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Well-Grounded Confidence: Chapter 1

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Chapter 1: Normal

"C'mon, nerd!" Dylan shouted, the tall, muscular brunette dangling the brown, rectangular-framed eyeglasses from his right pointer finger and thumb, "Don't ya want ya glasses back?" George, a blonde shorter than Dylan who was also his lackey, laughed quietly behind him. I sighed at the duo's childish actions. All three of us were in high school now. When were they going to grow up?

"Ya gotta problem with me, geek?" Dylan spat, grabbing a fistful of my t-shirt with his free hand and pulling me close to his face. "Well, do ya?"

"Just give me my glasses back, Dylan," I replied, my face emotionless and voice flat. I knew what they were looking for: a reaction. I was determined not to give them one.

With that, Dylan pushed me back and started to dangle my glasses again. "Oh, okay. Shoulda just said something," he said, his voice a bit softer. I reached my hand out to take the glasses from Dylan, but of course, just as I was about to get them, Dylan let go of them, allowing them fall to the ground. I closed my eyes and sighed again as George burst out in laughter.

"Whoops," Dylan said sarcastically, not meaning a single word. "Sorry 'bout that. Aren't ya gonna pick 'em up?" Knowing I had no choice, I knelt down to pick up the glasses only to watch George stomp on them, breaking both lenses and bending the frame in the process. That was followed by a swift kick to the face from Dylan, which sent me flying through the air for a second before I landed on my back on the sidewalk. Pain shot through my face as my hands went to protect it from the duo, who continued to kick me while I was down, laughing all the while.

"HEY!" yelled a familiar voice. I no longer felt the blows of boots to my side and instead heard the sound of running feet. Two sets were going away, and one was coming closer.

"Are you alright, son?" I heard my dad ask. I uncovered my face and stared at my dad, who was kneeling on the ground beside me. I pointed at the broken glasses on the sidewalk next to me. "I'll worry about those later," he said, helping me up. "Right now, I'm more worried about that nose of yours." He looked back towards where Dylan and George had run off to, "Come on, let's go home."

I had a hard time getting to the house, between not being able to see and the dizziness I was currently experiencing. I had to rely on my dad to help me get the rest of the way home from the bus stop, which was fine for him. He had been a linebacker for his high school football team, and he still had the body and strength of one.

I, on the other hand, am just a geeky social outcast. My name is Moe, and I'm 16 years old. Unfortunately, this kind of stuff is the norm for me. I go to school, suffer through the constant name-calling and bullying before, during, and after class, come home and do homework before going to sleep, and then wake up and do it all over again. Because of all the bullying, I generally don't talk to people. In fact, I hardly talk at all. The last time I remember openly speaking to someone was back when my mom died a few years ago. It had left both me and my dad devastated, and talking to each other was the only thing that kept us from going off the deep end. We haven't talked as much recently, and I think it's because he's sick of me. The strong linebacker's son is the nerdy one that everyone picks on, you know? Sometimes I just don't think that he can stand to look at me.

This wasn't the case now, however, as we walked through the door of the one-story home. Passing through the modern-style living room, we made our way down the hall to my room, where he propped me up on the bed before going to get a wet washcloth to wipe the blood off of my face with. Having nothing better to do, I took stock of my body's current state. My stomach hurt, my arms hurt, my legs hurt, my face really hurt… I was beginning to think that it might be faster to make a list of body parts that weren't feeling any pain. Just as I was going over this in my mind, I noticed that my back felt strange. I tried my best to sit up, but I was too weak to try anything.

My dad entered with the washcloth and started wiping my face off.

"Hey Dad?" I asked.

"Yeah?"

"My back feels kinda weird."

He finished wiping my face, saying, "Well, I think your nose got lucky. It doesn't seem to be broken. Now let's check out your back." He then proceeded to help me sit up so he could check it out. I took off my shirt and let him take a look.

"Huh," he whispered.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Those guys must have got you good," he responded. He set me back down again, "You've got a couple of spots back there that are already starting to welt up. Let me go get you some ice for those." He came back with the ice and told me to flip on my stomach. I did so, and without warning, he put the ice on the welts. For some reason, it felt like someone had just set those spots on fire.

"Aaaugh! Get it off, get it off!" I yelled. My dad jerked the ice off of my back as fast as he could.

"What's wrong?"

"The ice… it burns!" I explained.

