Zach raced out of the office and onto the curb. No sooner had the door slammed, then the whole office rushed to the window. They stole glances on their way to the water cooler, made excuses to carry around papers, or just planted themselves in front of the window, sipping lukewarm coffee.
“Are we just going leave him there?” a staff member, Mr. Brokeshaw, asked Ms.Nasty. “I mean, I can drive him?”
“No; he has to learn to read instructions. This is not our problem.”
Gentry looked down as the man walked past his door, then stole a look out the window.
“Moron.” he thought to himself, watching Zach pace back and forth while talking on his cellphone. Was this really worth watching?
Gentry just shook his head, and went back to drawing circles. His father sat on the other side of the room, loudly typing on a keyboard.
“There’s no signal on that part of campus. He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, is he?”
“He’s not a tool.” Gentry replied without glancing up.
“I know; I see him …” Ms.Nasty said to the principal, “I’m not sure what he’s doing.”
At this, Gentry stole another glance out the window.
In the middle of the street, Zach stood with arms outstretched, as cars either swerved around and swooshed past him.
“This is ridiculous…” Gentry murmured under his breath, shaking his head. He was about to look away again, when a car screeched to a halt. Zach leaned in to the windshield, then climbed in in to the passenger seat— just as Ms.Nasty raced outside to holler how standing in the street was against the rules.
But the car had already sped off. Gentry held a bemused silence, as his eyes watched it disappear along the horizon. Johnson also stared, closing his mouth with a deep breath and furrowed brow, “He’s something else.”
“He’s mine.”
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Because You Suck: Chapter 22: Part 11
Note: Thanks for putting up with my insanity.
At that moment, the glass door swung open and slammed shut.
Secretary A gave a wry nod towards Secretary B, who quickly glanced up. No one could look away once Zach entered the room—
And the moment he walked through that door, Gentry’s heart skipped a beat.
He looked him over once, peered down, then stole another look. He licked at his dry lips, and began drawing circles on his notepad.
Behind the glasses, high above polite conversation, underneath the creased pants and knee-length skirts… crept unspoken fears and desires. A good secretary was seen, not heard. But the office talked— about others. Through whispers, knowing glances, and the click-clack of private e-mails being written and sent. This was how they maintained a studied silence in his presence, even as they wondered things they would never ask him. What kind of people parented this problem child, any problem child? And every school had a problem child, or a child the office had problems with.
And the office never changed— it had always been a place where memories lingered like a bad smell. High school was not a place for growth or experimentation unless it fit the prescribed categories of normal growth and acceptable experimentation. There were charts and forms for that… everything you didn’t know would be held against you for future reference—
Or used for water cooler conversation. Gentry looked up again, and perched his head on one first.
Zach asked something to the receptionist, and she leaned over the counter just as Ms.Nasty was moving past.
“The Arithmetic Standards Scale?” Nasty said loudly, “I don’t know where that is.”
“It’s today, don’t you have anywhere you can check?”
“Do you have that booklet you were supposed to pick up, along with your test ID?”
Zach promptly turned away and pulled it from his backpack, pushing it into her hands.
She flipped through it casually, then laughed sharply.
“You haven’t even looked through this?”
“Where is the test? Which room?”
“It isn't here. It’s at the Holy Summit Church.”
“--- What the hell’s a math test doing in a Church?”
“It was your job to read the book.” Laughed Ms.Nasty, “What time is it? Ohh. 7:45. That means the test will start in ten minutes … at, 7:55. Good luck getting there.”
At that moment, the glass door swung open and slammed shut.
Secretary A gave a wry nod towards Secretary B, who quickly glanced up. No one could look away once Zach entered the room—
And the moment he walked through that door, Gentry’s heart skipped a beat.
He looked him over once, peered down, then stole another look. He licked at his dry lips, and began drawing circles on his notepad.
