Junes Landing Middle School is not a terrible place at all. If anything, it’s far from that. The teachers get their job done, and everyone is prepared well enough for high school, with the exception of a notable few. However, there’s one major problem: the students. I guess it sort of goes without saying; everyone is going through that angsty age and they just want somebody to love them or give them loads of attention.
Connor Hasak never understood that part of middle school. Sure, he used to be angsty when he was younger, but at that time everyone just thought something was wrong with him. It used to hurt him emotionally when people would call him “over-dramatic” or a “crybaby,” but he now realizes that he just went through his angst stage earlier than others. But even that has its own problems because now people think Connor his some heartless jerk. Rumors go around every day saying that he cuts himself, one of his parents died, he cries himself to sleep, he’s mentally unstable, and a lot of other ones, albeit rather absurd.
Connor doesn’t particularly enjoy this attention, but he doesn’t seem to dislike, either. Although he would enjoy it somewhat more if people didn’t murmur about as he walked down the hallway to his locker every day. But still, he has at least one friend, if you can even call it that.
“Yo, Connor!” Nick Barnaby calls from across the hallway.
Connor doesn’t acknowledge him.
Nick walks over to him, squeezing past the many jocks that try shoving him back.
Connor sighs. “You know,” he says, “you have to learn that you’ll never get past those guys easily.”
“I'm only trying to get over to talk to you, man,” Nick replies, sort of forcing a smile, “And hey, last night’s game was legendary, man! The way Taylor shot the ball during the last five seconds was just awesome!”
“Why do you talk to me again?”
“Because you’re my friend, man. You’ve been my friend since we were, like, two.”
“We’re family-friends, Nick,” Connor rolls his eyes. “It’s a whole different thing; your mom is friends with my mom, and we were just conveniently born in the same year. Thus, ‘friendship’.”
“C’mon, dude,” Nick throws his arm around Connor, “we gotta work on this… this attitude.”
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“What attitude?”
Nick scoffs, “You know, the whole, ‘I’m so miserable and nobody likes me so why bother being nice to anyone,’ attitude.”
“But I can’t be anyone’s friend without having to go out of my way to just become an illusion of what they want to say and not, well, the actual me,” Connor explains.
“I dunno, bro,” Nick sighs, “maybe you should take it as a wake-up call. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to change yourself for the better. You may end up with someone pretty, too.”
Before Connor could think of a sarcastic reply, Nick pats him on the shoulder and jogs off to class. This is how most of their conversations ended: Nick would pat him on the shoulder and just leave without anything but maybe an occasional wave. Connor knew he was sometimes a little much for Nick, but that didn’t call for being labeled as a heartless jerk, right?
The bell rings, snapping Connor out of his train of thought. Kids start to shove him side-to-side with some muttering their apologies for doing so. Connor doesn’t seem to care. He obviously does care, but what’s it worth sharing that with others? No one would listen, and anyone that would listen will just regret it. That’s how it used to always be, so now Connor just retreats to being too cautious. Better to be paranoid than totally ignorant, he always thought.
As Connor walks past the principal’s office, Principal Stefor calls after him.
“Mr. Hasak,” he says, “may I speak with you for, say five minutes?”
Connor shrugs and follows him into the office. Connor never liked the office. It wasn’t because he got in trouble frequently; it was just that Mr. Stefor has been trying to get him to say that something was wrong.
“Connor,” he starts, like always, “I’ve been very concerned recently about your demeanor.”
“Why?” Connor asks automatically.
“Your teachers have noticed you don’t really seem to be engaged in lessons, and it shows in some of your grades.”
No comment.
“We talked to your friend, Nick—”
Connor groans before subtly laughing.
“Is something the matter?”
“Nick doesn’t know how to explain anything with me, Mr. Stefor. No one does. That’s why I retreat to just staying silent and somewhat cold.”
“Connor, this what I’m talking about,” Mr. Stefor frowns. “Look, I just don’t want you to become a bad influence for others.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Connor starts to head for the door, “that’s why I’m just going to pretend everything’s alright and not mention the bad things. Adios.”
Off he goes, once again. No progress was made. Mr. Stefor has been trying to get inside his head, but Connor is very pressed on not letting anyone know about anything. Why would anyone bother to care? They couldn’t do anything to try and help him. They’ll just call him a creep. So, he just retreats to being the quiet kid no one remembers. Heck, if he gets so good at it, no one would notice if he just disappeared tomorrow.