The D's in French

I walk into de gym hall and it feels like all my insides are trying to find a way out.  De gates of my body are doing a fine job for now but I fear dey could give way at anny time.  De yellow courts in de gym, so fun to slide on when you go in, are now covered wit ugly carpet and dere’s rows and rows of desks going from de entrance to de end of de hall.  At least I tink so.  I can’t see de back of de gym at de minute.  De desks keep going until haze and darkness. 

Dey have de desks lined up in twos.  So you find yerself sitting beside someone from a different year, a bigger fella.  I don’t know why dey put us first years next to de fifth years for de exams.  Maybe it’s a secret lesson de school is giving us.  Maybe dey expect de younger ones to learn someting from sitting beside de older ones and de older ones to practise being adults for a while. 

De big fella beside me is a perfect floppy.  His hair is like a pair of gloved hands on his shoulders.  Brown gloves like de ones Davy Janitor wears.  Every slight turn of my head I tink Davy Janitor is standing behind about to choke de life out of him.

I look at my watch.  Dere’s still about five minutes before de test starts so I grab my pen and start doodling.  I’ve been trying out de band logos.  I sit back in my seat so dat Mr Floppy can see whut I’m doing.  I know he must be a Doors-head.  Dey all are now.  Cause of de fillum wit Val Kilmuh.  So I start drawing de Doors logo.  Slowly.  So Mr Floppy can see.  De Doors logo is a fun one to draw.  After laying out de shapes, I go behind de letters and do some 3-D shading, very carefully, leaving enough time for me neighbour to spot it and soon enough he does.

--Ye like The Doors, do ye? he says.

--Yeah, I whisper.

Mr Floppy snickers to himself.

--Name a song by dem, he says.

I didn’t expect him to ask me questions about it.  Fucksake, de test hasn’t started yet.  I’m not in de mood for two tests right now, one after de other.  I’m not even ready for de main event.  But den de name of a song comes to me.

--Light my Fire, I say.

Mr Floppy scoffs.

--Shur dat’s de most famous one.  You don’t know anny, do you.  How does Light my Fire go?

--I can’t sing it here.

--Sing it under yer breath, you’ll be okay.

I really don’t know de song.  I haven’t heard it.  I just heard other people singing it but oweny de Baby, bite my wire bit.  And I can’t even member de tune of dat part right now.  So I just sit dere in dead silence.  My face going bright red.  Total embarrassment. 

--You’ve never even heard The Doors before, have ye?  Not a single song.

I don’t say annyting.  I feel awful.  I hate Mr Floppy.  I wish it really wus Davy Janitor behind him going in for de choke instead of just a fancy haircut on his head.  De face on him is pure disgust.  But he also looks happy dat I don’t know annyting.  And dat he caught me pretending.  Maybe dis is whut de arrangement of desks is all about and maybe dis is de fifth year’s reward.  I realise dat he has got whut he needed from dis meeting of minds.  He got to show me up well and good.  De true measure of adulthood is knowing it’s all a test and even when wur freed from dis hall we’ll be thrown to de world to test each other to de end.  Doesn’t sound like anny fun at all if ye ask me.

I’m tinking I should go home and listen to de Doors songs and learn everyting dere is to know about de Doors so next time someone sees me drawing der logo I can answer all and every question about dem.  But I don’t wunt to do dat.  I’m in no mood for tests.  Why prepare for another test when I didn’t prepare enough for dis one?  I’m fine wit a D, if dat’s all I get, and a D in de Doors too, forever, if needs be. 

Dere’s a minute before de test begins, so I draw a big D on de page den, right above de Doors.  It’s my own D, nobody else’s.  A long Capital D, bit spiky at de top and bottom wit a weird beer belly on de bulging part.  I make sure Mr Floppy sees it.  I wonder if he’ll ask me which band it is.  If he does, I’m going to say it’s a new band he’s never heard of.  The D’s.  The D’s in French.  Dey’re metallers, I’ll say.  When he sees de new D I’ve done, he pouts a bit.  I hope I haven’t accidentally drawn de D from a different band’s logo.  But he doesn’t say annyting.  And dere’s no time annyway to teach him a lesson. 

Turn over your paper and you can begin...

I might have to wait until I’m in fifth year myself to get my own back.  Treat a poor first year de way Mr Floppy treated me.  My reward.  Den I’ll be de big man.  If I even get to fifth year, dat is.  For I know from here on in dere’s lots and lots more D’s to come.