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Here's my fricon story aight?? So enjoi.
I once new a boy who knew everything. He may not have known who his father was, or how to jump rope, but he knew the few things in life that not many others can grasp. I still to this day can cnot explain it in words, I don't know a person who could, but I'm going to give it my best shot.
Michael Jay Robenstien stood outside of the special class he had been put in. It was the first time I ever saw him. He was two years younger than I, and in the same grade, in the highest class. Most people thought he was just some smart nerd because he was so young, but I felt there was something a matter with him. I didn't know what to say to him, so I didn't say anything until the twelth grade.
My friend Jimmy and I were in the library and we spotted him with about three huge books on the table beside him. I never saw him with anyone besides his older brother until this year because his brother had gone off to collge the year before. So now he was always alone.
"Hi, there," I said.
He barely looked up from his work and muttered "Hello."
"So, what's your name?" I asked, even though I very well knew it was Michael Jay Robenstien. I just wanted to make conversation.
"Michael," he said quickly, impatiently.
"Oh, well hi Michael. I'm Lucy Mathegon and this is Jimmy Walters."
He raised his head slightly in sort of a nod. I knew very well he wasn't from Alabama like the rest of us, but I decided to ask him about it anyway. I don't know why, but i was determined to get a conversation out of him.
"You're not from around here are you? I mean you don't sound like it."
"No, my grandmother and I moved here when I was in seventh grade," he answered, still not looking up from his work.
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"Oh, do you like it here?" I asked. I could tell Jimmy was getting impatient.
Michael shrugged.
"Well, do you want to do something with us this weekend?" I finally asked, getting tired of the melancholy feeling in the library.
"Why?" he simply asked.
"Well it's not like you're doing anything else," Jimmy said, the first thing he said since we'd entered the library.
"Are you stalking me? No, that's a stupid question. Why do you try to appear that you know things that you don't?" Michael said, finally looking up, showing his black-rimmed glasses. He had this sort of a boyish look about him, but also a look of someone who had been through an awful lot. He looked tired.
"What man? I was just trying to get you to go out with us and do something," said defensively.
"Yeah, maybe, but you did mean that. You assumed that just because I have glasses and don't have a million friends that I don't ever do anything."
"Uh, I'm sorry..."
"Well, you're right. I just do work and I write," Michael said, smiling for possibly the first time I had ever seen him smile. "Nice to meet you Jimmy, Lucy." Michael shook both their hands. "Where are you going?"
I noticed an unusual firmness in his grip, very... Professional?
"We don't know, sometimes we just go to my house and read a book. I hear there's a new movie at the theatre," I said.
"Well, whatever. You can call me at my grandmother's." He wrote down the number, twice, so we could each have it. Maybe in case one of us lost it, one of us probably would.
"I hate the library," I said. "It smells stale, and the air tastes like old dirty rain!"
Jimmy and Michael laughed. "You grow accustomed to it," Michael said.
Over the year, Michael, Jimmy, and I had our fun together. Michael always knew the right thing to do, to say, to think. He wasn't the average meaning of smart, more his own intellectuality. Like I said before, Michael Jay Roebnstien knew everything.
Michael often had to rush home to help his aging grandmother, but sometimes he lied. Sometimes he used that as an excuse to go write more of his story. He was writing a long novel he told us, but he couldn't tell us what about. We let him go on his way and rarely bothered him about it.
When it was time for college, we all three found ourselves going to colleges in the east. Michael, of course, was in a top notch school, but in the same state, Jimmy and I were in an advanced college. We could still do what we wanted with Michael.
One night he called me. It was late, around eleven-thirty. He seemed anxious. That was srange, he never sounded anxious. I was worried. "What? What is is Michael?"
"I think Grandmother is not okay and I am kind of busy right now."
"Busy? What are you doing at this time of night?" I asked sleepily, yawning.
"I can't say, but can you please go check on her? PLease?"
"Sure Michael, I'll go right now.
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