(This story is complete fiction. All characters are figments of my imagination. As stated previously, this story does not contain sex...if you're looking only for that, this story is not for you. If you're looking for something with more "artistic" content or an actual story, read on. This is the first few chapters. E-mail me at jlhobson@gmail.com if you have any comments ideas, or suggestions. Please see the introduction/foreword for more background information relating to this story)
Chapter One
"Honey, you need to get up, it's seven o'clock," my mom yelled from outside my door.
I mumbled something back, probably incoherently because she kept telling me to get up or she was going to send in Shredder, my four month old black-lab puppy, to get me up. Since I didn't want Attack-of-the-Slobber, I groggily got up and went into my own bathroom.
It was pretty cool, really. I mean, I was the only kid my age that I knew of that had my own bathroom attached to my bedroom.
My bedroom was nice, I thought. Thick blue carpet, white blinds, and red walls covered with Seattle Mariner and Seahawk posters. I had my own TV with cable, a stereo, a new computer with a desk and chair.
Everyone teased me for being rich, but I never saw it. Looking back, I see how lucky I really was.
Kyle always loved to come over, but he sort of had to out of necessity. His mom worked multiple jobs to make ends meet, and was gone constantly. Her boyfriend, a real prick, liked to think of Kyle as his own private punching bag; Welson was one of those places where everyone, from every background, lived within a few blocks of one another.
I turned my TV; it was still on ESPN from the night before, and stumbled into my bathroom.
I turned on the water and got in, still half asleep.
Today was the first day of junior high- lockers, showering in gym, seven different teachers and classes, and no recess. I would be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little bit nervous, but there was also a sort of excitement. It was a new world I was entering, and I'd see some friends I hadn't seen since school let out in early June.
As I exited the shower, I dried off and brushed my teeth. After a moment of consideration, I decided to finally open the unopened stick of deodorant that had been there for a couple of weeks. I was twelve years old now - in the early stages of puberty, and it must have been showing. Or smelling, for that matter.
After I got dressed, I turned the TV off and headed downstairs to get some breakfast.
As I went down the stairs, I saw Kyle was already waiting for me in the living room.
"It's about time you got down here. I was afraid I was going to have to flush a toilet to get you out of the shower," Kyle said as he grinned sheepishly. "Seriously, though, hurry up. I want to get there early to scope out the girls."
Kyle was about five months older than I was, and further along in the puberty department. I still didn't have much of an attraction to girls, but he thought they were the greatest thing in the world. "Sorry, I was kind of daydreaming in there. I apologize to have kept you waiting, your majesty, but it's only," I said. I looked at a clock and saw that it was 7:40. "Um, well, I guess I was in there quite awhile." "Yeah, I've been waiting here ten minutes. Just think, Jay, there's some poor fish out there dying because you used so much water," Kyle said sarcastically. "I can only imagine what your mirrors look like. It'll probably still be steamed up when you get home after school." "You know, Ky, you're awfully talkative for being in such a hurry," I sniped back. "Let's go, Mr. Patience."
We headed out the door, through my yard, and onto the sidewalk. It was only 7:45, so it wasn't very bright out, and there certainly wasn't much traffic, but it was cloudy and rainy. I swear I thought Kyle was going to play in the puddles like we used to do, but he didn't.
I only lived about five blocks from the school, which was nestled into my neighborhood, or stamped in the middle of the three that just ran into each other one day when they were being developed. "I hope I have a class with Becky Stewards, she's so cool and hot," Kyle said with a fairly new, ever deepening tone to his voice. "I wonder if she got any taller over the summer." "Becky Stewards? I could have sworn you liked Amy Brewer a couple of weeks ago," I said. "Why can't you pick one to be obsessed with and stick with it?" "Ah, Amy is cute, but she's kind of a bitch," Kyle said. "Now, Becky...she's got the total package: she's hot, nice, and smart. Even you have to admit that." "I don't really see what's so great about her, but whatever makes you happy, I guess," I said. I actually did like her, but only as a friend. Besides, it was fun to keep Kyle going by not letting him have his way. "Well, Jay-Jay, maybe when you've matured a little bit, you'll see what I'm saying," Kyle said.
Like I said, Kyle was several months older than I was, and it showed. He loved to tease me about being short and interested more in sports than girls. "Hmm. I think you're just a little girl crazy," I said. "You're pretty obsessed with them, you know." "What can I say? I'm a ladies man," Kyle said. I could tell he was enjoying this, so I decided to end it and change the topic before he tried showing me some obscure, faint body hair he recently discovered. Besides, he certainly didn't need any ego-boosters. Self-confidence was not something Kyle lacked, at least not on outer appearances.
