Life in the Gameboard

"I didn't skip two grades because I'm smart. No, I skipped two grades simply because I know how to play the game, simply because most mistake perception and straight out common logic for intelligence. So, here I am. Welcome to Northeast High! More commonly known as Juvie. I'm Brooklyn Jones, recent thirteen year old, and I'll be your tour guide. God, do these people honestly expect me to be excepted? Some of these kids are legal adults and I'm pretty sure they don't appreciate a "psychotic genius" raining on their parade. Because, you know, I'm superior to their perfection and all. But, I mean, they can't play the game, and, for educational purposes, the game is everything."

Brooklyn shut her spiral bound notebook and quickly straightened as her Honors English teacher entered the classroom. She was, as always, the only one, however, remotely interested in Mr. Young's arrival. Funny actually, Brooklyn thought, how some people's names are opposite themselves completely because, well, Mr. Young was an older man; couldn't be less than seventy. he was the sort of man who droned on and on during lessons and was very difficult to listen to for a full period. He couldn't even tell if you were paying him any attention. For example, Logan McKinley, a member of the popular crowd, was a constant gum chewer in Mr. Young's classroom. But, she wouldn't just chew. Oh no. Logan McKinley blew dodgeball size bubbles and clicked and clicked her gum to the roof of her mouth. Brooklyn sighed and wondered if anyone would come to her rescue in this mess of hormones and idiotic activity.

~•~ {next day}

" I truly pride myself in being most unlike my fellow classmates. As long as they hate me, I know I'm still real."

Brooklyn was walking to homeroom on the morning of her thirteenth birthday as she jotted notes. Her notes were clues and reminders to her "game plan." In fact, she was pondering this at the precise moment she rammed into someone; someone, like most people at her school. Who was at least four inches taller than she. And, being the cults she was, she fell backwards, books flying, papers spinning out of control. Of course, the senecio had occurred a number of times previously, but this time, the expected hysterical laughter did not come. This time, the someone in question immediately dropped to a crouch and helped her father her belongings. The someone was a boy, no younger than fifteen. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry." He repeated over and over.

Brooklyn was so stunned that she dropped the books she had already gathered, but then quickly recovered and picked them back up. " That's-That's okay. My fault..." She looked up at him and immediately wished she hadn't. Suddenly, she was staring into the sapphire blue eyes of the most attractive person she had ever seen. He was tallish with thick, dark hair and tan skin, not to mention that he was very well built. Brooklyn was pretty sure She'd never seen him in the halls before, and before She could open my mouth he offered a hand up. She took it gratefully and he smiled. "No, I wasn't looking where I was going. You okay there, shortie?" Now, Brooklyn had been called shortie for as long as she could remember and it had always bothered her, but when New Boy said it she was nothing short of flattered. "Oh, yeah I'm fine." She said quietly to the ground. She could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm Caleb." "Brooklyn," she answered scolding the weakness of her reply. And with that, She was off again to homeroom.

~•~ {homeroom}

"It's good to know that some people are born without the need to blend into their peers. That reminder in itself is probably the best birthday present I could ever receive. "

Brooklyn was writing in her notebook, head down arms covering her entire desk. She sat in the very back of the classroom and lifted her head as the announcements ended and her homeroom teacher, Mr. Harrison, stood from his desk. "We have a new student", he announced, monotonously. " This is Caleb Mathews. He has just moved here with his family from Florida. I expect you'll all welcome him." And with that, he sat down and continued his crossword puzzle. Caleb was attractive, no denying that. And, obviously, the girls in Brooklyn's homeroom noticed the

fact almost immediately. It was honestly disgusting, the way they drooled at him. She lowered her head again as Caleb took the only empty seat, three seats to the left of her own chair. And, when she peeked through the hole between her crossed arms, she saw his bright blue eyes were staring at her.

~•~ {lunch}

Brooklyn sat, legs crossed, at one of the shorter tables towards the back of the cafeteria with a novel in her hand and an apple in the other, scanning each page, each sentence with the occasional bite into the red delicious poised on her palm. A football player stalked passed and shoved the book out of her hand which went flying across the room and hit the opposite wall. Brooklyn straightened in her seat and set her apple down. She remembered the night her brother Michael had left for college. He had ruffled her hair and whispered in her ear. "You better take care of yourself, Brookie." (He'd always called her Brookie.) "if anyone picks a fight, you stand up to them, show them it doesn't bother you." The vision faded. Michael. The pain hurt. She missed Michael. Tears burned her eyes, threatening to spring free. She pushed the memory aside and stood from the lunch table. "Well look who's all high and mighty for picking on a thirteen year old girl," she said, surprised by her confidence. Evidently, she had surprised the jock as well. But he recovered quickly and laughed, "you don't belong here, kid." He kicked out at her and Brooklyn fell to her knees. Whatever had happened to the embarrassment of hitting a girl, Brooklyn couldn't say. The jock took a step closer- and was blocked. Caleb Mathews was suddenly between them, frowning at the jock. "C'mon leave her alone or I'll knock you so hard, you'll lose enough brain cells to send you back to Kindergarten." With a dirty look the jock and his ugly friends turned away. Brooklyn stood and brushed herself off, carefully avoiding Caleb's eyes. "You didn't gave to do that. I'm used to it." She said, sitting down. To her surprise, he took a seat next to her. "He could've kicked your ribs in...are you okay." She stared at him a for a moment then asked, "Is there some reason you're actually being kind to me unlike everyone else here?" He searched her face and she felt her cheeks burn a bright red. She squinted at him and took a bit of her apple, " You just blew your chances at being popular, if you're stupid enough to care." Then she added sarcastically, "You can hit me to gain your right of passage. Go ahead." Caleb seemed to blink himself out of his shock. He ignored her commentary. "What's their deal with you, anyway?" I stared at him. "Seriously? Haven't you noticed I'm a little too short and a little too young to be a freshman?" He smiled, " what's wrong with that? That just means you're special. And special people are rare and hard to find. Special people are the bast kind of people." She blushed furiously into her lunch tray, picked it up, and walked away. Past the lonely lunch table, past the sneering jocks and glamour girls, out of the cafeteria, and into the hall where she smiled and thought, that maybe just maybe, Caleb Mathews had come to rescue her.

~•~ {after school}

Not to Brooklyn's surprise, Caleb was waiting for her after school. He was leaning against the oak to the right of the building, grinning wildly. Brooklyn, much to her own surprise, approached him. "Okay, what do you want," she demanded. He brushed himself off and smirked, "I want to get to know you." She felt her cheeks grow hot and, knowing quite well that he'd follow, walked off en route towards her house. Once he's caught up she said, " when I was supposed to be in fifth grade, the district moved me up to seventh and then, in the next year, moved me to ninth. Which, obviously, is my current situation." He nodded, "You don't seem grateful." She laughed, "Yeah, I'm so obliged to them for permanently screwing up my childhood. Not that I ever had friends or a normal childhood or anything..." The walked in silence for a bit before he said, "Your parents?" She sighed, wondering why she was releasing so much information to this kid before she answered, "I live with my mom; Dad's over the summer." After a second or two she added, "Dad lives in Chicago." Without a moment's hesitation he asked, " No siblings?" She opened her mouth to speak then closed it again. She wasn't ready to talk about Michael. Especially not with a stranger. "No...Well, Michael's off at college..." Why had she lied? To reassure herself? What she said couldn't have been farther from the truth.