Just a Freak

Mrs. Fritz says she wants to try a little project called Peer Counseling. She said I'd come twice a week, one afternoon at lunch with her, and one afternoon at lunch with another mental case.

I told her I thought Peer Counseling was when you got a perfect kid to talk with a mental case.

She says she's doing it differently.

Translation: No one wanted to Peer Counsel with you.

Mrs. Fritz's name is perfect for her. She's stout with frizzy hair. Sometimes just looking at her makes me laugh. Like when I go to the nurse's office, except I think Mrs. Fritz's name is Connie.

Which is even funnier than Betty.

I did an extra credit packet of sheets for Mr. Geiger.

He was apathetic, to say the least.

Mr. Geiger did a brief speech about the history of Calculus.

Apparently Calculus is referenced as the study of change.

I guess he must have forgotten to plan class, because after his speech every spent the rest of the block flicking paper footballs and gossiping.

Except for me, though. I was drawing another picture.

It was just a bunch of scribbles.

I left it on the desk, but I saw Mr. Geiger go and pick it up as I was leaving class.

He's a doll. He just refuses to leave me alone.

So I've been thinking.

About flying.

How cool would that be?

Just to suddenly jump up and never come down, and look down at all of the little people.

It'd be like an acid trip.

I think I'd explode if I ever dropped acid.

Could I get any weirder than I am now?

Mrs. Fritz has been seriously worried about me lately. She thinks this is my response to the trauma in my life.

Fuck that.

This is just the way I am.

She wants me to have friends, that's why they're doing this Peer Counseling shit.

They're gathering up all of the freaks and giving them friends so they don't go and shoot up the school.

I wouldn't shoot up a school.

It's so done.

I think it'd be cool to go all Carrie on them. Carrie was the first educational enviroment terrorist. And she's fictional, too.

That's an accomplishment.

I stayed up in my room and listened to Helter Skelter by the Beatles over and over again.

I don't know what it is about that song. It just feels right. Right in accordance of where I am right now.

Which is weird, because nothing ever seems right.

I guess music is the only thing that seems sensible in these situations.

I did another clay project. Charlie Chaplin's bowler hat.

Then I watched One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest.

I liked it. It made sense to me.

They were mental cases too.

Jack Nicholson makes a fucking great mental case.

Mom apologized for screaming at me last night. She says she's just been really stressed and kind of depressed. And then she started playing with my hair and said I should get a haircut.

And highlights.

I left the room.

I heard her crying really hard.

I didn't know what to do. I'm not good with people crying.

Instead I took a walk outside. Wearing a Guy Faukes mask and a sailor hat.

I saw someone from a car take pictures of me.

And then a woman came up to me and asked if I was lost.

She probably thought I was an escaped mental case.

Escaped from the hospital in Cuckoo's Nest.

I wonder if I'm a good actress.

I know I'm a good liar.

I'm convincing.

I guess being a good liar makes you a good actress.

Dad didn't call tonight.

I had a dream about Bobby.

But I can't remember what happened in it.