Addiction to a Natural Drug - Chapter 3

Once the bus came to a stop at our school, I deftly slid out of my seat and kind of grabbed onto Brianna’s wrist, helping her up. Don’t look at me like that; girls are putty in my hands when I do that move. She smiled at me and softly muttered, “Thanks for the help.” Putty in my hands is right.

I then walked off the bus with Jeff, Eric, and a friend waiting for those two in front of the school, Alex. Soon enough, I realized that I really didn’t know too much about these kids, so I threw up a simple question. “Do you guys play sports?”

Eric took the initiative, answering with, “Yeah, I play baseball and football. I hope I can make the JV team this year.” He probably could make it as a lineman – tall and broad, yet with enough nimbleness and agility to get through the line of scrimmage and sack the quarterback.

Jeff said, “I play tennis sometimes with my mother, and I shoot hoops in my driveway, like you saw your first day.” That makes you really cool. Not. Congratulations, Jeff, you’re a total loser. I asked, “Why not anything else?” to which he responded, “I don’t have enough time. Spanish Culture Club.” Yeah, I made a mental note to ditch Jeff and bring Brianna with me. It’s not like she would miss him. Spanish Culture Club. Please.

I finally turned to Alex, who volunteered, “Does extreme sexual activity count as a sport?” See, this is what I’m fucking talking about. Alex is my kind of guy. I grinned and said, “Only if it’s with a chick.” He nodded in the direction of a girl who was walking by us, almost as if to say, “Yeah, I hit that”. She gave an awkward smile back at us. “You don’t know how much sweet talking it took me to get her to unbuckle that chastity belt,” he informed me. I gave him a knowing nod of the head.

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Alex had AP Enviro with me, so I said bye to Jeff and Eric and made my merry way. Tours of the school were offered a couple days before the actual school year started, but I wasn’t enough of a square to take one of those, so I let Alex guide me. He told me that the classroom was smack dab in the middle of the building. I said, “I have the room number on my schedule; I’ll be able to find it.” He said back, “Alright. I have to go to my locker. You should probably get one. Meet you there, and save a seat for me.” I’ve never used a locker. I prefer carrying everything around so girls can admire the strength it requires to carry around all those textbooks and binders.

I found the classroom with little difficulty. The door was propped open, so I slid inside, trying not to draw too much attention to myself. I immediately recognized one face in the classroom – a friend of Jeff’s who I found while stalking profiles on Facebook. Most of the class appeared to be comprised of sophomores and juniors who were taking this instead of chemistry as a science credit. Chemistry is an optional science at Palm Beach County public schools, but the majority of students take it after biology, either their tenth or eleventh grade year.

I noticed that most of the kids had taken a seat near the front, while I had elected for an isolated desk near the back of the room. This led me to believe that the teacher had a great reputation. From personal experience, kids never want to sit at the front of the classroom.

Alex walked in a minute later and snared the chair next to me. After making some more small talk, I asked, “Why is everyone so excited about this teacher?” He replied matter-of-factly, “Mr. Grayson teaches the six AP sciences at this school, and he’s done so for a very long time. He doesn’t even get a rest period.” I asked, “Does he teach two of a class or something, then?” “Yeah,” Alex agreed, “he teaches two AP Enviro periods.” Well, looks like I have Grayson for AP Bio as well.

The warning bell rang, and I did a scan of the classroom. Almost every seat was occupied at this point. There were some very attractive older girls, but nobody I’d lose my marbles over.

A minute later, the final bell sounded. The class, which had been talking amongst themselves, immediately drew to a hush. Mr. Grayson stepped up to the front of the room.

“Welcome, class, to the school year of 2008. For those of you who don’t know me, I am Mr. Grayson, the only AP sciences teacher at Spanish River High School. I hope that by this time at the end of the year, you’ll have beaten the AP exam without a sweat. There are a few familiar faces in the crowd, but most of you are new. We’ll go through introductions in a bit, but first I would like to hand out to you this course syllabus and AP information. Raise your hand if this is your first AP class.” Eight hands went up. “Now put your hand down if you’re not a freshman.” Only two hands went down. “Ah. I presume that the, er, six of you have researched the basics of Advanced Placement...” Alex looked at me guiltily, “…but in case you haven’t, be sure to scrutinize this handout extra carefully.”

