Denver area young people on the fringes -- those who refuse to conform in style or behavior -- have seen their world change since the shootings at the high school in Littleton. In conversations with both outcasts and insiders, PNS commentator Lyn Duff discovers signs of greater concern and the possibility of change. Duff is a founding editor of YO! (Youth Outlook), a newspaper by and about young people published by Pacific News Service. She currently lives in Denver, Colorado.

DENVER -- Paul says he is "a geek, an outcast, a leper." He smiles, "Don't touch me, you might catch some social disease."

With his wild brown hair and wry humor, Paul seems a pleasure to spend time with. But the high school junior says that he's avoided by his peers, ignored by his teachers, picked on by jocks, and has never been able to get a date.

Simone dresses in black -- including fingernails and lipstick -- and her legs show designs she carved with a razor blade. She listens to music many find unintelligible. "I'm basically your average social recluse. Mostly people stay away from me. And I stay away from them."

Robert spends all his time on the computer, coming up for air only to attend school or eat with his family. He loves sci-fi flicks, gory video games, and the class in gross human anatomy that he takes evenings at a local college. A high school senior, he gets passable grades, but just tolerates school. "I don't have very many friends. People think I'm weird."

Paul, Simone, and Robert all go to school in Denver, Colorado. Their lives have changed markedly since the recent shooting at Columbine High School in Littleton.

For Paul, these weeks since have been the best of his high school life. "No one bothers me. They're afraid of me. They're afraid of saying anything to me because it might set me off and I'll go postal or something." He used to be harassed regularly, he says. People spit on him, called him gay, stole his books and homework. Now "they've stopped giving me a hard time. But it's not like they're being friendly or anything. I guess it's better, it's progress."

The day after the shootings, his mother took his computer away and had his hard drive examined to find out what kind of files he'd been downloading. "That was kinda embarrassing," he blushes. "Like having her look in my underwear drawer or something."

At school, officials searched Robert's locker, pulled him in to speak with the school psychologist, and questioned his teachers about his "daily demeanor."

"I've looked at those sites, but it doesn't mean I'm going to follow their instructions. Lots of people look at those sites."

He looks at them because they make him see "I'm not, well, the only person feeling this way. You know, you look at these [web] pages and you see other people are frustrated, other people are angry. Every day it's like people pretend high school is so great, life is so great, but it sucks. Nobody admits that. On these sites, you've got people who are saying what you're thinking -- 'I hate these people, they're so fake, I wish they'd all die."'

Simone also found herself the center of attention in the aftermath of the shootings. "It's like I've been carving on my arms and stuff, and I do it in class, and people are grossed out but they never say anything. Now the principal, my counselor, they all think I'm this mental case. They're just asking 'how do you feel? What's going on in your life?' 'cause they're afraid of me, not because they really care."

"Other students, the ones that teachers love and are concerned about -- because so and so's parents are getting a divorce they let her kick back in class. But with me, nobody knows what's going on in my life."

On the other side, jocks say they have changed. On the day of the shooting, Aaron, an athlete from Columbine confided, "I guess we gave them all a hard time. They asked for it though, they wanted it or they wouldn't have dressed like freaks. I feel kind of sorry for them -- it's like they wanted revenge, you know, like your worst nightmare."

Ben, a recent graduate, remembers Columbine as a school where only the "in crowd" could succeed. "Everything was geared for them, athletics, clubs, scholarships. The teachers went to them first with competitions and special programs. My freshman year, I was such a nerd, polo shirts and all. It was like the only way to climb the social ladder was to step on the heads of everyone below you.

"So I did it. I'm not like proud of myself or anything. But it made those four years more tolerable. I hassled people, I called them gay even when I knew that they weren't. But I wasn't so you know, far off from being where they were at, and it kinda made me desperate to separate myself from them."