March 7, 1998
Dear Diary,
Today I just got back from the principal’s office. I despise going there. I despise him. He has been out to get me ever since I moved here at the beginning of the year. Everyone has. Today the principal came up with the biggest lie yet. He said that I was caught bullying someone by the water fountain. As if. I would never do that. The kid mistook me for someone else. It isn’t fair! Why does everyone think I’m the bully? I do have one friend though. His name is Fred. He understands me. He is just like me, a bit awkward that nobody gets, but we understand each other.

March 21, 1998
Dear Diary,
Today a kid in my grade came back to school with a cast after falling out of a tree a week ago, causing him to break his ankle. Everyone was signing it and saying things like, “Wow, that must hurt,” as well as, “I’m so sorry for you,”. They all made a big deal about it like it was some act of heroism, breaking his ankle. I didn’t sign the stupid cast. It is his fault that he broke his ankle, and honestly he should be embarrassed. After not signing the cast people called me names I can’t repeat. Some kid tried to punch me. People who saw what happened say I was the one who punched him first, that he was just stretching, but I know what really happened. He was mad I wasn’t being nice to his friend. I ended up getting expelled from that school, but I’m relieved to be rid of everyone there. Later that night, Fred climbed through my window. He knew I was grounded and couldn’t see my friends (the only one I had anyway), but I was really missing him since I had no one to talk to now. Fred told me that he saw what happened, what really happened. Turns out the kid did start it first, not me! I’m so angry, I hate everyone. Except for Fred though, he is nice.

April 10, 1998
Dear Diary,
I started going to another school about three weeks ago. Fred is the best friend ever, he decided to change schools just for me. I tried to blend in, and prevent what happened at my previous school from happening again. I didn’t talk to anyone else but Fred, kids still identified me as the new kid, who is weird. They are just picking on me because I’m a genius and they aren’t. Fred told me that I should tell people I’m smarter than them. He thinks that will get kids to stop bullying me. I agree with him, everyone else is just jealous of me. I need to confront them and tell them to stop.

June 1, 1998
Dear Diary,
I haven’t had time to write recently because everything has been very chaotic at home. I got expelled again by the beginning of May. Apparently this time was for getting into a fight with one of the kids who bullied me. Apparently I was being a bully to everyone. They say I told everyone that they were insignificant and I was better than them in every way. This isn’t true. They twisted the truth, I was just letting them know that they have no right bullying me because I’m smarter than they are. They don’t understand me because they don’t know what I have done for them. By that time my mom gave up, it would almost be summer anyway. Now she has three months to find another high school for me to go to. I’m so happy, I can finally be myself and have fun with Fred. I get the summer off from my secret job, so I can finally just have fun.

June 28, 1998
Dear Diary,
My mom has been getting more and more worried about me recently. I don’t really know why, because I’m acting the way I normally do. During the summer all I have been doing is playing video games, talking to Fred, and hanging out with him. I told my mom that Fred was sleeping over one night and she got all worried, but he is a good guy. He wouldn’t mess up our house like other people would. In the morning, Fred and I ate pancakes with chocolate chips on top, and whipped cream. Fred made a whip cream mustache on his lip. It was really funny. My boss then tried to contact me through the radio, but I told him that I was on vacation, and that he would have to find another spy to work for the CIA at the moment, then I turned the radio off. The next day my mom found a therapist that she will be sending me to for help. That is what she said anyway. I don’t want to go, I am perfectly fine, but she is making me.

July 4, 1998
Dear Diary,
Today was July 4th, and unfortunately the day is almost over but I did have a happy time. I love watching the fireworks every year, with all the colors shooting up and sparkling right in front of my eyes, then falling to the ground and sizzling out. It reminds me like it’s raining almost, but with fire. Fred and I watched the fireworks together. It was a happy day, until my mom got a call. A call that made her eyebrows scrunch up and wrinkles messed up her forehead. It reminded me of a prune. Her voice got ushed, took one glance at me, and walked out of the room. I followed her, and listened in to her conversation. She was talking to my therapist. The phone was turned up so much that I could hear what my therapist was saying. I have been diagnosed with Schizophrenia, whatever that meant. He continued on saying that he is trying his hardest to help me, but I need to take medicine for the rest of my life. I don’t know what Schizophrenia is, but I definitely know I don’t want to go to the therapist anymore or take medicine. There is nothing wrong with me, and my mom will believe anything that a professional person will tell her. I bet my therapist just made that word up.

