Issac was the guy everybody had always made fun of through his life. It was hard for him to go to school, when he knew that all that waited for him there was the torture of the general 8th grade attitude toward him. They hated him, and he couldn't figure out why. His life was a mess. He was 13 years old, and already he was losing hair. Everybody could tell that he'd be bald by the time he was 30. Issac's hair was white, the kind of white that's whiter than, say, paper. He was a skinny, average-height guy. He wore glasses because he couldn't see anything farther than 3 feet away from him, and he needed braces as well, although he hadn't gotten those yet.
One lazy Saturday afternoon, Issac went to fetch something from the kitchen. He decided to start his hunt for something remotely edible at the fridge. While he was searching the bottom shelf, his mother came around the corner. He didn't see her. Being the good mother she was, she began ranting. "Don't I feed you enough? Why are you in here at this hour? I'll cook dinner later, get out."
Of course, with his luck, he was startled by her sudden tirade, causing him to hit his head on the middle shelf of the refrigerator. The pain shot through him straight to his