We walked for a few more minutes until we were in the parking lot of William P. Blackton Middle School. Middle school, junior high, what's the difference? It seemed so big, and as we walked into the doors it felt like we were entering into a new dimension, unfamiliar to us. I felt like I had just entered a prison, walking to my execution. "I don't know how I'm ever going to memorize these mazes they call 'halls'," I said. "It's like they designed the school just to confuse people."
Kyle, the constant optimist and smart-ass saw the perfect opportunity to tease me yet again. "Oh, poor Jason. Would you like me to hold your hand and walk you to your first class so you aren't scared?" He asked in a deliberately patronizing sort of way. "You'll be fine. It'll take a few days, but you'll get it down. And, if you don't, I'm always here to make sure you don't run off to a closet or anything to cry." "You think you're cute, but I happen to remember a certain day in first grade where you weren't so happy," I retaliated.
On our first day of first grade, Kyle needed to go to the restroom, and, as he put it, since he was a 'big boy,' he could do it on his own. To make a long story short, he couldn't find it and got lost in the school, crying for his mom. A teacher found him sobbing, showed him where the restroom was, and took him back to class. "Hey now, I was six," Kyle said defensively. "At least I made it to the bathroom."
Kyle was of course referring to my infamous accident in the third grade. I was really nervous and getting up to do a presentation on a project we had done together, and I had to go to the restroom, but my teacher told me to do the presentation first. I was really nervous, and my bladder was full, and I lost control and...it went all over the carpet in the classroom. Between people shrieking and my teacher yelling at me, Kyle was laughing his ass off, and he'll tell that story to anyone who will listen, even if was years ago. "So, um, where's your first period again?" I asked.
We had seven classes now, and five together. The only two classes we didn't have together were math and an elective we had different. He tried to change his schedule at registration and come into both of my classes, but our counselor said the class was full, and to come back after the first week of school. Our only different classes were the first two periods of the day. "Hmmm....Pre-Algebra with A.Faulkner," he responded. "What about you?"
I fumbled around for my wrinkled schedule. It looked like it had been through a war with as many creases and wrinkles it had. Maybe it had just gone through the washer a time or two. "Keyboarding," I said.
After the first two periods, we had the rest of the day together. P.E. was third period, Social Studies was fourth, lunch, Science fifth, English was sixth, and Study Hall was seventh.
After we talked for another minute on how much fatter Greg Gephurn had gotten over the summer (He guessed 40 pounds, I said probably closer to 30...Turns out he gained 27 pounds, but also put on about 7 inches of height) when a friend of ours came over to us. "Hey, Jason! What's up, Kyle?" Brad Crechton, a short, thin boy with a curved nose and brown hair and eyes, said. "What have you been up to?" I asked.
Kyle acknowledged Brad, but seemed distracted with something. "Not much. Let me look at your schedule," Brad said.
We swapped schedules. Turned out he had math with Kyle, and language arts with both of us.
We talked for a few minutes. It was pretty boring stuff, really. Just the typical BS you have to go through when you see a school acquaintance you haven't seen since the end of the last school year.
The first bell rang, and I told Kyle and Brad I'd see them later as I headed for Room 03.
Chapter Two
As I entered Room 03, I smelled something odd, and saw Greg Gephurn with his goon posse of Skyler Burns and Scott Newsom. He dwarfed them in comparison, but they weren't small by any standards.
"Oh joy, I've got a class with them," I mumbled to myself.
Greg was one of those people that is mad at the world. He hates everyone and everything, and he lets you know what he thinks of you. Bully is an understatement, and the ground moved when he did.
I had actually felt sorry for him at one point. His parents were both abusive drunks, and his mom died of drug-overdose when he was seven, and his dad was seldom around, and when he was, well, Greg showed it.
Kyle and I had tried to be friends with him because we felt sorry for him, but he wouldn't have any of it. He was giving Kyle his weekly beating, and I, who had enough of the constant fear, ran for help after previous futile attempts to help Kyle (gaining myself my own beating) were thwarted.
To make a long story short, he got suspended for a day from school, and his dad wasn't happy about having to pick him up during his hangover. Greg showed his parent-imposed punishment, and since then he had been royally pissed off at us, even more than usual. Our weekly beatings turned into daily occurrences, but we didn't dare tell anyone after that. Last year, as he began to miss more school, he started to leave us alone more often, but we were always on edge around him.
The room was filled with different colored computers (green, pinkish-red, and purple) and a short, plump woman with rosy cheeks was sitting at a desk talking in the corner to someone who appeared as nervous as I felt.
