Johnathon Barkers, A Story About Teens in High School.

Chapter I- Johnathon Barkers

I was on my way to Elwood High School, walking through the rather dense fog and dreading the inevitable doom that is finals. A school bus passed by, and screaming came from the casket with wheels. I paid no mind to it- because Jesus fucking Christ they're loud- as my friend Terry rolled up next to me on a skateboard. "Hey, man. You gotta light?" He asked.
"Only if you have enough to share," I responded, and he pulled two cigarette packs out of the faded denim jacket he was wearing.
"​Stars and Stripes​ or ​Columbian Blues​?"
I laughed. "You know nothin' beats Baby Blue." He handed me the pack, and I tossed him a lighter. Soon we were on our way to school, balls out and cigarette in hands. Not literally out, as that is a crime- well, we were both underage, so I guess it didn't matter either way.
Terry gave me a once over side glance as he slowly let the smoke come out of his nostrils. "Shit, man. You still wearin' that rag ya call a hoodie?"
The item he was referring to was light grey jacket that was riddled with holes, cuts, and scorch marks. It didn't really fit, going just under my ribs and the sleeves just passing my elbows. "Hey, don't go on disrespectin' the jacket."
"Fuck, man. Just patch it up and hide it in a drawer or somethin'. You don't need to wear it every goddamn day." He knew it was the last gift from my mom before she passed away, but he had a point. I kept clinging onto the past, barely moving forward through life. He opened his wallet and handed me fifty dollars. "Go to the mall after school. Find a jacket you like and get a haircut. Someone might mistake you for a woman if they look at yer back." I punched him in the arm for that, but took the money. Soon we were at school.
____________
Elwood High wasn't a pretty school, five stories of falling apart concrete and steel. The school somehow managed to stay open to my senior year, so I guess they accomplished more than me in my life. A hall monitor stopped Terry and I for being late to school and searched us for "suspicious activity". They found the cigs and Terry had a knife in his backpack. We got sent to the principle and was hounded on for thirty or so minutes before Mr. Blue let us go to second period with a "final warning" and confiscation of our belongings.
When we were out of earshot of the office secretaries I punched Terry in the arm. "God fucking dammit, Terrence Engine Mikealson. What the fuck did you bring a knife to school for?"
Terry rubbed his arm as he laughed. "It's a prank on them. When the cops come to pick it up out of the locker Mr. Blue has it in it'll look like a toy again."
I blinked a couple times, confused. "How?" "Paint mixture I designed for several months. It turns into a powder after thirty minutes when exposed to any amount of light."
"So why didn't you study instead?"
"What is the fun in that?"
I agreed with him as we walked into Mrs. Crescent's class, who was waiting for us with a mean look on her face. "And what lame ass excuse do you hoodlums have today?"
Terry looked at her straight in the eyes. "I brought a 16 inch black carbon steel combat knife to school, and a hall monitor searched us on our way to class. He took us to Mr. Blue's office and he confiscated the knife and our cigarettes. The copper's will be comin' for the knife in abou' an hour an' a half."
She snorted. "Like I'll believe that horse shit. Honestly, some of your other excuses are more believable."
Terry winked at me as the phone rang in the class. Mrs. Crescent answered it and had a heated yet whispered discussion for four minutes. When she hung the phone up she turned around slowly, her face pale. I guess she didn't know hoodlums could tell the truth. "Why the hell did you bring a knife to school?!" She screamed this.
Terry looked at the teacher in the eyes, and she involuntarily flinched. Something about him seemed... off at the time. "I don't know."
Mrs. Crescent stared at him. "The fuck do you mean? There is A GODDAMN REASON FOR EVERYTHING!!"
The whole class was eerily quiet, save for the slight intake of air from every other student. Only Terry was this insane, this driven to make another person want to commit manslaughter. Terry shrugged. "Well, why do contemplate suicide, Hilda?"
A kid behind me whispered to his friend. "Dude, her name is HILDA? That's, like, a fat bitch name."
"Did you not just hear Terry say that she's contemplating SUICIDE?" She responded in a hurried whisper.