I grabbed the papers from the person in front of me and carefully placed them into my binder without even bothering to read the titles. As Grayson continued to talk, I dozed off, thinking about nailing the girl sitting three seats to my right and two rows up. Before I knew it, I was startled by Mr. Grayson calling my name. “Chester Atilman?” he sung boldly. I raised my hand tediously and said, “Present.” Gotta look like a good kid to the teacher, right?

I went back to dozing off, but Alex poked me a few minutes later and said, “We’re about to do introductions. Pay attention.” I yawned and sat up straight. According to Grayson, we were supposed to say our name, what grade we were in, our hobbies, and what we wanted to get out of this class.

By the time the introduction swung around to me, I was ready. I stood up and pronounced in a slightly sarcastic voice, “I am Chester Atilman. I am a freshman from Saratoga Springs, New York. I just moved here last week. I like to sit in my room and stare out the window at other kids my age having fun with their friends, then ponder why I’ll never have any.” One or two chuckles were to be heard. Shit, that was funny! Things like that always got my classmates falling off of their chairs back at home. Mr. Grayson looked at me funny, so I continued in the same voice. “I like ska music, so I hope that there’s some good local bands around here. And I’m only taking this class for the AP credit.” With that I gave two thumbs up and sat down, a bit embarrassed. Hell, I was even blushing a little. What was WRONG with me? I always gave the funniest, most memorable introduction! This was just…retarded.

Alex used my pathetic line about being emo as a set-up. He stood up and announced, “Hey, I’m Alex Edelstein. I’m a freshman. I’m the kid who Chester stares at through the window.” Everybody cracked up but me. I just looked down at my desk in shame, humbled. “No, seriously, I like going out and having a good time and not caring what people think of me. And I’m taking this class in order to further my voracious appetite of all things science.” He took a bow and graciously sat down to the mock applause of the class.

The bell couldn’t ring soon enough to relieve me of my misery.

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I had a bit of trouble finding French 2, but I made it just before the warning bell rang. Everybody was standing in the back of the room, so I joined them. Just like AP Enviro, most of the class seemed to be sophomores and juniors. At least I’m taking classes that the average kid my age isn’t advanced enough for. This notion made me smile.

Immediately, I didn’t like this teacher, Mrs. Hess. She was fat and had a ridiculously singsong voice, plus she gave assigned seats. I ended up sitting next to a junior with dyed pink hair and golf tees in her gauged ears. Wow. I bet her parents are so proud of her.

Just like Enviro, all that we did was handouts and introductions. However, this whale of a teacher made us introduce ourselves in French. My assigned seat was in the front row on the very left of the class, so naturally, I had to go first.

I said, “Bonjour mademoiselle. Je m’appelle Chester Atilman. J’ai quatorze ans. J’aime le musique, et j’aime etre dans le lit.” I got a few laughs at that last part, but the teacher completely disregarded the fact that I was being the least bit perverted. She smiled at my amazing command of French.

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The bell couldn’t have rung quickly enough. I moved onto HOPE, which as I mentioned before, was a rather lame excuse for Physical Education and health combined into one roll of bullshit. I mean, look at my body. I don’t need P.E.

The teacher, Mrs. Carpenter, also had a singsong voice and treated us like we were seven. Luckily, she talked so much that the class sped by. Odd, teachers who talk a lot usually make the second hand on the clock crawl by.

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As soon as the bell rang, I darted out of the class to meet Alex, Jeff, and Eric on the hill. I prefer to eat with girls, but I’ll have plenty of time to make friends. Since I was walking fast, I accidentally bumped into a girl going the opposite way. She appeared to be a junior. I stopped to apologize. As I did that, her eyes caught my attention. They were a brilliant shade of hazel that showed knowledge beyond her years. She also happened to be wearing a black low-cut top. She said it was fine and smiled at me before walking off.

I found the guys relatively easily, and we took our seats on the hill, talking about the inaugural three classes. Eric gave Jeff and I a warning about the geometry teacher, Mrs. Wong – “she’s absolutely psychotic, good luck”. Brianna stopped bye to sit with us for a bit, and before I knew it, the half-hour lunch period was over.

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I walked the flight of stairs up to Mrs. Wong’s class with a bit of apprehension. Surely she couldn’t be absolutely psychotic, right? But there was something about Eric’s tone of voice. As I entered her classroom, I noticed a seating chart in rough alphabetical order. I was on the right side of the classroom in the very front, while Jeff was all the way on the other side. At least I won’t have to hear him talk about Spanish Culture Club, right?

