While all the other kids were outside running around, or riding roller coasters and water slides, or tanning on the beach, I was in this stuffy classroom, going over science facts I learned just a few months ago.
No, I don't get horrible grades. No, I'm not a complete idiot. No, I'm not a stoner. Yes, I do care. Yes, I can do better. And yes, it's a friend's fault.
Science was the only subject I failed. I was nabbing high 80s and low 90s all year in class, but the exam sucked. For an end-of-the-year prank, Richie brought in a fart machine and was setting it off through out the whole exam. I could barely concentrate.
I scored a 64 on that exam. One point below passing.
I have to admit it though, it was a good prank. No, it was a great prank. Great enough to make Elizabeth Howard, the class genius, to score low. Well, low for her. She ended up scoring an 81. At least she passed.
It lasted for a long time, Richie's prank, but he was caught by Mrs. Nemoa, the test administrator, with only 5 minutes left. It was already too late for me to fix any mistakes.
Richie gets a week of detention, starting the first day of 8th grade. Not to mention all the freshman shoving him around the neighborhood. The class ahead of us doesn't like show offs.
He says it was definitely worth it though, detentions and all.
So, this is my first reason for landing myself in summer school.
Richie.
Well, Richard William Amsdell, if you want to get into specifics.
It's kinda surprising how he acts, if you see what kind of home he grew up in. His father is a minister at the local church and his mother works in marketing. Raised with money and manners, Richie seems as if he has neither. He'd rather keep the same, crappy Old Navy t-shirts and use his old, crappy CD player than go pick up a few shirts at Abercrombie or buy an iPod.
Although he could. If he wanted.
As for manners, Richie just doesn't seem to care. But that one's pretty obvious with the whole 'science exam' incident.
Now with the ladies, though, Richie is actually (sometimes) the gentleman. So I guess his manners (sometimes) rub off somewhere.
And that comes to my second reason for being here: Girls.
Sometimes I wish we were all in the cootie stage, but most of the time I wonder why I ever even thought cooties existed.
In the long run, I guess Richie was a wise choice for my best bud. Even though he has gotten me grounded numerous times and landed me in a few detentions (not to mention, summer school), he has helped me greatly with my status (Popularity) and girls. Which it doesn't really matter, but it does.
This is middle school. Not the real world. From now until graduation, popularity and girls will always be important. I guess that's just--
"...atomic weight of Phosphorus? Ash?"
"Rounded up?"
"Yes, please."
"Thirty-one, ma'am." I didn't miss a beat, even while daydreaming.
My summer school teacher was Mrs. Finnsworth, an over-weight, middle aged woman with graying hair. The kind of woman you suspect to be housing 10 plus cats back at her place. Your typical mean, sour, old lady. She's obsessed with politeness and manners (not exactly one of Richie's fortes) so all of our answers are to be said with 'ma'am' somewhere in the sentence.
"How about...the atomic weight of Arsenic? Richard?"
"Richie..." He mumbled to himself, beside me with his head on his desk, bored.
"Richard?"
"Uh...oh. Uh...seventy-four."
"Excuse me?"
"I said seventy-four." Richie rolled his eyes.
"Could you speak up?"
I blew out a sigh and looked out the window.
Alright, so Richie was a jerk. Most of the time. But the girls loved him. He was a rebel. A hero. A hottie.
Oh God. Bleh.
He always tell me how girls line up to date him (and they do) and how he turns them all down (which he does, most of them). Any offers he does accept don't last more than a month.
"Can you say that again?"
"Seventy-four?"
"I don't quite comprehend."
I smiled. There were only two minutes left in class. Richie wasn't being a jerk, he was just passing the time.
"Speak up boy, my ears are old."
"Seventy-fricking-four!"
Mrs. Finnsworth didn't have a chance to scold him.
The bell rang.
This is chapter one of a story I've been working on for a long time. Don't expect too much more of it because I'm not very satisfied with it. I happen to be very proud of chpater one though