I sat down at a green I-Mac and turned it on. By that time, the teacher, who later said she was 'Mrs. Joplon', started telling everyone coming into the class to stand up by the wall because she'd be assigning seats at the beginning of class.
So, I got up and stood by the wall, hoping I wouldn't have to sit next to Greg.
We stood for about six minutes until she took roll and started assigning seats.
"Ok, guys, I'm going to be giving you all an assigned seat. It'll help me remember all of your names and help keep you on task to do our first section. You'll be learning the keyboard, and I don't want there to be any distractions that are going to slow you down," Mrs. Joplon said. "But when we're done with the section by the end of the month, you can chose where you want to sit, assuming you're on track and there haven't been any problems." I could have sworn she looked at me when she said that last bit. I turned a little pink, but couldn't help but grinning. Had my reputation made its way to the Big World of Secondary School?
She pulled out a paper with names in little boxes, and started calling out names and giving directions. And of course, with my luck, what I didn't want to happen did: "Gephurn, Greg? Ok, good. Take the green computer in the back," Mrs. Joplon said. "Peterson, Jason, are you in here?" "Yes," I stoically said. "Ok, well, take a seat at the purple computer next to Mr. Gephurn," she said. "You know who he is, right?" "Yes," I said as I slowly walked over (in protest) by Greg and slouched at my computer. My nose already was burning because of the stench of his body odor and bad breath.
My facial expression had to of looked with pure contempt, because he started to harass me, which was something I was certainly used to since it had happened daily since the start of Kindergarten, aside from when it began to slow down last year. "Oh, what's wrong, Jay-Jay?" He provoked. "Do you miss your mommy yet? Do you want me to go and get her for you?"
'Jay-Jay' is something I only allowed my parents or Kyle to call me. If anyone else did it, they were in for a black eye and busted lip, as Norman Vicks, a boy in my sixth-grade class, learned last year. But by this time, Skyler and Scott had waltzed over to us. Apparently, they all had their assigned seats surrounding me. "Don't call me that, Fat-Ass," I shot back. "Take yourself, your Suck-Squad, and combined IQ of 48 and leave me the Hell alone."
Skyler, the obvious dumbest of them all, was a little slow on the uptake, as usual. "Huh? Did you just call me 'Fat-Ass'?" He asked. "No...'Fat-Ass' is reserved for him (I pointed to Greg)," I said. "You are Moron-Boy. Is it that difficult to comprehend?" I really tried not to treat most people badly, but these three were idiots who terrorized every kid around them, and even through my anxiety, I was sick of their crap.I figured, if I was ever going to start standing up to them, why not today?
Anyways, by the time they processed what I had said (and it did take several seconds), they were coming unglued. They began to stand up, and I could tell my skin was about to change colors.
"Leave him alone, gentlemen," someone had said. "And I use the term loosely."
I recognized the voice, but couldn't place it until I turned around. It was Becky Stewards, Kyle's new crush.
She was taller than most girls her age and had shoulder length blond hair, blue eyes, and had obviously been working on a tan over the summer. She was dressed very...nicely today; she looked more like a woman amongst the rest of the girls in the class.
She also had a real spunky street, and wasn't afraid of anything. I think that was one of the reasons Kyle liked her: she'd stand up to you if you were out of line.
"Oh, and what are you going to do?" Greg asked. "Beat us over the head with a high-heel?"
"No...you've probably got enough of those to beat yourself with," Becky hissed. "But I don't really think you want to be on daddy's bad side. You've met Principal Stewards, haven't you?"
The Suck-Squad mumbled something and sat down. Becky was to my left, Greg was to my right, and Skyler and Steve were behind Greg and I. "I didn't know your dad was the principal," I whispered to Becky as she sat down. "I guess I just never clicked 'Principal Stewards' with 'Becky Stewards'." "I didn't until a minute ago, either," Becky winked back at me. I grinned back at her, knowing she had just scared the living daylights out of the three people that wanted to break my neck more than anyone I had ever alienated before. And that list includes quite a few people, even with as lovable as I always was! "You're something else," I whispered back, trying to supress a a laugh. Man, we were odd twelve year olds. Is there such a thing as a "normal" twelve year old?
By that time, Mrs. Joplon had started her talk on her rules and expectations. She began to hand out a contract she wanted us and our parents to sign saying we'd follow her rules and the rest of the standard drivel.
I heard Greg and his goons complaining about not being able to play any games or get on the internet until they finished the entire section, but I guess they didn't realize that the longer they complained about something they weren't going to change, the longer it would be until they could play the crappy school computer games or get on the half-blocked, slow internet the school allowed us to use.
"I wonder if they realize how stupid they sound," I rhetorically asked Becky. "I mean, do they really think anyone wants to hear their opinion on anything?"
