Something About Us

Seven Evans, First of His Name, Part One

Part One

JUNE 2011

    "Seven Evans?" Mr. Park asked in disbelief. He looked around the classroom and then laughed out loud. The entire collection of idiot girls that wanted to get into his pants laughed along with him as though he knew what he was talking about. "What sort of name is that? He doesn't seem to be here anyway," Mr. Park scribbled something on the attendance sheet, finished taking the attendance and then cleared his throat.
     "Our great principal Mr. Cola has placed a new student in this class. So anyone who didn't have a partner for tomorrow's frog dissection will have one," He looked directly into my eyes with his multi-coloured ones as he spoke. I refused to feel ashamed and looked right into his eyes. We maintained murderous eye-contact for the rest of his spiel as neither of us were willing to look away. "Let's give the new student a warm St. Vlad's welcome."
    Mr. Park had to look away because one of his disciples came up to ask him a question about the upcoming lab work, but he made sure to give me one last dirty look before he turned away.
     "Who switches schools in June?" Hunter Weaver asked with a questioning look. His wavy hair was compacted on his head from his beloved snapback hat (the same one Mr. Park had forced him to take off when class began).
      I replied; "I have no idea. It's kind of pointless. I mean school's going to end in two weeks. We've got one more week of classes, a week of exams and then-"
      "Schoooooool's out for summah!" Hunter sang in a shrill voice. He played the air guitar and made whining noises as if he was a guitar. Both of us burst into laughter. Mr. Park pointed a thick finger at ME and then said; "Ryan, step outside for a moment."
     The class tittered and snorted behind their hands. You know how there's always that one kid in every class that fails all their tests, gives the teacher lots of trouble and serves as the laughing stock of the class? I was that student for Mr. Park's grade ten academic science class.
    It's not like I'm not stupid or anything. I performed so well in my French & Canadian history classes that some of the other students started spreading rumours I was only doing so well because I was a teacher's pet. Chemistry bored me (it's hard to do well in a class when you just don't care) and biology interested me but Mr. Park taught too fast for me to comprehend it. By the time I grasped one concept we were supposed to have memorized it and started working on a new one.
     Anyways, I failed a lot of tests and got 30 per cents on a handful of lab work. I think Mr. Park hated me because he thought I was stupid. Which is comical and annoying at the same time.
    Hunter looked guilty but he could look rueful all he wanted. I was in trouble with Mr. Park and nothing could save me now. I stormed outside of the class and let the door slam behind me. Leaning against the white painted wall I closed my eyes and let the darkness wash over me. Then I thought of green eyes. Eyes the colour of summer grass and porcelain skin and hair like burnished gold and rows of piercings. The sum of those parts were the wonderful man, my boyfriend Holiday Boulstridge. We had a date tonight as he had tickets to the Toronto Football Club's match against LA Galaxy. The TFC was almost guaranteed to lose but I cared not. I'd be together with Holiday and only that mattered.
     "Ryan, your behaviour in this class is appalling," Mr. Park barked, jarring me from my thoughts. He was standing across from me his tanned arms crossed over his chest. The veins in his biceps throbbed and I felt something stirring in my pants. His meanness was all the more brutal because of how sexy he was. "How old are you? Eight?" One of his eyes was blue with silver flecks and the other was green with gold flecks. Girls would argue over which eyes was cuter, the blue or the green, but to me each one was equally terrifying.
     I rolled my eyes.
     "You've got a real attitude problem."
    "I don't have an attitude problem. Ask Miss Grey, ask Madame Anton, I don't have an attitude problem. You're just a bad teacher." The last sentence was a grave mistake as Mr. Park's eyes widened and his nostrils flared.
     "Don't try to blame your bad grades on me. You are the only one failing this class. Even your best friend is doing remarkably better then you. You should take a page out of his book," Mr. Park stood back and sighed. "I can't believe I was going to take mercy on you. I was going to make a deal with you; if you passed the exam I would pass you in the class. But that's not going to happen anyway, so there's no point in me trying to help you. You deserve to repeat this class."
     "Maybe I'd do better in this class if you didn't pick on me so much," I cried. "Hunter was the one fooling around and I was the one that gets called out? What kind of logic is that?"
     "Don't act like this is the first time. I've a good mind to separate you and him," Mr. Park bristled, his arms crossed even tighter over his chest. It was a wonder he found Polo shirts with armholes big enough to wrap around his biceps.
     "Go ahead," I challenged.
     "I'm going to call your parents too," he said and he got a wicked gleam in his eyes. I couldn't show him I was afraid even though I was. If Mom and Dad got a phone call from Mr. Park telling them that I was failing science I could never go out with Holiday tonight or even for the next two weeks.
     "And what are you going to tell them?" I asked with a brow raised. I was calm on the surface but down inside I was shaking. I put myself in danger, I purposely stepping down into a yard with a rabid pit bull. "You can't call my parents for what just happened."
      "I'm going to call them and tell them that you're currently getting a forty-three in this class. It's a promise, not a threat. Now get back into the class."