CHAPTER ONE
The Frosh
I.
“Holy freaking crap,” I muttered under my breath as I walked through the front doors to Kings Town High School for the very first time. It was like walking into an unexplored castle that I was 100% unprepared to be in. I gripped my backpack strap just to make sure it was still there. I didn’t want to lose this thing – all my crap was in there. Protractor, compass, rulers, number two pencils and about a hundred other things that I would probably never even use over the next four years.
I could feel a nervous sweat coming on and my glasses were starting to slide down the bridge of my nose. I pushed them back up, accidentally smudging my left lens. I ripped the specs off my face, and with the bottom of my shirt, rubbed out the smudge. I put them back on just in time to see a random student standing in front of me, awkwardly gawking.
He had on thick rimmed glasses, gray sweatpants and under his blue and red flannel shirt, I could see he was hiding a bit of a gut. He looked like he wanted to cry.
“Look man, you gotta help me out here,” he sniffled.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, glancing at my watch. I needed to find my first class before I was late. “I really need to get to class. I’m not even sure where it is.”
“The zipper on my backpack broke off, man. I can’t get any of my crap out!” The sniffling and nasally kid started getting all worked up. He swung around, back facing me, and glanced over his shoulder. “Can ya mess with it, bro?”
I was slightly put off by this kid, but oh well. I looked into the situation. “I’ll see what I can do, man,” I said, looking into the situation.
I reached for it and noticed immediately that the zipper wasn’t even broken. It had just folded into the bag itself.
“Oh man, it’s not that bad, the zipper is still there,” I said, flipping the zipper back out. I could hear the kid sigh heavily in relief. “You’re all set, buddy,” I reassured him.
The kid swung back around, and feathered his hair back. He wiped a tear from his cheek and extended the same hand out to me for a shake. “Thanks. I’m Chuck. Chuck Taylor.”
I smiled and shook his hand back. “Like the shoes?”
“Yeah. First day of high school – I’m a little nervous about the name. I don’t need a nickname this early in my high school career.”
“You’ll be fine. I’m Scout Brooks.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you Scout. I need to find my first class too,” Chuck looked around at the mess of students filing into the school. “This is gonna suck.”
I nodded, and he continued. “Good luck to ya, Scout. I’ll see you around.”
Chuck turned around and quickly disappeared into the massive clog of students. I pulled my schedule out of my pocket and saw my first class listed: Mr. Watson – Homeroom – Room 100. That was on the first floor and it was the first room in the hall. Not a bad start at all.
II.
Homeroom was kind of weird, but I guess it gave me a perfect example of all the different types of kids that would inhabit the school with me. Goth kids, skaters, preps, and nerds – which I guess was the category I fell under.
Mr. Watson reminded me of what I might look like in 20 years. He had short black hair, glasses and wore an ugly-as-sin dress shirt, complete with a purple bow tie. Strange for sure, but hey, I’ll give him credit for taking such a daring risk.
Mr. Watson was in the middle of a pretty intense roll call. He’d yell a students name at an unnecessary and alarming volume and expect a “Here!” immediately. He was about halfway through the list of students, when all of a sudden the classroom door creaked open. Everyone’s attention, including Mr. Watson’s, was drawn to it.
Chuck Taylor poked his face in. “Mr. Watson’s homeroom?” He asked, nervously blinking.
Mr. Watson put his list down by his side and his free hand on his hip. “You’re late to my class. About ten minutes late to be exact.”
“Sorry,” Chuck scurried into the classroom and found a seat near the back where he plopped down. Mr. Watson closed the door and turned around to face Chuck.
“And your name would be?” he asked, looking at his list. Laughter was imminent. Chuck swallowed and blinked again, heavily, before boldly stating his name.
“Chuck Taylor.”
I was right about the laughter. Students from all four grades put aside whatever maturity they had, if any, and exploded in to a chorus of laughter. Mr. Watson settled the kids down and continued through the list of names.
The rest of homeroom went by quickly, and I moved on to second period: math. It was a good thing to get Math done first thing in the morning – not my subject of choice. Third period, Astronomy, came and went. Fourth and fifth crawled by and sixth couldn’t have come any sooner. It was lunch and I was starving.
I sat alone at a small round lunch table. I started to devour my turkey and provolone sandwich with mayo, as I glanced around the rowdy cafeteria. It was like a zoo. I felt weird because everyone was getting along already and I didn’t know anyone. I mean, I knew some kids from middle school, but I didn’t know them well enough to start a mature high school conversation. Even Jeffrey Shuster, the captain of our middle school football team, was hanging out with seniors! How does that happen so fast?
