Audio Narrative Script

That was in 7th Grade, I just met Ryan in junior school. In an art class, teacher asked us t
o draw on our own hands, whatever we loved to have as decorations on us. Ryan sat next to me,
and when I asked him what he had, he showed me four circles he had on his hand. What in the
world is that? I asked without even noticing my high-pitched voice attracted the whole classs at
tention. He laughed, showing off his chubby hand, My fingers are too pudgy, he giggled, all I
want to decorate myself are knuckles you have. All of us including the teacher, couldnt help bu
t burst into laughter. From that day on, Ryan was humorist in class. He wriggled, imitating Kar
dashian to show dissent when PE teacher punished him and asked him to run around the playgro
und. He shouted nonsensical answers out in maths class. He seemed to enjoy the attention he dre
w from us by his devoted mimicking and dramatic show.
As many people in my class put it, Ryan was the clown in class. He looked merry and c
arefree everyday. He smoothed tension and boredom in class and made teachers laugh sometimes.
He seemed to be accepted by everyone, but in the meantime, he was never accepted by anyone.
We all liked Ryan. However, we never liked Ryan.
He was fun, true, but mostly he made fun of himself. By deliberately showing his ignoran
ce, his fat and his naughtiness, he turned himself into a clown in class. During class, we all made
laugh by him but after class, no one walked home with him. He was known to all, but little was k
nown about him.
I always thought it strange that Ryan seemed popular but always seemed to have no frien
ds. I would never discover the motivation for his jokes until the first time I met him at the gym b
ack in junior school. He was lifting weights, accompanied by a man and a woman. Sweat fell all
over from his face. He didnt look happy as usual, but quite pained by such intense workout. He

noticed me, but instead of his usual liveliness, I saw worry in his shifty eyes. He stopped his wor
kout and came to me, Dont tell anyone Im trying to lose weight, please. he begged. I was con
fused and to clear the awkwardness, I tried to distract the topic, Is that your Mom? You and you
r parents are working out here? Yes thats my mom, but that man is my private coach, I dont
have dad, he chuckled, noticing his words startled me, they divorced years ago and I dont thin
k I need Dad. He turned back to his always-carefree-Ryan face, You know what, what I truly w
ant to draw on myself may be rings you had in that art class, Im really into fashion, you know.
He gave me a charming, girlish wink, Wait, kidding. I mean I would give that ring to my mom a
s gift. Despite his casual tone, that time, however, I didnt feel amused any more.
As I was on my way home, I started to think about Ryan. Maybe he was never really care
free, he was, on the contrary, feeling inferior about his looks and his family. Supposing he was un
concerned, we made fun of him all the time. Never realizing his humor all served to attract the
attention he lacked, we rarely cared about him. Humor was only his camouflage in his trials to be
liked by all. He should never be a clown, but was only made one by our apathy. Whenever those
flashbacks came to my mind, I could not help but feel sorry and regretful.
When I met him again at the gym just before I left for college, he still looked chunky, and
even during workout, he was still wearing his trendy and swag clothes, seemingly indifferent t
o any remarks about him. But this time, I smiled to him, Ryan, nice to see you. You look great.