Behind the glasses, high above polite conversation, underneath the creased pants and knee-length skirts… crept unspoken fears and desires. A good secretary was seen, not heard. But the office talked— about others. Through whispers, knowing glances, and the click-clack of private e-mails being written and sent. This was how they maintained a studied silence in his presence, even as they wondered things they would never ask him. What kind of people parented this problem child, any problem child? And every school had a problem child, or a child the office had problems with.
And the office never changed— it had always been a place where memories lingered like a bad smell. High school was not a place for growth or experimentation unless it fit the prescribed categories of normal growth and acceptable experimentation. There were charts and forms for that… everything you didn’t know would be held against you for future reference—
Or used for water cooler conversation. Gentry looked up again, and perched his head on one first.
Zach asked something to the receptionist, and she leaned over the counter just as Ms.Nasty was moving past.
“The Arithmetic Standards Scale?” Nasty said loudly, “I don’t know where that is.”
“It’s today, don’t you have anywhere you can check?”
“Do you have that booklet you were supposed to pick up, along with your test ID?”
Zach promptly turned away and pulled it from his backpack, pushing it into her hands.
She flipped through it casually, then laughed sharply.
“You haven’t even looked through this?”
“Where is the test? Which room?”
“It isn't here. It’s at the Holy Summit Church.”
“--- What the hell’s a math test doing in a Church?”
“It was your job to read the book.” Laughed Ms.Nasty, “What time is it? Ohh. 7:45. That means the test will start in ten minutes … at, 7:55. Good luck getting there.”
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Because You Suck: Chapter 22: Part 10
Note: It's the 251st post! erpotrtyrtohyrotihopi!~!!
Drama started out of boredom.
Few people were more bored than the office personnel. They sat listlessly in their corner rooms and blue-walled cubicles, watering their undergrown office plants and drinking watered-down coffee to keep from falling asleep.
School was boring. Down the road, most of their work didn’t matter. Nobody ever won a Nobel Peace Prize for office work. All they could do is try to make someone fail, or help them pass. How many people came in to say Thank You? None.
To keep things interesting, they reinterpreted rules and created Red Tape.
“Yes, I’ve noted that on my account balance I’m being charged $25 for student health service fee here?”
“Yes, we always charge that.”
“I want to waive this fee since my daughter already has health coverage… through my job.”
“Sir, does your daughter depend exclusively upon prayer for healing?”
“… No, not really.”
“Then I can’t help you.”
“Please, I just want to cancel this fee… My family is religious. Does that help?”
“Sir, you can only cancel it if you depend on prayer for healing, and you must provide a completed Application for that over at the District Office. And to go there, you must have a written statement from your religious denomination affirming that you rely on faith for healing.”
“… But no Rabbi will sign a paper for faith-based healing! Jews don’t believe in that.”
“Then I can’t help you.”
“— We do believe in not paying unnecessary fees.”
“Sir… there is nothing I can do.”
“Look. My daughter’s already insured… is there any form for that?”
“Sir, I can’t help you.”
“You can't help yourself!” the man huffed and stormed out the door.
The woman shrugged back in her seat, her face impassive with heavy-handed certainty that she hadn’t done anything wrong… just following procedure.
“Can you believe how rude that man was? People these days...” she drawled with annoyance. “Where do they get their manners from?”
“At least he isn't claiming to be some special exception.”
Drama started out of boredom.
Few people were more bored than the office personnel. They sat listlessly in their corner rooms and blue-walled cubicles, watering their undergrown office plants and drinking watered-down coffee to keep from falling asleep.
School was boring. Down the road, most of their work didn’t matter. Nobody ever won a Nobel Peace Prize for office work. All they could do is try to make someone fail, or help them pass. How many people came in to say Thank You? None.
To keep things interesting, they reinterpreted rules and created Red Tape.
“Yes, I’ve noted that on my account balance I’m being charged $25 for student health service fee here?”
“Yes, we always charge that.”
“I want to waive this fee since my daughter already has health coverage… through my job.”
“Sir, does your daughter depend exclusively upon prayer for healing?”
