This Is What I'm Good At {Adopted By @CommanderALFA}

I Don't Belong

Hiccup's POV

"Hey, Useless!" came the obnoxious voice of my cousin, Stan Jorgenson, or as he prefers being called, Snotlout, as he came up to me as I made my way off the field. Why he gave himself such a stupid name remains a mystery, but, it's still not as bad as mine.

I'm Henry Haddock. The Third. ... Okay, you caught me. I'm Hiccup. Henry is my real name, but... because our village, Berk, lives under old Viking tradition, as a "runt" of the litter, I was given the name Hiccup as my nickname.

Sad, huh?

That's not even the worst part... Wanna know what's worse than my name? Keep reading.

"What is it, Sta-" He gave me a death glare. "Uh, I-I mean, Snotlout?" I stuttered. He walked up to me menacingly. "Close call, Useless. You do remember the last time you called me that name was bad for you, right?" he chuckled. 'Everyday's terrible because of assholes like you, but go on...' I wanted to say, but I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from doing so.

I cleared my throat, "What do you want?" He grinned and motioned to something. "Ya see, I'd forgotten to bring my wallet for my lunch, so..." Suddenly out came two of his jock friends from either side behind me.

Did I forget to mention my cousin was captain of the football team? Yeah... How lucky am I, right?

"You owe me some money to buy my lunch," he said, knocking his fist to the palm of his hand. "So instead of giving you mercy and letting you simply give the money to me..." He'd trailed off, and before I could register anything, I was on my back, and a kick was aimed at my abdomen, way lower than I wanted it to be. I curled up into a ball and rolled onto my side. 'Ow...'

"Pull him up," he told his goons. I felt two pairs of beefy arms grab hold of my thin, gangly ones and pull me up. I was panting, trying to stop the pain in my gut. Then I felt a stinging feeling in my head. Specifically where my left eye was. That was sure to leave a mark... A black eye for a week at the most.

I felt a hand shove into my front pocket and pull out my wallet. "Do you mind? No?" His grin remained plastered on his face, and I wanted to badly to see it turn into a look of regret. Sadly, I saw nothing. Nothing but hate, and remorse. "I guess not," he said. He opened my wallet and looked through the pouches and the zipper at the very last pocket. He took everything out; my coins, bills, he even got out my dad's calling card and my credit card. I mean, sure it has a lot of value on it but there's nothing he can use it on here on campus anyway.

'Oh shit, wait a sec!' "Put the card back! Please!" I begged. That card had something taped to the back of it. 'Shit, don't look at it! I should've taken it off! Gah, I'm so stupid!'

"Oh, what have we here?" he asked joyously, turning the card over. I squeezed my eyes shut. There was a paper behind that card that held something... Something which, up to now, I have no idea why I wrote it down and stuck it there in the first damn place.

It was Astrid Hofferson's phone number... Yeah, her. My life-long crush, who never noticed me. If you're asking how I have her number then, let's just say we were assigned as partners for a project. She wasn't at all happy about it and just gave me her number so that she'd avoid as much physical contact with me as possible. How can I be sure? She told me so.

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Flashback; two months earlier

Science! One of the very few subjects I enjoy! Why? There's no Snotlout, no twins, no bullies in my class... Frank was in my class. Frank Ingerman. Though for some reason, people called him Fishlegs. He was a friend of mine when we were younger, but because people started picking on him for being five feet away from me most days, I decided he should stop hanging out with me because I didn't want him to go through what I was going through.