"Well, they might as well stick to their current theme," Becky said. "They already look and act stupid, so they might as well sound like it, too."
I chuckled. "At least they're being consistent."
I could tell with Becky in there it was going to be interesting. As long as the Suck Squad thought she was the principal's daughter, we wouldn't be bothered, and I'd have someone to crack catty, sarcastic jokes with the entire semester. Maturity was still a few years off, if you hadn't noticed.
The rest of the class was pretty uneventful. Besides the occasional mumbling from Fat-Ass about having to do class work on the first day of school, everyone was quietly working on the first lesson, "The Home Row."
After about 15 minutes of working, Mrs. Joplon told us to get ready to leave, and that this would be what we'd be doing for the rest of the month until we got into real assignments. "Hey Becky, before class gets out, can I see your schedule?" I asked. We swapped schedules. "Cool. We've got P.E. and Social Studies together," she said. "See you then!"
I told her I'd see her later, and she smiled as we exited and went different directions in the hall. I was headed to math. I knew I'd see Kyle for the rest of the day after second period, and it seemed like Becky and I would become good friends this year.
Chapter Three
I headed down the long, narrow halls surrounded with lockers and people looking down at white pieces of paper, probably their schedules and school maps. Teachers were standing outside of their doors, greeting students back warmly with bubbly smiles and phony optimism. This was middle school, afterall. Who the Hell would be happy to be around us?
One of the things I really noticed was how crowded the halls were, and how rude the people were. I honestly didn't think I'd ever get the school memorized, and with all of these people so thoughtfully stopping in front of you to talk with their friends, or make lines at vending machines, I had no idea how they expect anyone to get to class on time.
But, they did. Although the school says they won't give detentions out to people who are late to class the first week of school, after that they think you should have memorized the maze and figured out a way to get past those thinking they were the sole proprietors of the hall.
Security didn't help matters. All they did was stand in the middle of the hallways, supposedly "directing traffic," when all they really did was stand with their arms crossed, clogging the hallways even more.
But I eventually made my way through the halls and into my class: Math 7 with "B.Tyson."
As it turns out, B.Tyson was a tall, lanky man with short black hair, beady little eyes, and by the looks of his skin color, he hadn't seen natural light for about three years. I glanced around for a coffin and cape, but didn't find either.
I took my seat, in the back by a window. I guess I figured if he turned into a vampire or something, my best bet would be to jump out the window and run for the high-hills. I'm telling you, this guy looked like the main character out of a 1950's horror movie.
As the class started to fill, people took their seats at the multi-colored desks that were visibly falling apart. There were no posters on the wall, no bulletin boards, it was dull and bland. It was bare, like a classroom you'd expect to see on the last day of school. It reminded me of someone with an empty soul and no personality. "Man, that guy looks scary," a voice nearby said. It turned out to be the person across from me at my left. "You're telling me," I said. "I thought when I walked in he was going to eat me or bite my neck." "I can't believe they actually let him near kids," the voice said. "Yeah, I think if he ever mentions being hungry, I'm going to say I need to go to the nurse," I said. "Better be safe than sorry." Yes, we were once that stupid. The voice laughed. "So what's your name?" He asked. "Jason Peterson," I said. "What about you?" "Nick Davis," the voice said.
By that time, the vampire-looking teacher told everyone to sit down and be quiet, and he'd explain his rules. Of course, rather than running the risk of turning into a night-walker, everyone sat down and shut up.
He introduced himself, and laid out his very strict rules. I could tell he was going to be a hard teacher, and that he was all business. So much for having any fun in math this year. "Furthermore, if you forget a homework assignment for the second time during the quarter, you will be calling your parents during class and coming in at lunch to write out my rules and go over your assignment for half credit," Mr. Vampire (As I so nicely named Mr. Tyson) said. "Wow, he's a nice guy, isn't he?" Nick asked in a whisper. "What was that, Mr..." Mr. Vampire said. "Nick Davis," Nick said, coolly. "Perhaps you'd like to be the first this year and come in at lunch to call your parents and write my rules," Mr. Vampire said. "Otherwise, I'd highly advise you maintain your silence while I am speaking."
Nick slumped over and didn't say anything, while Mr. Vampire turned around and murmured something that sounded like, "insolent child."
The rest of class went on without a hitch, and Mr. Vampire spoke the entire time. Of course everyone was scared he was going to show his fangs and go after them, so no one talked and Nick was still staring off into space.
As class let out, I could hear Nick mumbling something as everyone walked out, but I couldn't make anything out but it sounded something like, "He's going to pay. No one embarrasses Nick Davis."