for it is not important here. What you should know, however, it that I have attended this Skool for as long as I can remember. I have witnessed the merciless torment of the highest in the social order upon the lowest. I have removed myself, personally, from these comings and goings, to some extent in the name of sociology. For the purposes of my future, I have deliberately allocated myself the position of bystander. No action shall go unnoticed, nor escape observation. I will not allow myself to intervene in any situation. Because of this, friends are a luxury that I cannot afford. Sounds rather peculiar, yes?

Indeed it does, but what else should a prospective historian do?

Now that these specifics have been made known, I can proceed with the said events. Unfortunately, there are the 'outcasts' and 'freaks' that have been cast out from the so-called 'higher' ranks of this juvenile social structure. Typically there is little to no basis for these assessments; it's really quite distressing.

Oh, now I suppose I'm rambling. I apologize.

I speak more specifically of Dib, from Ms. Bitters' class. (I unfortunately, was her student as well in the fifth grade; luckily that was one year past. But I digress.) Even though I am not in his grade, rumors and stories regarding his questionable mental state and annoying rants of the paranormal have left even myself with a minute dislike of the boy. It is well known of his 'social rank' in this skool. (I try to refrain from using labels- they tend to stick.. Even still, it's hard to be objective here.)

So it happened that Dib had missed two days of skool. In the lunchroom, I heard little in the way of gossip. It's usually louder when he's there, though some days you couldn't tell. Two days stretched into a week, a week into two. The longer the absence of Dib, the more I started to hear rumors circulate.

"They finally locked him away. Lunatic."

"He hung himself. Took long enough."

"Maybe he went nuts and killed a bunch of people!" (I rolled my eyes at that one.)

"I heard he drowned." (Eh?)

"Pitiful stink-beasts!" (That kid is annoying.)

Sometimes people are colder than the temperature currently outside.

The overhead speaker system suddenly emitted a deafening eruption of electronic feedback for a split-second before the raspy voice of Ms. Bitters was heard. "Due to the fact that I have to account for every last one of you little maggots by state law, I am required to inform you that Dib Membrane is most likely not returning to skool soon. If you care, for further information, please speak with your respective homeroom teachers."

Shortly thereafter, we returned to class. People were whispering and giggling in their seats as the teacher proceeded with the lesson. I waited for someone to ask. For anyone to ask. I am NOT supposed to participate. No one.

I sighed. In the name of history, I raise my hand. The teacher looks at me in surprise. The others all turn to stare at me, like they have never seen me before. They probably haven't.

"Why?" It was very simple.

The teacher looked flustered for a moment, and gave an answer. "He slipped on some ice two weeks ago. He has a fractured skull, and has not woken up." I nod curtly, and record this.

Everyone looked annoyed at me for asking.

My blood suddenly freezes. Not necessarily for all the times others of his 'caliber' have been ridiculed and worse, ignored. Not even for Dib, specifically. (Like I have stated before, I don't particularly care for him.) I was afraid. I was, selfishly enough, afraid for myself.

Nobody cares.

The teacher drones on.

I am a bystander in life. I will continue to be, for I have made myself that way forever. I will strive to record events that nobody will remember. Now I have a new mission.

I will record the people, as well. So nobody forgets.

At least I won't.

I stand in the lobby of the ICU.