“… No, not really.”
“Then I can’t help you.”
“Please, I just want to cancel this fee… My family is religious. Does that help?”
“Sir, you can only cancel it if you depend on prayer for healing, and you must provide a completed Application for that over at the District Office. And to go there, you must have a written statement from your religious denomination affirming that you rely on faith for healing.”
“… But no Rabbi will sign a paper for faith-based healing! Jews don’t believe in that.”
“Then I can’t help you.”
“— We do believe in not paying unnecessary fees.”
“Sir… there is nothing I can do.”
“Look. My daughter’s already insured… is there any form for that?”
“Sir, I can’t help you.”
“You can't help yourself!” the man huffed and stormed out the door.
The woman shrugged back in her seat, her face impassive with heavy-handed certainty that she hadn’t done anything wrong… just following procedure.
“Can you believe how rude that man was? People these days...” she drawled with annoyance. “Where do they get their manners from?”
“At least he isn't claiming to be some special exception.”
Monday, May 24, 2010
Because You Suck: Chapter 22: Part 9
Wednesday dawned, heavy on the Horizon.
A stench hung in the air that day, and no one was sure where it came from. It was a greasy smell which blanketed the campus and trickled into everything it touched, including air that was so cold and dry that breathing resulted in a sickly burning sensation. Every so often, cold winds blew apart the low-hanging clouds whose silver-gray lining smothered the sun, and brought out the few hesitant rays of sunlight that luke-warmed the cement. The sun occasionally peered though holes in the cloud-blanket, casting airy strokes of light over the blue-brick office building--- before the blanket of steely gray cloud smothered it again. This weather did what it wanted, no matter the season. Gentry called it
Weird weather.
He watched it unfold from the office window. Raindrops flecked the glass, and poured in through the small crack Gentry had made on the side. Outside, storm clouds multiplied to block out the remaining light. Inside, pale white florescent beamed down on his damp red hair.
Here, there was no weird weather, just unnatural lighting, and the smell of stale mints currenting through the blue-carpeted spaces through a dusty old ventilation system. The office was a severely lit den in a constant state of stuck.
Gentry often lost track of time.
He worked alongside his father, quietly widening the crack in the glass by poking the tip of a pencil in it. Neither had spoken a word since the shift had started. Occasionally there was a rustling of papers or a climper of keys, the crackle of a walkie-talkie.
Gentry sat at a table beside his father’s, elbows on the surface and head resting on one fist. His free hand poking and prodding at that tiny crack.
The rain had started to loudly tap against the glass… slowly, rhythmically. Zach was coming.
A stench hung in the air that day, and no one was sure where it came from. It was a greasy smell which blanketed the campus and trickled into everything it touched, including air that was so cold and dry that breathing resulted in a sickly burning sensation. Every so often, cold winds blew apart the low-hanging clouds whose silver-gray lining smothered the sun, and brought out the few hesitant rays of sunlight that luke-warmed the cement. The sun occasionally peered though holes in the cloud-blanket, casting airy strokes of light over the blue-brick office building--- before the blanket of steely gray cloud smothered it again. This weather did what it wanted, no matter the season. Gentry called it
Weird weather.
He watched it unfold from the office window. Raindrops flecked the glass, and poured in through the small crack Gentry had made on the side. Outside, storm clouds multiplied to block out the remaining light. Inside, pale white florescent beamed down on his damp red hair.
Here, there was no weird weather, just unnatural lighting, and the smell of stale mints currenting through the blue-carpeted spaces through a dusty old ventilation system. The office was a severely lit den in a constant state of stuck.
Gentry often lost track of time.
He worked alongside his father, quietly widening the crack in the glass by poking the tip of a pencil in it. Neither had spoken a word since the shift had started. Occasionally there was a rustling of papers or a climper of keys, the crackle of a walkie-talkie.
Gentry sat at a table beside his father’s, elbows on the surface and head resting on one fist. His free hand poking and prodding at that tiny crack.
