Joyride to Subway

Fred: Part 1

Fred: Part 1

The day started out much like any other. Upon walking into the school, I was greeted by both Billy and Steve. I received a simple nod from Billy, whose greatest quality was his ability to refrain from talking. Steve, on the other hand, had much to learn in the ways of being silent. He chatted about seemingly all things trivial before I finally escaped thanks to the ringing of the warning bell that sent us all in the direction of our first classes.

One would think that someone with a love of science as great as mine would enjoy a chemistry class, but alas, it was not meant to be. Mr. Hauenstein simply did not understand my need for experimenting daily, oftentimes with dangerous chemicals. He repeatedly refused to allow me to use even the safest of acids. One day I had snapped and told him that greatness was not achieved by playing it safe. He responded by sending me to the office.

My parental figures had not taken kindly to that phone call, so I decided to abide by Mr. Hauenstein’s rules. In class, I followed all of the safety procedures down to the letter, even wearing those ridiculous safety glasses when there was not a chance that something would enter my eye. Outside of class, however, I continued to perform my own experiments, which were nowhere near as benign. He was kept happy by the fact that I caused nothing harmful to explode whilst in his classroom and I remained happy due to the fact that I could do my own experimenting in my secret lab. It was a win-win situation, really.

Today’s experiment was causing balloons to burst using hydrogen and a match. This lab would have been fun had I been given it in sixth grade. Unfortunately, by now I was far past using hydrogen to make things combust. I had graduated to acids and what-not long ago.

The class period dragged by agonizingly slowly. Leave it to Hauenstein to turn explaining a simple process into a twenty minute lecture. I mean really, how hard is it to fill a balloon with hydrogen and light it with a match? It was child’s play.

By the time the entirety of the class had managed to make their respective balloons burst into flames, I had been lulled to sleep by the peaceful sound of explosions. When the bell rang, signalling my release from this tedious class, I was jolted from my much needed nap and jostled into the hall by my inconsiderate classmates.

I pushed my way through the much too crowded hallway, heading for my locker. I hurriedly put in my combination, muttering to myself about the caveman-like security system. Why couldn’t they use a fingerprint scanner? Or at least let me install one on my own locker. When I had tried to, the school threatened to bill me for the cost of removing the scanner and replacing the lock. I had decided I’d keep their lock.

After dropping all of my stuff into my locker, I slammed the door shut and walked back into the river of people. After some near-collisions, I neared my next class. Actually, a better description would be that I neared the purest form of torture that can be legalized in a public school system.

The gymnasium was my equivalent to hell. Gym was the one and only class on the curriculum that my intelligence was incapable of helping me pass. Instead of anything academic, the class focuses on barbaric competitions whose winner is chosen based on physical fitness. Physical fitness is one of the few things I lack. Billy, on the other hand, took to gym like a fish to water. Where I am small and meek, he’s the Asian adolescent version of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson.

Today’s torture, dodge-ball, showed just how unathletic I was in comparison to Billy. While he was one of the students up front, plucking balls out of midair before drilling them back at the other team, I was huddled against the wall trying to become invisible. My goal was to make it through the class period unnoticed.

Luck was not with me this day.

The lone senior in the gym class spotted me. I could see his sneer as he selected me as his target. He cocked his arm back and then whipped the ball at me. With my cat-like reflexes, I managed to get hit directly in the face. And of course my glasses went flying, leaving me blind as a bat. Regretfully, I lacked the skills needed to use echolocation, leaving me much worse off than most bats.