"Huh, okay," my dad answered. He stared at the ice in his hands, "I'll just go put this back then." With that, he left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I flipped over on my side and stared at the white wall of my room. I quickly grew tired, and before I knew it, I fell into a dreamless sleep.

I woke up later and immediately noticed that the lights were off. "Dad must have saw that I was asleep and decided to leave me alone," I thought. Suddenly, my stomach started to growl and I realized how hungry I was. "Strange," I pondered. Keeping that in mind, I rolled onto my stomach and lifted myself off of my bed before checking my body. The pain from the beating had become less noticeable, but was still there. I didn't feel anything coming out of my nose, so I assumed that it had stopped bleeding. I checked over my shoulder to look at the welts on my back, and was shocked to notice two large spike-like things in their place. "What in the world?" I asked myself, wondering if this was a trick of the dim light on my poor eyesight. I ran over to the light switch and flicked it on, and sure enough, they were still there.

"I have to get a better look at these," I decided. That would mean getting to the mirror in the bathroom down the hall. I slowly opened the door, wondering where my dad was. I didn't want him worrying about me. He wasn't in the hall, and the bathroom door was open. I took the opportunity and ran for it. Making it safely, I pushed the door, letting it slam closed before I locked it behind me. I flipped on the lights and proceeded to examine the back spikes further. They were real, alright. Two spikes, both with flat ends, came out of my back, one right below the other. The skin on my back had also started getting slightly darker. Normally my skin is very white, especially on my torso. For some reason, the skin covering the spikes had turned a golden-brown color.

"That you, Moe?" I heard my dad ask from out in the hall. His footsteps were coming towards me. I realized that I probably should have shut the door more quietly.

"Yeah," I answered, "it's me."

"Are you okay? You slept the rest of the day yesterday, and now it's almost noon!" Dad questioned me.

"What?" I asked, amazed at the fact. I slept that long? Really? At least I knew why I was so hungry now.

"I'm coming in," he said, trying the doorknob. "Hey, what's the big idea?"

"Sorry Dad, you really don't want to be in here," I tried, looking for a way out of the situation.

"Young man, open this door right now!" he yelled. I could see it now, him getting ready to burst through the door just to get to me.

"Okay, okay!" I gave in, unlocking the door. "Just... don't over-react, okay?"

"Why would I over-react?" he asked, opening the door. There was no way for me to hide the spikes, even though I really wanted to. "Oh," he said flatly, staring at the newest additions to my body, "that's why." Bending down, Dad opened the cabinet underneath the sink. As he reached for something in the back, he said, "Don't worry, I know exactly what to do." At that, I relaxed my body, which I hadn't realized had tensed up. What was I so worried about? "Ah, here it is," Dad said as he pulled out a silver hairspray can out of the cabinet.

"What's that?" I asked, staring at the canister. "I don't remember ever seeing that in there before."

With a low chuckle, my dad leveled the spray can at my face. "No, I don't suppose you have," he answered, his gray eyes glowering ominously. I was all the more scared by the fact that he didn't normally have gray eyes.

"What are you doing? What's wrong with your eyes?" I asked, confused about the current situation. The only response I got was in the form of a cloud of purple gas from the spray can. Thoughts failed me as I started to cough, the gas inhibiting my breathing and my mind. I stumbled back and fell into the shower, tearing the curtain down with me. My dad followed me, keeping the spray on until I was out cold.
This story is intended to use as little of the stereotypes that :iconspoonerdog123: has pointed out in her Genre Switch series as possible. I really hope that I’m able to achieve that.

Thanks for taking the time to read this! I appreciate it. ^.^ Hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

Pokeumans belongs to :iconpokemonmanic3595:, and Pokemon belongs to Nintendo. OCs belong to me.

Oh, and feel free to give me any tips in the comments! I openly accept constructive criticism!

For: :iconpokeumans:

EDIT 11/5/12 - Changed a bit of the wording around, especially for Dylan. Fixed a few punctuation errors. Changed the part where Moe notices his dad's gray eyes.

EDIT 12/8/12 - Changed more wording. Fixed a spacing issue between two paragraphs. Gave the bullies a bit of a description.

Next Chapter: [link]
© 2012 - 2024 MegaCharmoeleonX
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lonegreninja's avatar
Clever setup, having the back spikes be mistaken as welts from the bullies. And now I'm starting to wonder why the dad had the gas can in the first place... Great start though, I'm really excited to keep reading :D