Smells Like High School Spirit

It was one of those warm June days when it’s the perfect temperature out and you’d do anything to skip school to go to the beach, even make up lame excuses like you need to get your baseball glove out of your car, but really take off once you get there. I was approaching the school when I began to see the clones had changed into their summer outfits.
The girl clones were now wearing pre ripped jean skirts and white polo’s with their collars conveniently popped for reasons beyond my knowledge and sandals flipping and flopping as they walked down the halls talking in their high pitched voices.
The guy clones were now decked out in their khaki cargo shorts belted right below the butt, boxers showing, tight tee shirts with logos stamped across the chest and side ways hats. They walked with cockiness in each step, going up to the ladies and acting smooth.
The authority figures at school were all running around with their pants pulled up way to high, blowing whistles and yelling at kids. No one actually listens to them. No one cares what they say. I wonder how they feel their lives are. Why would they want to come back to high school and live a miserable life? No music. No cell phones. No smoking. No hoods. No tomogotchi pets.
The whole thing made me sick to my stomach.
Just a few more days until I was free; until I could get out of that place and not see them for two months.
Anyway, it was June 17th or around then. I walked into school, taking a big whiff of the amazing smells that change everyday. I mean, what’s a school if it doesn’t smell different each day? I scoot my way through the crowded halls, weaving through the different groups of people laughing and crying and jumping up and down, gossiping about god knows what.
I take a left and see my locker straight ahead. I often wonder if the genius that built the place also chose the colors. Maybe he was colorblind. Maybe he just wanted an ugly school. Maybe there’s some hidden message behind it. Maybe he was just stupid.
Four, eighteen, twenty-two, lift and open. My locker. Mmm, filled with nothing but a few school news papers smashed at the bottom and an English notebook that I used for the first 3 weeks of school until realizing that it’s pointless. I slam it shut and give it a kick remembering that I don’t have anything to put in there and nothing to take out.
I force myself to go to each class, pretending to care what happens if I combine sulfur and water and just begging to know how to say “Take a left at the bridge” in French. I love school. I love learning about things that I’ll never use ever again. I took out my notebook. I started to doodle. Star here, swirl there, stick figure, lyrics to a song stuck in my head, you know, the usual stuff.
After about four hours of wasting my life in a smelly building, it was lunch time. It was Friday, pizza day, the best day of the week. Everyone was lined up eager to get their slice of greasy, saucy bread. I walked straight to my table, not looking at anyone but careful of those jamokes that are so hungry they run to their table carrying the tray so quickly that they bump into you and drop their pizza on the ground while calling you a jerk because it was all your fault that he’s so fat and hungry and can’t slow it down a bit.
So I got to my table safely. I pulled out a chair, scanning it for any ABC gum stuck right on the seat because that little freshman jerk thought it would be funny if someone sat in it. I was safe. My good friend Dijonay came and sat next to me.
“Heeeeeeeeey!” she said walking towards me inspecting her seat for the ABC gum. “What’s crack-a-lackin’ girl?” she asked.
“Oh you know,”
“I sure do.”
“Oh no,” I said, trying to hide my face, “here she comes.”
Oh she came alright. Kayla Egg Face. Now this girl… let me tell you… has the worst breath in the world. She wears those denim overalls with the clips in the front and high socks. She has this frizzy curly hair that can’t even be put into a pony tail. She has pizza face and a mouth full of braces. She gets those white crusties in the corners of her mouth because she doesn’t swallow when she speaks.
“Hide me,” I whispered to Dijonay as Kayla Egg Face approached.
“Too late,”
“Hey guys!” Kayla Egg Face screamed as she came towards us.
“Hiiiiii Kayla,” I said oh so enthusiastically as she sat down next to me not bothering to check the seat for the gum. She sat down right before I had the chance to tell her no, because there was a big wad of bright green ABC gum. But squish went the gum all over Kayla Egg Face’s overalls.
“So this weekend I’m going on this hay ride with my boyfriend Tom, but you don’t know him, he goes to a different school. Want to see a picture of him?” Kayla said quickly as she pulled out a computer printed picture of some model she found on the internet.
“Oh what a cutie,” I managed to say without laughing. She was totally making up this guy. But, whatever floats her boat; you know what I’m saying?
