Thank you all so much for the reviews! It's so great to hear what you have to say. And Greg is Tim's stepfather

To Laine7727 thank you for the info, but this is my story and I guess I've switched it around. I'm sure you can deal just fine. I hope you enjoy it.

O

T

H

Why him?

III
At least when I'm sleeping...

November 23 2005

Today wasn't so great. From the moment I woke up to just about 10 minutes ago, life has been hell. Why is everything so hard for me? Why can't I just wake up one morning and find that Greg left our lives. That him and all the other jerks my mom had dated never actually existed.

I would go downstairs, and at the kitchen table would be Jessie sitting with my dad who'd be reading the paper. My mom would welcome me the instant I stepped into the kitchen and my dad would lift his head from the newspaper, smile and ask me how I slept.

But that's all a load of crap. Dad died almost 9 years ago. Exactly nine years in a few days. I always told myself I wouldn't die the same way he did, that I would survive my pain. But now, I understand how he felt. If things don't get better within the next week, Dad and I will have died on the same day, November 30.

I stopped when I read that. Tim had told me that the morning of the 30th. When he told me I just kind of stared at him blankly and laughed uncomfortably. We had been in the middle of conversation when he just blurted it out.

I didn't even say something about it. I just moved on like it was nothing.

This morning, I woke up to Greg yelling at me. I felt like crap. My head ached from last night. Once again, I've drunk my problems away. Jeez I hate my mother for something that I do. That hurts. Anyway, so when I finally got out of bed, Greg was standing stiffly in my doorway.

He was yelling stuff at me, I don't know what because I wasn't listening. Apparently, I was wasting his time and I should appreciate it that he takes time out of his day to wake me up. God, he annoys me.

"You know what Greg?" I said to him as I stood right in his face. "I would appreciate it if you didn't wake me up. I don't need you."

He was angry. I could almost feel him fuming. He just stared at me, his lip curled up in disgust. He spat on the ground beside him then socked me across the face. I fell back on the ground and he just walked away from my room like nothing had happened.

When I got downstairs, Jessie was crying. She wouldn't tell me what had happened. Then I found out that we had nothing left to eat. No cereal, no bread, no fruits or veggies. Nothing. My tummy grumbled, but I knew I could last until I could get something from Nathan at school.

I stole his sandwich when he was talking to Lucas.

He didn't even notice. I just told him that he had left it on the counter when he packed his lunch. Ha. That was probably the only good part of today. In class, Mr. Gilfoyle got me in trouble for not handing in my essay, which, for the record, I did. He said that if he doesn't have it in his hands at the beginning of school tomorrow I could say goodbye to basketball for the rest of the month. So now I have to rewrite it.

It won't be too long. After the Gilfoyle incident, everything went pretty smooth. Until lunch that is.

For lunch, we sat in the cafeteria. I sat in between Nathan and Jake. We were talking and laughing and just having a good time. But it wasn't long before the big bruise on my cheek had darkened.

"What happened Tim?" Peyton asked from across the table. She was staring so concernedly at me, I just had to laugh.

"Oh This?" I asked, lightly placing my hand on my left cheek.

"No other side."

I felt suddenly stupid, but laughed it off along with the other guys. "Well," I began as I thought of some bull shit story. "Last night, at the party, I was just getting out of the bathroom, when I saw a guy all scrouched down. He had his hands on both his cheeks and he was puking his guts out.

"So I asked him if he was ok. Then he looked at me. His eyes were totally red. Demon-like you know? So I asked him again if he was ok then he swore something and socked me right across the face." I was amused by my story. I always am.

"I don't remember that." Nathan stated. I just shrugged my shoulders and went on with a conversation.

All was fine until, from out of nowhere, some stupid ninth grader came up behind me and punched me over the head. I was so shocked I jumped out of my seat and whirled around. I was stunned when I saw it was a girl.

"You've got a good punch girl." I said rubbing the back of my head. "What do you want?" I asked when she just stood there stubbornly. I pulled out a piece of paper and a pen then signed my name. "No pictures please, just autographs."

I looked back at the guys and laughed. When I looked back at her, she spat on me. "What the hell do you want?" I said angrily. She glared at me. "What?"

"I just thought I'd wish you a happy fatherhood." She said bitterly before turning on her heels and beginning to walk away.

