The party seems to last forever. After dancing, Jason and I talk for a while, and I remember to tell him happy birthday. He's eighteen now, so for the next week and a half he will be a whomping two years older than me. Of course, I don't plan to have a big party like this, or even tell anyone about my turning seventeen. It's not really a big deal, just another milestone in my pointless life.

I have always tried to keep the milestones to myself, because if they aren't a big deal to me, then they should not really matter to others. My mom never spoiled me, even on my birthdays, and I knew better than to question it. She always seemed distant, in her own little world, a broken shell of the person she used to be.

I suppose it was losing her husband, my dad, a few years after I was born, that affected her like that. After watching those videos I found, I have formed a small adoration for him myself. But it seems a bit inappropriate to miss someone I don't even remember.

"Hello, again." I turn and find Andrew behind me, who has broken my long trance of thoughts. I suppose I get lost in my own little world, too, like my mom used to. I probably looked stupid, sitting and staring quietly off into the distance. "So you and Jason really are a pair, huh?" I roll my eyes, as I realize that he is no longer wearing that ridiculous Groot costume that he was wearing the last time we chatted. Must be he was getting too much ridicule to handle and he thought better to just rid himself of it. Now, he's wearing jeans and sandals and a green t-shirt, which looks equally as strange on him as the costume did.

"What about it?" I wonder aloud, fingering the hem of my purple blazer, there for the purpose of making me look more like the Joker. I make sure to keep a safe and comfortable distance away from Andrew. He hasn't really done anything wrong, I just have horrible trust issues, and thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice.

"Nothing, just that you aren't really his type," he replies. My stomach twists; I don't really want to have a conversation like this with Andrew, who I just met an hour ago. Well, I really don't want to have this kind of conversation with any kind of person, because these are the kind that can expose how vulnerable I am, and I don't want to do that.

"Yeah? What is Jason's type?" I ask, swallowing painfully. I don't want to hear this, not at his party, surrounded by all these strangers. Looking around, I easily spot a hallway that hopefully leads to a bathroom, and the front door which I came in earlier.

Andy shrugs, "I don't mean to offend, but he usually goes out with sexy, outgoing girls. And, don't get me wrong, I love this whole adorable-nerdy-thing you've got going on here, but it's quite a change for Jason. There must be something special he sees in you." I furrow my eyebrows, curious as to why he would waste his time saying all of that when he could have just stabbed me in the chest, it would have been quicker, and just as painful.

Every word that Andy just said only confirmed my earlier worries. I have no time to confront him about it, though, because some girl dressed as Black Widow comes up to him and pulls him out of my sight.

I can feel the familiar dizziness that comes just before the breathless crying and attempts to breathe. I can feel it, sneaking up on me, like a predator stalking its prey, but it scurries away when I'm distracted by laughter coming from outside. Most of the people inside the room are swarming outside to see what all the commotion is about, and I, like the idiot I am, follow.

A circle of people are gathered around, and I try to force my way through them to see what's going on.

"Come on. Are you too chicken to get back up?" As I finally get up front, I stand next to Haley and Emily who are watching with worry and pity rather than interest, like everyone else. I almost gasp in surprise when I see three guys, all looking to be around my age, picking on a little boy, who looks around nine or ten.

"What's going on?" I whisper to Haley, and somehow she can hear me over the murmurs of everyone else watching. She shakes her head in sadness.

"I was hoping that they'd quit this," she replies. The boy tries desperately to escape the circle of bullies, only to be shoved back in, hard, by the biggest, meanest looking one. The boy falls to the ground, his eyes watering up. "That's Peter Hill. Those three guys. have been bullying him for a long time."

"Why?"

Haley sighs deeply. "He's autistic, but they don't know that, they just think he's stupid." A terrible sense of de-jé-vu hits me as I remember getting picked on when I was little, for the exact same thing. My eyes almost water up as I realize how many times I have been in this situation. "Leave me alone," Peter mumbles, wiping at his face with his dirty hands. The other boys just laugh, and start mocking him.

Anger fills me. Why are all these people just standing here, not making any effort to help him? He's just a kid, why doesn't anyone do anything about it?

