BITTEN BY AN ALPHA BEAST

Andre when he was a toddler. At age seven, it was clear that this boy wanted nothing to do with a ring, a pair of gloves, nor a helmet and this greatly frustrated Gabriel into w

ashed in the boy's head, childhood trauma drawing at him. This happened most of the time he was around his father and he hated the fact. Andre also hated that his mother could not even speak up for him anytime his father bullied him. "I told you, I have insomnia all the time but you both choose to ignore it" He replied, helping himself with a toast and a glass glass of almond milk on the table, pausing before drinking the milk which he hated, but still taking the glass to the lips because the morning was already ruined beyond salvation. " You wouldn't have insomnia if you ain't addicted to your phone boy" his father said sarcastically. Andre was used to being blamed for everything, he carried his father's baggage as eyebags all around, throughout his s

stence, Andre despite all the popularity still felt invisible, he would never admit it but he lived for basketball and a hope to one day gain his father's validation. Quite ironic that he consistently seeks Gabriel's validation but also wishes Mr. Whitlock would get a heat attack and die. His phone rang, vibrating in his denim pant pocket, ringing the emptiness in his stomach which had only half a glass of almond milk and toast. Fred written boldly across his phone screen as he brought it out of his pocket, still driving with his eyes on the road. Fred is Andre's black friend; you know how they say every cool white teen in middle America has that one black friend for social security and a an "I'm not racist" badge. Andre picked the call and placed it on the car dashboard, the phone was on loudspeaker, then he fiddled for the radio bandwidth control, tuning off the Arcade Fire song blasting from the little device. "Hey man" Fred's voice echoed in the car. "What's up, dude?" He replied. "Are you on your