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Prologue- Insight

"Hmph. This sucks," the teenager remarks rather bluntly.

"A-HEM," the teacher begins, standing up at her desk, removing her glasses menacingly. "Mr. Grey. May I ask what you're referring to?"

"Oh! Well... Uh..." <Shit! Did I say that out loud?>

This is Shane Grey, a 17 year-old senior in high school. As if it weren't obvious, he's currently being reprimanded by his English teacher, something that doesn't happen often. Needless to say, the entire class's attention is now on their frantically excuse-searching classmate, violently flipping through the pages of his book.

You see, Shane is one of those students teachers hate to love. He turns in his homework on time, he takes every opportunity for extra credit, and he's well behaved for the most part (though right now would be a terrible example to support that claim.) The only problems that teachers have with Shane are 1. His never-failing practice of procrastination on anything and everything, 2. His non-existent attention span during their classes, and 3. His quiz and test grades. Right now would be a perfect example of the first two.

"Here we go!" Shane whispers triumphantly to himself, marking a line with his finger in the book.

But his bad grades aren't because he doesn't try. In fact, when it comes to about anything, Shane is almost always the last one to give up and stop trying. You might even say he's a bit OCD the way he does things. It's not his fault he has trouble retaining knowledge, especially to the extent required to take a test.

"Mrs. Fields, I was just commenting on the main character's death on page 275. I mean, how stupid was it for him to die of starvation? Seriously!"

Then there was quiet. Too-quiet quiet. And then all went to hell.

"What?!" "Shane, you idiot!" "The hero dies HOW?" "I don't even want to read this any more!" Those are only a few examples of the frustration that erupted from the class after Shane's remark.

The teacher slams her hand on her desk, her face completely flushed red. "Mr. Grey! I DO believe I told the class to stop reading at page 137!"

<Of course.> "Oh... I'm sorry, Mrs. Fields... I totally forgot that I... uh... read ahead!"

The teacher shakes her head, putting her glasses back on and grabbing a paper from her desk. "Well, Mr. Grey, I'm not the one you owe an apology to," she says, walking towards him. "However, I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to apologize later. I think now would be a perfect opportunity to test over what you've read today." She lays the paper on Shane's desk. He sheepishly picks up his pen... He hadn't read anything today.

And that would be a perfect example of problem number three.

The rest of Shane's Friday school day progressed rather normally. He went to the rest of his classes, got back a few failing grades, and ate lunch by himself. There was only one difference today. Today he was going to ask her out.

She had been Shane's friend when they were children. They used to spend a lot of time together- playing games, eating snacks, watching cartoons- all the things kids liked doing together, not the least bit affected by the gender difference. But as they grew older, she began to spend more time doing... well, girly things with her girlfriends, excluding Shane from a lot, if not all, of their activities. If Shane can help it, though, that's about to change.

After school ended, Shane waited at the front doors, trying his best not to let her pass by in the sea of students and their backpacks. He was hoping she hadn't already left yet... And that's when he saw her in all her glory.

Her radiant blonde hair came down to her shoulders, parting so one could see her angelic blue eyes. Her lips were coated in a cute pink lipstick, matching her purse and the shirt she was wearing. His eyes couldn't help but wander to her massive cleavage, making her all that more intimidating and, to Shane, unapproachable. Shane was beginning to have second thoughts about carrying through with this.

<Well... She'll always be here next week... I guess I can just ask her another time... But... No! You've done this a million times before. You can't back down this time!>

Shane approached her as she exited the deafening crowd, bringing with her all her cheerleader friends, everyone laughing until they saw Shane growing closer. It was as if someone had pressed a "Mute" button on the girls. Shane gulped, and started.

"H... hey, Beth!"

"Oh! Hi Shane. Did you need help with something?"

"Um.. No! I mean... yes! Er..."

"Well, what is it Shane? I won't bite!"

The girls behind her giggled.

"Oh... okay, well... I was just wondering..."

Beth nods, smiling.

"If you didn't have any plans tonight... would you like to... you know... go on a... date? With me?!"

That didn't come out exactly how he wanted it to. He didn't exactly have much experience asking girls out on dates, considering he had never tried, or even planned out what to say if the opportunity ever came by.

<It couldn't have been that bad, could it? All I did was stumble over a few words, right?>

Her smile slowly turned to an expression of confusion.

"Wait... what? Did you just ask me out on a date, Shane?"

Shane frantically nodded his head up and down, anxiously awaiting her response. Beth turned to her friends, who gave various head shakes, shrugs, and thumbs-down expressions. He thought he knew what was coming, but he never could have expected it to hurt so bad coming from her, of all people.

"So, Shane... does this mean you're NOT gay?"

Ouch. Seriously? Of all the wrong things to say. Shane's face quickly twisted into a mixture of depression, anger, betrayal, surprise, and despair, to name a few.

"Wh.. what? But... Beth... all those years? Did you really think I was..."

Beth frowns, crossing her arms.