August 3, 1998
Dear Diary,
For a month now I have been faking going to the therapist. Everytime my mom drops me off there, I wave at her letting her know it is okay to leave. Then when she is out of sight I run to a restaurant that is about a block away, and then come back when it’s time to be picked up. Fred helped me come up with a lie so that the therapist wouldn’t call my mother when I didn’t show up. This is why I’m friends with Fred, he’s a genius just like me. The lie was, “My mom told me to tell you that I don’t have to come over anymore. I’m all better, so after today you won’t be seeing me.” When the therapist wouldn’t believe me, and was about to call my mom, I told him, “Don’t call her! She is sleeping right now. She is sick and I want her to get better.” Then (here is the best part) when the therapist wanted me to give him a signed note with my mom’s signature, I handed him a forged note and he believed it! After answering some questions that Fred coached me through, and telling the therapist what he wanted to hear, he let me out early.

August 28, 1998
Dear Diary,
Today was my first day of senior year. It is also my first day back to work for the CIA. Right before I left my mom caught me by the door. She had a pill in her hand and told me it was a happy pill. I knew what it really was, a pill that will “cure” me. I have been seeing these pills for more than a month now. I popped it in my mouth and pretended to swallow. A big grin grew on my mom’s face. As soon as I left the house I spit out the pill into the rocks that were in the neighbor's yard. At school, everyone bullied me again. I’m always targeted by everyone, and I have no idea why. Fred thinks it’s just because I’m taking college level courses and everyone is jealous. I agree.

November 6, 1998
Dear Diary,
Today was a blur. At school, even when people tried to punch me while I was sitting behind them, I refrained from punching them back (for most of the day anyway). I was too busy focusing on my secret job. Someone sneezed once and another kid sneezed twice immediately after. I knew they were communicating to each other, but everyone else was too gullible to pick that up. After that, a kid yawned and reached behind him to punch me. Of course I didn’t let that happen. I’m sick and tired of people bullying me. I can’t believe these three kids have been plotting to hurt me this whole time! I bet they’re working for another side, trying to take down the CIA. They must be stopped. Before the kid touched my arm, I grabbed his and twisted it as hard as I could. There was a loud crack, that seemed deafening. As the kid started screaming in pain, for a moment, I was proud of myself. I would get a medal from the organization when they find out. Then the teacher started lunging at me and all the kids had a scared look on their face. I didn’t know what was going on until Fred yelled, “Run!” so I jumped out of my chair and sprinted out the door, out of the hallway, and out of the building. All I could hear was the echoing of my teacher calling 911. “A kid broke someone else’s arm! He’s mentally unstable!” I kept running and running, not knowing or caring where I was going, too afraid to look back.

December 25, 1998
Dear Diary,
It is Christmas today. I wish I was celebrating with my mom, but I can’t go home. I have been on the run now for two months. Police have been searching for the “mentally unstable” child. I know that everyone is searching for me, and the entire county has been warned about me. Once I was almost caught. They said that if I come with them, then no one will get hurt. I realize now I’m in a life or death situation. I broke into a home two weeks ago because I needed a warm place to go. The family was gone for vacation, so I didn’t think they were coming back any time soon. I found a loaded gun in that house. I grabbed it for protection, and when the police found me I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. The bullets didn’t hit anything, but the police dived for cover. This gave me enough time to run away. Now I’m in another house. I’ve heard that they have announced I’m too dangerous to reason with. The command to shoot on sight has been given. Oh god, I’m so scared. They found me. I think I’m going to die today. If I die, somebody please, I’m begging you, tell my mom I . . .
*a drop of blood is on the page*

Dear Diary,
I met God about three weeks ago. Everything is peaceful up in heaven. I don’t know what day it is, but I am looking down on my own funeral. I’m laying there, colorless. All the color has been drained from me. My mom is crying next to me down there. I hope she knows that I love her, I love her so much it hurts. I know what I did wrong now, I should’ve taken the pills. I shouldn’t have listened to Fred. I was so stupid. I could’ve become normal without dying. I could’ve continued my life. At least now I’ve escaped that version of hell, at least now I’m free.