Social Outcast Novels & Stories

I shrugged my shoulders. "Pretty neutral" I said. "You don't have any friends in the neighbourhood?" He asked, keeping his eyes on the road. "No, I am the non existence but existing neighbour, I am pretty much on my own" I said. He um. "Are you comfortable with that type of life?" He asked. "I think I am, I never had any friends, I have always been the out cast" I said. "Why do you think you are an outcast?" He asked. I sigh.

I knew my makeup was smeared all over my face from crying and my eyes were puffy and red. I went upstairs to my room and left the lights off, sat in the window seat, and looked up at the stars. Sometimes I wished that I could live on a different planet. Something where I could be accepted for the person I was. That people would want to be my friend because they like me and not because of my brother and Colt, or my ability to play basketball. Somewhere someone thought I was worthy of them or at least I hoped they were. Because here I didn't have that. Sure, I had Konner and Colt, but that was my brother and his best friend. It wasn't the same.

Miss Zhu often gave scripts to me and asked me to read them before even showing the rest of the class because she knew I was the one who knew the actors and actresses the best. I finally wrote my first original script towards the end of year ten. It was titled The Outcast and was centered around a boy who had no friends in school. His name was Benny and the first parts of the script were mostly monologues of Benny dwelling on his own loneliness. Things changed for Benny when he met a American girl (Cindy), over the summer and she kind of turned him into a super cool kid. When he returned to school, everyone loved him and lots of girls asked him out, but he was just broken hearted and missed

He fancied himself something of a outcast and had a full on crew of fellow degenerate outcasts that backed him up and hung on his every word. The struggling lad trying desperately not to drown in the toilet bowl had been none other than Casey Allen Peterson, the frequent target of bullies everywhere since he was able to go to school due to his small stature and seemingly effinimate sensibilities. He wasn't gay, not by any stretch but he did harbor a secret, which he closely guarded and it made trying to fit in and the possibility of any kind of non-platonic relationship difficult to initiate and sustain.

David swiftly snatched Olivia's phone from her hand, his eyes narrowing as he read through the anonymous post on Phoenix’s internal forum: “The CEO is crazy. He assaulted me in his office, and I want justice. I am a victim with evidence, and I’ll come out with it if he doesn’t issue a private and special apology before the end of today.” David scoffed, tossing the phone back to Olivia. “Where’s that idiot Stephanie?” he asked, his voice cutting through the tension.

“I am not always snarling at innocent people. Only those who deserve it.” “storm is like that, I think it's because she has always been the outsider herself. The pariah, the outcast. She has never belonged,” she says and I stop what I am doing to listen to her. “she has never settled in one place, which turns a child to be an outcast, never sticking long enough to have friends, not even a companion to do all those normal teenage stuff. Your lives have been linked and you all mirror each other so much.” “she has never talked about her life on the road,” I say after a while.

Even if I confess to you, I think that there will also be dunces—dunces, of course, but rich dunces. As in all high schools, I imagine many types of caste people were created naturally or by force. There are the popular ones who consider themselves the best in the world. Then there are normal people, who just live their lives and get along with everyone. The nerds are sitting in the library, preparing for the next test. And finally, of course, the strangers who stay on the rooftop break or cross the schoolyard alone. Yeah, everyone knows them, but no one wants to notice them because they're unpopular and just... outsiders. But I know perfectly well that I am part of an uncategorized group in

I don't deserve it. Chuck didn't come crawling when he hit rock bottom. And now that he was on the mend, he wasn't gonna start. Someone called from outside. "Chuck, come fix this one. We've got an order!" The big-shot CEO was now a grease-stained mechanic. That's life. And Poppy? Ella's loudest cheerleader—the one who tried to guilt me into forgiving—her own family got wrecked by Ella. Just days ago, the two of them were brawling in a mall.

They were gathered at our old central table, laughing loudly at something Ethan was showing them on his phone, with Ginger sitting right at the center of the universe. I took my tray and walked all the way to the far corner of the cafeteria, sitting at a rusted, scratched-up table near the vending machines. It was the table where the outcasts sat, the place where you went when the social ecosystem of St. Jude’s decided you no longer existed. I sat alone, picking at a salad I had no appetite for, feeling the heavy weight of a hundred whispering eyes on me. 'Look at her. The fallen star. Serves her right.' I could practically hear the thoughts bouncing around the room.

From claiming. “Day 9 truth,” she said. “Tough isn’t having no damage. Tough is writing on your own wall instead of hiding.” Nathan stood beside her. Shoulder close, not touching. “Day 9 truth from me: I grew up in a house where we covered every crack with money. You just exposed yours with ink. That’s tougher.” Destiny nodded. “Strong One’s new rule: We don’t cover cracks. We name them. Then we live with them.”