My dad is the manager at a big department store, and I think he does a great job. You can probably guess what Mom’s job is. A few years ago, I saw a neat job title for what she does and have told her a few times that she should get a diploma made up or something. The title is: Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations. Pretty neat, don’t you think?

During my high school years, I had the opportunity to take a couple of math classes at the local high school. With my interest in engineering, I needed some higher math that Mom wasn’t comfortable teaching me. While there, I got teased quite a bit for only attending a few classes, but could ignore that. What was harder to ignore was Carl Matthews. He was a senior when I was a sophomore and loved to rub it in that he was athletic and I was a nerd. I tried to ignore him, too, but he wouldn’t let me.

One thing about me. I stutter when I’m nervous or scared, so I try to avoid situations where I might become one or the other. Or I just don’t talk which has also worked well. When Carl talked to me, I ignored him and got labeled the most unfriendly, unsociable kid in school. I tried not to care, but every name drove deep down into me, hurting me more and more until for once, I couldn’t wait for school to end.

Three years passed and I’d just started attending the local community college to get a degree in Engineering. I planned to go to the community college until I could afford to transfer to a better one in a year or two. My first day of classes started out great! My professors were helpful and I learned quite a bit from them, even just after one day.

Everything was perfect until one of the older students ran into me. I tried to avoid him, but it didn’t work and all of my books flew around the sidewalk.

“Watch where you’re going!” he yelled. “What are you? A clumsy fool?”

I gulped when I saw the size of him. Then I recognized him. This was the star quarterback for the college football team and the most popular guy at school. “I’m s-s-sorry. I tried to s-s-stay out of your way, but—”

Carl burst out laughing. “What’s the matter? Can’t s-s-say your s’s? What’s your name?” He paused. “Wait, you look familiar. Aren’t you the mute kid from high school?”

My face burned. He had remembered. I knelt down to pick up my books and muttered, “David Conyers.”