Friends Don't Exist

So, this is a story of sort of a depressed kid in the 6th grade. How people bully him, and how he makes friends in the end. I want it to be REALLY sad, okay? here goes:


Andrew looked at his empty homework paper. Mrs.Losenge glanced over his shoulder, "I see you haven't gotten your homework finished, that's the fourth time this week, Andrew."
"yeah, yeah, whatever. detention, again."
"Mr.bell? I would like to have a word with you." She stepped into that hall signaling he should come. Andrew reluctantly got out from his chair and followed her into the hall. "Andrew I'm tired of this. And I'm sorry to tell you this but..." She paused. "You're being expelled."
"Expelled?" Andrew looked into her black eyes through her thick bifocals. He didn't know what to say.
"This coming Friday will be your last day here, Bell. Make the best of it." She stepped into the hallway. Andrew did not follow her. He ran down the hallway with loud thumps of his shoes, cursing in frustration! He smashed into the heavy doors and they swung open. Andrew ran and ran until he got to his special place. He easily climbed onto a large boulder to a little nook formed by rocks. Only he knew about this place. It was his and only his.

(sorry i didn't show a lot in the first post. )

Andrew knelt on top of the rock, tears dripping down his cheeks. He had never liked school, but, well..expelled?! That was a bit too much. His mother would kill him, the other kids would taunt him..rumours would fly, and before Friday surely the whole school would know.
His life was over.
Sniffing quietly, Andrew stood on the boulder and wiped the salty wet from his face. He slid down the rock, knowing that his jeans would rip and smear with dirt, but not caring. After all, nothing mattered anymore, anything he did or tried to do would be pointless.
It took him a while to get back home, so the sun was already beginning to set by the time he reached his house and his mother took him in and hugged him and yelled at him for scaring her half to death. But none of this made Andrew feel any better. It only made him feel worse, actually, that she cared so much about her good-for-nothing son.

Andrew simply sighed at the yelling and cares of his mother and slowly walked into his room, locking the painted wooden door. It was a weird color of blue and green, with pictures of his inspiration, Sherlock Holmes. He fell onto his bed and buried his face into his pitch white pillows, cries of frustration exiting them. He lifted his head from the pillow, and two drops of tears were forcing to exit his eyes. He stared out his window, looking at the kids exiting from school with bright red and yellow backpacks on their shoulders, speaking with their friends and having a heck of a good time.

Sighing, he turned away from the heart-breaking sight and sat on the tip of his bed. He looked horrible, and he felt as if he was undergoing depression. "Andrew? Andrew are you in there? We need to talk." He ignored his mothers demands and kicked off his sneakers, hesitating to open the door.

"I am not opening that door and you can't make me." He yelled latching the lock on the door.
"Why are you always like this, Andrew?" His mother sounded frustrated.
He didn't reply. He flopped down on his bed and cursed at his teacher and everything in his life. Eventually, when his mother gave up on talking to him, he dozed off to sleep.

Beepbeep! Beepbeep! Beepbe-thump. Andrew shut his alarm clock off. He was glad nobody bothered him. Again, he didnt do his homework. Why go to school then? But he knew well enough that he would get caught playing hooky if he did skip it. So Andrew got his clothes on, and stood outside waiting for the bus.

Two kids, in the same school as Andrew, came by. They knew of him being expelled from the school and intended on making his life miserable, miserable enough as it is. They made a sourpuss face and stepped real close to him, one next to Andrew and one behind. "Hey, Andrew. We hear you got kicked outta school. Didn't do your homework again, eh?" The one next to Andrew flashed a real corny smile to his friend behind him.

Andrew tried to ignore them. Even if the words hurt, he's heard them all before. The burning sensation in his throat that signaled he wanted to cry mixed in his throat. The two bullies saw him getting upset and continued on with the torture. "What's wrong, eh?" The one next to him called."You gonna cry or something? Don't be a sourpuss, all right? We're all friends here! But after all, who would be friends with a loser?" Loser. That's the word Andrew would never tolerate someone calling him.

A mix of emotions swirled in his stomach, and his gut told him to get angry, fierce. Andrew's face turned deadly serious and he turned around, a snarl exiting his mouth. Balling up his fist, he threw it forward as hard as he can and it collided with the boy's stomach. The boy let out a agonized cry and fell to the ground, coughing up blood. "N- no! I-" A person next to him started to call 911, helping the boy up. "TOM!" His friend screamed, crying and weeping. Andrew backed away, ashamed. Looking back at the mess he just made, he ran all the way back home, tears in his eyes.

It was only when Andrew reached for his house key that he realized there was an agonizing sharp pain in his hand. He looked down to find that his middle finger was swollen and purple. (He said a word that made a person walking on the street gasp.) Andrew smashed his foot at the door as hard as he could and screamed at the top of his lungs. The world wasn't worth living on! Nothing was worth anything! And it never was! The stressed boy took out his key with his left hand and fiddled with the lock. He kicked it open with a large slam. Leaving the door swinging wide open Andrew raced up to his room and searched under his mattress. His hand reached it. A sharp pain reached his hand as he tugged the object out. Andrew stared at it for a moment. A knife was in his hand. There was nobody around to stop him. He raised the blade to his tear coated throat when- "Hello?! Is anybody here?" an elderly woman was calling from downstairs.

Andrew slammed the knife into the floor as he heard the interruption. The lady stopped as she heard the bang. When Andrew sped downstairs the lady's eyes fixed on the knife in his hand. She gasped and ran out the door.

Andrew sighed, paced himself as he walked into his room again, and was about to place the knife back when he sprinted back downstairs and threw the knife in the garbage.

------------------------

Andrew's mother was at work. She wasn't there when there was a knock on the door, a demanding, angry knock. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. "Let us in, kid!"
Trembling, Andrew slowly turned the doorknob and peered out to see who was knocking. He winced as his injured finger met the handle. The figures outside were tall, wearing blue clothing and they were very muscular. Andrew looked up, saw the faces, the uniforms....
It was the police.
"Son, we're here because you are being charged for homicidal attempt. You attempted to kill Thomas Burundi. Please come with us."
"N-no!" shrieked Andrew, flinching back, hand pressing against the door to lock out the cops. But they were prepared for this and were propping the door open with their hands.
"Kid, don't make us make you. Come on. You get a trial first, you know. And if you're innocent, you shouldn't be so worried."
Andrew's eyes widened. He was not innocent. He was expelled. He was a bully. And now he was caught.

He tried yet harder to shove the door shut but the cops were twice his size and it didn't budge. There was no point in trying to run because the door would be loose and eventually he would be caught. Andrew reluctantly replied with a stutter in his voice. "I-I didn't want to kill." he paused. In a way he was lying. "I didn't want to kill her."
"Son, I've no proof of that. I would suggest you step outside right now before we make you."
Silence.
"I repeat. Step outside right now before we make you. I promise you will have a trial one way or another but it's your choice if you want to do it the easy way, or the hard way." said the cop firmly.
Slowly, the jittering boy opened the door separating him from the police and gulped. His face flushed bright pink to pale white as the cop placed a very secure grip on Andrew's shoulder. The man steered him very firmly to a car with CHICAGO POLICE on the side.