THE DIARY OF A MISFIT

OPERATION ROOSTER

[6] Principles either noble or baser are walls built to protect your persona. Persona is a being carved by the mind to fully express who you were, who you are, and who you want to be. To build a new persona for yourself, you have to pass through the crucible of life to be reborn anew.

Fridays were always my favorite. For one, my school lasted for five hours compared to its usual six and a half hours. That's more than an hour short of me wishing for a quick and painless death. And for the most, I had a full weekend to look forward to—two days to rest from a week of trying to save myself. No reminder that I was still Misfit. No bully trying to make me the next big joke. And definitely no Mr. Sundays.

I knew I just had to live through five unbearable hours, and then go back home to a warm bed. Starting with the Roll Call—or the devil's attendance you might call it.

It was fifteen minutes in hell—literally—well not literally per se...like seventy percent literally—not sure that's how it works, but you get my point. We got to line up outside according to our class, and recite the national anthem, like some recruits heading off to war—God bless our veterans. Worse off, I got to listen to inept Pharisee-teachers talk about failures and success.

Roll Calls normally were handled by teachers and prefects. The principal and his vices were hardly present during Roll Calls; only on special occasions that lasted for more than an hour—not something to look forward to as a Misfit.

Skipping Roll Call was as good as going into a brawl with a teacher. Both were a day with the principal and an essay of not less than three hundred words—if you are lucky. Worse days earned you a mop and an hour or more in the Junior High toilet.

Looking at the product of another man's mixture and breathing in its toxicity rivaled no other form of disgust.

There was no place to hide from the eyes of the teachers and prefects—a nice name for hypocrites. The prefects turned a blind eye to their defaulting friends; aided them sometimes. To strangers and helpless souls like me, it was back to normal schedule—another day with the rulebook.

As their name implied, the Rule-breakers cared less about Roll Calls and other school rules. Most took it as a challenge to never make it to Roll Call for a whole academic year—a form of induction for aspirants.

I could never make it to the standards of the Rule-breakers. Not when I had a spy with hawk eyes breathing over my shoulders. If only I had magical powers that made things or people disappear.

No one loved Roll Calls more than the Trendsetters. It was a perfect time for them to show off and gain attention—spoilt brats with their cute smiles, musical voice, well-ironed shirts, and polished shoes—not to mention their cologne. Like look at me, I am so perfect...you got to love me.

Misfits like me felt like fat pumpkins, a week to Halloween—only our fears reigned five days a week for eight months. Roll Call was the perfect auctioning ground. The bullies sized us; weighing which one of us could bring the expected result. Power mongers looking for lackeys were also in the market. Not to mention Teachers looking for easy scapegoats. And a few other students seeking some sort of righteous ablutions for past sins rounded the list.

Misfits were mostly found at the front of the line. Identified by the misery engrafted on their faces. Terrified at the prospect of being singled out. Waiting for the last word of the presiding teacher's speech.

It was a new year. I was finally a senior. I have seen the light. I wasn't going to be a Misfit any more. If that meant I was going to trade my conscience and dignity for a plate of pride—I will do it without blinking.

I stood patiently in the warmness of that Friday morning; thinking of easy Misfits to takedown to prove my dominance. Three places away from my former place in the line—making me the fourth person on the line. Progress, I guess.

Easy Misfits were usually Juniors. With my long sleeve proving my seniority, it was a walk in the park. I just had to gather up a few to do my bidding and instill fear in their hearts.

I was busying myself with those glorious thoughts; trying my best not to pay attention to the physics teacher talking about social conduct, when a crackle broke out from the back.

It was as I feared. The Principal, Mr. Gregory Smith was making his way to where we assembled; the two vice-principals, Mrs. Baldi and Mrs. Harriot coming up at his flanks. The trio walking in slow regal steps. Throw in a badass action soundtrack and you got yourself a kickass montage.

The physics rounded off quickly with mumbled words, that made more sense to me than his entire speech. With a rather forced smile, he handed the microphone to the principal.

The principal muttered a few words to the women by his side. They all shared a short laugh, before he graced us with his full attention.

"Good morning students and my able teachers. I welcome you all to another academic year. To the new students, we are happy to have you. We expect commitment and hard work. That also goes to our returning students..."

Then bla bla bla...more bla bla bla...a lot of bla bla bla... I think I got bored at that point and started playing Spongebob Squarepants's song repeatedly in my head.

"...We will be changing the school uniform." Those words were as effective as a whiplash. In seconds, my curiosity peaked.

He stretched his right hand to receive a piece of folded cloth from Mrs. Harriot. He raised it up by the sleeve to reveal a short-sleeved sky-blue uniform with the school emblem. "This is the new school uniform—" He was cut short by the resounding clap and cheers from students and teachers—ass-kissing in its purest state, I call it. "—for both Senior High and Junior High."

Jaw drop. Less clapping and more mutterings.

"It's a must-buy for all years excluding Junior High III and Senior High III..."

The rest of his speech faded into the thoughts of the implications of the new uniform. The veil between Junior High and Senior High, which were our sleeves had been removed. I felt like I lost my identity and one achievement.

I dragged myself away from the Roll Call after we were dismissed in slow sad steps. My plans were in shambles after the announcement. It's just a minor setback, I assured myself. I just needed a second plan.

Nothing escapes Andrew Shilling's well-thought plan.