The next morning, Sophie and I were well on our way to school when I got really thinking about comics. Not any I’ve read, but one I wanted to make. On days like this when Dad drove us to school and I got to admire the passing scenery in peace, I felt really like I was in my comfort zone. Ideas flowing all around me. I only got this way otherwise from being in the shower or being super tired.

Anyway, my comic already had a hero, but just no villain. I could use one from somewhere else already, but I wanted to be original. Or as original as I could be. I wanted someone really formidable. Someone that could throw the hero into despair. I felt like I was on the verge of something, but just couldn’t form the idea…

“Oi, earth to Ben,” snapped Sophie, calling my attention back away. “Did you pack gym clothes or not?”

“Yeah, I always do. Why?”

“Probably because your sister didn’t,” sighed Dad from the front of the car. “I’ll bring them by the school later. Do you care which ones they are?”

“Something flashy.”

“Got it, so any of them will do.”

“Dad, you don’t get it!”

By the time we got to school, Sophie had thoroughly explained the fashion of workout clothes to Dad and he looked like he regretted making the joke. I think it’s fair to say that between mom, my sister, and I, he always got more than he bargained for.

During class I tried sketching out someone in my English notebook, but nothing just felt right. When I didn’t have a feel for who they were, it’s hard to draw them. It’s like painting scenery you’ve never seen. It’s a shot in the dark at best. Still, maybe freely drawing would give me a random idea. You never know.

“Benjamin,” called my teacher. I could feel her narrowing eyes looking at me, knowing I definitely wasn’t giving her all my attention. “I would appreciate you paying attention in my class.”

“I am paying attention,” I said back in a tone that was slightly more annoyed than I probably should’ve used. Kids started smiling and whispering, and the teacher didn’t appreciate being talked back to. To be fair, I didn’t appreciate her using my full first name.

“What did I just say before I called on you then?”

“You were asking the class what kind of conflict the character faces in the book,” I said, still not really looking up from my notebook sketches. “And the answer is she faces both a man vs. society conflict, and man vs. self conflict, with the main character struggling to grapple with her true self and feelings while also fighting the old-fashioned society and values around her to be able to express and freely be her true self.”

Well, I never gave her all my attention, but that doesn’t mean I gave her none. People think you have to listen to every word out of everyone’s mouth to be smart. I say you only have to listen to about 30% of what they say to have all the answers.

“Well done, Mr. Hutcherson, but I do prefer your eyes out of the sketchbook and into our class book, if you can do that.”

I reluctantly closed my book and just put my head down while staring at the teacher. She went on and on about nothing in particular. Well, nothing that I didn’t already know. 

Most teachers, and some classmates, found it irritating that I never really paid attention in class ever, but got pretty alright grades. If I tried I could even get pretty good scores too. Not that I ever felt the need to do it often. I didn’t even do a lot of homework often. I just aced the tests and called it a year.

“I think that’s it for today,” the teacher said, staring at me specifically. “Just remember to read the last few chapters by next week.”

That was her code for “you’re all giving me a migraine” and just being unable to take us anymore in general. I don’t blame her, but if children gave you a headache, why work at a school in the first place?

“You have ten minutes of free time. Use it well.”

And I was going to use it well. I took out my phone and started reading more comics. Maybe they didn’t have much literary merit to my teacher, but they had better writing than half the stuff they made us read in school. Not that they’ll admit it.

“The beach was amazing,” I overheard one girl, who was too loud for being inside. I guess they were taking turns talking about spring break. “I collected so many seashells!”

“I went to America to visit my cousins,” another boasted.

“What did you do, Ben?” someone asked. I looked up for a second and thought about the simplest way to say it.

“I went to Belgium,” I said simply.

I guess that was enough for everyone to swarm around me. I hated the attention, but I couldn’t stop it now.

“I went to Belgium to see my grandparents,” I explained. “But my aunt was there too and she was fun to hang out with.”

Everyone wanted to know more and more, so I proudly took out my phone and showed everyone the photos of my time in Belgium. I was so proud and excited about them that I didn’t even notice when the worst bullies of my grade took a look at them and started laughing hysterically. They were pointing at the photo of us with my grandparents and Aunt Daisy.

“So you’re related to that, huh Benjie?” asked one bully, taking his phone and pointing at Grandma Emilia. I hated it when people didn’t just call me Ben, and I think they knew that “Benjie” I especially disliked.

“S-she’s my… my grandma…” I mumbled.

“Grandma!” one of them howled. He tossed the phone back to me, and I fumbled before catching it. “She looks like a giant ball of fat!”

“Careful there,” a girl hissed. “You've got the fat gene in you, Benjie!”

“Fat… gene…?”

“Yeah, careful what you eat Ben! You’ll probably look worse than your grandma in a year or two! Maybe even less.”

“He’s already halfway there! Have you taken a look at him recently?”

Everyone was either dead quiet, walking away, or staying and laughing at me. I sniffled, and tried my best to not cry. I was saved when the bell rang, signaling that school was over. Kids ran away and out the classroom, leaving me to slowly scramble everything together.

As I walked out the classroom, their voices still rang through my head. I hugged the sides of my body and went over every word they threw at me only minutes ago. I wish I could forget it all, especially the one comment that rattled through my head for days on end.