Like Enis Jordan, I'm trapped inside of this mirror image, and I'm staring down this ugly creature that the two of us are fearfully becoming. Oh, it's always you and I that I wonder about.
There is no other option, but this joint union that the two of us have together is a pit of understanding. Look, I made it myself.
Every once in awhile, I come to this classroom in Room 101 for a simple lesson in numbers. Well, all of my loose words are counted backwards, anyways. It seems like nothing out of my mouth will make a difference to Mrs. Cawburne.
Bang! Bang!
She has a big, showy backside that every boy in class stares at while she teaches. Machine told me a story about her having sex with a couple of students, a few years ago. They were all football players, who threw the ball around on the field for their coach, Coach Cawburne.
Although, he doesn't know that his wife used to cheat on him at the school. If it was up to me, I would've told him, by now.
As long as his wife is around, Coach Cawburne can't keep the team focused on a single game. The school forces him to force his players to work out and lift weights, and so they become a lot bigger and stronger than he is.
Each of the kids wants to fuck with his wife, but his wife, Mrs. Cawburne, has a waiting room, and within it, she teaches math with numbers, instead of words.
Call on me, Mrs. Cawburne!
Bang! Bang!
The two of us can have a conversation about my stepdad, Bobby Rudolph. You're doing the same thing that he once did, and you sure as hell know that.
Every kid, who knows about you, claims that it's perfectly okay because you're a woman, but Bobby Rudolph is an ugly man.
Would you like to know that I quit the baseball team, today, Mrs. Cawburne?
Sure, it wasn't the football team, but the coach of my team was on the same level of clueless as your husband, Ray Cawburne. Since I'm no longer busy with that baseball shit, maybe, we should hang out sometimes and talk about hockey, instead.
"Walter!"
I heard Joey Fishy calling out my name from across the room. He's going over yesterday's assignment with Mrs. Cawburne at her desk. Joey pretends that he likes me, even though, the two of us are divided by the love that we both have for playing first base.
After giving the coach's son a military salute, I sat down at my desk beside Eddy Baker. The cleanup hitter for the Snowridge Giants is copying the answers off of my paper.
"How's it going, Eddy?" I said to the big guy at his desk.
I think that he's too big and bulky for his desk, and I wonder if this ever goes to his head. He's always rubbing his buzz cut, and his skin is caught in between a tan and a sunburn. Eddy Baker is really tall, so he is a lot bigger than us. Maybe, it comes from his family genes.
"What's up, bro?" he replied in his raspy, mellow voice. "What happened to Enis Jordan?"
"I don't know what happened to him afterwards," I boggled. "But it was fucking sick when it happened. I had to throw up."
Mrs. Cawburne is walking around the classroom and handing out the Friday math quiz. That smart ass kid, Joey Fishy, is always trying to compete with me at everything that he does.
Well, go on and tell that loser that I've got a lot bigger fish to fry like the hockey pro, Kyle Carver.
Bang! Bang!
Scores on this math test will inform the whole class that Walter Hatwin is more brilliant than Joey Fishy. This fake Tom Sawyer brat belongs in the classroom that his father coaches, tricking the other students into writing the words for him.
How do you like these apples? You have to understand that I'm talking about simple math, here, which uses numbers.
Bang! Bang!
I made it, myself.
YOU ARE READING
Convincing Shae Harbor
Mystery / ThrillerI had to write this book, just so I could say that I wrote a book within my lifetime. This book is filled with vulgar language and grotesque imagery. Readers beware! This book is about a high school shooting which also depicts a young man's love for...
