Making a Difference, One Page at a Time

Written by David Klass, you don't know me is a novel about a fourteen-year-old boy who feels isolated from everybody in his life, including his mother.

When I first came across the book in a small, local bookstore that has since closed, the first thing I noticed about it was the excerpt that is actually written on the cover:

"You don't know me at all.
You don't know the first thing about me. You don't know where I'm writing this from. You don't know what I look like. You have no power over me.

What do you think I look like? Skinny? Freckles? Wire-rimmed glasses over brown eyes? No, I don't think so. Better look again. Deeper. It's like a kaleidoscope, isn't it? One minute I'm short, the next minute tall, one minute I'm geeky, one minute studly, my shape constantly changes, and the only thing that remains constant is my brown eyes. Watching you.

That's right, I'm watching you right now..."

For the next half hour, John had my full, undivided attention. I sat down, right there in the middle of the Young Adult section aisle, and began reading. When my mom called me on my cell and told me it was time to go, I begged her to let me buy the book. Reluctantly (how she can be reluctant about letting me buy books, when she's not half as reluctant to let me buy shoes is beyond me), she agreed.

Understand, this was soon after my slow recovery from a hellish sixth grade year. I had only recently begun to make new friends after losing all of my old ones. I thought I understood where John was coming from. I was wrong.

Sure, every family is a little dysfunctional, in its own way, but John has it rough. His mom is oblivious. His mom's boyfriend, who he constantly reminds himself is not his father and never will be, is an abusive drunk. He has no real friends, nobody he feels safe talking to. What John does have is a huge crush on a popular girl (he secretly calls her "Glory Hallelujah") and a kind band teacher.

John ends up getting a date with "Glory," and it ends badly. He goes to a dance with "Violent" Hayes from his band class, and gets in major trouble with "the man who is not [his] father." The man is drunk, and John wasn't home to cook his dinner. John ends up hospitalized for the damage the run-in with his mom's boyfriend causes. Lying on the hospital bed, listening to his mother's tearful one-sided dialogue, John finally accedes:

"So it appears that I was wrong all along. From the very beginning-from the first four words in this angry little tale of woe-I was wrong."

John is, of course, referring to the fact that he constantly states that his mother doesn't know him in the least little bit.

The thing about you don't know me is that it's not some sci-fi, ridiculous, "never gonna happen" thing. It's based on a sickening reality. It's a look through the eyes of a good kid, caught in a really bad situation. It's something that happens every day, in every country, all over the world. It's something that could be happening in your very neighborhood, your own home. That's the scary part.

Strange thing is, people ignore this sort of story: "Oh, that could never happen to me;" "Not my husband;" "Not my neighbor." Ever said any of that to yourself? I'd bet my life you have. Fact is, you are WRONG. This does happen. To real people, in real neighborhoods, cities and schools.

So, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. How many times have you changed the channel as soon as the news comes on? What about those commercials with the poverty- and disease-stricken children in other countries? How many of you only get the local paper to read the comics? To all of the above, I can honestly say that I've been guilty. Thing is, it's not that I don't care. It's that I'm not sure what I can honestly do to stop this stuff from happening. Is it the same with you? Do you care? Can you do something about it?

People hurt other people. I'm not sure if we'll ever find documentation of a time when that wasn't true. Why? What makes some people hate so much? Who knows? It sucks, but I'm just a kid. What can I do?

I'll tell you what I can do. I can look at that girl that always sits in the back of the class, wearing long sleeves in the summer to hide her bruises. I can go sit with her, talk to her. I can give her a safe place to run to if things get really bad at home. I can beg her to go to the police. I can go to the police myself and tell them that I think my friend is in an abusive home.

This may seem so small to you, but I can guarantee that it wouldn't be so small of a thing to that hypothetical girl. It could save her life. It could save her mother's life.

Domestic violence is a real problem. There are real victims. Real heroes, too. Read you don't know me. It's a great book. The message it sends is even greater.

***I previously posted this on Brickfish.com and Zaadz.com. It has been removed from Brickfish because it is such an old blog.***