My name is Pete.

I’m your average small town 18 year old boy fresh out of high school. I wish I could talk a lot more about my town, but there’s really not that much to say. The whole town is supported by a lumbering business that provides employment for a lot of people in town, which in turn fuels a small consumer economy that sustains our little place.

I did receive some attention from our townsfolk when I was growing up, sad to say it was the wrong kind. My father left my mother when I was just 7 years old. One day he was home and the next day he was.. not. My mother refused to say much about my father’s disappearance other than stress the fact that he won’t be coming back. I guess she was trying to make sure I wouldn’t be hurt by holding out false hope that my father would be back one day.

Even though my mom refused to talk about it, the townsfolk had plenty to say about my father and they had no compunctions about using very colourful language in front of a child either.

“Your father done gone caught hisself in a tramp’s honeypot” as old lady Clarke so eloquently put it.

Already being shy and quite introverted, the attention and pity of the townsfolk didn’t exactly make my life easier. I was already subject to a lot of teasing from my classmates. My bullies in school seemed to take my family tragedy as divine providence. Reggie Mayweather and his cronies in particular seemed to take vindictive pleasure in bullying me everyday till I was on the verge of crying. And if I did cry they’d use that as fodder to humiliate me even further.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I wish I could say there was someone very brave in our class who stood up for me and we became best friends for life, but sadly that wasn’t the case. Everyone’s instinct for self preservation won out over desire to commit heroic deeds. After all, no one made enemies out of Reggie and his cronies lightly.

Our financial situation wasn’t that great either since my father’s job at the lumber mill was our main source of income. My mom managed to keep us afloat with her hair salon and I would help her out whenever I could. This coupled with the fact that the puberty fairy skipped me led to my bullies giving me the most original nickname: ‘Faggy Pete’. My androgynous looks and soft blonde hair didn’t help much either.

You can imagine what that did to my dating prospects in high school. Not that I had much of a chance, mind you, given my stellar social standing. I didn’t find any of the girls in my high school that attractive anyway. Their pretty faces couldn’t hide away the ugliness that I could see underneath, their indifferent eyes watching my suffering was enough to turn me off.

Yet, life went on with just me and my mom. I can’t honestly say I was very happy, but I was content. I was determined that, as soon as I graduated, whatever happened, I’d leave this town with my mom and never look back. I got my wish, in that perverse and twisted way that universe usually granted my wishes.

It was about a week after graduation that we found out that my mom’s smoking habit had finally caught up to her. Lung cancer ,final stage, nothing to be done, or so the doctors said. I was strangely numb through the whole ordeal, feeling like the last bit of light in my life was ebbing away. My mom wanted me to focus on my college applications, which was impossible for me considering the circumstances.

My mom passed in 3 months and I’m glad I got to spend all that time with her. After her funeral, I packed everything up, put our house for sale and finally left behind the town I fervently hated.

And that’s how I found myself on a fine May morning 2006, heading to Carson city and leaving my old home in the rear view mirror.