>Injustice Journal: Juvee


Spencer Roberts has been cursed with a Bible. His curse: taking any injustice personally and being endowed with the power necessary to deal with the situation.

Well, let me tell you about my day… later.

Right now I want to continue with my documentation of the worst and possibly best thing that ever happened to me. My magic powers. I want to capture it all so bare with me as I continually unload my entire history in this blog form. Is it just me or is my vocab a little more into it today?

So let’s back up again: Katy, who we called “Black Babay” in middle school, cursed me with a Bible. I was cursed to remedy injustice where ever I may find it. Not only that but my body would sometimes become bulky, yet limber, to the degree needed to do whatever was necessary according to the injustice that was taking place. You know, I think my vocab has improved… I wonder if that’s another side effect of the curse. There are quite a few, but back to my backstory first.

After the incident in the field I began to keep an eye out for bad things that may happen… so I could avoid them. I had no idea what was going on, but as my friends said, “why you wiggin’ out?” That was their way of saying, “what’s wrong with you lately?” What was wrong is that I began to take many things personally.

If I saw a kid drop his books in the hall, I felt drawn to help him pick them up.

If I saw a girl being left out during free time in P.E. I felt conveyed to played with her.

If I saw a teacher being made fun of, I felt obligated to tell the kids to stop.

And even worse, with every passing day it became harder and harder to resist the temptation of knocking some kid into a locker or tripping some bully while he walks past my lunch table. Eventually, I snapped. I snapped big time. It was like one of those continuous shots in a movie. This stupid kid, Chuck, was making fun of our math teacher, Mr. Dougherty, because he always believes this one girl, Megan Hermans, every time she claims to be hurt or not feel well. So as class gets out I pushed past Chuck slamming his head into an open locker, and then redirected a technology cart (the janitor was pushing) right in the path of Megan. She hit her nose and it started to bleed. Then I tripped up another kid who I use to hang with and who is a bully of the nerdy kids, knocked a girl’s books out of her hands cause she was calling another girl a loser right to her face practically by not inviting her to some party, pushed some jock jerk making him drop his shadow box project and then I walked all over it, and lastly I stepped on some kid’s toes for calling his friend a homo… I’m pretty sure that last one was just a couple of kids joking around… my bad, right?

As I turned the corner I was feeling pretty good about myself, that is before I became sick to my stomach. I rushed to the bathroom and blew chunks all over the floor. I know, not something you needed to know. I could have easily said “I became sick”, or “I threw-up,” but how shocking is that? Not as shocking as becoming sick was to me. Obviously this thing was a little more complicated than I thought. You see, I thought it was a figment of my imagination. Like if I told you that you looked pale you might begin to think you are sick. So I tried my hardest to return my life to normal. My friends didn’t help any either. It turns out my friends are the type to run for their lives when we “accidentally” drive a stolen car over an embankment and leave me trapped inside for the cops to blame it all on. They also all mysteriously had the perfect alibi for the night the incident occurred. They left me hanging high and dry.

After I got out of prison… Oh! by the way, I was sent to jail for 2 months. Ok, it wasn’t really jail like the adult jail. It was that stupid juvenile institute where they send underage kids. I got to meet with a psychiatrist once a week and work on projects the rest of the time. Most of the projects we did involved picking up trash on the side of the road, but I also got to make a basket to place my mail in… of course I didn’t get much mail. As my court appointed psychiatrist helped me to see, my parents haven’t always been there for me. As a matter of fact, Dr. Pilbert was acting as if my parent’s uninterest in my life was the reason I “acted out.” She said it was a “cry for attention,” and that my parent’s “neglectful attitude” led me to believe, on some level, they didn’t know I existed… It was all interesting but I wasn’t too concerned with why I became a bully. I knew why I became a bully. What I wanted to know was more about this curse. And you’ll never guess who was the first one to visit me in the slammer.

So the guard comes in one day and tells me I have a visitor. I figured that the psych talked to my parents and they came to apologize. That would have been nice, but what I got was even better. As I walked into the Visitation Room I saw a dark figure sitting at the table farthest away. It was Katy! She came to visit me because she was afraid that her cursing me was the reason I was in jail. She figured that if I was’t so up-tight about stealing the car the whole time, then my senses would have been keen to my surroundings and we never would have rolled the car in the ditch where I was found. She also gave me a few details…

She told me that the curse will take over my body “at some point,” after which I will have full control over the powers. She said I may continue to get sick every now and then. She also said that the kids at school have all but forgotten about me. Ya, that has nothing to do with my curse but I wasn’t going to start a new paragraph yet. Actually, since I’m still on this part, she also apologized for cursing me and told me that if there was anything I needed, to just let her know.

This was good news but it still wasn’t the best news. I had another month and a half to go and things weren’t going so well. I became the kid that all the guards constantly watched out for. Because of the curse, I felt compelled to correct every single little injustice, and with time, the importance of the injustice mattered less and less. Even the smallest thing such as sneezing on someone made me jump into action. I even took down a guard once for beating one of the other kids. Later, with video surveillance, they proved that I was indeed trying to save the kid from an unjust disciplinary action. Of course, the inmates still aren’t suppose to beat up the guards. So they gave me another couple of weeks in the joint, which soon turned to another whole month. The time I spent in juvee was kinda like a preparation for what was going to happen next, and soon.

As you could probably tell, I got out after the three months were up. But I was definitely a different person. To try and blend into the background at school (and just in general) I began to dress darkly, wear long sleeves and pants all the time, wear hoodies with the hood up when possible. I kept to myself, stayed away from situations where I might be singled out. The idea was to blend in so no one would know I was even there.

It worked for the most part.

Well, I gotta get to bed, so I’ll finish with this: You won’t believe how well my plan worked. One word: “Ghost Boy” … ok so that’s two words, w/e.

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