Another Day

Beep, beep, beep, beep! I slowly entered into consciousness. God, how I hate alarms, they don’t care how late I was up or how tired I am. They have no regard for my health, growth, or sanity. My dad says that’s what the world is like and I ought to get used to it. I guess he’s right the world isn’t compassionate like we’re raised to be.
Ahh, I can smell the coffee, my only relief in the morning. It’s too bad I only have time to drink three or four cups and my mom’s coffee is more water than anything else. I’ll stop and pick up another coffee or a Red Bull on my way to school. The name’s John Smith by the way. Everyone in Rockville knows the name, but few have much regard for it.
After my exciting morning routine of showering, eating, drinking coffee, brushing my teeth, and drinking coffee, I climbed into my car around 7 a.m. For whatever reason, no matter what time I wake up in the morning I can’t seem to get to school on time. It’s probably on purpose. I quickly get out and rush to the band door, hoping some Good Samaritan will be there to open the door for me. Damn, no ones there. I try calling Tim, but he turned out to be behind me. Giving up, we head in the main door to wait in the tardy line. After about ten minutes I’m handed my green slip and head to my class. Tim and I are engaged in some irrelevant conversation that I was really upset to break off.
I opened the door and Mr. Watts commented, “Nice of you to show up, John Smith.” I told him I was just as thrilled to see him as he was to see me and took my seat. I took out my notebook and began copying slide after slide from the Powerpoint, not really my preferred method to learn our nation’s history, but I guess those days where teachers know about their subject and gave lectures were far past. We just copy from the Powerpoints the publishing company included with the textbooks while the teacher narrates in a bored voice. Maybe, if we’re lucky he’ll include a comment or two or maybe even a complete sentence. Towards the end of the Powerlecture, Mr. Watts asked me to stay after class I agreed. I knew what it was about, there was no way I wasn’t lcing at this point.
The bell rang and I approached Mr. Watts’ desk, “What did you want to see me about, sir?” I said. I knew how to play the game. After a long sigh, Mr. Watts told me that I was lcing his class and that he didn’t want to do it because I was a good student. I told him I was sorry and that I had stayed up late studying and was having a tough time waking up in the morning. Of course, I was lying I actually went to bed very early last night. It was just too easy to lie though, I generally don’t ever intend to lie I just start doing it before I even realize. Of course, he said he give me another chance and said I was a good kid. I smiled, thanked him and shook his hand. “I won’t let you down”, I said as I walked out. Though I was pretty much one hundred percent sure I would, if I really wouldn’t have let him down I wouldn’t have said that on my way out.
Walking through the halls is both my most and least favorite part of the school day. I sure get a kick out of the philosophical discussions I hear. “Son, you a bitch, nah son, you a bitch, you little punk,” it seems the most important thing in Rockville High School is who is and who isn’t a bitch. I’m not sure I’m one to judge as I’m unclear on what defines someone either way. Well, that’s my favorite part of being in the halls.
The downside is people who try and make small talk generally aggravate me unless I know them very well. I’m always torn between whether I’m supposed to smile and say hello to people I kind of know or just pass like I don’t even realize they exist. I think making the first connection I might make some friends of acquaintances, but I think I have enough friends as is, plus if they don’t respond well I’m that weirdo who says hi to people who don’t really know him. Generally, I debate it in my head for so long I end up just staring at the person as I walk past. That probably isn’t much better for my reputation but at least I can say their conceited and I wasn’t even looking them at all.
After all the over thinking in the hall, I finally navigate to my classroom, second period is Literature with Mrs. Bonnie. She’s a swell woman and I certainly enjoy her class. There are a few kids who always have something to add every four or five seconds, they either get too much or not enough attention at home. The class was soon over and I swore that if I timed the amount of time those few kids spoke it would add up to more time than Mrs. Bonnie did. Which is too bad I enjoy hearing what Mrs. Bonnie has to say, she doesn’t powerlecture. The strange music I’ve never heard of begins to play over the loudspeakers and we turn on the announcements.
After a short intro that tries to build school spirit (forgetting we go to Rockville), the pledge comes on and much to my disappointment no one stands but Mrs. Bonnie and I. My peers don’t even stop talking. I guess they forgot all the people that died to defend this country and how lucky we are to live here. Yeah, the latest gossip is definitely more important than showing respect for the greatest country in the world. The announcements end and I debate whether I should stand awkwardly in a group talking around me or just sit there. I generally go stand in the group listening to the great stories of how trashed everyone got over the weekend while thinking of my own weekend, eight hour shifts Saturday and Sunday. I’m great friends with everyone’s parents as I always see them at the local Giant where I work. I think I may like parents better than students, they’re much less confusing.
Well, maybe they’re not less confusing I just analyze students much more. I can’t help it. It’s the way I was raised. My father always taught me to pick up on people’s subtle actions that indicate their character and never forget any negative things they did to me. He always tells me it’s more important to have a few good friends then tons of fake friends. I think he’s right, but I wish he had never taught me that. I wish I could be like those normal kids who don’t see all the fake stuff and feel like they’re really popular. Well, I guess I don’t I guess I’d rather live in the truth. What is truth anyways? I couldn’t tell you. I’m not sure if many people even truly know who they are.
