Redwood High 2

Chapter 8

Final exams were gross.

I found them to be some lousy excuse to have us do something since the semester was ending. Why work all semester long to have a good grade just to have a chance to ruining it? What was the point of final exams; did the administration not see me do my work all year long? Stabbing myself.

Winter break zoomed past and I was nowhere near bringing up Ryan doing drugs. Or maybe he was selling drugs. I wasn't sure exactly what he was doing, but he was somehow associated with drugs. Or asking my aunt why her and my mother had a falling out. Or what to do about the dildo still packed in my closet, hidden from the public.

Finals week consisted of students milling to two class periods a day carrying mugs of energizing coffee. After finals we were finally going to do our freshmen boot camp. I guess it was perfect timing since two weeks from now the freshmen will be doing their first presentation; the same one that we messed up last year. I shuddered thinking about it.

My last final exam ended and we were finally home free, halfway through the school year already.

I was walking down the stairs when Carol came into step with me.

"What have you done about Pothead?" She asked.

I sighed. "Nothing yet. I have no idea if I should even meddle. Lots of kids do drugs."

"Like Riley."

"I- what?"

"Maybe you should just ask him? Drugs are bad and just because lots of other kids are doing them it does not mean that it's an okay thing to do. If lot's of people committed rape, does that make it okay?"

"I see your point but I just feel like I have no right. I've pushed them out for a year and just finally started letting them in. They didn't even know I existed until last year."

"Martin Luther didn't know more than half of the people he was advocating for but he still fought for them. Because it was the right thing to do."

***

We were setting up our booth for the freshmen boot camp.  There was five groups and we were all scattered throughout the 800's hallway. Any moment a group of freshmen will come to our section. We had presentation skills, a concept that not a lot of people handled correctly.

A group of kids walked in and we got in positions. I gave Giselle the nod and we began our presentation.

Only we didn't make it very far.

One of the kids jumped up and shouted "WEST TECH FOREVER!" and the other four kids pulled out silly string.

"SAVAGES! IF YOU GET ANY IN MY HAIR I'M THROWING YOU OUT THIS WINDOW!"

They sprayed us with silly string while one of them wrote West Tech on the windows and walls with red paint.

"Where the heck is the administration? Are they only useful giving useless dress code violations?" Shouted Carol.

They ran out leaving us in a paint mess.

We walked out and saw the group down the hall get the same treatment.

"This paint makes my shirt see through will I get dress coded for that? If I do I'm throwing myself into the Grand Canyon," Carol remarked.

I stared at the words "West Tech" painted on the walls. West Tech.

Carol noticed the spelling too. "The kid misspelled 'West'. He spelled it W-E-A-S-T. Weast Tech. Sounds like a disease my dad gets on his foot."