A boy originally from Illinois tries to fit in with his peers, but finds difficulty in doing so.
My name is Mike. Michael Barnabas Stinkowiectz, but everyone I know calls me by the (rather unappetizing) nickname of "Stinko". It's easier, yes, but it's also quite humiliating.
I moved here over the summer from Chicago, Illinois. I moved here with my ma, my pa, my little brother Stephen (he's 12) and my sister Gloria (she's seventeen), and I can't get used to it. Too fast-paced here, and I can't understand the people here. They sound like they got cotton balls in their mouth--that or marshmallows.
We moved here because they have a great children's hospital here, Nashville Children's. We moved here on account of my brother. He has serious heart problems--has had many a surgery, wasn't expected to survive some of 'em, but he proved to be tough as nails. He's still around, which is nothing short of a miracle.
My brother is doing okay--not great, but okay; at least he hasn't been in the hospital since two months before we moved. That was back in June of this year. He had a heart catheterization; he done alright, but he will need another surgery. He still gets out of breath, turns blue if overexerted in some way.
I don't have many friends here. I guess it's because they think I talk funny, plus they can't say my name. As I said, my last name is Stinkowiectz. It's pronounced like "Stink-o-witz". Easy as pie, huh? Not if your're not from Chicago, where there are a lot of Polish folk there. They call me Stink or worse, Stinko, or even Stinky.
It's embarrassing as all get out.
I guess they also think I'm ugly. Maybe I am in a geeky, teenagerish sorta' way. I have long, stringy, nondescript brown hair that's rather oily in appearance, mud-colored eyes, a big hawklike nose, a mouth full of yellowed, crooked teeth, and a protruding jaw that makes me look like a homely Jay Leno.
I'm short for my age (I look more like I'm twelve), stick-thin (weigh no more than 99 pounds soaking wet), and have big, ugly feet that have a tendency to stink (particularly in the summertime--hence my unattractive nickname).
When I'm not going to school or holed up in my room doing my homework (or worrying about Stevie's medical problems), I like to write stories, play on the computer, tease my sister (or annoy her, just to get a rise outta' her; it's fun!), and watch "House" on television.
That's another thing. I want to be a doctor, just like Dr. House. I think it would be neat to go inside the human body, figure out what is going on with a particular patient. I'd like to find a cure for Alzheimer's, cancer, maybe even AIDS. I could be the world's youngest Nobel prize winner for discovering the cure for pediatric AIDS.
I had a cousin, Whizzer (real name Winslow, but everyone who knew him called him Whizzer), who died of pediatric AIDS. That was two years ago. He was only five. He would have been seven on Christmas Day. I still miss him so much. His death really hit me hard, tore me plumb up.
Well, that's about it for now. I would write more, but have homework to do. English. I have to do a composition about a literary figure known for influencing children's literature. Boring, huh? You bet!
If my mom knew I was writing a story instead of doing my homework she'd be mad as hops! So before she wrings my liver-lillied turkey neck, I'd best scoot on out of here, or else I'm in a world of hurt! (Or will be!) Take care!
Well, I hope that he grows up to be the one to discover the cure of one of those plages, the Nobel Price? forget it, saving half humanity should be more than a good price!!!!!!
Georg
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