She went on her own to the Nole house. Equipped with her recorder, a notepad and a pen, she stepped out of her modest car into a well-off neighborhood. It was the second richest district in East County, an area already well above average. Their home was the largest in its cul-de-sac. It was fenced off from the other homes, but there were no signs of a dog or other pet using the yard.

The open gate for the driveway was the only entry she could find. She creeped boldly up the driveway to the front door and rang the doorbell. An ominous clang reverberated throughout the house.

Kelly waited.

And waited more.

She thought she heard footsteps, but they were so faint it could have been a roaming cat on the street.

Finally, she knocked and then heard movement. There was a click and a sliding motion before the door opened.

It was him. She’d seen his new years pictures. He always had an unnatural smile on his face in the pictures as if his facial muscles weren’t used to smiling. He had darker skin. She couldn’t exactly tell his race, maybe Hispanic, maybe Native American. She only saw he wasn’t white and wasn’t African American. His hair fell messily over his forehead and somewhat down his ears, a young man’s haircut. It was familiar to her. She expected it. His eyes were soft and brown. He was slightly taller than her, maybe 5’10’’ or 5’9’’. He wasn’t exactly thin, but he was neither thick nor robust. All of this was public data to her. She knew it. The surprise was his expression. There was nothing. He didn’t even attempt to smile. There was not a flicker in his eyebrows or a furrow in his forehead. His nose was resolutely still. There was no light in those soft eyes. Even his clothes held no reflection of interests. There were no logos or designs. They were blank and nondescript. It was as if he was trying to blend in.

“Hello, and you are?” His voice was toneless but smooth. It held steady. He’s had voice training.

It caught her off guard. She flipped the record button. “My name is Kelly with World News Station International. I’m an investigative journalist there. This is the Nole household, correct?” A cold sweat went down the back of her neck.

“That’s right.”

“And you must be Lionel Nole?” This wasn’t what she wanted first. She wanted the parents. He was eighteen. She could interview him without permission, but she wanted their insight first.

“That would be me.”

She made due. “Would you mind being interviewed? I’ve heard a lot about you and it’s so interesting to me. I’d like to hear more from the boy himself.” He looked too young to be called a man.

“About?”

“Just your life, I’ve heard so many things. Could we sit down and talk?” If he said yes, that was it. She would have the story of her lifetime. She could feel it.

“Are you sure you want that?”

“Excuse me?”

“If you’ve heard about me. Are you sure you want that? To come in?”

It didn’t make sense to Kelly, “Well of course what harm could it...”

“How long have you been researching about me? You’ve been asking around, seeing what I’m like and what others think of me. That’s close enough. I won’t stop you though.” He turned and walked, leaving the door open. Kelly followed, closing the door.

“So do you know the statistics?”

“Like?”

“Like your class starting with five hundred sixty seven students and ending with three hundred forty four?”

“Yes.” He sat at a dining table.

Kelly joined him. “And do you know why your school, your class in particular has such high rates of mental illness, suicide, drops in motivation, transfers and just a high rate of unfortunate circumstances in general.” It was bait, she knew why.

Lionel sighed. “Yes. It is because of me. It’s just what happens.”

“And what is it that happens, Leo?”

He scowled for a second. He didn’t like that. “The people who try to get close to me get hurt.”

This was it. Admittance. A sign of something. Guilt? Maybe. “So why hasn’t anything been done then? Every person I’ve talked to pointed to you, but said that they couldn’t do anything about...it.”

“Well, I don’t do anything,” He looked down into his lap, contemplative or sad. Kelly couldn’t tell. “It just happens.”

“And so you isolate yourself?”

“I don’t isolate myself for that reason.”

“Then why?

“It’s just... You should leave.”

Kelly was taken aback. “But why? We just started getting into the good stuff.”

He stood up. “Because you might get hurt too. I shouldn’t let other people be hurt because of me.”

