From science, we dragged ourselves to literature, where at least the teacher didn't try to announce me. He didn't even try to teach, for that matter. Or at least I don't think so.

I listened to the first five minutes as he rattled off author names, dates, and books, and everyone went crazy taking notes like obsessed people.

Wikipedia could do that too, so what did I need the teacher for?

Jeremy spent the whole hour bent over his notebook, writing so fast that, towards the end, the tip of his pen must have been glowing.

He emitted noises of dismay when he missed a note, and spent the twenty seconds of break when the teacher answered the phone repeatedly banging his head on the desk.

He took it too seriously. I had managed to survive until last year thanks to my incredible cheating skills, and sucking up to the one who always scored the highest.

I still wasn't sure who the nerds in the class were in there. For now, I had only identified females, and that certainly didn't help me.

Meanwhile, I had a great view of the clouds in the sky. There was one shaped like a hedgehog, one like a bunny. One that looked like a guy bent at ninety degrees...

God, I needed to hook up with someone.

"Smith."

Jeremy jumped, but the teacher wasn't looking at him.

I raised my eyebrows eloquently and pointed at myself, and the teacher nodded.

"What do you want, chief?"

He pursed his lips. "Your attention. You don't seem focused on Les Misérables."

"Why not? I assure you this lesson couldn't have been more miserable."

The class laughed. The teacher adjusted his glasses on his nose and told me to go to the principal's office.

Wow. Excessive.

Well... come on. Sent to the principal's office on the first day. That was a new record. Dad would have bought vodka to celebrate.

Jeremy didn't even look at me as I left the classroom. He had a resigned and disconsolate air to him.

The principal asked me why I was in his office. I told him. He gave me a look of I hate my job, and sent me back with a warning.

The bell rang just as I was about to return, and Jeremy stuck to me as soon as he saw me.

"Please. For the peace and sanity of our family, sew your mouth shut."

What did the family have to do with it now? We were at school, weren't we? Two completely different things.

The next lesson was supposed to be geometry, or something like that, because there were shapes on the blackboard, and the teacher had drawn a cylinder between two circles, and GOD it looked like a penis. Doesn't anyone else see that it's a penis?

I raised my hand and posed the question.

The teacher was young, she looked like she had just graduated from university. She turned all red, and when the class started laughing, she almost seemed like she was about to cry.

I felt a little sorry for her, so I behaved for the rest of the lesson.

The next bell announced a break, during which everyone stayed at their desks nibbling a snack.

Groups formed immediately. And there they were, the nerds, eating peanut butter sandwiches and making crumbs on their notes. And indeed, they were mostly females, a real disaster.

The two males seemed aggressively intent on courting the girls, so maybe they weren't suitable candidates either.

"Who do I have to suck to get the answers to the tests?"

Jeremy choked for a moment on his peach juice.

He hadn't gotten up to join either the nerds or the boys focused on a single phone (probably open on PornHub), or the girls gossiping about the teachers.

Maybe he had stayed seated with me because I didn't know anyone yet. Or maybe he was the loser of the class who never talked to anyone. From the initial trend, I was more inclined on the second.

Jeremy didn't answer my question. In fact, he pretended not to have heard it at all. He opened his notebook and reread the notes he had just taken.

I peeked out of curiosity. Maybe I could copy from him, right? And I wouldn't even have to suck him off.

He had noted the date and the topic, like a good kid.

He had written down word for word everything the teacher had said, had copied the shapes on the board, had marked the measurements.

Then he had drawn a crying kitten with the caption underneath: I have no idea what's going on...

That chart below that seemed like a neat list of notes was actually a stream of thoughts with no head or tail.

1. There are 32 panels on the ceiling.

2. I hope there is ravioli for lunch.

3. 1 cylinder + 2 circles = penis??

4. 7 minutes until the bell rings.

5. six minutes until the bells rings

6. five minutes. 4 minutes. 3 min and 32 seconds.

Okay. Great. Fantastic. Jeremy would be super useless during quizzes.

We got up at the second bell to change classrooms. Now we had two hours of philosophy. We didn't do philosophy at my old school, and I had no idea what it was all about.

I tried to listen, I swear. But the guys behind us kept distracting me. They were the same jerks from the convertible that morning, I recognized them.

Jeremy made a disgusted face when he saw that the only free seats were in front of those three.

So I lost track of the lesson around the "good morning, guys," when the one with the completely loose tie threw a spit-covered paper ball at Jeremy's head.

