Mom's going to be so pissed. I went out last night. I don't know why I bother. I don't fit out there. I don't know where I fit.

So I climbed down the wall. I've got my own climbing wall dug in the bricks out there. I don't think mom knows about it. Probably Mr. Doyle does. I don't think it's possible to keep many secrets from the guy. Master of deductive reasoning and the arrogant glare.

I like going out in the night. Traveling through the dark parts of the city where there aren't any streetlights. Sometimes I like to hide around the outskirts of the concerts and the raves and listen to the music on the inside. Sometimes I like to dance. I know it sounds stupid, and I'm sure I look like a total assclown, but I do. I like to dance and I like to pretend that there might actually be some girl out there interested in dancing with me.

So there I am, dancing in the dark, listening to the bass thumping through the brick wall of a dance club. That's what I was doing when it all went down.

He came out of the alley, wearing a dirty black jacket, torn jeans, and with a face pitted with craters worse than I've ever seen. Guy was almost uglier than me.

"Hey buddy," He says. "Got any spare change?"

Oh great, a panhandler, right? Only that wasn't what this guy was up to. He got closer and I could see the mean look in his eyes. You know the kind of look I'm talking about. The kind you see in the eyes of schoolyard bullies, gym teachers, and everyday psychos.

I hate that look.

I could see the shadows moving in the alley behind him. Guy wasn't alone. Had at least three buddies with him, and they were all coming towards me. Then he pulled a switchblade. I'm not kidding you. I mean, it's the 21st century, bud. Who uses a freakin' switchblade? He started coming at me.

Oh hell. Mom's coming. I'll tell you more later. She's going to be so pissed. Blog you later.