The rain had started to loudly tap against the glass… slowly, rhythmically. Zach was coming.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Because You Suck: Chapter 22: Part 8
Zach stared down at Ms.Nasty, who glanced up at him with sharply raised eyebrows.
“State your first and last name.”
“Tyler, Zach.” murmured Zach.
“I’ll need to see some ID.”
Zach nodded curtly and reached into his backpack, but noted with barely-concealed annoyance that the ID wasn’t there. It was probably in his locker, exchanging comments with his algebra book. The line behind him suddenly felt a whole lot longer... the foggy clouds that escaped with each murmur seemed to weigh down on him.
“I don’t have it. Can I go to my locker and get it?”
“Sure. But you’ll have to wait in line again.”
Zach eyed her with apparent disbelief.
“Come on… I’m obviously Zach Tyler. Can I just get it anyway?”
“I’ll need to see ID.”
Zach exhaled forcefully, then leaned with his fists on the table to leer straight into Ms.Nasty’s eyes.
“Look. You know who I am. I’m Zach Tyler. You always manage to find me when you don’t like my clothes, and you definitely recognize me now. I paid $75 for this test, and no one’s desperate or stupid enough to steal my identity.”
“I can’t do anything unless you show me ID.”
“I can bring it to your office later. Would that work?”
Someone pushed Zach aside and flipped his ID. Ms.Nasty handed the girl the ID sticker as she coolly explained to Zach in her slow pitched drawl,
“The time to pick up your test pass is right now, during lunch.”
As the girl left, Zach pulled back to the table.
“This is freaking ridiculous. I know my ID number by heart, 698822, you can ask anyone—”
“I can’t make a special exception for you.”
“I am a special exception. Woman, look at me! How many people look like me? How many other biracial Estonian gays are there in this school? I’m alone here, it’s just me!”
Nasty opened her mouth, gaping for a moment before replying,
“I’ll need to see ID.”
“State your first and last name.”
“Tyler, Zach.” murmured Zach.
“I’ll need to see some ID.”
Zach nodded curtly and reached into his backpack, but noted with barely-concealed annoyance that the ID wasn’t there. It was probably in his locker, exchanging comments with his algebra book. The line behind him suddenly felt a whole lot longer... the foggy clouds that escaped with each murmur seemed to weigh down on him.
“I don’t have it. Can I go to my locker and get it?”
“Sure. But you’ll have to wait in line again.”
Zach eyed her with apparent disbelief.
“Come on… I’m obviously Zach Tyler. Can I just get it anyway?”
“I’ll need to see ID.”
Zach exhaled forcefully, then leaned with his fists on the table to leer straight into Ms.Nasty’s eyes.
“Look. You know who I am. I’m Zach Tyler. You always manage to find me when you don’t like my clothes, and you definitely recognize me now. I paid $75 for this test, and no one’s desperate or stupid enough to steal my identity.”
“I can’t do anything unless you show me ID.”
“I can bring it to your office later. Would that work?”
Someone pushed Zach aside and flipped his ID. Ms.Nasty handed the girl the ID sticker as she coolly explained to Zach in her slow pitched drawl,
“The time to pick up your test pass is right now, during lunch.”
As the girl left, Zach pulled back to the table.
“This is freaking ridiculous. I know my ID number by heart, 698822, you can ask anyone—”
“I can’t make a special exception for you.”
“I am a special exception. Woman, look at me! How many people look like me? How many other biracial Estonian gays are there in this school? I’m alone here, it’s just me!”
Nasty opened her mouth, gaping for a moment before replying,
“I’ll need to see ID.”
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Because You Suck: Chapter 22: Part 7
It was dark out, and cold for for a summery Tuesday. Tree branches stretched out like tall and lonely shadows, creeping low in a pale gray sky and hanging over the line that snaked beneath them. Zach looked up at them, and wondered what would happen to forests if trees were people. Maybe they would get up and walk away, tell people, “We’re not gonna stand where you put us!” Maybe they would revolt, and people people would declare a war on trees, until someone would start a Tree Rights campaign. Maybe then, if the trees won, people would talk about their tree friends and “tree experiences” in their college applications. If trees could talk, they would probably laugh and point their branches at the line which snaked past rectangular blue office building. Trees never took standardized tests. Then again, trees also got chopped down.