"Hey, leave him alone," I say loudly, stepping forward. Haley grabs my arm, whispering angrily in protest, but I ignore her, shoving her away and glaring the bullies. They just snicker, hardly noticing me.

"You going to make us?" The big, mean one steps forward, towering uncomfortably over me, and giving me an ice cold glare. Really, the only thing about this situation that scares me is all of those pairs of eyes on me right now. I guess I have enough anger fueling me that I am able to just ignore it.

For a moment, just a fraction of a second, he looks away, to see if Peter is trying to bolt again. It's in that moment where I make my move. I curl my fingers into a fist and swing it into the left side of his face, hitting him as hard as I can. Surprised and shocked noises come from all around me.

Apparently, I didn't do that bad, because he topples to the ground, holding his face, and my hand is throbbing with an unbelievable pain I have never felt before, which must be the aftermath of punching someone. I have never experienced that before. It's oddly relieving and satisfying.

"Okay, show's over people!" Haley and Emily start to push people back inside, away from this, as if they can sense that I'm uncomfortable. I look to the ground, seeing the two untouched bullies trying to help the other one up, but he just keeps shrugging them away. I'm a little relieved to see Peter no where, which means he got away safely.

I think.

"You have no idea who you're messing with," Bully No. 1 says, finally getting up and still holding the side of his face. I can already see a bruise starting to form there, underneath his hand where I clocked him. "I'll get you for this." I just laugh, finding how tough he is trying to be very amusing. Like my mom used to say, tough talk is just talk.

"Okay, I'm real scared," I say, neutrally, even yawning to express how lame I found his threat to be. He squints his eyes and storms away, his minions following after him like lemmings. I roll my eyes in annoyance, realizing that everyone else went back inside. I glance around, looking for the victim. "Peter?" I call out, worried. He reminds me of me when I was a kid, picked on for the smallest things by the biggest jerks.

He peeks out from behind the side of a red ford truck, looking at me nervously with his enormous hazel colored eyes. I smile softly, trying to convince him that I'm not a threat. "Are you okay, Peter?" I question. He's hiding too much of himself for me to see if he's hurt.

Peter looks at the ground, embarrassed, and sniffles a little. My heart constricts at the sight, and I try to force my own memories to the back of my mind, so I can focus on the boy in front of me. I take a slow, hesitant step forward, which results in him backing away. It reminds me of a frightened deer, one that never lets you get too close to it before running away.

"My name is Charlie, I want to help you," I say quietly, which he seems to believe. He looks up at me, his eyes pleading as he steps out of his hiding spot, but he looks at his feet again. I try again, stepping forward. When he doesn't try and run this time, I get in front of him and crouch down, so that we are at eye level. His eyes are watery and his cheeks are red and puffy and dirty. "Are you bleeding anywhere?" I ask quietly, taking in the sight of him. His shirt and shorts are dirty, and he's not wearing shoes or socks.

Peter hesitates a moment, before lifting his right arm and showing me his elbow, which has a huge scrape on it that's bleeding. He must have got that when the bullies pushed him on the ground.

He lets me take him to the bathroom, where I shut the door and find something to wrap up his wound as he sits on the toilet seat. Surprisingly enough, I do happen to find a first aid kit in the cabinet behind the mirror. I quickly go to work, carefully bandaging his arm up as he tries to keep his fidgeting to a minimum.

"He said I'm stupid," Peter says suddenly, out of nowhere. I freeze, suddenly realizing one of the reasons why I think so negatively about myself. I certainly do not want this boy to end up like me.

"You aren't stupid, Peter," I say quietly, finally finishing with his arm and washing the tools off that I used.

"Then why did he say that?" I swear, this is like talking to myself.

"Because he's a jerk, okay?" I say, turning around and crouching back down to look at him again. "Hey, don't you dare think that you aren't smart enough, or that you're not good enough, because you are, okay? You're good." I probably shouldn't be saying this when I don't know if it's actually true or not, but I have a good feeling about this kid.

"Okay," he murmurs in reply.

What if he turns out like me? A lonely, self-loathing, isolated kid who just wants to be noticed, just wants to know that they are not alone? What if after a year or so he starts marking his wrists with scars because he thinks he deserves to die?

I sure hope not.