Lightheaded today. Not enough oxygen when I slept or something.
The world seems to have this undercurrent of hostility towards me. Selfish thinking, I know. The world isn't hostile towards me; it just doesn't notice me.
When I get to class, I see a blank sheet of paper resting on my desk. I look around and notice every other desk has one, too.
I sit down and look at the other side of the blank page and see that it's a test: The Earth Science test. Goddamn. I had completely forgotten. Too busy getting high and eating Chinese food with Alex like a world class dunce.
Beth and Alex come into class together; she's laughing at something he's just said.
The two of them approach and sit on either side of me.
"Pop Quiz, huh," Alex says.
"It's not a Pop Quiz," Beth replies. "We were told about it last week."
"I just like that term Pop Quiz. Sort of has a fun, zany, 80s vibe or something... you guys ready to pass with flying colours or what?"
Beth laughs; I shudder.
Nod. Look down at my test, desperate to avoid talking to either of them right now. My mood is overwhelming. I feel like I'm capable of saying or doing something lunatic-level unreasonable.
Don't push me.
I can tell Beth senses something off with me; she looks at me with this open, warm expression, signalling that she's there if I want to talk.
Before either of them has a chance to say anything else, Mr. James tells us to start the test. I look closely at the questions and am hit with the reality that I am flat-out not prepared for this. Pissed at myself. What am I doing? I knew it was important to do well in these classes; promised my parents I'd put my best foot forward, and here I was about to fail an important test.
I answer the questions as best as I can, but I'm not even sure I'll pass.
I look over at Alex during the test and he seems to be having no trouble at all. Despite what his mom said, he seems to do just fine in school. I wonder if he has more of a natural aptitude than me. Beth probably destroyed the test. She's smart, worked hard, deserved it.
I can't shake the disappointment with myself, so I tell the teacher in the next class that I'm not feeling well and leave for the day, feeling like a useless pile of crap.
Home from school. Alex texts, asking if everything's cool, if I'm feeling any better. I wonder if he knows that I ditched class not because I was actually sick but because something else was up.
I don't know how to respond to him; I don't want to give him the chance to dissect whatever weak fiction I offer.
Instead of texting him back, I pick up my guitar.
I like that when you play guitar, everything just sort of evaporates around you. There's no past or future. No world. Just you and the instrument, the notes you hit, chords you strike.
Keeping my head down and doing something competently is a huge comfort to me. A simple purpose.
Expectations I can actually meet.
YOU ARE READING
Alternative
Teen FictionTim's public high school experience thus far has been characterized by bad grades and the total absence of a social life; he's listless and needs a change. So, after grade eleven ends, his mom decides to enrol him in a bizarre, little alternative sc...
