Fragmented Soul

Maximilian Hart

The end of the school year is coming close, which usually means studying for exams. But since we are in eighth grade, they only drill us with Aptitude exams. The truth is, no matter how hard they try, they won’t make the fools any smarter by giving us examples upon examples of test and assignments. Like Will from my class, for example. He’s a complete ass and the stupidest guy I know, which is hard to top, considering the other guys in our class and in our generation. This school, though in a part of the city that’s not necessarily bad, is terrible. Like, really bad, but they try to cover it up desperately.

When Martina, my older sister, was in the school, a guy was bullied because he was and still is gay. I mean, she’s nine years older than me, but still. That guy went to Shakespeare later on and is succeeding in life, but this school didn’t do anything good to him. That’s what Martina says, at least, and I trust her. “I can’t wait for you to finish that ass school,” she said when I started eight grade. “After that, I’ll have no ties left with it. Except ‘Nica, but nobody would connect us.” I couldn’t agree more. Our primary school is a pretty shit school in a kind of shit neighbourhood, as I said. I mean, it’s not shit. Most people are nice and all, but then there are some assholes and there’s a few sketchy people, if you know what I mean.

“You have to do good on the Aptitudes,” our form teacher says one day in mid-June. “You represent this school, and you have to make us proud.” The sun outside is shining, and most boys are just nervous to go play football.

I see Jake next to me, biting his tongue not to say anything rude. I don’t do that. I can afford it since my only sibling finished this school nine years ago. "Yeah, hell, I’ll do well to make you proud,” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “I will do good because I can, and I want, not because of you and your god damn school. And as if some of these idiots will do good even if they wanted to make you proud,” I ramble on.

“Maximilian!” the form teacher sounds surprised. “If you don’t do well, this school will soon be shut down because our results won’t be pleasing.”

“And it should be shut down,” Sadie mutters quietly, but loud enough for everyone to hear. I know she’s afraid of the consequences of her words, but she also knows that they carry weight that needs to be set down so the teachers would become better, at least. A scolding didn’t mean anything to her if it meant two better years in this school for Henry.

Surprisingly, Will, the asshole, agrees. “This school sucks. And I say that.”

Our form teacher pretends like we didn’t say anything and continues the lesson.

Before the biology class, Will approaches Jake and me, getting in the middle of us and throws his arms around our shoulders. “So, guys. Manson. Hart. Would you be so nice to volunteer for the oral today?” he asks with a smile. He thought himself our friend, so he calls us by our surnames, but our friends use Jake and Max.

“We both got our grades in that,” Jake answers.

Will looks over at Sadie, who’s talking and laughing with Carla, Iris, and Martha as if she doesn’t spend half of the breaks in the library. As if nobody notices she’s still a bit cold with them even if she laughs with them. As if they are her real friends. As if I haven’t noticed, she sneaked every second break to the toilet or to the library.
That again comes from someone who hasn’t been her friend in a while. We laughed like that in sixth grade.

“She also has her grade,” Jake says, seemingly without contest.

But we all know what Will wanted to ask her.

“What a shame. It doesn’t matter, I’ll get out of it somehow,” Will shrugs and removes his arms from our shoulders. “Talk to you later, guys!” He gives us the two finger salute and walks away.

I roll my eyes. “What a jerk.”

***

The door of our flat swing open, and I enter the empty apartment, as most days. A small sigh escapes my lips. I could always go to ‘Nica and Jake’s place just across the hall, but that’s not what I want.

I come to school every day at approximately 14:10 o’clock. I know my parents are at work, and Martina’s finishing up university, but they aren’t home most of the time. It sometimes gets boring, being alone most of the time.

I drop my bag in my room and go to the kitchen. Soup and breaded fish are left for me on the counter to warm up in the microwave with a sticky yellow note attached on the side. I pick it up to read it.

Warm this up.
We’ll be home around 17. Do your homework and study before having fun.
Love, mum

A smile spreads as I look at the sticky note. Even though they aren’t home when I am, they still take care of me.
Only one more day, I say to myself, only one more day. Only today and tomorrow, and then it is over for good.

***

Martina hugged me that morning. “How does it feel to be finishing primary school?”

I smiled widely. “Terrific!”
Jake also comments on that as we walk to school. “Can’t wait to go to Shakespeare. This school sucks.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” It does suck indeed, but I can’t say I won’t miss certain things. All times we wished each other good luck before exams, all the jokes that were so bad that they were funny, all the shit they’ve done that I’ve watched - I can’t say I will miss everything, but some things I will try not to forget. “But, y’know, I’ll miss some things. How easy this was, and how everyone knows everyone. This familiarity.”

Jake nods, gazing ahead of us. “I know. This is what we know. Maybe that’s good. We get to start all over again,” he directs his look towards me. “New… everything. A blank page.”

“A new chapter,” I complete his thoughts. “A end is never an end, it’s the new beginning.”

Jake smiles. “A begging we’ll need,” he puts his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t miss this school. When has it ever bought something good?”