The Adventures of Stevie #43
These stories were told to me by friends and other people. Some of them
are true. Some of them are only partly true. Some of them should have
been true. LOL
My first post about Stevie ("Call me Stephen!") was when he was 12 and
in summer camp and was told by another camper. This was from a time
before computers would fit on a desk and when people communicated with
friends in other countries by actual letters sent through the postal
service. When children did this those friends were called "penpals".
Carlos is Stevie's penpal in Argentina and knows English. This is a
fictional contrivance to enable Stevie to tell us his stories because
he isn't here in person. I think.
All characters are fictitious, even if some of them might have names
that belong to some actual people, or act like people we know.
Stevie's school is for gifted children who don't fit in regular schools.
The stories may not be posted in chronological order.
Stevie is 12 in this story. It is Spring of year 2 of his special
school.
The Adventures of Stevie #43 "Freak Out"
Dear Carlos,
We went home after finishing supper in the Japanese restaurant,
without Mr. Johnson, who stayed in the store with Margie. It's hard to
believe all that excitement in the store only took an hour. It felt
like a whole day. When we walked in the door, I told Jeremy I wanted to
be alone for a while. I told him he could tell our house-parents what
he thought they should know about what happened today they didn't know
about, and I went to our room alone, and took off my stone pendant and
put it in it's chest. I flopped face down on my bed. I didn't even get
undressed or take my shoes off. I wanted to be nothing for a while. I
tried. I could hear Jeremy tell them everything. He did a good job with
what he knew about. It got me to thinking about how the other people in
the store reacted to what I did, and how everybody reacts to me, and to
my monster. I thought, "I'm a freak. There is no way around it. A real
xxx xxxxxx FREAK." I didn't want to be so different. I didn't want to
be a freak. I screamed out loud. I kept screaming and didn't stop.
Our house-parents and Jeremy came running into our room and asked
what's wrong. I was kicking and punching the mattress and screaming
about not wanting to be a freak. I was acting like a little baby, and I
knew it, but I couldn't help it. Jeremy tried to hug me better. I
accidentally hit him on the cheek with my elbow. That broke me down all
the way. I rolled into a tight ball, and just rocked back and forth,
and cried and cried, while they all put their hands on me wherever they
could reach to try to comfort me. I heard Glena say I had so many big
shocks in such a sort time, I was overloaded. Part of me thought xxxx
right, but most of the rest of me was still screaming inside.
Then I burst through to the other side of calm, and unrolled and said
to them like I was normal again, which I wasn't, "I'm right, you know.
I really am a freak. You should hate me for that. I deserve it. I don't
deserve to live." Jeremy was still holding his cheek, but he started
laughing really hard. Zack and Glena did too, when they figured out
why. I didn't know why, because I still wasn't me then. I asked him
very calmly, "Why are you laughing?" He couldn't talk yet. Instead he
started to undress me. Zack and Glena understood, and undressed and
carried me to the living room while Jeremy undressed and joined us
there.
I was between Zack and Glena in the couch, and Jeremy sat at my feet.
They all held me tight. Jeremy said, "Stephen, if you are a freak, then
the rest of us are even more freaky." I said "Huh?" He said "Look at
us. We don't have any clothes on. Most of the world would call us
freaks and sick sex maniacs for that. Glena believes in Crystal Power.
Most of the world thinks that's just plain nuts. I'm gay. Almost all
the world thinks I'm really sick, and a child molester, and would want
to kill me on sight, if they knew I was gay. In some places, death is
the law for people like me. You say you are a freak. Really? Compared
to me? I'll tell you one more thing. EVERYBODY is a freak to everybody
else, IF people want to think natural differences make them that way to
each other. YOU a freak? If you really want to be, but think about it
some. Who wouldn't want to be able to do what you can do, be as smart
as you, to have such a nice monster? If all that makes you a freak,
most of the world wants to be a freak like you. So, by definition, that
would make you really not a freak. Isn't that so?" Zack and Glena said
together, "That's right."
I tried to think that through, to find a flaw in his reasoning. I
noticed something I could use, and said, "But Zack isn't really a
freak." Jeremy grinned "How many people do you know who take in
troubled kids on minutes notice, for no payment, and love them like
their own?" He had me there. I had to accept his conclusion. I went
further. I said "That means thinking somebody is a freak is some kind
of prejudice, isn't it?" He said, "I never heard anybody say it like
that before, but it really does sound true. I love having a genius in
the family!" Then he poked me in my leg. I said "I guess it's stupid to
be prejudiced against yourself." He said "Right. And you are not
stupid. Most of the time." He grinned up at me. I relaxed and put my
arms around Zack and Glena and said "I wasn't really stupid, I think.
I'm still a little boy, even if I'm a genius and can do strange things.
Sometimes I can't help being my real age. Thank you all for being so
good to me. I will try to deserve it." Jeremy got a wicked look in his
eyes, looked at Zack and Glena like they were planning something, and
said, "Sometimes little boys say too much. We know how to make them
stop that, don't we?" He tickled me. So did Zack and Glena. I laughed
and wiggled around. I could have escaped and they knew it, but that was
the last thing I wanted to do.
Your friend,
Stephen
--
Grant
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