High school is literal torture. Who likes waking up at the crack of dawn just to go to a place with strict lectures and no creative freedom whatsoever? And don't even get me started on the ever-growing population of homophobic pricks that seem to follow me down the hallway without even knowing that I'm their target. It's not just students either. I've heard teachers whisper heinous things to each other about who they think might be 'playing for the other team'. It's an inescapable inconvenience to me . . . and anyone else hiding in the back of the closet, for that matter.
But somehow, that day, sitting in my 8 am English class with the most intolerant of all my teachers, I felt like maybe there was a chance that things could change. As Ms. Eiswalt called the attendance out in her nasally, monotonous voice, I sat contemplating how I might be able to escape her judgement. And then she reached my name and I felt her cold glare turn on me.
"Jamie Reder," I froze in the midst of putting a piece of gum in my mouth. Dammit. "I thought I'd made it clear that chewing gum in my class is unacceptable." She glowered, pointing at the garbage can at the side of the room. I rolled my eyes but followed her orders for fear that I might get detention if I didn't.
As I took my seat again, Ms. Eiswalt cleared her throat. "Take out Julius Caesar and flip to Act 1 Scene 2." She directed the class. I pulled the weathered book out of my bag and scanned the pages. "Can anyone tell me what the Ides of March is?" I glanced over at the girl beside me and she shrugged. "No? Alright. Well, the Ides of March was a day on the Roman calendar that signified when debts were to be paid. That day was also the day that Julius Caesar was assassinated."
"Why is that important?" A guy at the front of the class asked. His question led to a simultaneous groan from the rest of the class. Here comes the lecture, I thought, rolling my eyes.
"I'm glad you asked!" Ms. Eiswalt gleamed down at him. "Julius Caesar was the Roman Emperor at the time, and many people didn't approve of his leadership. He was killed by his most trusted associates, and not too long after a war—nay, a revolution—broke out. That was the pinnacle of the Roman Empire as they knew it back then, and that is what this play is about." At that, Ms. Eiswalt turned and scrawled Beware the Ides of March on the whiteboard. "When Julius Caesar is warned about the Ides of March, it foreshadows his death and all the repercussions. It's Shakespeare's subtle and clever hint to the audience that 'some ish is about to go down,' as one of you might say. So, beware the Ides of March, which just so happens to correspond with today's date on the modern calendar."
As if on cue, the bell rang and we all packed our bags and crammed out of the classroom. In my clamour, I accidentally ran into someone going in the opposite direction. "Watch where you're going, fag!" They growled. Instead of grabbing them by the collar and throwing my fist into their face—which, believe me, was incredibly difficult to refrain from—I just gritted my teeth and continued towards my next class: the dreaded math.
When I reached the classroom I quickly took my seat and unpacked my things yet again. "Hello, hello, hello!" My math teacher, Mr. Arbor, walked into the room with a large grin plastered on his face. "Welcome back to Functions, let's get started." He droned on about Sin, Cosin, and Tangent for twenty minutes while I went on my own kind of tangent: staring out the window.
I had the perfect view of the courtyard from where I sat, and I could see a group of twelfth graders sitting at a picnic table. They were having an animated discussion about something, that is, until a girl dressed in all black—save for a red flannel draped around her waist—walked by and knocked one of their bags onto the ground. They were infuriated, shouting at her so loudly that I could almost coherently hear what they were saying from my place in class. In fact, it caught Mr. Arbor's attention and he furrowed his brow.
"I'll be right back," he muttered, heading for the door. "Jamie, you're in charge!" He shouted as an afterthought before rushing out of the room.
Oh great. The whole class turned to look at me in confusion and I merely shrugged and pointed out the window. Their gazes shifted off of me and to the girl outside, now being held down and practically tortured by the six senior students. Soon enough Mr. Arbor was out there too, breaking up the 'fight,' if that's what you'd even call something so one-sided.
