The last couple weeks of summer are filled with sleeping until noon and days spent in the desert. Now, I’m forced to wake up at five thirty, shower, and get my ass to school. I eat breakfast then trudge like a zombie to the bus stop, already a horde has gathered waiting to be carted to Hell.
I guess I shouldn’t be so dramatic, my school isn’t so bad. It’s true I don’t have any friends, but I grew up with these kids, so I know most of them and I’m well acquainted with the kids I usually sit next to in class. Most of the teachers care and most of the kids leave each other alone. The jocks like to pick on the nerds, and the occasional fight is to be expected. It’s better than most from what I’ve heard.
There are around a thousand kids at my school, which seemed like a lot to me when I was younger. Now, I realize it’s nothing compared to bigger cities. Of course, the school was only made for five hundred students, so it is packed pretty tight.
The bus ride is about twenty-five minutes, then I’m dropped off at Dorrington High School in small town Dorrington, Nevada. It’s on the outskirts of the city. There’s one neighborhood near it, and this tile place across the way but other than that it’s a good ten minute drive to anywhere else in town. Plus, it’s right next to a highway and teenagers drive here. There are a lot of crashes. I would drive, but my truck struggles to go fifty, and the speed limit on the highway is sixty-five.
The bus comes to a stop on the gravel road outside the main building. I walk to first period and wait outside the door. I don’t have Mr. Stewart until seventh which means I get to dread it all day and then be pissed going home. I’d rather have it first thing in the morning and get the whole day to come off my homicidal rage. Instead Mom and Dad get to bear the brunt of my fury.
Classes are a blur, it’s just teachers going over their syllabuses (syllabi?) and trying to get to know us which always seems kind of pathetic. I have first lunch, which sucks because I’ll have three class periods afterwards instead of two. It’s the same amount of time, but two classes after lunch goes by faster than three. Especially when one of them is Algebra II with Mr. Stewart.
Seventh rolls around, and I’m fuming before I even sit down, there are a lot of jocks in the class and a couple of star footballers, or what counts as such since we’ve never even come close to winning a game. Jennifer Gomez is also in this class, she’s a total skank. I remember in sixth grade when she was a shy, chubby girl with glasses and freckles. I can’t help but wonder what changed. The rest of the class are rich kids, preps, and their whores.
The way Mr. Stewart watches me as I walk into his class—his cruel, shrewd eyes following my every move—really ticks me off. He’s a tall man, black hair, young-looking. Probably in his early thirties. Way too high and mighty for a football coach turned high school math teacher.
I sit at a table with three other kids, none of them are too bad. All good people but they’re the preppy-type. They take school sports and events way too seriously but that’s a minor annoyance compared to the rest of the kids in here.
I spend most of that class shooting glares at Mr. Stewart and filling out his overly complicated syllabus. Then I leave, get on the bus and go home. I give Mom all the syllabuses/syllabi. She has to sign all of them because I need her permission to do math and draw.
Then, I lay in my room with the window open. Alton is at my feet, I have the radio tuned to one of my favorite stations and Queen buzzes in my head. I think about my day and contemplate my junior year.
For the most part, it was normal, but something odd did happen at lunch. There was a kid I’d never seen before staring at me. He looked my age, so I don’t think he was a freshman which means he probably just moved here. He was sitting with a group of people, or maybe he was just sitting near them. I remember dark hair and eyebrows, he was wearing a grey t-shirt, I think. I wasn’t sitting close enough to him to pick up little details.
He was really staring at me too, not just accidentally caught looking into space, or something, but very intentionally watching me. It was kinda creepy. No, it was super creepy. I wonder why I didn’t do anything about it then. I guess I was too enveloped in my food. During the summer I would skip breakfast and eat an early lunch, since I didn’t eat anything this morning I felt half-starved by lunch.
“Leo!” Mom calls from the kitchen. I look at my clock radio: six thirty. How time flies when you’re doing nothing.
I get up and drag myself to the kitchen, Mom has begun to serve the teriyaki chicken already. I love her teriyaki chicken. She uses a store-bought sauce but adds her own twists to it.
Dad, Vinny, and his roommate are already sitting down. Vinny is my brother, he moved out a couple years ago after he graduated. His roommate is Franco, who I’m not particularly fond of.
“Sup.” I say. Plopping down across from Vinny and Franco who are comically squished onto one side of our table. Although Vinny is a skinny dude, Franco has the circumference of a small planet. He’s not quite as large as he used to be, though. I think it’s got to do with having to buy his own food.
Alton sits under the table and waits for food to fall. I inhale the aroma, the sweet smell of the sauce blends beautifully with the smell of steamed broccoli and carrots. When Mom plops a hefty portion of rice onto my plate, I swear nothing has ever smelled so appealing in my life. I eat quickly, rinse my plate and retreat back to my room.