Kelly didn’t know him personally aside from this one interview. She’d been doing fine for the past three months. “It’ll be okay. I don’t have a stake in you besides something professional and… Because you may be the most interesting phenomenon in recent history.” Lionel raised an eyebrow. “A boy without friends, not by choice, but by some power, some curse that causes unnatural events. Yes, you are intriguing.”

Lionel’s eyes widened. “It’s too late anyway. But yes. Anyone who tries to be close to me slowly loses everything they love. There is no exception. That is the story if you so wish. It’s why my parents are almost never around. They can’t get to know me. We can’t have pets. That is my life. Now please leave.” That was final. Kelly had enough to turn the presses.

She stood up and began to walk away. Lionel walked her to the door.

“You know what they call you at the office Lionel nowadays after all my months of research and brainstorming?”

“What do they call me?”

“The 8th Wonder of the World. The boy of misfortune.”

“I wouldn’t call it that Ms. Kelly.”

“What would you call it?”

“It’s just life.”

Kelly ended the recording.

Two weeks later, three days before he started his freshman year of college, Lionel opened the front door to receive the state newspaper. The title of the front page neither upset nor surprised him.

"The 8th Wonder of the World?"

The Boy of Strife and Misfortune Living near on his own within the now infamous East Rand district is Lionel Nole,

A boy whose life brings despair and death to anyone who so much as tries to be his friend. An aura of misfortune presides within his innocent demeanor.

Continue the story page 5.

- Kyle Lin

He sighed. Within an hour, his cell phone rang.It was one of his parents, no doubt. He picked it up.

“Leo,” it was his stepfather. He almost never calls or comes home. His mother makes sure of that. “You talked to that reporter?”

“Yes.”

“It’s local and regional news already. It won’t be long until someone tells it to a national audience.”

“Sound about right.”

“Alright. Just letting you know. We’ll be there to take you in three days.” He hung up. His parents always had to keep their feelings in check. They took care of him the only way they could while still remaining themselves: carefully from a distance. They didn’t know his favorite color, his favorite food, or even how his grades were. They were only taking him to campus since he never got a driver’s license.

“Thanks,” Lionel said to no one in particular.

Two days later, Lionel was enjoying tea as he was reading an article on the woman named Kelly Smith, the reporter he spoke with weeks before. It was a major case, they were saying. Kelly was being sued for everything she had by the people and companies she found information about. Some were from the article about him, but most came from companies claiming her information was fraudulent, received unethically and unfairly pressured her targets. She was trying to counter sue her boss, Kyle Lin, for theft of intellectual property and other false claims.

A pang of guilt flashed through Lionel’s chest. He warned her, but it was too late by then. She obsessed over him and then decided to see him and interview him, her mind focused on digging through his life

That was enough.

The home phone rang. It was an annoying tune: very high pitched and overly cheery. He never learned how to change it. Lionel let it ring all the way through. He took a last sip of tea, and he began playing pinball on the home computer to pass the time.

The phone rang again. Lionel grimaced and cursed his mother’s taste. She found a way to still be an embarrassment without knowing it. Whoever was on the line was desperate. The jingle ended after its full length.

By the time the third call came, Lionel was ready. He grabbed it on the first jovial note.

“Hellllooo.” He sounded like he definitely did not want to talk to someone just after tea time.

“Lionel! That’s you isn’t it?” It was Kelly. She sounded desperate. “Thank goodness. I need you.”

“No you don’t. Trust me. What do you want?”

“My boss, he....did you read that article? Did you see how big it got?”

“It wasn’t your name on it.”

“Exactly. You’re my main witness. I need you to come in and help me.”

“No. I leave for college tomorrow.” He paused. “And I warned you. I can’t help you.”

“This is what you meant? This is my punishment?”

Another pang of.... Something radiated from Lionel’s chest. He cringed and hunched over, holding the countertop. “It’s not punishment. It just is. Good luck, Ms. Kelly.” He hung up before she could say a word and unplugged the phone. He crossed his arms and returned to his couch, shaking.

“That’s how it is,” he whispered to himself.