Mrs. Wong turned out to be a frail, old Asian lady who couldn’t speak English properly. I literally could not understand what she was saying. The one part I did catch was her mentioning how her contacts were the wrong prescription and how she needed hearing aids. Sure enough, every kid was text messaging and talking. She was completely oblivious to the state of her students; instead, she elected to keep babbling louder and louder. It felt like I was in a Chinese prisoner-of-war camp.

I’m not sure what we got accomplished that class, but textbooks were handed out and a homework assignment – 1.1 AND 1.2 – was scribbled on the board. Wong didn’t even teach anything to us, nor did she make an attempt to do anything useful. That class period seemed to drag on forever and ever. I barely heard the bell over all the commotion going on, and I was sitting right next to the loudspeaker.

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I followed Jeff to fifth period, AP Human Geography. I had heard great things about the teacher, Mr. Turner, from everybody. Evidently he was the AP Human guru of Florida, and that his tests were insanely hard. Sounds like a blasty blast!

He turned out to be the best teacher I’d seen all day. Gregarious, comical and satirical, he had me captivated as soon as he opened his mouth. I immediately sensed that this was going to be one class that I would love. Sure, we took so many notes that my hand cramped, but it was all interesting material.

Oddly enough, the girl that I bumped into on the walk to lunch was in this class. She paid no regard to me and I reciprocated that.

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Sixth hour was AP Biology, meaning that I was back with Grayson. Somehow he remembered that two other students and I had him for AP Enviro as well, and he was also quick to comment on me being a freshman in a room full of nothing but juniors and seniors. After class, he pulled me aside and said, “Generally I would advise against a freshman taking such a challenging class, but they put you in here for a reason, and I heard what your old science teacher said about you.” That felt good to hear.

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Last was English Honors. The teacher, Mrs. Mangepomme (literally translating into French as “eat apples”), was a young and pretty lady who had taught for several years in New York before transferring down here. This was her first year teaching in Florida, so she said that she would be teaching by the book until she got the swing of things.

Still abashed over my first period mishap, I was focused on making an impressive introduction. However, Mangepomme had us partner up with our neighbor and introduce each other. I ended up with a kid named Carlos Cross, who happened to be from Colombia. He seemed cool enough. He liked the music I did and played soccer and basketball. We got engaged in talking and almost got in trouble with the teacher due to being too loud. That wouldn’t be a good way to start off her class.

When it was my turn to speak, I got up to the class and proudly proclaimed in my best infomercial voice, “Carlos Cross seems like your standard fourteen year old. He plays soccer, loses his mind over ska music, and enjoys a hearty Cuban sandwich. But under all of that is more than your typical teenager.” Insert pause for dramatic effect. “He’s got a record deal in the works, as he plays drums in his prog metal band, Frozen Fire. He has four dogs, a cat, and twenty-two fish.” Pause. “He counts every day to make sure.” Laughter.

After I finished, I gave Carlos a hearty grin and mouthed, “Beat that.” He promptly jumped out of his seat and up to the podium. “While Chester Atilman sweet-talked me to the extent of cavities in his mouth, I’m nothing compared to him. Chester is the man. Like me, he listens to ska. He plays baseball and volleyball. He runs parkour. He’ll kick your, uh, butt in a game of Dance Dance Revolution. Hell, the kid’s in three AP’s as a freshman.” The class collectively gasped. Thanks for making me sound like the school geek, dickwad. “But if you think Chester does nothing but study all day, you’d be dead wrong. This dude works out obsessively. Ask him about his six pack.” Everybody turned to look at me, which I loved. The spotlight’s on me, finally. I gave my best smile at the class before eagerly looking up at Carlos. I guess I have to eat my words about him being a dickwad.

Once Carlos sat down, a random girl walked up to me and felt where she approximated that my shirt would cover my abs. Sure enough, she was greeted with my washboard stomach. She gasped and stared at me in utter shock. Since she was cute, I gave her an overly cocky expression, which she ate up, leaving her to run back to her little clique of social buddies and share with them what just happened. Obviously they came over immediately to cop a feel.

I guess dickwads who have an urge to mention how many AP classes I’m taking aren’t so bad, after all.