I felt the table move, and I looked to my right. Chuck Taylor plopped down in an empty chair at my table. He was brown bagging it too. He pulled out a cube of foil, unwrapped it, and pulled out some left over pizza. He took a bite and looked at me.
“Man, I really bombed in homeroom this morning,” Chuck said with a mouth full of food.
“Yeah, that was a little rough. If I knew you were in my homeroom you could have followed me.”
“Holy crap, you were in that class?”
“Yeah, I was sitting against the wall.”
“Man, I was in the back,” Chuck took another bite of his cold pizza.
“Late to your first class on your first day of high school. Were you embarrassed?”
Chuck swallowed a mouth full of pizza, unintentionally leaving some sauce on his cheek. “Yeah. I’ve been late to all my classes so far.”
I laughed, “Really?”
“Yeah, I’m just…I’m freaking out, man. I’m not cut out for
all this, ya know?”
“You’re not cut out for…school?”
“Yeah. I don’t really fit in with all these people. I’ve always had a problem fitting in.”
“Me too,” I said, trying to comfort him.
“Plus,” he added, shifting his eyes around the cafeteria in an accusing manner, “this place creeps me out.”
There was a slight commotion going on behind us. Chuck and I both turned around and saw three of the older kids, probably juniors, standing on either side of a tall, fat kid. The older kids, obviously some kind of jerk skater punks, were picking on him. He appeared to be an easy target. He was tall, overweight, had long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and was literally wearing a Hawaiian t-shirt. One of the skater kids glanced our way.
“Don’t look!” Chuck shouted at me, swinging back around and stuffing more pizza into his face.
“Why?”
“Cause they might come over here. We don’t need that, Scout. It’s gonna be crazy, I just know it.” Chuck was obviously a nervous wreck about his first day, but he was right. The bullies escorted the fat kid over to us and one of them, the head honcho, tapped Chuck on the shoulder.
“Hey, Shoes!” he said. Chuck looked up at him, afraid. The bully’s friends laughed.
“Shoes?” one of the friends questioned.
“Yeah man, Shoes. This kids name is Chuck Taylor.”
The bullies laughed, and forced the fat kid down into the seat next to Chuck.
“This is where you belong, you wad. See you guys later! Bye Shoes!” The lead bully grabbed his friends and they trotted off, laughing. I was stunned.
“Uh, what’s up?” I asked, not sure where to take it from there. The fat kid responded, not even remotely bothered by what happened:
“What’s up, dude.”
“What just happened?” I asked, trying to create a conversation out of his awkward arrival.
“I don’t know. I guess it’s illegal to sit at a lunch table full of popular kids around here.” He spoke like he had been running all afternoon – out of breath.
“I’m Scout. This is Chuck,” I pointed to Chuck, who was still chewing. Seeing another kid of his same nerdish presence, he eased up a bit.
“Chuck Taylor,” Chuck properly introduced himself. The fat kid smiled and shook both of our hands. His smile was gargantuan. He showed more gums than he did teeth.
“I’m Phil Easton. You can call me Philly if you want,” he said.
“Philly?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’s just a little something I came up with. It’s nice to meet you guys.”
“You too,” I said.
Chuck swallowed the rest of his pizza and looked at Phil and I, sauce still on his face.
“I think we just accidentally created the reject table,” I joked.
Chuck and Phil laughed, like they were use to being the ‘rejects’. I never really considered myself one through what school I had already completed. I usually kept to myself, didn’t get extraordinary nerd-type grades, and hung out at home on the weekends, but I never labeled myself a reject.
III.
My 10th period – the last period – just happened to be a study hall. Not a bad way to finish off the school day. I could have used it to get a start on homework, study for the next day or just write – something I occasionally enjoyed doing. But nope, I used it to study Chuck Taylor. He just happened to be in my study hall - that made two classes we had together. But for some reason, study hall even made the kid nervous. He sat in the back corner of the room, clicking his pen ferociously. It was non-stop. The teacher kept looking up from his Guns and Ammo magazine to see where it was coming from, but he could never pin point its exact location. I wished he had stopped; it was the only sound in an otherwise dead quiet room.
I didn’t understand Chuck. He was more nervous than anyone I had ever met. He was awkward, not good in crowds; there had to be something to him. I wondered what he did for fun.
