Charlie had a crush on a girl named Pixie.

Pixie was one of the most popular girls in school. Whenever she passed Charlie in school, she didn't notice him.

This went on for two years.

Finally, Charlie got fed up and walked over to Pixie's table, where all of the IT people sat.

"Hi. My name is Charlie." When he said Charlie, his voice broke.

Pixie sneered at him. "Do I know you?" Her lackeys tittered. "Yeah, she's right. Do we know you?" they chorused.

"Uh…." All of Charlie's courage and bravery evaporated. "I… just want to be your friend."

They stared at him like he was crazy, which he guessed he was.

"Um, sorry. I'll get going now." He spun around and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Pixie yelled. Everybody turned to her, wide eyed, especially Charlie.

"I'll be your friend, in one condition," she assured him.

"WHAT?!" the whole table group screeched. Even the boys.

"One condition," she repeated. "I get to copy your homework."

Yes, yes, yes and YES! Charlie wanted to say, but that wasn't cool. "Okay, home daug." Great. Now he was saying weird things like "home daug".

Pixie smiled, stood up, and help her arms out. "How about a hug?" She smiled sweetly.

Charlie couldn't believe it! He rushed to hug Pixie.

After a few seconds she pushed him to the ground.

"Oh my frickin' gosh! Did you really think you had a chance with me?!" She sneered down at him. Seeing that Pixie wasn't demented after all, the lackeys rushed up to her side.

"Ha ha! You're dumb! Stupid! Dumb! Nerdy! The lowest of the low! We bet you wouldn't even have a chance with Smelly Kelly!" They snickered.

"That's right, Nerd! Get away from us! And I'll give you a tip to being popular: don't say 'home daug'! Lahooooser! Freak! Go back to the North Pole and die!" With that, Pixie turned and sat down, with the girls trailing behind her.

Charlie was crushed.

Later, he walked into his kitchen with a blank look on his face.

He pulled out a knife from the kitchen drawer. He pointed it to his arm and wrote in small letters, "This is for Pixie. This will make her happy, which in turn will make me happy."

Blood poured out of the wound in gushes, but Charlie ignored the burning sensation. Instead, he pointed the knife at his chest, where the heart would be. He took one, two, three deep breaths, then plunged the knife deep into his heart. Staggering backwards, Charlie bumped hard into the kitchen counter, which made him pitch forward. He didn't have the strength to soften the fall with his hands, so his head made a sickening cracking sound as it hit the hard, cold tiles. He died instantly, so he didn't feel anything as the hilt of the knife, still stuck in his body, struck the floor, and dug even deeper in his chest. The end of the blade made it's way to his back, and then poked out between his shoulder blades. Blood gushed out of his head and chest, but the cuts in his arm had stopped.

At his funeral, many did not weep, or even shed a single tear. His mother and best girl friend were the only ones that cried.

After his funeral, Pixie and her group stared at the tombstone. They knew the cause of his death, as everybody else in the state had. Charlie's death- and the message on his arm -had been on the news.

All of a sudden, they convulsed in laughter, pointing at the grave and tears streaming out of their eyes.

Tears of laughter.

Charlie had become the school's laughing stock.