A few guys stepped up behind me as I gripped her arm. "Look little girl! Go tell your master to come and talk to me! I don't answer to messengers." She stuck her tongue out at me, pushed me back and scurried away.

The rest of my classes that day were so long and boring, I would have rather watched a turtle walk through the Sahara desert. And that's saying a lot cause turtles walk really slow and the Sahara is really big. Although, if the turtle took a speedboat down the Nile, that might pass time a little.

Is the Nile even in the Sahara… it's not.

By the time practice came, I thought I would die of boredom. I had a pounding headache and I felt like I was going to puke. "You're probably just bored." I told myself as I changed into my jersey and shorts. Just as I slipped off my pants, Nathan and the other guys came barging in.

"Hey Tim how's your head?" Jake joked.

"I hear voices…" I stopped and pretended to listen to them. "Yeah, yeah okay I'll tell him." I stuck up my middle finger and laughed at him.

At practice, Whitey was in a snappy mood. We had just stretched and run laps and were then standing in a line staring at him as we breathed heavily. He was lecturing us about how we were STUDENT athletes and how our performance in the game was highly effected by our performance in school.

I knew that he was mainly talking to me.

"PMS?" Nathan whispered with a quiet laugh.

"I'm thinkin menopause." I joked. We both laughed. Whitey must have hypersensitive hearing or something because I swear I whispered that.

"You wanna repeat that so everyone can laugh Mr. Smith?" He said angrily.

"No sir." I whispered. The other guys laughed.

"Take your places. Scrimmage." He yelled and we all took our places. He explained some things, then tossed up the ball.

Nathan was on the other team, but when he bumped the ball it landed right in my hands. "Thanks Nate." I laughed and dribbled away.

Whitey stopped us every so often to explain what not to do in that situation and a way to avoid it. But I think we were doing better than usual because we played for almost 15 minutes straight without interruption. When he finally interrupted to give Lucas (and the rest of us) a pointer, the score was 29-19. In my team's favor of course.

"Luc!" I yelled as I passed the ball to him. Nathan ran by and caught the ball then headed down court. Him and Jake passed it back and forth. I was right on Nate's heels when he jumped to score. I jumped up behind him and managed to bump the ball away from the net.

Nathan grunted in frustration, as gravity played its part. Unfortunately, gravity wasn't on my side. Nate and I were so close that when coming down, I slipped slightly under him and… well long story short, I fell first, falling with my ankle under me. I was alright until Nate fell on top of me.

My ankle twisted weird and the crack was so loud that Whitey, at half court, heard it.

Doc said that if I'm good (whatever that means) I'll be able to play in two months. That's like forever! Well, I guess Mr. Gilfoyle got his wish. He's just out to get me.

As if that wasn't bad enough, when I got home, at like 5:30 (apparently my injury wasn't 'urgent' enough) Greg began nagging me about how I was being stupid, that it was all my fault and then that… oh I don't even remember. I don't know why I put up with him. I can't wait to get away from him.

I am so tired. Painkillers do have their downsides. At least when I'm sleeping I can't be miserable.

Tim Smith

Rereading the basketball scene and realizing how much it really was my fault made me feel even worse than I had before. And above that, that Greg bugged Tim about it all being his fault. I could see why he wanted to escape that crazy man.

I just began to wonder how Jessica would hold up or if she would end up like her father and brother and likely her mother. I decided I would try and get her out of that home.

"Oh Tim. If only you could see how much your mother actually misses you. She actually does love you, man." I looked down at his writing. It was so neat and legible in his journal, the exact opposite of how it was in everything else.

"I miss you so much. I just wish you had said something. We wouldn't have laughed or turned our backs. We would have helped you. God, I wish I could just go back in time and save you."

I sighed and turned the page. There was a poem that he had evidently written in math class. Who'd have guessed that Tim Smith could write poetry?

Oh, I just found this in my pocket. I wrote in math class today.

My eyelids weeping
Falling down
Dark surrounds me
Sleeping sound.
Drifting off
I rest my head
Tired, lonely
Death I wed.
My life collapses
Body falls
Into darkness
Life recalls.
Tears of joy
And that of not
Wept for me,
The fight I fought.
Now left for
Eternal sleep
My friends go off
At home to weep.
And I stay here
Wondering when
My dear friends
I'll see again.

o O o

Please review.

o

It takes a man to be brave, but a brave man to admit that he is not

- Meg White