Now, Kayla Egg Face isn’t named Kayla Egg Face for just any reason. Her parents obviously named her Kayla. But this girl brings eggs to lunch. Those hard boiled Easter eggs. You know, the ones the little kids color and leave out for the Easter bunny when he breaks into people’s houses to leave them candy and eggs and whatever else he wants to leave so Catholic American children can get even fatter. What makes it so bad is that it’s June and the girl is still bringing in these eggs. They are so old too. The shells are nice and soft and peel off real easily and there is this nice thick slimy coating covering the egg, and you can see the purple and pink food dye that seeped through the shell onto the cooked egg. Oh and the smell, the lovely stench of rancid Easter eggs, really gets me in the mood to eat my lunch.
I had to discretely cover my nose when she talked to me so that I couldn’t smell the eggs. Kayla Egg Face is the type that doesn’t shut up. She will go on and on talking about whatever comes to her mind. On most days I can get by with just nodding my head and saying things like “Yeah, that’s so cool!” or “Oh no!” But today, was one of the days I dreaded most.
“Hey, want to hang out tomorrow? Maybe go to the mall? Or sleep over? How about both?” she asked.
My eyes watered a bit because I took a huge whiff of the eggs as I went to catch myself when I almost fell out of the chair. I was shocked. I was dreading this day. I knew it would come sooner or later. It happens in every nice person’s life. When you’re nice to the weird girl, she will ask you to hang out. And I just so happen to be the type that can’t really say no.
“Oh, sure,” I said hesitantly. The thing about it is when I can’t say no, I say sure. Sure always means no, but no one knows it. Just then, Kayla Egg Face started working on peeling another egg, getting bits of yellowish green yoke all over her face. I turned to Dijonay and asked,
“Ah! What should I do?”
“Quickly, text Froseph! He always knows what to do!”
“You’re right!” I said to Dijonay, “You’re always filled with good ideas.”
Froseph- I have a situation on my hands. K.E.F. asked me to hang out and I said “sure”. Help!
A few minutes later, I got a buzz and a beep and it was Froseph texting me back.
I have a great idea. I’ll send for back up. Just sit tight.
A few minutes later, as I was sipping my water, the ground started to shake, and the trees outside were bending and the leaves were twisting with the wind. Outside, I could see a huge purple and yellow airplane. It was Froseph. He had come to save the day. A smile had come over my face because this tall, skinny boy with big hair was the smartest kid I had ever met. I mean, he’s my super hero that has mad basketball skillz.
As all the stupid clones were pressing their faces up against the glass trying to look outside to see what all the rumble was about, I walked outside and looked up. There was Froseph, jumping out of the plane wearing his purple and yellow wind suit on, with his super hero logo printed on it.
“It’s a bird, it’s a plane!” I heard some idiot yell from the other side of the cafeteria.
Froseph’s huge white boy afro was flowing in the wind as he jumped out of the plane. As I looked closer, I noticed there was someone else with him. I wondered what his great plan was this time.
As Froseph got closer and closer, the clones all started returning to their lunches, blaming their lack of abilities to focus on A.D.D. because it’s the cool thing to do to pop pills all the time.
Froseph finally came down with a little bit of a hop.
“Where is Kayla Egg Face?” he asked me as I gave him a quick hug.
“Over there, standing in the overalls, eating eggs,” I said,
“Okay, because I’d like you to meet Anthony Sushi Boy,” Froseph said as he gave this tall boy with dark brown hair and green eyes a push towards me. “This is Anthony, he likes sushi. He has a twinkle in his eye and you know what that means.”
“Oh yes I do,” I replied as I nudged Froseph knowing what was about to happen.
As school officials were running around blowing their useless whistles trying to figure out what to do about all of the commotion, Froseph zapped his freeze-everyone-but-those-who-matter zapper. I brought Kayla Egg Face over to Froseph and Anthony Sushi Boy.
Froseph looked at me and nodded.
“Kayla Egg Face, this is Anthony Sushi Boy,” I said to Kayla.
Froseph nudged Anthony Sushi Boy and made his eyes twinkle.
Kayla Egg Face and Anthony Sushi Boy quickly fell in love. I knew from that moment on that I would never have to worry about Kayla Egg Face breathing her egg breath on me ever again. Kayla and Anthony went to their own separate table, and I went back to mine with Dijonay. I said thank you to Froseph because he had saved me once again from the evils of high school. I watched him walk out and around the school, he zapped his stop time zapper and everything was back to normal.
Well, as normal as it can get.
The clones were running around, the authority figures blowing whistles telling us not to listen to music, clean up our messes that we didn’t make.
You know, the usual.