Kelling Academy: Fighter

Chapter One JED

I don't think my parents like me all that much. Which, I guess, isn't a surprise considering my "mental disabilities".

I was standing inside Kelling Academy's Administration building, scrappy backpack on my back, old suitcase and barfed-colored duffel back already in my new dorm room. I had my new I.D in my pocket with the keys to my dorm. 

My dad was hurriedly signing papers, pretty much screaming "I want to get rid of my freak of a son!"

My parents never liked me that much, always saying how I was lazy, or too violent, or stupid. I was pretty violent, I could give them that, but I wasn't stupid. My teachers just never liked my answers because I couldn't control my big fat mouth.

"You're all done sir," the blond lady at the desk said, picking at her bright pink acrylic nails, glancing at the papers. She had on a low-cut floral blouse, very clearly showing her junk in the front.

"Why'd ya wear such a low shirt if nobady's gonna see it?" I asked, my southern accent slowly slipping out of my mouth. My accent wasn't that sweet drawl, or that no-nonsense tone, but a thick, slow sounding thing which always made me sound like a redneck, even if I tried not to.

She flipped me off with out looking at me. "I want to see how low I can go before Boss makes me cover up."

I smiled. "Best reason fer anythang."

"Uh-huh."

My dad turned around and looked me up and down. "I hope one of dese delinquents stab ya."

"'N' I hope ya git sued."

He kicked my shin as he walked out, slamming the door shut.

The blond looked up at the door. "He sure is pleasant."

I nodded. "Very."

She cleared her throat. "Mr. Fields is going to come get you in a minute. You don't have to wear a uniform today, but you do tomorrow. All your purple dress shirts are hanging up in your closet already. You have a roommate and three classes before lunch, three after, and then a study group. And word of advice, don't mess with the Red kids."

"Why?"

Before she could answer a tall black man walked in. He was pretty well built with a goatee and shaved head. He was wearing a blue dress shirt and black slacks.

"I'm Mr. Fields. I'm the boss of your dorm building. Here's your schedule,-" he handed me a purple piece of paper- "which you'll be expected to memorize. Don't be late to your classes. Follow me."

He turned around and started walking. I hiked my bag up and followed him while glancing at my schedule. The second I read it I knew it by heart. I had a picture perfect memory, which was really helpful for school.

I walked behind Mr. Fields, squinting my eyes when we went outside. The sun was bright and there weren't any clouds. If I had my skateboard with me, I'd totally be skating. Sadly, it was in my duffel bag: Yes I snuck it in.

He walked into a large, three-story, brick building, walking so fast I thought he might need to go to the bathroom...or he wanted to get rid of me.

"Do ya need ta use da bathroom?" God all mighty, why can't I control my fucking mouth?!

I was surprised when his hand connected with my face, my head jerking to the side. "Watch your mouth, boy."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Ya see dis scar?" I asked, pointing to the jagged thing that ran diagonally across my entire face. "It ruined mah nerves. I got no feelin' in mah face, so I cain't feel anythang, not even the expressions I make."

He looked at me for a couple seconds before he pointed to a brown classroom door. "This is your classroom. Go in and don't get in trouble."

I shrugged and opened the door. A brunette man in the front with a green tie looked over at me.

"Are you Jed Thomas?" He asked.

I could smell his breath from here.

"Yep. Dat's me."

He frowned and threw a book sitting on the table at me. "Don't talk. You're awful accent is going to give me a headache."

The book smacked my chest and fell with a thud to the floor. "What if I gots a question?" I picked up the book and walked over to put it back on his desk.

He smacked my head and pointed to a seat in the middle of the room. "Go sit there, at the empty desk."

I nodded and walked over there. "Alright, teacher man."

Some of the students snickered and others shook there heads.

"Is this guy stupid?"

"Man that's a gnarly scar!"

"This class is going to be so entertaining now!"

"He's so tall!"

"His smile is freaking creepy!"

I'm smiling?

I dropped into my seat and put my bag by my feet. There was a bored black boy with dregs sitting behind me, an Asian looking kid beside me, a blond girl in front of me, and a white boy with black hair on my other side.

I sadly didn't get to see much of their faces because my face was slammed onto the desk. 

"Shut your mouth!" The teacher yelled.

"What's yer name?"

"What?"

"I don't know yer name."

"Mr. Wales. Now shut up."

"Well, Mr. Wales, dat's real hard fer me cause I got no filter 'tween mah brain 'n' mah mouth."

"Buy one," he growled, pulling my head up by the hair. "Now shut up and pay attention."

"But I don't got no money," I grumbled under my breath, making sure Mr. Wales couldn't hear me.

He walked back over to the board, yelling at the class to stop laughing.

I rubbed my hair. I touched my face and felt myself smiling, which I'm pretty sure was the only expression I had when I got into trouble. I just can't control my face. It was a curse to be honest, but also a blessing. You could never tell what I was feeling because of it. And the smile made me look creepy. So, MWAHAHAHA!

The black kid tapped my back when Mr. Wales back was turned.

"I'm Micky."

"Jed."

"Is your face stuck like that?"

I shrugged. "Cain't feel mah face at all."

I looked closely at Micky's face. He had a round nose, big eyes, thick eyebrows, a sharp jaw, and coffee-colored skin. His dark purple shirt looked great on him and he seemed to be around 5'7. And I loved his hair.

"I love your hair," I mumbled, sitting on my hands so I wouldn't touch it.

"Thanks?"

"Thomas!"

I jerked my head towards Mr. Wales. "Wales!"

I heard laughing.

"Pay attention, you redneck!"

I rubbed my neck and turned to the Asian kid. "Is mah neck red?"

I heard a book flying through the air, turned around, and smacked it down (That rhymes!). "'N' he saves it!"

The bell ringed before Mr. Wales could hit me anymore and I grabbed my bag and ran out of the room, bumping into a couple desks. Those would so leave bruises.

I slowed down once I saw my next class. I think I was doing pretty good at this whole school-with-abusive-teachers thing. Let's just hope I don't leave with any broken bones. Hospitals are very expensive. Trust me, I know. Imma hospital king.