DON'T YOU DARE DELETE THIS!

Flint: http://www.quibblo.com/user/Scarlett_16/photoalbum/2519826?page=13&per_page=9

Chapter 1

Day by Day

Flint was used to rejection.
He was used to the feeling of burning cheeks, and the sense of drowning when a girl said no.
It had happened to him so often
In grade 3, when he has been an awestruck, bumbling boy with gangly legs and a habit of stuttering when under pressure, he had been dazzled by Melanie Bard, a perfect, tanned creature with a swinging gold ponytail.
And she had laughed in his face.
Grade 5 when Ellyn Mollard and her blue, blue eyes had won him over, and he, thinking maybe this could work, had swung by her lunch table to tentatively ask her out.
She and her friends cracked up whenever they saw him after that, and he had wished so many times to take back his words.
After that, he was wary. His heart was fractured, more bandage than soul. He was wounded, and he needed time to heal. But when grade 9's 'it' girl, Rachel Lemprecht was anywhere in his vicinity, he couldn't help but go weak at the knees. And her laugh was like listening to an angel. He had to ask. He had to.
He wished he didn't
When he asked, her face had gone perfectly still. Then, an eyebrow arched, and her perfect lips parted, "What?"
"Are you joking?"
He had prepared himself to be laughed at, even to be told to piss off, but to be questioned?
He mumbled, "I'm kidding….never mind." and made the walk of shame back to his bag.
He vowed never to talk to a girl again.
He was done. Broken, ruined, scarred beyond repair. He was sick of girls laughing at him, shunning him, asking him if he was joking? Every rejection was a punch in the stomach.
So he shut them out, built a wall around his feeling, and hunkered down.
He was done being laughed at.

He often thought about life, questioned humanity and wondered at the significance of his existence and that of others. He pondered these things while staring at the warped star shaped damp patch above his bed. He could block out his mother yelling, block out the neighbours fighting. He could block out the feeling of suffocation, the sense that he was drowning in his own life. He could filter out the long ago remembered jeers and taunts. He could plan, and plot, and figure out his life, day by day, step by step.

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