He dragged the girl away and said a few stern words to the group as the principal rounded the corner, his tie flying behind him in the wind. "Looks like they're gonna be a while," a girl named Shawna remarked. She turned to me and smirked. "Jamie, did you just say class dismissed?" My eyes widened in terror. No.
"N-no!" I stuttered out, but it was too late. The class shouted in excitement and filed out of the room before I could even try to argue. That was what Mr. Arbor got for putting me in charge . . . I was going to be in so much trouble! Only one girl stayed. Her name was Anastasia Vargas. She and I were good enough friends, and I was thankful that at least she didn't leave me. Maybe she could vouch for me to Mr. Arbor. It's really not like it was my fault that everyone decided to leave. I wasn't popular or authoritative enough (or at all) for anyone to listen to me.
"I'm sorry, J," she frowned, getting up and moving to sit beside me. "Shawna's a real bitch."
"Yeah well, I should never have been left in charge in the first place." I sighed glumly, perching my chin in my hand. "Mr. Arbor is literally going to kill me." Anastasia rubbed my shoulder and brushed a hair out of my face. At least I wasn't crying. That would have made the whole situation a million times more embarrassing.
"I'm sure he'll understand." She assured me, standing up abruptly. "I uh . . . I have a guidance appointment, I'm sorry." Before I could object, she ran from the room and I was left completely alone. I looked out the window for an update but found that the principal, Mr. Arbor, and all the students had disappeared. Double great! That meant that Mr. Arbor was on his way back to class, only to get there and find that everyone was gone. I wondered what my punishment would be. Maybe he'd let me off with a warning? After all, it was my first offence.
"Jamie! Where is everyone?" I was snapped from my thoughts when he entered the room, frantically glancing to all corners. This was it. I contemplated not answering or running for the hills, but there was no use.
"They left," I mumbled in defeat. His face changed from confusion to downright anger. Panic rose in my chest. I knew he would be pissed.
"You let them leave? I was gone for ten minutes! That's hardly time enough to warrant letting them leave." He stated incredulously. "I trusted that you were mature enough to handle this responsibility, Jamie, but apparently I overestimated how good a student you are. In fact, this is an issue I have to take up with Principal Winster. Come with me." He made to grab me, presumably to drag me down the hallway, but I side-stepped him and marched in front of him to the office. I really didn't understand why he was so upset. Maybe it was because he knew this whole situation wasn't my fault, but his?
I had never been in so much trouble in my life. Mr. Arbor was furious beyond belief, and Principal Winster was just as angry when we reached his office. "Well, I never, Jamie Reder!" He said, aghast. "Did you really dismiss the class without permission?" He left no time for me to answer his inquiry, moving on to his next statement. "This is a serious offence, young lady. I'm going to have to give you a suspension." I stared at him for a moment in complete disbelief. He couldn't be serious?
"What?!" I screeched. My parents were going to murder me. I would be buried in the backyard and never be heard from again. This was it: the end. A suspension for something that was completely out of my control? This was ridiculous! What was his angle? Throw me under the bus so he didn't have to penalize Mr. Arbor? More than likely, he was just trying to cover his own ass. It was sickening.
"Yes, you heard me, you will get a two-day suspension and return to school on Monday on strict probation. If you so much as roll your eyes during the next week we will be forced to increase your punishment as we deem fit. Capiche?" He didn't even try to sugarcoat it. I was on the thinnest ice, and one wrong move was all it would take for me to fall into the murky water below.
"Y-yes, sir." I choked out, panicking internally. I wonder what kind of punishment he had doled out to the emo girl and the seniors who tried to beat her. Surely it couldn't have been something so crazy? What a cruel system. So much for things changing . . .
YOU ARE READING
The Epitome of Me
Teen FictionWhen Jamie Reder gets suspended by a complete fluke, she meets Alex Maine, a feisty, purple-haired girl with an air of mystery. A tiny crush turns into much more, and Jamie, and Alex, find themselves in quite the predicament. Romance isn't the probl...