He didn't even turn around. He opened his notebook to take notes as if he hadn't noticed anything. Maybe he really didn't notice.

But after the tenth or eleventh time they threw balls at his head, I was pretty sure he was deliberately ignoring them.

After about ten minutes, the three started getting bored and changed targets. They aimed at a girl two rows ahead, who ignored them in the same way.

I watched them giggle like toddlers as they rummaged through their backpacks. It was always the one with the loose tie who had the brilliant idea. He pulled out a lighter.

Should I do something? Why hadn't anyone punched him in the nose yet?

The guy leaned over the desk and flicked the lighter on Jeremy's neck. He flinched, but I think more from the noise than from the flame.

At that point, he finally turned around. He gave them a dirty look, which made the three burst out laughing, and turned back the other way.

I remained turned to stare at them. Come on. Come at me with the lighter. Throw a spitball at me. Come on, tough guy. Come on.

But the three pretended not to see me.

...

When the last bell of the day rang, and I headed innocently towards the exit, Jeremy pulled me by the arm from the opposite direction.

"We have to go to the tutor. Then there is afternoon class."

"What afternoon class?! It's my first day!"

"Mom enrolled you in the same ones I do. She said you can change them later."

Oh my god.

We joined the river of students headed to the cafeteria. There was no way I was going to this hell every day. And the afternoon too? What was the judge thinking?

I could show up for quizzes and for the day before vacations, when we would party in the courtyard with weed. For the rest, adios. 

In line at the cafeteria, the three musketeers showed up again. The one with the Rolex that weighed more than his arm bumped into Jeremy, making him stagger, as if we were in a teenage movie (the ones where the bully fell in love with the girl, and for some reason they all sang).

"Giddy, Smith," chuckled the one who had bumped into him. One of the three coughed up the word fag without stopping laughing.

Oh my god, I'm cracking up, look.

How I wished they had gone after me. God, how good it would have been to have some brains splattered on those blue walls.

Jeremy shook his head and continued on with a resigned air. He sat in one of the seats in the middle of the room, which definitively cemented my impression that he was the loser of the school, and started silently eating his ravioli.

"Can you explain to me why you didn't tear them a new one?"

"Because, Drake, I can control myself better than that. It wouldn't be mature to get back at them."

"And is it mature to take it and keep quiet?"

He looked up at me. He glanced around for a moment, spotted the group sitting two tables away, and drew closer.

"I have a plan, actually."

"A plan?"

"Yes. You see, my father owns a marketing agency. I'll study economics at university to one day become its director."

His father... I guess he meant that Kevin.

"Uh... okay? And then?"

"Then. Those three's father also works at the same agency. And his sons will succeed him. And one day, I'll be their boss. And I'll promote them, and promote them, until they think everything that happened at school is forgiven. And then one day... BAM. I'll take away their paid vacations and bonuses. And when they come asking for permission, I'll say: I don't know, Tacker. We'll talk about it at the next meeting. But at the next meeting, we won't talk about it at all."

Jeremy leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smile.

"Is that your plan?"

"Yes."

"Okay..." I shrugged. "Or, just saying... we could slash the tires of the convertible."

"Are you crazy?!" Then in a lower voice, almost conspiratorial, he added: "That's vandalism. Destruction of private property! Do you want to end up in prison?"

Prison... what an exaggeration.

I would have continued that conversation to convince him to engage in some healthy vandalism, but one of the three hotshots decided it was his time to meet his maker.

I don't know if they mistook me for Jeremy from behind, but the meatball from the sauce ended up on my head.

I was happy about it, really.

Jeremy paled when he saw me stand up. "Please, don't do anything..."

I picked up the poor squished meatball and bounced it up and down in my hand as I approached their table.

The three saw me coming, and their smirks faltered for a second. Hadn't they expected to see me?

"Did anyone lose this?"

None of the three brave souls replied. I didn't really care who had thrown it.

I brought it to my mouth and gave it a nice loving lick.

With one hand, I grabbed the closest one by the tie, and with the other, I smashed the meatball in his face.

The meatballed guy stood still as if in shock, while his two companions jumped to their feet.

I was ready to throw punches. I lunged forward first and... the two backed off? Before I could do anything else, they were running for the exit.

Wow. Okay. I had just squished a meatball in some guy's face. I hadn't even beaten anyone up. I wasn't even an imposing guy.

I returned to my table slowly, genuinely confused, until all my doubts were dispelled.

The two reentered the cafeteria... with the principal???

They pointed at me, talking over each other. What a bunch of cowards. Now I really will slash their tires.