Worlds Apart Read Online Free Page A

could convince me otherwise.
    I rode the subway home that first day of school. One day down, three hundred to go. No sign of the Deceptors, just as I had predicted. The first day of school and the last day of school were always wonderful; the days in between were a problem. It’s not that I disliked school. I saw it as a means to an end, a necessary odyssey. School is penance for being young.
    I had made a promise to myself that if I was going to have a successful career one day; I needed to get in the habit of never missing a day of work or school. After all, I would never have this opportunity again. Once high school was over, it would really be over. No one can go back in time and relive high school. No one can ever bring something back once it is gone. Too many people come to this realization when it’s too late. Like at their twenty year high school reunion.
    After much reflection over the summer, I had made it a point to stop hanging out with the negative people in my life. This included those who did not share my ambitions or desire for a better future. This meant not hanging around some of the losers I knew the previous year. This also meant that I was running out of friends fast. John Donne wrote “No man is an island.” In other words, I still needed to sit with someone in the cafeteria during lunch, or risk appearing to be a total loser.
    Sam could be construed or misconstrued as a really negative personality type. He was kind of apathetic and expected everyone else to be apathetic as well. At the same time, there were few students in all of Stanton who were better academically, or more driven to succeed. No one was more determined to go to Harvard. Sam was hard to explain. Rather, my friendship with Sam is hard to explain.
    During sophomore year, whenever I tried to sign up for a club, or try out for a team, Sam showed up to talk me out of it. Sam knew exactly what to say and when to say it. During football tryouts, Sam walked by. I was already nervous about the tryouts because I was not as big and strong as some of the other guys. Sam shouted out, “Don’t waste your time…you are too small, too weak, and too slow. You’re just going to embarrass yourself.” Everyone laughed. I walked off the line and went home. It wasn’t always what he said; sometimes it was the way he said it.
    Sam had the uncanny ability to be very convincing and spoke with conviction. He would bad mouth every student trying their best or striving for greater achievement.
    Sam had a problem with anyone who achieved any form of success. When I had announced to Sam and John that I’d been named Sports Editor of the school paper, Sam threw a fit. He tossed my backpack across the hall, yelled obscenities, and stormed off. John, on the other hand, congratulated me and said I deserved it after all my hard work. John was a much better friend, and I liked him better than Sam. But for some reason, Sam was always around, and it was hard to cut the cord. My father always said, “Show me your friends and I’ll tell you who you are.” Well, that may be true, but looking back, I can take it a step further. Your friends in high school are a reflection of your insecurities, self doubts, and vulnerabilities. John believed that the prettiest girls always hung out with the not so pretty girls, in order to make themselves look prettier. I think the pretty girls sees themselves as the not so pretty girls, and birds of a feather flock together.
    My father warned me about my friendships, and I heard his voice in my head often. I hope I’m not making him out to be Polonius, because he was, in fact, the opposite. My father was quiet, blue collared, and rarely offered advice. My father’s best friend had betrayed him in high school over a sports competition. His friend had tricked him to believe the competition was moved to the next day because of rain. Guess who won the competition? “Never trust your best friend,” my father would say.
    Sam hated