Generation 2 Chapter 1: Amanda Vista

In the midst of my routine after school reading, Puzzle hesitantly interrupted one afternoon, “You know, you should really watch what you say to Bee and Aiden. They’re people, too. I mean, how would you like it if they talked to you that way?”

Ignoring his commentary, I continued on, eager to turn the pages more and more quickly as the climax intensified. “Amanda,” he stated, well aware I had chosen to brush of his advice.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I sighed, slamming the book shut. 

“Every day at school, you, Brian and Brianna all gang up on the two of them. It’s not fair. Amanda, you know they have disabilities.”
“How would you know that? I don’t take you to school with me.”

“I have my ways,” he admitted.

“Sure you do…” I replied, rolling my eyes in an attempt to avoid his glare.  

“Stop changing the subject!” he flared. “You need to stop it! Think about how they feel when you guys call them those names! Don’t you think they already go through enough every day?”

“Like I said, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Besides, I’m perfectly nice when I talk to them here at home. They understand that it’s what I have to do to be cool at school.”

“That’s what this all about?! Being cool?! Amanda, please tell me this is some type of sick joke! You can’t be serious!”

“I wouldn’t expect you to care, Puzzle,” I fumed. “After all, you’re nothing but a pile of rags. You probably don’t even know what popularity means.”

Puzzle’s face visibly softened. “Wh-What did you just say?”

“Oh, sorry. I forgot you have rags for ears, too!” I remarked, bolting out of the room as my anger got the best of me.

“So that would mean that 62 plus 4 is…”

“68?” Aiden guessed.

“Nope, try again. Come on, I know you can do it!” Bee coached as Aiden scribbled furiously on a pad of paper.

“66,” he stated proudly.

“Very good!” 

“Hi guys,” I greeted, internally attempting to prove to myself that I was actually capable of being kind to them.

“Mandy!” Aiden squealed. Meanwhile, Bee’s eyes were like daggers, slicing through me with little effort. Coldly, she turned back to helping Aiden and jotted something down in his notebook. It took a few moments for him to decipher what she had wrote, but soon he, too, was staring menacingly at me.  

“What?” I asked irritably. The two turned back to working on their homework as I held back the urge to punch the wall.

“Ugh! You guys are such morons! No wonder you have no friends!” I spat.

“Bee,” I heard Aiden whisper, “What’s a moron?”
“Nothing, Buddy. Just keep working.” 

As the weeks progressed, I began to feel more and more like an outcast in my own home. But it was fine, because when I was at school, I was the one who was in power. For now, though, I’ve been writing. About everything. About all the mean names I call Bee and Aiden, and why I can’t stop. About how they have practically disowned me. About how Mom and Dad have done nothing.

About how I’m going to make Bee and Aiden’s lives miserable.