In the boys bathroom, there is this empty cubicle, which no one uses, because there is nothing there to use. I hang out in there, because its the only place that no one goes near. Plus no one ever knows that Im in there. Its probably not the most hygienic place to eat in, but I cleaned it up a bit and the janitor, who felt sorry for me, gave me a lock, so that no one can get in. And I know that whatevers out there, can hurt me more than whatevers in here.

"Do you think that whatever he has is contagious?" Kurt asked Puck curiously.

"I dont think so. I think its more like a state-of-mind thing, but just in case, I wouldnt get too close to him," Puck said.

"I have to go over his house tomorrow so, you know, we can get all the work done quickly. I wouldve asked him to come over my house, but like you said, I dont want to get too close to him," Kurt stated.

"Remember, dont take anything he offers you. You dont know what the hell it could be, and remember, never leave any hair or nails lying around. He could be using it for voodoo or something," Puck warned.

"Andersons a loser, not a witch," stated Kurt.

"Hes a freak! You dont know what he could be up to," Puck said.

I heard someone opening their school bag and taking something out of it, I pushed the cubicle door open just a fraction, to see what they were doing. Puck had taken out a huge black permanent marker, the ones that were banned from most schools, but people brought anyway. Puck began to draw on the "Wall of Shame", you know, one of those walls that are in every school bathroom, that have trash written about other people on it. I swear on my life that I practically had stuff written about me on two-thirds of that wall. I saw Kurt reading what Puck had written and then burst into laughter.

"That is so true!" he said, giving Puck a high five, still laughing. I didnt have to read the words that were written, to know that they were about me. After they had left the bathroom, I left my cubicle to check out what they had written. I had to be fast, so that no one came in while I was looking. As I moved closer to the wall, I caught sight of my name in big black bold writing and I knew that my previous assumptions were correct. In bold writing for all of those who used the boys toilets to see, was written

"Blaine Anderson is a witch. I always knew that he was transsexual."

Now I knew why schools had banned permanentmarkers.

Out of all the subjects that they teach in the school curriculum, I think the worst one is physical education, but the funny thing is that, Im the only guy in the whole school who hates it. Everyone else loves it with a passion, probably because its the only class where you can hit me with a piece of sporting equipment and actually get away with it. Coach McGuire, my sports teacher, always turned a blind eye whenever I got hurt. I had once been tackled in a game of football, but the thing was that I had never even got to touch the ball once in the whole entire game. I ended up with a busted lip and a black eye. Coach McGuire did absolutely nothing about it, just said something about manning up. It was as if, he too had a personal vendetta against me.

Another horrible thing about sports was that we had to get changed in front of everyone else. I would always get changed five minutes before and after everyone else. Then I didnt have to face the embarrassment of everyone else seeing me getting dressed.

"I know that youre getting all these boring assignments in every other class," Coach McGuire began, as a murmur of agreement ran through the crowd. "So I have decided to start todays lesson off with some team dodge ball!"

A cheer went through the class and I silently groaned to myself. Team dodge ball meant getting into teams and guess who always gets picked last?

"Kurt, Mike, you can be captains. Pick away."

"I pick Puck," Kurt said, predictably picking his best friend.

"Finn," Mike picked.

"Sam," Kurt called out.

"Jake," Mike chose.

And soon it was just me and Artie.

"I pick Artie," Mike said, happy that he didnt have to have me on his team.

"Oh man. I dont want Anderson. Hes my partner in social studies. Am I like the unluckiest person in the universe?" Kurt groaned.

"Kurt, it is so not your day," Puck said, sympathizing with his friend.

"Coach, does he have to play? He doesnt even do anything. Hes going to make us lose so badly. Hes bad luck. Make him sit out. Hell probably like it," Kurt whined to the Coach.

"Kurt, I know that Blaine might not be the greatest player, but we all have to be around people we dont like and that is life. There is nothing we can do about it," Coach McGuire announced.

"But Coach, we dont want him on our team," Kurt whined again.

"Kurt…"

"We dont want you on our team Anderson. No one wants you. Youre so Goddamn useless." Kurt turned to face me and looked me straight in the eyes, as he said this. And it was probably the last comment that hurt the most, because maybe I believed that he was right. Maybe the whole lot of them had been right all along. As soon as I got home I chucked my bag in my room. There was not time for homework or food; I had to get all the chores on "the list" finished. The list was a piece of paper with all the chores I had to finish before my dad got home. Most of the time, it was at least two pages long, apparently there were so many things that needed to be done in my stupid small cramped house. But if I was lucky, sometimes I only had half a page of things to do. After I was finished with the list, I had to cookdinner, clean up my room, finish my homeworkand have a shower. And I only had four hours to finish all of it.

I found the list where I knew my dad would leave it, on the fridge so I couldnt even lie about not finding it. Luckily, this time the list wasnt very long, which meant that I could even squeeze in a bit of television before my dad came home. When I had finished mopping the floor, washed the clothes, cleaned up all the rooms, fixed the clock in the living room, swept the front porch, taken down all the noticeable cobwebs and polished the coffee table, I began to make dinner.

It was never anything fancy, because I knew that my dad never appreciated anything I cooked. I had once made one of those three course meals, because it was my dads birthday and I thought that it would be nice if I did something special for him. The funny thing was that he never even came home that night, so I was left waiting for him until midnight. It was only then that I gave up and just went to bed. After chucking out my creation of course.

When I had finished making dinner, I went to clean my room. I knew that it had to be clean enough for Kurt, when he came over. I didnt want him to tell his little friends and the rest of my school that I lived in a trash can, like they all assumed I did. Cleaning my room didnt take very long, because I just had to put all my things away and I didnt have to make my bed, because I could do that the next morning.

Just as I was finishing cleaning up my room, the phone rang. This doesnt usually happen very often, since no one would want to talk to me and all of my dads friends knew that he was at work at this time of the day. Unless something serious happened, it was probably someone trying to sell me some fancy vacation that could never afford.

"Hello?" I asked nervously into the receiver, ready to apologise that I couldnt buy their vacation.

"Anderson?" I instantly recognized Kurts voice.

"Yeah?"

"So Anderson, whats your address?" Kurt asked.

"What for?" I was straining to hear if anyone else was in the background, but I couldnt. Maybe he wasnt planning to egg my house.

"What do you think dumbass? Im coming over, thats why. How do you expect my mums going to know where to pick me up from your house when she doesnt have the address?"

"Right, its 66 Ialty Road. Its sort of near that new shopping complex."

"God! Why did you have to pick my name out of that box? Puck and I were going to go and watch a movie, but no, you just had to come along and ruin that, didnt you? Why do you have to ruin everything?"

"Well, I had stuff planned for tomorrow too, so stop complaining," I lied and I knew that he knew that I was lying.

"What stuff? Cutting your grandmas toenails? Bet that wouldve been great fun!"

"Just to let you know, I would rather eat my grandmas toenails than work with you, so how about we just get it over and done with?"

"Well fuck you too," Kurt said before he hung up.

"Sorry," I say to the dial tone.