Since the school year started on a Wednesday, we only had two more days until the weekend. Thursday went by pretty similar to the first day. Chuck, Philly and I ate lunch together again, and were a little more comfortable with each other. Chuck lightened up just a tad, but not much. I found out he liked comic books – big surprise, right? Philly didn’t seem to have many interests, almost like he’d come to school, go home, and do nothing until he needed to come to school again.
Friday went pretty quick too. We ate lunch together again – seemed like it’d be like that from now on. There was a pep rally at the end of the day, which acted more as a “welcome to high school” speech for us freshmen. They made a whole big deal about it. Cheerleaders were flipping all over the place, the football team appeared at the center of the gym with the captain trying to pump everyone up, and claiming they were going to be undefeated all season long. He had a very put-on macho tone in his voice. Brandon Checkers was his name. If it weren’t for the simple fact that he was the captain of the football team, I’d bet a hundred bucks that he’d get picked on. I mean, Checkers? That name is just begging to be ripped apart.
When school finally let out for the day, Chuck gathered Phil and myself near the buses, and asked if we wanted to meet him at Jakon’s Comic Collectables in the morning.
“What do you say, guys? Do you want to come check the place out with me?” Chuck asked.
“Hanging out with friends on the weekends, huh?” Phil pondered to himself. It didn’t seem like a strange question to me.
“Sure,” I said, “What time?”
“They open at 10am. I’ll be waiting by the front door for you guys. You’re gonna love it, it’s pretty badass,” Chuck stopped immediately after saying ‘badass’. He looked shocked.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’ve never cursed before,” he said, ashamed of himself.
“It’s cool man – not really a big deal. My brother curses all the time,” I said.
“Yeah, but how old is he?” Chuck asked, seeming to freak out again.
“23.”
“See, he’s allowed to!” Chuck backed up, and tried to regain his composure. I didn’t realize that 23 was the age that allowed one to swear. This kid had a weird view of the world. I turned my attention to Phil, who was still wondering if hanging out with people on the weekends was something he’d be up for.
“Are you coming, Phil?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt anything.”
Chuck finally snapped back to reality. “Okay guys. Be at Jakon’s Comic Collectables at 10am tomorrow. It’s on Wilbur Avenue. Bring some money – you’re gonna wanna spend it!”
Chuck was obviously excited about this place, and even more, showing it to other people. I think I finally knew what made this kid happy. We all got on our separate buses, and went home for the weekend.
IV.
Dinner was good. My mom made Steak-Ums and Ramen Noodles – my favorite meal of all time! Had me a root beer with it. My brother, Mark, came home from hanging with his buddies all afternoon and ate with us. He was in a garage band called Red Badger. They thought they were good, but they really weren’t.
Mark was their guitarist. His friend Blane was the bassist; Leo was the drummer; and Kristen was the singer. I guess that’d be the one thing I’d give them – a female singer. There weren’t too many good ones around. Kristen had a good voice, but butchered everything the band gave her to sing. Mark was the main songwriter – his lyrics were childish, and extremely uncreative, yet he thought they were cool. And don’t get me started on the music, or as I called it, a jumbled mess of noise and un-tuned guitars.
I lay in bed for a good hour before I actually went to sleep. All I could think about was the first few days of school. It was just the first few days of four long years there. New people and new surroundings - it was going to be weird and uncomfortable. Should I join any clubs, or get involved in any school events?
I kept hearing a clicking noise in the back on my mind. It was getting repetitive and louder. Crap! It was Chuck’s stupid pen. He’d been clicking it non-stop in study hall for the past three days. What’s with that kid? I mean I felt bad for him. I could see where he would have a hard time fitting it. He was afraid of everything.
And what about Phil? Philly? He was just as strange, if not worse. This guy was a bumbling, generically fat, kid. He kind of didn’t have a care in the world, and it didn’t seem to bother him that people picked on him. All I could see in my mind was his large smile – all gums, no teeth.
I should stop. It wasn’t nice to make fun of people for the way they are. They could be saying some rotten things about me too, who knows. Oh my God, were these guys going to be my friends? Was I going to be permanently sitting at the ‘reject table’? The weird thing is, the more I thought about it, I didn’t even care. As strange as Chuck and Philly were, I enjoyed their company. They didn’t make fun of me, nor I them – at least to their faces; I should stop that if were going to be friends.
Jakon’s Comic Collectables in the morning – this would be the first time the three of us hung out outside of school. We’ll see how it goes.
I popped on my iPod, selected an alternative rock play-list, rolled over, and faded away into a slumber.