Shattered Glass

3

A few soul-sucking hours later the bell rings and it's time for the next class. August and I walk to our lockers, which happen to be right next to each other's, but he doesn't use his. I put in the Calculus book that he ever so kindly stole from me earlier. He took out his music theory notebook out of my locker, which he has been keeping in here because he forgot his combination and that's the actual reason he doesn't use the locker. "I wrote it down somewhere, I just forgot where":  his exact words.

We part ways because he has Music Theory and I have The History of Art, or Art history, or something along those lines. I honestly enjoy this class even though I hate History. There is a love for art that holds a place in my heart so that's probably why I love the class. It would make sense too because I joined this class just to learn about famous artists and art eras. So far my favorite is romanticism, I don't know why there is just something that draws me to this art movement.

As I walked away from August he decided to get his little revenge for me calling him by his middle name earlier today and he trips me. I looked stupid but luckily for August, I didn't fall. If I would have fallen all Hell would be loose. I look back to stick the ring finger at him because I don't curse; not in a different language or in a hand gesture. I won't act like a saint because I used to curse like a sailor, but I have learned from my ways and am 2 years sober. Thank you for listening to my Ted talk.

When I did look back he was already in class meaning I had to plot my revenge quickly. Somehow, someway I'll return the favor, my friend, I think. I sit through another hour of class but this time I feel like I learned something useful. How many times will I be using Calculus in my daily life when I'm out of school? Never. How many times can I bring up different eras or movements of art to make myself look smarter and confuse most peers? I can use that quite often, a lot more than Calculus.

I met August back at my locker so he can put his book right back in the locker.

"Another interesting class of Music Theory?" I ask teasing him about his choice of an elective.

"'Yes, it was a quite intriguing class period. I learned quite a lot. Unlike you. How can you even learn in a class with the main subject being the one you hate, history?" he shoots back.

"I learn because it is combined with something I love, art. Now go hang with your baseball friends before break ends and you lose your slipper Cinderella." Cinderella is the nickname the baseball team gave him because of Gus Gus the mouse from that movie. I'm going to guess they've never seen the movie before but heard of the name Gus Gus before. To be fair, I haven't watched it either.

"You're on a 'call August some horrible nicknames even though he helped you finish your essay' roll today. I'm going to have to get you back, so watch it," he says, backing away pointing at his eyes then pointing at mine, signaling he's going to keep an eye on me.

"You won't do anything," I say. It's more like a guess for me, but I can't let him think that. I walk away before I can do anything, watching my pace speed up from the turtle pace I was walking with August. I find myself at the table I sit at for lunch and break in less than 3 minutes. I notice that no one is sitting at the table though. I look around and I see Alison walking to the table.

"Where is everyone? Well, besides August of course," I ponder and make this statement in my head be vocalized into words.

"Do I really have to answer that for you? Just think about what I told you about today," she snarks. I'm glad she worded it like that too because that jogged my memory.

"Ohhhh yeah, that," I paused thinking. "Why do you think he did it?"

"You know Bradley. Katlyn probably made him mad and he was like 'fuck being nice'. That's the only reasonable explanation."