All other whispers went silent as the teacher spoke in a deadly voice. "How do you know?" She rushed to Terry's desk and slammed her hands on the top. "HOW DO YOU KNOW?"
Terry scoffed. "Oh, please. I could taste it the moment I walked in."
Wait, taste?
Mrs. Crescent stormed out of the class in a rage as the bell rang. It was time to go to third period.
__________
The hall on the fifth floor was empty, as only one class was technically legal to use as a "safe environment for the kids." Terry walked behind me in silent stride to history class, taught by an old man that we students call Muppet, cause he looks like a Muppet. His real name is Mr. Grey, but not even the teachers call him that. They call him Corpse, cause he's old.
"Terry boy?" I said, looking over my shoulder. He nodded at me as he moved his bangs out of his eyes.
"What's the matter?"
"Did Mrs. Crescent seem... off today? She didn't look too well."
He snorted. "All teachers seem off, buddy boo. They work for the guv-ment and have a whole different agenda then us lower classmen. Don't worry about it."
I looked forward again, and saw a staggering student walking in my direction. I slowed a little as he walked a little closer to me, hand slightly outstretched. It was like he was trying to grab me. Terry shouted behind me. "HEADS!"
I ducked as he threw a metal bar at the ceiling, breaking a whole and letting sunlight hit the hall and the student. The student slumped on the ground. " Why are ya runnin'? Oh." He ran to my side as I looked at the student. "No fuckin' way." Terry said before he whooped and hollered.
"The hell is your problem?" I said. Terry was acting weird, and I didn't like it.
"Dude, do you know who this is?"
"No, an' I ain't in the mood to care."
"This is the principal's son!"
I stared at the slumped body, then back at Terry. "This is Winston Blue?"
Terry laughed. "Oh, yeah. This is hilarious."
I grabbed Terry by the shoulders. "BULLSHIT!"
Terry stopped laughing. "What's wrong? Can't ya recognize him? His picture is plastered all over Mista Blue's office."
"This guy's hair is falling out, his lips a dark blue, an' his skin is light grey. You can see his fuckin' veins, dammit!"
Terry brushed my hands off his shoulders. "Well, ain't drugs a bitch."
I pointed at Winston. "We smoke cigs, an' we don't look like that."
Terry gave me a loopy grin. "Ciggy's ain't drugs. They a All American High School Religious Fashion Sense."
He had a point. We left Winston there to work off whatever he was dealing with and went on our way. We got into Muppet's class twenty four minutes late. "Well, at least you boys graced us with your divine presence. And what do we owe the honor for such higher beings entering the mortal domain?" Muppet said in a semi squeaky, semi masculine voice.
Terry bowed. "Ah, Muppet. And how is our ever grateful bishop?"
"Ignore Terry, he's an idiot." I said as I pushed Terry into his seat. "Mr. Grey, Winston Blue is in the hall collapsed."
Murmers went through the class, and Terry frowned as he looked at me. Muppet stood up slowly. "Well, isn't that interesting."
I looked into Muppet's eyes. I felt the same vibe I got off of Mrs. Crescent. "Sir," I began again. "It looks very serious. Terry thinks it might've been overdose."
Terry moved in his seat a little, still looking at me with a worried look in his eyes. Muppet's eyes glance at Terry. "Terry, perhaps you could come with me and investigate."
Terry began to get up, but I stopped him. "Hold on, Muppet." I said.
"Now even you are calling me that."
"I told you, so I should help."
"And Terry is two whole heads taller than you, you midget."
"I'm four foot eight!"
"Regardless, He has more... qualifications than you. Terrence, with me."
Terry looked at me a second longer before leaving with Muppet. I sat down in Terry's spot and waited. Whispers begun again behind me. The hushed voices said things such as pet and broken. I didn't know what they were on about, but I didn't like it.
Soon Muppet and Terry came back, silently arguing with one another before entering the class. I moved to my seat and Muppet continued class as normal. The way Muppet talked about history, it was almost like it was with feeling, like he knew personally the dead people on the pages. It was saddening.