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A loud slam echoed through the house, shaking throughout the halls. The twelve-year old giant, tears streaming down his reddened face, tried the best he could to sneak passed the kitchen where his mom was cooking dinner to his Rumonian-sized bedroom. The giant-scaled door shut with a click and the boy dumped his new backpack on the floor, kicked it into the corner and immediately collapsed on the bed, burying his face into the pillow with a choked sob.

I don’t want to ever go back there again… He hugged the pillow to his face, head spinning as his brain worked through today’s events.
Waking up, first day of class at Stevenson Co-Ed Junior High.
Sitting in that cramped, tiny desk, the feeling of eyes watching him, seeing their faces contort in disgust and fear.

He remembered the feeling of confinement: the ceilings were too short, the walls too close. There didn’t seem to be any windows and the designated Rumonian entrances were too short to walk through without hitting your head painfully and awkwardly as all the eyes turned too stare at you...
He felt like a freak.
He was a freak.
He was too big.
Never in his life did he feel so ridiculously imposing, so out of place.

They hated him. He knew it was true. A cry made its way out of his mouth and into his pillow.

“Ethan, honey, are you ok? Can I come in?”
...Mom. No, no he couldn’t. He was...disgusting. He didn’t want to see any humans, didn’t want to be reminded of how stupidly big he was. How wrong he was.
He squinted his eyes shut as hot, fresh tears streamed down his face, burrowing deeper into the bed. “No.” He declared in a shaky voice as he eyed the miniature human-sized door by his nightstand. There was a railing that ran across the walls of his bedroom, as well as stairs dropping down to various parts in the room, where his family could enter in and travel freely.

He didn’t have the courtesy, or privilege, of being able to lock the doors to his room, but he understood his parents wouldn’t enter without permission. Boundaries, they said. He knew they wanted to give him as much freedom and space as possible, he understood that.

But not now.

“Ethan, please. I can’t help you if you won’t let me in.”
“I…I don’t want to go to school, mom,” The young teenager said, his voice strained and cracking with his crying. The words got stuck in his throat: his vocal chords felt like they were being strangled.

“What happened? The first day is always hard, Ethan. It is for everyone.” Her voice sounded so reasonable, so matter of fact. He felt a twinge of frustration. Not everyone was a sixty-foot tall freak. The thought angrily swept into his mind and he didn't realize the words had tumbled out of his mouth until his mother replied with a shocked gasp and sharp tone: “Freak? Excuse me, Ethan Olivares, but you are most certainly not a freak.”

He felt his face burn bright red and white-hot at the same time.
“Who told you that, Ethan?”

He shook his head, his mind feeling as if it was buzzing with angry bees.
He sucked in a breath.

“Ethan.”

He lifted his head from the pillow and his eyes dropped to the nightstand where the small, stately women with a head full of wavy blond hair stood resolutely with her hands on her hips. Her green eyes softened. She stepped forward on the nightstand and stepped off onto his bed with the seasoned skill of a mother.
Ethan visibly stiffened as she hoisted herself up onto his chest, her footsteps light but formidable. He struggled to keep his breathing steady enough as she steadily approached his face with a look he couldn't quite determine.

“Ethan, listen to me. You are not a freak.”
“Yes, I am,” he countered pathetically, despite the knowing shame welling up tight in his chest. His eyes were still burning with tears, but his head slowed its spinning as his mother grew closer.

“Whoever told you that or made you feel that way is wrong.” His mother rested a small, dainty hand on his cheek, giving him a reassuring smile. He felt his chest clench at the contact and he let out another sob. She patiently wiped the tears away as they fell and leaned against the side of his cheek, running her palm across his flushed skin as she waited for his breathing to calm. She wasn’t startled when a large hand came up to curve gently around her back and push her closer in a makeshift hug, and she continued to comfort him until the slight pressure lifted away.

Once the panic edged off and the feeling of safety and familiarity stepped in, the mother stood up smoothly and set her determined gaze on her son’s brilliant blue eyes, currently glistening with leftover tears. “You know what you have to do right?” She questioned, with her keen, signature smile.
The eye blinked and eyebrows furrowed slightly. The confused look was enough of an answer.

She paused for dramatic effect.
“You have to show them wrong, of course!”
The women playfully pushed off his cheek, and Ethan’s face broke into a hesitant, bewildered grin. She smoothly slid down his shoulder and stepped back onto the nightstand.
“Now go clean your face up, you look like you got hit by a train, honey.”

He wiped his face on a sleeve and nodded, still smiling. Although his stomach still swarmed with butterflies, he no longer felt like the world was ending. There was hope.

His mother stopped by the doorway to his room, sending him a pointed, warning look. “And no more of this ‘freak’ business, okay? You know you’re better than that.”

He bit his lip, nodding.
Even as a giant, his mom was still scary enough to put him in his place.