"Uh, YES, I thought you were gay! Ever since we were kids, you never expressed even the slightest interest in me, or any other girl for that matter! And you've always been effeminate! Just look at the way you dress!"

Shane reluctantly bows his head to see his yellow t-shirt (his favorite color, but is that so wrong?), his half a year-old pants that now felt tight and rode up just a bit (he can't help it if he doesn't have money for new clothes every month, especially jeans), and his sky-blue tennis shoes (he can't even find anything wrong with them...)

"Beth, I-"

She interrupts him, raising her voice.

"And what kind of guy doesn't have any friends, anyway? Doesn't it suck to just sit around and play video games all the time? You could at least get a job to pay for some decent clothes!"

And just when he thought it couldn't get any worse. As if it weren't enough for the girl you like to reject you beyond comprehension, she had to do it in front of every student who was on their way out of the building. A giant circle was now formed around them so people could see what was going on, and the crowd had heard enough from Beth to label Shane for good. He didn't think he had a lot to lose before, but now it feels like his life is over.

Water started welling up in his eyes. He knew it wasn't very masculine for a man to cry for hardly any reason, and that only made him feel worse. He jerked away and closed his eyes, trying his best to force his way through the crowd blindly. It was a futile effort. Tears streamed down his face, and everyone he passed by knew it. Everyone's commentary on the way out was almost just as bad as what Beth said.

"Dude, is he crying?" "Wow, what a wuss." "What just happened?" "That gay guy just asked that hot girl out." "What? No way." "Um... wouldn't that make him straight?" "That guy? Not a chance."

10 minutes later Shane was at the front door of his house. It wasn't much- one story, a kitchen, a bathroom, a living room, and two bedrooms- but it was home for him. Not that it made it any less shitty of a house.

"I hate this place," Shane states, removing a key from his pocket, then turning the handle on the door to check it.

It was unlocked.

"God damn it," Shane mumbles as he walks in, tossing the key on the ground as he enters the living room, locking the door behind him. "As if we have anything worth taking."

Shane turns around and quickly surveys the living room. Staticky T.V.? Check. Empty beer cans on the floor? Check. Old, filthy couch? Check. Old, filthy father occupying said couch? Check.

"Everything accounted for, no thanks to you," remarked Shane aggravatedly to his father. "You left the front door open again. You know that we can barely make it as it is. If we lose anything else, we're done."

Shane's father finishes up his current beer and sloppily drops it to the ground before replying to Shane.

"Come on, son, lighten up! *Hic* Why don't you sit down and enjoy a beer with your old man?"

"We've been through this before, dad. I'm not old enough to drink."

"Sure you *Hic* are! *Hic* Today's your birthday!"

"Dad, you're drunk. It's not my birthday."

"What's that *Hic* say on the T.V. then?"

While it's blatantly obvious his dad is anything but sober, Shane decides to humor his father and look, and...

"Holy shit. December 9th. It is my birthday."

He couldn't believe it. He forgot his own birthday. Today he turned 18 and wouldn't have even realized it.

Shane's father hiccups and leans up, swaying slightly, offering a beer can to Shane. "So how was my fave- *Hic* favorite son's 21st birthday?"

Shane sighs, not knowing where to begin. "I'm your only son, dad, today is my 18th birthday, and I'm still not old enough to drink yet. Trust me, if I was, I would be drinking my problems away right now."

His father laughs, cracking open the can himself and taking a swig. "You *Hic* you know what I always say. Whenever you got you problems, *Hic* smoke'em away." He hands a pack of cigarettes to Shane. "Happy birthday."

Shane reluctantly takes the cigarettes. "I've never heard you say that. I mean, gee, thanks dad! How will I ever repay you?" He sarcastically remarks, beginning to walk to his room.

His father struggles to spin around on the couch to face Shane. "Uh... *Hic* Pick up some more beers from the store when you *Hic* get a chance... I got... uh... *Hic* three six packs left!"

"That'll last you today and tomorrow, dad. You'll be fine. If you need me, I'll be in my room, okay?"

But Shane knew he wouldn't need him. All Shane was to him was his beer provider because he was too lazy to get off his ass and do it himself. Shane makes his way to his room, tosses the cigarette pack at the wall, and collapses on his bed.

He looks around his room. The floor is lined with video games he's played to the point where they almost stopped working altogether. It's lacking the sports trophies and school medals most kids put on the walls to make them feel better about themselves. There aren't any posters or paint on the cracked, white walls in his room, just empty space... except for the one picture of his mother.

<God damn it, mom. Why'd you have to go? Why'd you have to leave me with this bastard of a father? How could you leave me like this... I don't know how I'm going to make it.>

There are a million things Shane is wishing for right now. He wishes he weren't such a loser. He wishes he had someone to look after him. He wishes he had a significant other. And most of all, he wishes he had a purpose in life. Even if it meant leaving this piece of shit life behind. Especially if it meant leaving this piece of shit life behind.

"Be careful what you wish for..." Shane mutters under his breath, suddenly feeling groggy. "That's what mom always told me... And look at where I am now." Without a chance to say another word, everything fades to darkness.