B+ Kid

A Story by KlineXcreed

The definition of normal: conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected.

I am a normal kid. I am a normal kid. I am a normal kid. At least that's what I think, but what is the definition of normal?

I am not the achiever, the kid with all the gold, the superhero, the over comer, the champion.

I am not the kid all alone and afraid. Not the kid cutting red streaks down his arm. I am not the one with the gun, I am not a druggie, a loser.

I am normal, B+ kid.

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“And the wind swept as summer looked away his eyes brimming with tears. As he walked away he gave one last whisper. “Good Night” and he made it simple.”

A pause and then an applause, full load and rough, echoing through the building. The people were standing now. Tears in everyone's eyes, breathing in the full atmosphere of the tragedy and loving every second of it. The lights went up and each actor or actress made his way to the stage. Thrilled, exhausted? Every actor had poured his guts, reading and rereading his lines, perfecting his moves, knowing his keys. Perfecting the perfect. Costumes, set, lights, action, props and all the craziness in which comes from theater.

There, 25 people down stood Dalton T. Hemstitch along with a long row of other actors and actresses. One big bow and it would be done. Done with the school play and ready to suit up for something else. As if a month of prepping would all disappear, disappear in one grand bow.

And so as Dalton took the last bow, hands together, spirits up and big smiles for the pictures he was already ready. Ready for the next thing to come. Ready for the unexpected. The journey, the excitement, the plan, the trail, the map, the goal... or maybe, just maybe...

“Oh! That was lovely, just wonderful.”

“Marvelous.”

“I haven't seen a better act in years.”

“Shake you're hand boy, great job.”

“Great job.”

“That was great, great job.”

Great job. Great job. Great job. Great job. Great job.

“Great job.” And it echoed in his mind. Stuck like a fiery brand. They all said it, they all meant it, but deep inside he never felt it. He knew he should, he wasn't like them. So why should he feel bad. Why should he care. And yet he was alone, never respected but never disrespected. He was normal, average, a B+ kid.

Just maybe he didn't know.