Forgotten Somewhere in the Middle of Nowhere"So this is your last day, huh?" the big-headed 7th grader asked me. A few people waved at me and called my name as I strode past them. I waved back.
"You know, they don't really mean that. I mean, they're just trying to be polite and all by waving to you, and saying 'hey Freyd' and all that, but in a while they'll forget all about you." Her words were derisive mixed with intimidation and mockery. She smiled maliciously. I found her annoying. She was a foolish little kid who thought she knew all the workings of the universe.
A protest in Utah against Wal-Mart
English: Walmart Home Office, the headquarters of ...
Josh Ashworth"Yeahâ¦" I wasn't paying much attention. I still couldn't believe it. Just last week I thought school here was going to be torture, but I was now beginning to miss it terribly. I was days away from going to the suburbs of Philadelphia from this little town of Magnolia, Arkansas. Rednecks are odd, I assured myself, and they talk different: stressing syllables that normally aren't stressed; they say my name funny, "Freyd" instead of just "Fred", pronouncing the "e" like the "ey" in "hey". I have a normal accent like Northerners. I was surprised at my condescending thoughts, and caught myself before I went on like a conceited loser.
I tried to evade the empty smiles of the other students, who now seemed so odd and alien to me. They don't really mean it, I thought again, they're just trying to be nice, wanting to ingratiate themselves to me, wanting to make me feel at home. I shuddered at my giving in to the ideas of the little bigheaded seventh grader. Hurricane Katrina tore apart what little prestige I had before, and made me a beggar, a homeless person depending on the welfare...