It was so damn cold.
Couldn’t have been higher than 50 degrees, where the hell was that warm summer weather? Even the season seemed to be cheating, going back on the weatherman’s promises. Well, Zach decided, it better get its act together before Nationals. If there was one person in this school who could stand up to the weather, it was Zach Tyler.
Today he stood in the middle of the line, shivering in a t-shirt, because today was the day to get your passes for the Arithmetic Standards Scale. And today people would wait over half an hour to get an ID for several more hours of standardized torture. That privilege, that mind-numbing rite of passage, made you a Leader of Tomorrow…
“Next.”
It was so damn cold.
Couldn’t have been higher than 50 degrees, where the hell was that warm summer weather? Even the season seemed to be cheating, going back on the weatherman’s promises. Well, Zach decided, it better get its act together before Nationals. If there was one person in this school who could stand up to the weather, it was Zach Tyler.
Today he stood in the middle of the line, shivering in a t-shirt, because today was the day to get your passes for the Arithmetic Standards Scale. And today people would wait over half an hour to get an ID for several more hours of standardized torture. That privilege, that mind-numbing rite of passage, made you a Leader of Tomorrow…
“Next.”
Monday, May 17, 2010
Because You Suck: Chapter 22: Part 6
“I lay on the floor for an hour.”
“How often do you feel depressed?”
“I would’ve like… stayed there longer, but Nasty made me get up. And I did… but for what? Seriously. What do we do here?”
“Have you ever tried to harm yourself?”
“No, but, people are calling me a faggot, and today some ass burned a hole in my jacket with a soldering iron. I’m not gay! Ms. Nasty says I'll have to leave the class if this continues, like I’m some distraction—”
“Is anyone in your family depressed?”
“—Everything you tell me ends up being wrong. My team is not really a team, my friends are not really friends, and my parents say they care— but they send me here. To this fucking— no offense— fucking place where just talking to someone… I mean, really talking, not that stupid fake-talking I do everyday… is like defying gravity. They don’t see me for twelve hours a day, but they make decisions about what I should do. They think I have it good since I’m not starving in Africa. And when I grow up, I already know that the best I can be is to be like them. What’s the point?”
“Why don’t you tell me…”
“Are you even listening?”
“People with depression often view situations as hopeless. It’s a chemical imbalance that can be corrected with proper treatment. You can be tested for it, Mike. I have the form right here...”
“Maybe this stupid school causes it— the people. Maybe it’s normal to be depressed.”
“How often do you feel depressed?”
“I would’ve like… stayed there longer, but Nasty made me get up. And I did… but for what? Seriously. What do we do here?”
“Have you ever tried to harm yourself?”
“No, but, people are calling me a faggot, and today some ass burned a hole in my jacket with a soldering iron. I’m not gay! Ms. Nasty says I'll have to leave the class if this continues, like I’m some distraction—”
“Is anyone in your family depressed?”
“—Everything you tell me ends up being wrong. My team is not really a team, my friends are not really friends, and my parents say they care— but they send me here. To this fucking— no offense— fucking place where just talking to someone… I mean, really talking, not that stupid fake-talking I do everyday… is like defying gravity. They don’t see me for twelve hours a day, but they make decisions about what I should do. They think I have it good since I’m not starving in Africa. And when I grow up, I already know that the best I can be is to be like them. What’s the point?”
“Why don’t you tell me…”
“Are you even listening?”
“People with depression often view situations as hopeless. It’s a chemical imbalance that can be corrected with proper treatment. You can be tested for it, Mike. I have the form right here...”
“Maybe this stupid school causes it— the people. Maybe it’s normal to be depressed.”
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