Conversation at dinner was mostly aimed toward Vinny, who just got a raise. When asked about my day, I responded with “It was fine”, and it was. Now I'm back in my comfort zone, Theory of a Deadman playing on my stereo, sagebrush heavy on the breeze, Alton at my feet. I fall asleep in a matter of minutes. My pattern continues. Wake up, close window, fall asleep, wake up, open window, fall back asleep, repeat. I have to start my day at five thirty. I shower, I eat something small, I go to the bus stop, I go to school.
It’s only been one day and my routine already feels so familiar. I’ve been doing this for ten years, after all. Honestly I’m a little over it.
In some of my classes, my teachers have decided it’s time to actually get to work, in others we have another day of getting to know each other. At lunch I make it a point to look out for the kid who was stalking me yesterday.
There I go again with my drama, he watched me during lunch. That could hardly be considered stalking. It’s not like he followed me around, I don’t even have any classes with him. I don’t notice him immediately on my way to my usual table. I sit, I eat, and, eventually, I see him. He’s in a different spot and, today, he eats his food and doesn’t watch me.
At the end of lunch, however, he decides to introduce himself. This isn’t something I’m used to and I don’t know how to react. I’m standing just inside the doors waiting to be released. There are five minutes left of lunch when he walks up to me and says, “Hi.”
He’s shorter than I expected, dark brown, almost red hair, pale blue eyes, freckles, thick eyebrows. “Sup.” I say.
“I’m Benjamin.”
“Okay.” I don’t add, “Why do I care?” but it’s there.
“I’m new.” Benjamin says.
“Okay.”
“Usually, you would introduce yourself at this point.”
Who does this little twerp think he is? Being an arrogant little bitch to some kid he doesn’t even know. “Usually, you would take a hint.”
He laughs and I get really pissed, then I realize he was joking. I wasn’t though, I was dead serious. I don’t care about his name, and I don’t care about him as a person. “I wasn’t kidding.”
He stops laughing. “Oh.” There’s a few moments of tense silence. “Sorry.”
Then he pouts and, like the pansy I am, I totally feel bad. I sigh. “I’m Leo. . . Sorry.”
He nods. This is why I don’t go around trying to make friends, I just make things awkward. We stand in horrible silence for another couple minutes before the bell rings. Why didn’t he walk away? I was there first, he definitely should have left.
Mr. Stewart gives us our first assignment, a simple review packet for Algebra I. I take notice of how he doesn’t ridicule Michael, a jock footballer, for throwing a pencil across the room, even though I watched him watch it fly through the air.
Ten minutes later, I toss a piece of paper into the garbage as an experiment, as expected I get yelled at.
I go home furious and drive out to the desert. Then I kick myself for not getting Alton or telling my mom where I was going. Too late now.
I hike past my usual spot. When the water’s running it’s more difficult, I have to have my feet on one wall and my hands on the other to get past a this one part. There, the walls are steep and smooth, I’ve fallen in the water more than once. But it’s summer now, the water’s drained and it's easy enough to get through.
There’s another part I have to scale to get over, using my hands and feet. I slipped on wet rocks here one time when I was younger, thankfully Dad was with me. He had to rush me home and I had to get stitches in my leg. There’s still a scar on my calf.
When it’s dry, it’s easy enough to get over and I stand at the top of the canyon. Looking down it seems pretty deep. Up here I’m out of the shade the tall walls provide and I’m sweating. I really wish I’d brought a water.
Rather than trying to scale back into the canyon, I walk along the edge back to my truck. There’s a few half-empty water bottles in there, they’re all hot and gross but I drink them, anyway. I’m way too thirsty to care about temperature.
Afterwards, I sit for a few minutes, totally alone and at peace. The desert is quiet. I think about Benjamin. What an ass, I really hope he doesn’t pester me tomorrow.
Then I think about Mr. Stewart, he’s more than an ass. I hate that man with every fiber of my being. I hope he burns, I hope he gets into a car crash and loses his arms. Can’t teach math with no hands. I sigh, my peace shattered.
I pull out my CD binder and select Toxicity, System of a Down is one of the only bands I can stand when I’m this angry.
I drive home faster than I should. Mom is understandably furious when I get there, Alton is overjoyed. He keeps jumping up on me and trying to lick my face. Mom keeps talking in that stern, motherly voice of hers. I endure it until she dismisses me, I tell her I’m not hungry.
“That’s too bad, you have to eat dinner.” She gives me the look.
I sigh, then join her and Dad in the kitchen. Vinny and Franco aren't here tonight. I push leftover teriyaki chicken around on my plate. Eventually Mom tells me to leave and I ever so gratefully do. Then my usual routine commences.
Comments (2)
See all