I'm Fine

Chapter 4 Martin

When I think about my friends I think about a gang of violent gorillas, and let out an embarrassed sigh. All things considered, I'm not the crazy type, I'm usually calm and collected if I have a problem with something you can't tell. While the boys are very obvious about it, and you're in deep shit if you've pissed any one of them off. I pulled up to the school and hopped out to greet them.

"Hey Marty!" my friend, Damon shouts his given nickname for me. He slaps a hand around my back firmly and launches me forward to join them. Them being Brentt, Wyatt, and Jax. All of whom I can call hardcore sportsmen, with good enough grades to allow their athleticism to earn themselves scholarships. Last year, we were all on the Varsity Track team together and we'll probably be this year too. Varsity isn't a big deal, because everybody knows I'm the only one who got pitied onto the team. If there was any other senior who was at my level we'd be plucked to JV.

Jax is telling a disgustingly detailed story that I've learned to tune out. Sometimes it's not an easy click, but I make it work in the group.

The bell rings and we gather into the school. Jax shoves me a bit, which I just return to Wyatt. He stumbles backward into a Sophomore girl who's curled over her phone and listening to music, unaware of us.

"Jesus!" the girl shouts, clearly annoyed. She glared at us, rolled her eyes and angrily strode away cramming her earbuds back in before doing so.

"It was Martin," Wyatt accused, to her back, which is now halfway down the hall from us. We chuckle before I turn on my heel and shove him nearly down the stairs.

"No, it was totally him," I retaliated, at the top of the stairs.

I opened my locker and am greeted with the stench of mold and residue that is always worst on Mondays- probably because I forget it's there. It was from the kid before, because I nearly fainted when I first opened my locker last August. I'm not exactly sure where the stench is coming from, the locker is mostly clean except for a few dents and rusted patches, which clearly don't admit the off-putting stench that I feel pulling my breakfast up. Worst of all, there's no trace of my tragically lost Febreeze battle, I may as well have spent the money on a much more effective gas mask, so I don't gag whenever I use my locker.

Jax and Brentt are in my first class; Geology, which is where they dump the average to below-average kids in our school. Brentt, who's drowning in college scholarships spends most of the time talking about his ultimate plan for college. Not only is he a blessed runner, he's a hell of a football player too. The classic American high school quarterback, the star of the team, the douche every girl wants to date. That's Brett. He's only in the class because science is his worst subject, and he does no more then schools average to stay in our classes. Sometimes I think he could be a smart person, and then another wave of idiot bleeds out of him. I can't blame him though, I'm sure we could all be doing better in school if we tried or cared. I'm just the only kid who can't get away with not caring, as I have no college, no hope, and probably no future.

"I have some buddies down at Syracuse, they could buy me the basics for really cheap, but my fathers pushing me for a better team, like Penn State" I rolled my eyes, I had yet to receive an acceptance letter in the mail and his worries are beer vs. football?

"What do you think you're going to choose?" I asked curiously. Brentt folded up a piece of scrap paper into a paper football and flicked it across the room looking bored as ever.

"I don't know, I still have a few weeks to decide," he said, "either way, school is school"

"Well, congrats on getting accepted" I shrugged, starring at where is paper football went- the desk in front of us.

"It's not really a big deal" Of course he wouldn't care, I should've known that. If he didn't earn his way up, I'm sure he'd be able to pay his way up. Maybe if I cared as much as they did (not at all) life would just be easier.

"I guess" I lied. But in truth, it still seemed like it was a big deal. A good college was a huge deal, it was the difference between a good career and one that keeps you down constantly. I'm the only one who knows this; preparing for the future, and I'm the only one who doesn't have a thick envelope.

I had a yearning to reunite with my Altoids tin in my pocket, my hands even slide into my pocket and began fidgeting with the clasp on the tin. It's like a tick or even an addiction, I can't kick. My addiction is to confidence, paint gives me that, but my secret source of confidence embarrass myself and let them see my dumb little nervous habit, however, so I tuck it back into the safe solitude of my pocket. It's a heavily guarded tunnel to immortality, protected by judgment and other people's eyes.

So I return to my other crutch which could spread out across the football field: College, grades, my future, my career, extra. I'm currently freaking out about my grades so much that I neither notice my friends talking nor the teacher's impatient stare pointed at me. I was freaking out about grades too much to actually work.

"Martin, if you're not going to pay attention then you should consider a study hall instead" I snap my head off my desk and shake it, probably taking all sense with it.

"I was paying attention" I protest with wide eyes. In the corner of my vision, I see Brentt smirking, and I remind myself this isn't a big deal. I force a yawn and begin leaning back. Trying to ignore the teacher's angry glare.

"Then what was I saying?" Checkmate.

Every time I'm tempted to drift off I pinch myself as an attempt to drift back in. How does everybody else do it? How am I the only one struggling with my grades and friends and stuff? The past three years of high school have been smooth ones, straight A's and the occasional B's and then halfway through Junior year my grades lowered with C's, D's and the occasional F's which took me out of the ballpark for acceptance letters, and Ironically, thinking about college was what plummeted my grades in the first place. Carved into my mind is a special spot for my very realistic worries of a too low GPA for college. My life is ruled by percentages, my worth is determined by letters, and my letters are pathetic. 

Of course, everybody else doesn't seem to have their own college worries, with everyone wearing crewnecks and sportswear for their next school. If only.