"I don't understand why people are so freaked out that I'm nine," Joey said, confused.

"Well, you skipped a few grades and you're a child prodigy," Bryan explained. "People are intimidated by that. And we both know you could graduate this year if you wanted to."

“It’s totally normal that people would be freaked out by that.”

“But you skipped some grades too,” Joey complained.

Two kids sat at a table in the bustling cafeteria. Bryan, a tall and lanky boy, spoke to Joey, a small and bespectacled child.

"Yeah, but I skipped only two grades," Bryan said, gesturing with a fork. "You're a few inches shy of five feet, and again, you're a child prodigy, a genius."

Joey scratched his nose as he ate the lunch his mother had made for him. He looked down at his plate – two slices of pizza and a mix of fruits and vegetables on the side – before speaking.

“I don’t understand. I try and talk to people, but no one ever wants to hang out. They think all I do is study. But I’m not a nerd.”

Bryan nodded with understanding. "Yeah, I get that. You're not a nerd, Joey. You're just... different. And that can be tough sometimes."

“What’s so different about me?” Joey sighed.

“First, you are not a teenager. Maybe buy a fake beard?”

Joey scoffed, insulted by the proposition. However, he took a second to search in his memory and find out how plausible it would be to sport a faint fake mustache after a few days at home. Could he justify it as a growth spurt prompted by a fever?

He needed to do more research.

As Joey bit into his food, he saw Alina, the hottest freshman in school. She, on the other hand, had most definitely already undergone all the growth spurts one could possibly wish for.

“Look at that broad,” Joey nodded like he had seen some of his father’s friends do.

“Joey,” Bryan cringed. “Stop copying your father’s friends.”

“I wasn’t!” Joey immediately blushed. “I was just stating my appreciation for her!”

“Yeah, that sounds much more like you. She’s four years older than you. And aren’t you too young to think about women?”

“Last time I visited my cousins, they said that if you don’t kiss a girl before you are twelve, you become gay. I only have two years left.”

Bryan stared at the prodigy of several generations. And he truly wondered how he could be so oblivious to certain things.”

“You know that’s not true, right?”

“Did you kiss a girl before you were twelve?”

“No, but that’s not—”

“Your honor,” Joey said as he got up from the table, “I rest my case.”

Bryan looked at the youngest kid to ever attend this high school swagger away after that massive burn.

...

"Hey, Joey," a huge football player, a sophomore, approached the thin Italian-American student as he was taking some books from his locker.

“Hey, Noah,” Joey said, slightly intimidated by the teenager’s massive body.

"I need help with my homework. My mom wants to hire a tutor for me, but I'd rather have you explain things to me like you did last time," Noah said, looking hopeful.

Joey sized up the teen-gorilla, wondering what good could come from this interaction. Even though he wasn't a big fan of football, he would have loved to make more friends.

"Can I eat at your table?" Joey asked, trying to gauge Noah's interest.

"What? Can't I just pay you?" Noah asked, confused.

Joey scratched his nose, recognizing that Noah's response was a polite way of saying no.

"Sure, whatever," Joey sighed, feeling disappointed. He gave Noah his home address, hoping that the big teenager would perhaps reconsider his response after an excellent tutoring session.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Joey also made a mental note to make the lesson as easy as possible.

"Yeah, dude, I'm sure I'll ace my test if I study with the special kid," Noah said, laughing and ruffling Joey's hair in a friendly gesture.

“I’m not special,” Joey lamented.

“Dude, you are, like, a super genius! What are you even talking about?

"It's... whatever. My mom says I can bring home friends whenever. Sometimes, I study with Bryan, so I'm sure she'll be happy about seeing another student with me," Joey said, trying to sound casual.

"Rad, dude, I'll see you this afternoon!" Noah said, giving Joey a small pat on the shoulder that almost knocked him over.

...

Joey zoned out during the Physics lesson. Mr. Tchaikovsky held an advanced class that delved into college-level notions of electricity and magnetism. And Joey already knew all the coursework, including the additional material, verbatim.

Joey was already feeling bored and uninterested halfway through the school year. He had already exhausted all the learning opportunities available to him and was only left with papers assigned to him by Mr. Tchaikovsky. Despite his teacher’s vast knowledge of the subject, Joey found that most of what Mr. Tchaikovsky knew was already old news for Joey.

Everything in school was boring, save for the people; but for some reason, the people were not interested in him.

“Hey, Luke,” Joey whispered to the guy at his right. “Did you catch the match?”

“It was okay,” was the unenthusiastic answer of the other teen that was trying to follow the complicated lesson.

“My dad actually brought me—”

“Luke! Are you bothering Joey?!” Mr. Tchaikovsky suddenly thundered.

