The Reaper

Chapter 2

For most teenagers, school was the most dreadful part of the day. To me, it was simply boring. While other kids stayed up until three in the morning attempting to study for the big test coming up while downing a mixture of Red Bull, Five Hour Energy, coffee, and any carbonated beverage containing sugar that they could find, I looked a few things up, committed them to memory, and used the rest of my time for myself. It was sad really, coming into class to see a room full of teens, their energy drinks wearing off, and despite hours of cramming, were still unprepared for the test.

This is how I found my fellow classmates on Thursday, the day of our test over Chapter 6 in US History. I felt as if I was the only person not trying to recover from last nights Red Bull induced cramming session, and it looked like I was right. I sat down in my desk, awaiting the moment my test paper arrived on top of my desk.

Mr. Hampton, the US history teacher, arrived in the room a bit after the bell rang. He had a habit of doing this. He got caught up in speaking to the Geometry teacher across the hallway, and he never noticed the bell until someone mentioned it to him.

  Mr. Hampton stood in the front of the classroom. He cleared his throat, picking up the stack of papers from his desk. After making sure the tests were perfectly aligned, he began to pass them out. Me sitting in the first desk, he naturally slapped the paper onto my desk first, his hairy fingers wrinkling the page slightly.

As per usual, there were complaints about having to take paper tests. I rolled my eyes, assuming their reason was their unexplainable bad handwriting. Honestly, most of my classmates seemed to have never laid eyes on a pencil until they were around 15 years of age. I however, being the special apple that I am, had been mastering the graphite tipped wood since I was only 4.

Mr. Hampton retreated to his 'man cave', a.k.a his desk in the east corner of the room, giving a grunt signaling we were free to begin the test. As I stared at the paper, I found that the first half of the questions were about Alexander Hamilton, and not surprisingly. Mr. Hampton had a strange obsession with him, as I often caught the poor man speaking to a ten dollar bill that he had never, for all I knew, spent in his life.

Like the Sudoku puzzles and Rubix Cubes before it, the test was no match for my superior intellect. It was quite easy considering half was about Hamilton and the other Teddy Roosevelt. Even my red bull deprived classmates should have all received a passing score.

In all reality, school really was a bore. My life was so much more exciting than this, what with Spirits and monsters and such. But I supposed school was always boring even to the average teenager. But school took on it's own special type of blandness with me.

I stood from my desk, prompting twenty three heads to look at me. As I stood, there were murmurs of 'nerd' and 'he probably cheated' surrounded by other murmurs of agreement. I ignored them, handing my test to Mr. Hampton, who nodded, his head pointing towards my seat.

I'm not entirely sure why, but it took the rest of the class the rest of the period to finish the test. It baffled me how anyone could struggle on a test containing questions about a mere two people. But eventually the bell rang, signaling the end of another school day, so they had no choice but to hand in their tests and walk out the door.

The moment I stepped outside, Ben was waiting for me. I was almost blinded by his thickly gelled blond hair, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, he shot me a wide grin and threw his arm around me.

"Hey man, how'd the test go?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Well enough. I was the first one finished."

"You? No, I don't believe it." he said, eyes wide in mock surprise.

I smiled at his sarcasm. Ben and I had been friends since fourth grade. I had helped him with a science project, and he had brought over some clothes which he deemed 'cool'. From then on we had been best friends. We still kept up the routine. I helped him with the 'smarty stuff' and he assisted me in seeming more socially adept. Although I was never letting him gel my hair, nor is he ever getting me to wear dog tags.

"Shut up, Ben. Besides, it was easy. Most of it was about Hamilton." I replied, beginning my trek to the bus lot.

"Hamilton? Isn't Hampton like, obsessed with that guy."

I nodded, "It's disturbing. You're lucking you took Geography instead."

"I don't know. Learning where Zimbabwe is located isn't that exciting." Ben replied, slicking his hair back with his hand.

"At least Ms. Pilchirch doesn't have some weird obsession with a dead guy." I said.

Ben shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. But that's what makes History class seem so cool. Mr. Hampton's so obsessed with that dude you guys don't even have to work."

I nodded, pushing the front doors open and turning left into the bus lot. Sure, World History was a class that required little effort, unless you were the majority of the fifth period class. And while that may have been fine for Ben, I required a bit more of a challenge. Sometimes I considered being the school nerd a handicap of some sort, then I remembered that I'd probably be working for NASA while my colleagues were cleaning fry cookers at McDonalds.

Our bus was already here, surprisingly. Usually bus 24 took the longest to pull into the lot. Ben stepped onto the yellow vehicle first, me following behind him. As usual, the bus driver didn't look too happy to be driving a bunch of teenagers everywhere. I didn't blame him, of course. The bus was so cramped you could smell the hormones.

I sat down next to Ben, who had once again managed to take the window side. He grinned triumphantly.

"I'll take that window from you someday." I said, responding to his unspoken sentence.

"Keep telling yourself that." he said, rolling down the window.

 ~

"So, you carry the one, then cube four to the power of six?" asked Ben, staring at the sheet of homework in his hand.

"Yes. Now do that" I responded.

"Why can't you do it for me?" he smirked, tapping his mechanical pencil against his chin

"Because I'm not in your math class, so I won't be able to help you when we are physically inside the school building."

"Dude, it sucks that English is our only class together." Ben said, trying to change the topic.

"Yes, it is a tragedy, Ben. But we are focused on math right now, not English."

Ben rolled his eyes, but finally decided to focus on the task at hand. Unfortunately for me, however, I got a splitting headache the moment he made this decision.

Andrew, can you hear me?  the voice was Randy's, except inside my head.

Randy? What in Seoul is going on?  I thought back, pretty sure that was how this worked

Ah, yes. Well, you see, you and all former Reapers share a telepathic field, so we can communicate through thought. I would have texted you, but all communication devices are down at the moment. he replied.

And what exactly is the problem? I'm tutoring Ben right now, I can't just leave. I looked to my friend. How would I explain where I was going?

Just a standard Reaping job. You'll be done in a few minutes. Randy responded, ignoring my comment about Ben.

I sighed. Fine, I'll be over as soon as I figure out an excuse to give Ben.

Authors Note: Sorry this chapter was so short, I just ran out of ideas.