sweat-shirt

CHRISTIAN

"Christian, it's freaking 7:20 am! WAKE UP!" my brother, Carl, screamed into my ears. For crying out loud, he's a year older than me, and behaves like my grandmother. 

I woke up, groggily, and eyed my messy bedroom. There were boxes situated everywhere with piles of clothes and furniture. Last week, we moved here, and so far I'm not liking it. The boys in our new neighborhood think I'm a nerd or something and that I am bad at basketball. I'm not bad at it, I just don't like it. Chess is so much interesting. The pieces that move across the board. The king, the queen, the rook, the pawns. 

Carl already warned me about a school's hierarchy system. I have been homeschooled, actually, and so did Carl until he was in 9th grade that our parents decided to enroll him into the local high school. After he got into university, we moved here, which is where his college is. I'm starting public school as a SENIOR, which is a bit dumb considering that I'll go to college anyway next year, but it's not like I'll ever have a chance to go to public school later.

Anyways, according to Carl, the students are all like pawns on a chessboard. Puppets controlled by the so-called "popular kids" who are all rich, considered "the most attractive", and have a lot of backup so you can't mess with them. Carl warned me about how they throw hard teenage parties where sometimes drugs and alcohol were served. Obviously, I don't know if that is the case in our new neighborhood, but it already seems like it. No one wants to play with me and almost every kid of my age disliked my chess obsession and my style of wearing sweatshirts and hoodies. Is it just that? Do they really hate how funny I am, or at least how I think I am? Is chess really a boring topic? I just concluded that they are jealous of how clever and intelligent I am. 

I remember these two kids who are my neighbors- I showed them my schedule which were all APs and honors. They looked at me with disgust and told me I was a nerd that wouldn't go a day without flexing my academic achievements and abilities to other kids. Their schedules were regular classes, but why did they show so much hatred towards me? I expected more of a 'oh, we don't have classes' more than this. 

Mom and Dad are trying their best to help me through this difficult time. Mom works two jobs and she doesn't need me as a burden. Dad, who is a proud firefighter, can do his job saving lives instead of helping a kid like me. And Carl can start his Freshmen year without advising his little brother about the hierarchy and other information about public school. 

"CHRISTIAN!"

I finally got up and barged into the bathroom, took a shower, and picked a red sweatshirt and some jeans. I ran downstairs to see Mom, her hands running as she was packing lunches for me and Carl. 

"Mom, I'm in college for crying out loud. I can do this myself!"

Mom shook her head and shoved the lunchbag into Carl's backpack. "Carl, you are never too old for-"

"Blah, blah, blah," Carl interrupted, miming Mom's voice. He eyed me and raised his eyebrows. "FINALLY, you're here, Christian! Just sayin' but high school starts bright and early. You need to get up on time, more."

"We get it, Carl, you went to public school." I said, while eating my sandwich.

"Christian!" Mom said, giving me that look. "Your brother is giving you important advice. It is important to do this year, being your first and last, in good shape. Now, did you get your backpack ready?"

I nodded as Mom stuffed my lunch bag into my backpack, handing my backpack over to me and pushing me out the door so that I won't miss the bus. I realized Carl and Mom were right as the bus was about to leave. I ran as fast as I could and eventually got on to the bus successfully. The kids who were on it snickered at me and laughed. 

What a great day to start school, I thought, opening my chess book, "How to Win Chess" that I just got from the library. I looked around to see everyone laughing at me, making fun of my book, which I eventually closed after I decided to take a look at my schedule. It's Senior year and these people still don't have manners?

"HOMEROOM: Smith, Christina

1st Period: AP Physics with Mr. Long," I started reading. I remember Carl telling me about AP classes, how Mom enrolled for them or something. I don't even know a thing about this school despite hours and hours of Carl's advice. 

~ ~

Homeroom went by a blur