The bell rings and frees me from my thoughts. I repeat my exciting walking through the halls and take note of most people I walk past. I arrive at third period to hear a million excuses to why the assignments I stayed up till one a.m. on Saturday to finish shouldn’t be collected. Usually, the teacher gives in much to my frustration. Who knows how any of us will make it in the real world? I guess my generation won’t have much of a problem because the “real world” will be run by our generation too. All of a sudden the bell rang, I must have fallen asleep in my chair there’s no way class could have went by so quickly.
I didn’t feel like going to fourth period so I went to the library quickly if I got there before the bell went they’d leave me alone and not check my pass. I lost myself in a book till the bell rang.
Lunch time was not very exciting anymore. Of the group I used to hang out with two got expelled, two dropped out and the rest have half day schedules. I don’t spend much time with them anymore anyways. I only have a few good friends and they all hang out with different groups who kind of don’t like me. I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t like a kid who showed up every once and a while to talk to a single person and hardly acknowledged the rest of the group. The bell rings and I’m free from my obligation to be social.
I arrive quickly at fifth period. I’m an aide in the counseling office. Mrs. Hills is very nice to me and then hands me a ton of passes to run. I should have figured she had a lot of work for me to do otherwise she wouldn’t have been so nice. Regardless, I ran the passes as quickly as I could and on my way back I ran into Danee. She’s a sophomore I used to tutor for the AVID program. She was a nice girl but she hung out with wrong people. As we were chatting walking down the halls, Ben, another student I had in the AVID class began hollering at her calling her all kinds of nasty names. I was quickly enraged. I have a temper like my father, slow to anger unless I have a good reason, but once I’m angry I don’t calm down for a long time.
I demanded that he remember what I had told him in AVID class about respecting women and say he better apologize. He agreed and walked up the Danee. “I’m sorry, Danee. I don’t know what came over me”, he explained. She smiled and said, “Thanks, Ben, it’s alright. It’s sweet of you to apologize like that.” He suddenly yelled, “Sike! Bitch!” and struck her across the jaw.
Enraged I charged up and hit him with all of my might in the back of the head. He spun around with a wild hook and hit me square in the eye. My eye was pounding with pain. It swelled to the size of a grapefruit. In retrospect, rushing him was probably not my best idea I ever had, but I was much too angry to think. I took a step back and landed two solid jabs with my left hand then struck him in the temple with a strong right hook. The hook hit him perfectly and he crumbled to the ground. I gave him a few stiff kicks in the ribs for good measures and realized that I broken my right hand. Not again.
The next thing I knew I was on the ground and there were cuffs on my wrists. A police officer I had never seen before was leading me down to the main office. I found myself face to face with Dr. Hunk and she was hardly happy to see me. I felt as if I had done the right thing and smiled at her and asked her how she was doing. She didn’t answer and instead asked why I had gotten into a fight. She warned me there was a good chance that I would face criminal charges for assault and if that happened I’d be thrown out of the school. I couldn’t believe it. I twisted in my seat was reminded my hand was broken by a sharp pain. “My hand is broken”, I said. She nodded and said,
“We’ll get it looked at as soon as we can.”
“Could you take the cuffs off they’re really cutting my wrists?”
“No, John, at this moment you are under arrest, have to decide whether or not to press charges.”
“That’s ridiculous. Ben punched Danee in the face I was only defending her. My father and mother always taught me to ensure no one ever laid a hand on a girl like that.”
As if she wasn’t listening she responded, “Was this before or after you broke three of his ribs?”
I grew agitated and countered, “The punk deserved it, somebody had to teach him a lesson.”
“That someone is supposed to be me.”
A policeman entered the room. He told me Ben’s family would be willing to drop the charges if I agreed to never return to Rockville High School and apologized to him. I refused without a doubt. I insisted I did nothing wrong and that they should apologize for raising such a punk. I figured they might even want to pay for the medical damage to my hand since it was in the interest of correcting their child. The policeman laughed and then said you’re a good kid, but you’re only other opinion is to face charges, possible jail time and indefinite expulsion from Rockville High. I looked to Dr. Hunk. She and I had always been friendly, but I saw nothing but a cold stare. I guess people really are friendly just for the sake of it. After a long pause, I agreed to apologize to Ben and they agreed to grant me the right to appeal to the Board of Education to stay at Rockville and finish my last two months before graduation.
When none of the administrators spoke in my defense it confirmed what I had already known but prayed wasn’t true. There were no morals, nor truth nor doing the right thing nor being a good person. There was only one thing; how low one was willing to stoop in order to succeed. The administrators stooped low disregarding their own morals to avoid a sticky situation and continue to succeed. Ben’s parents did the same when instead of acknowledging their own child was at fault they allowed another child’s life to be ruined so Ben would not face such a sticky situation. Danee also did when she swore Ben had never touched her. I couldn’t even understand why she would do that. They took the handcuffs off and I left. I drove never to return. I hope I will arrive at a town where morality and justice have no already faded, but immorality travels fasted than my 3.0L ’04 Ford Taurus could ever dream of going.