Ben stood at the edge of the playground, eyeing the other children as they sceamed and chased each other about. Occasionally one would glance over to him, turning away when they realized he was watching.

"You're not allowed to play with us today," the bigger kids would say. And before he could say a word, they would be gone, already forgetting the strange child that wanted a friend.

But today they would notice. No longer would he hold back and shy away when they poked fun at him. He was tired of being "different."

His tiny hands scaled the ladder easily, hesitating but once mid-way through. And then he was standing where he knew he should not be, the tallest thing that ever was.

In his mind he thought, "They cannot ignore me now." He was right, for soon a small crowd had gathered below him and the adults that had never cared before were making a fuss and yelling at him to come down.

"You don't understand," he whispered.

Far away he could hear the sirens, the sirens that were meant for him, and he knew that they would take him away. Gazing down, he sucked in a breath, ignoring the screams of his teachers, and leaped.