Joey put his face in his hands.

Dammit.

After the teacher had reprimanded Luke, earning Joey a death glare, the youngest kid in the class simply replayed the latest match he had been to with his father in his head.

As soon as the lesson finished, Mr. Tchaikovsky made a beeline for Joey’s desk.

“Hello, my little Spock,” the fat teacher saluted Joey with the hand sign of the fictional character he loved so much.

“Mr. Tchaikovsky, I really don’t like Star Trek,” Joey complained.

“Oh, come on, Joey. You are even smarter than a Vulcan! Anyway, how did you find those articles I picked for you? Would you like me to test you on them?”

“Sure,” Joey nodded, defeated. “They were okay.”

“Great! I can’t wait for your next test! You are the most special student I have ever met!”

“I’m not special,” Joey whispered to himself as he got up and left.

...

“How’s my little special genius?” His mother asked as he got out of school and inside her car.

“Bored,” he grumbled.

“Oh, too bored for a cannolo?”

Joey’s eyes immediately turned glistened like two blazing cannons of lava.

“Sicilian?!”

His mother nodded.

“Two of them. But—”

Joey jumped on the backseat to find a little white box from his favorite bakery and immediately unwrapped it.

“MMM!” He moaned as he ravenously bit into the first cannolo.

“Joey, wait until we are home!” His mother scolded him. “You are going to make a mess in the car again! Should I tell your father you are letting the crumbles fall all over the new car?”

After hearing that, he promptly put the treat back in the box and returned to the passenger’s seat, clutching the pastry envelope with extreme jealousy.

“Can I take a bite at home?” His mother asked, completely aware it was an outrageous provocation.

“No,” Joey pulled the envelope closer to the car door. “It’s mine!”

...

“Hey, buddy,” Frank Luciani came home from work late, finding his son in the living room, reading.

“Hey, dad,” Joey smiled at him.

As soon as Frank had changed into comfortable clothes, he made an effort to sit close to his only child and ask him questions about his day. There was nothing more he wanted than to lie on the bed and pass out, but he often felt like he was missing out on his special son’s life.

“How was school?”

“Boring,” Joey sighed.

“It’s just because you are a little genius,” his father ruffled his hair. “Any competitions this weekend?”

Joey looked at the ceiling for a second, subvocalizing.

“No. But next week, there’s a math marathon for college students.”

Frank asked a few more questions about his boy’s school life before getting up and stretching. “I’m going to sleep, Joe. Don’t stay up late. You know how your mother gets when you do.”

After hesitating for a moment, Joey looked at his dad.

“Dad, can I ask you a question?”

Frank knew well he wasn’t often around and that he didn’t always knew exactly all his son did. That was his wife’s job. But he could recognize the tone of a kid looking for guidance without hesitation.

“Sure, what’s the matter?”

“Is there anywhere I can make friends outside school? I’m getting bored of the people there. Kids my age are boring. Older students don’t want to hang out with me because I am a kid.”

Frank sighed.

He had told his wife that Joey skipping too many grades would be a risk. He didn’t care about his scholarly achievements as much as Aurora Luciani did. Not even close. He sure wanted to see his boy sporting a white coat one day, but he’d prefer if he had waited.

“You said you didn’t want to go to basketball practice. But it’s easy to make friends there. You could play with the 12-year-olds, huh?”

Little Joey liked basketball, but he was way lazier than he would like to admit. His mother always justified his lack of athleticism by saying that his brain was a national treasure—too precious to be exposed to an accidental hit.

“I made all my friends at football and school, Joe. Maybe try the library?”

Joey stared back at his father with a blank stare.

“You can’t talk to people in the library, dad. And there are many strangers there. Mom doesn’t leave me alone, either. I can’t approach girls like that.”

Frank turned to his and his wife’s bedroom, hoping she hadn’t heard any of that. He had joked with Joey a couple of times that finding a good wife was the secret to happiness, but he had underestimated how serious his son would be about it.

“Joe, don’t joke about girls. Your mom gets all stressed when you do, come on,” Frank sighed. “And you should focus—”

Frank almost caught himself telling his son to focus on his studies, but he didn’t even know whether that was possible. The only reason his son wasn’t graduating this year was because they asked him to. He wanted to keep him at least another year in high school, hoping it would improve his social life.

However, given the dejected look on the kid’s face, it seemed it wasn’t working.

But Frank Luciani was too tired to work out a solution.

“I’m sure you will figure something out, Joe. You are our special little boy,” his father gave him a kiss on the forehead and then dragged himself to the bedroom.

What he didn’t catch, however, were Joey’s last words that night.

“I’m not special. I don’t want to be special.”