Pascal (Chapter 1)

Pascal

CHAPTER 1

‘Turn to page one hundred and two, please.’ Mr. Bunslark echoed right to the back of the class. Within minutes everyone was slamming their heavy English textbooks onto their desks and ruffling to the ordered page. Anelle was the first to get to the page, the only one that noticed was Pascal Jones, as he was already glaring at her in admiration.

‘Alright class, please take a good look at Source A on the left hand corner of page – ‘Before Mr. Bunslark could finish his sentence, the bell signaling break– time had rung. Students rapidly pounded their books shut, snatched their lunch boxes and squeezed out of the classroom, pushing and shoving through the exit, as Mr. Bunslark stood silently startled at the ignorance of the pupils, wondering why he had even bothered to become a teacher, especially in Hatchett Grey Middle School.

The corridors had turned from pin – drop silence of only the sound of the muffled talking in nearby classrooms, into a roaring marketplace.

Pascal was one of the last to get out, in relief that everyone had already exited.

‘Shoelace, Pasta face,’ roared Ross Cray deliberately, so that everyone else could hear. Pascal peered down to his shoes and then he realised that he was wearing slippers today, and when he looked up again, his nose was knocked hardly by Kyle’s stiff finger, and it felt like having a stick hitting you as you walked straight into it’s branch. Ross Cray was one of the biggest, toughest bullies in the whole of the school. Kyle was one of Ross’s best buddies. The hardest fact for Pascal to swallow, was to realise that he was being bullied…by a girl.

They walked off, laughing loudly, while some other students just chuckled as they put books back into their lockers. They never knew what it was like to get bullied by Ross Cray and Kyle Bazwolt.

Pascal rubbed his nose hard, still facing downwards, and when he looked up, he was startled when Anelle’s sweet face was right in front of him, and almost made him fall over.

‘Oh, H - hi An - Anelle,’ he stammered.

‘Hey.’ She replied in her sweet tone of sympathy. You alright? Those jerks,’ She frowned while rolling her eyes.

Pascal nodded, trying to avoid eye – contact and brushing his jeans off, though there was hardly anything on them.

‘Sorry, I’d stay and chat, but I’m late for the Poem Club meeting. See you.’

She took off past him in a swift pace down the corridor and into one of the rooms round the corner. Pascal wanted to write Anelle a poem one day, and surprise her of how well he could rhyme in his wonderous ways, or so he thought. But that was a goal that was at the bottom of his list, and it was starting to look like it had a fat chance of being ever achieved.

Pascal rubbed his nose dotingly once more, held his head high and continued to the canteen, which he foresaw would be packed.

He predicted correctly. It was packed. And this felt more of a marketplace than the corridors. Cutlery rattling, plates being scratched carelessly with rusty forks and knives. The jibber – jabber of mouths that are already stuffed with food, let alone another million things to say.

‘Hey guys,’ Pascal murmured to Valarie and Dan, his two closest friends since pre-school, as he slumped down onto one of the cold, metal canteen benches.

‘What’s up?’ said Dan, munching on half of his hamburger.

‘Something, definitely,’ Valarie peered closely to the crimson redness of Pascal’s nose, which had almost overtaken his whole face, along with what had accumulated more reddening under his eyes, his cheeks, and his now – bright red ears.

‘Is it – ‘

‘No, wait,’ Dan cut in, spitting bits of bread out. ‘Let me guess…little sis’ trying to put red make up on you again? Ah, don’t worry about it. My sis’ does it to me all the –‘

‘NO!’ Pascal retorted angrily.

‘Then there’s just one word. Ross.’ Said Valarie.

‘Bingo.’ Pascal sighed, ‘Why is it always me?’ as he spotted little Jimmy, the petite, weak little boy in his class, walk palely by. ‘Even Jimmy doesn’t get smothered everyday!’

‘Tell your mom,’ Valarie shrugged.

‘No, better, Mr. Hong!’ Dan exclaimed, and shot straight up from his seat, with his index finger extended. A few students that were sitting on the bench behind him turned round with their eyebrows raised, and Valarie pulled him vigorously down again.

‘Don’t do that again! Ugh…you’re so embarrassing,’ Valarie groaned, as the students turned their backs on them again.

‘Me? Tell the principle that I’m being bullied? I don’t think so,’ Pascal laughed sarcastically.

This “principal” mentioned was known around as Mr Hong. He was an outstandingly sharp personality indeed, referring to his intelligence, and his discipline methods, seeing as he has originated from the hard, strict education of Asia. The advantage of this was that Pascal could use the “threat of telling Mr Hong” against any one that stood in his way – although, anyone could do the same back to him.

‘Well…try to stand up to him perhaps?’ Valarie advised, raising an eyebrow.

There was a silence, and Valarie had hopes suddenly rising that this might be the solution to Pascal’s problem, so she could finally eat her sandwich properly without being, yet again – a Therapist for the day.

‘You know, I’m starting to think that you’re ideas, better yet, you, are becoming just as just as nutty as wise guy’s,’ Pascal shot a sarcastic stare at Dan.

‘I’m not being nutty, I’m just recommending the best ideas I think you should attempt.’ Valarie announced wisely, propping her thick green – framed glasses back up her nose with her pinky finger.

‘Sorry…It’s just that I’m getting really frustrated with it all. Just, Pick on someone else, you old ROSS bag!’

Pascal slammed his clenched fist on the wooden table, and it vibrated loudly.

Valarie and Dan stared wide eyed at him, gob – smacked at how loud he had yelled his opinion. Their glare started up from Pascal, and slowly inclined their heads until they were looking directly above their head.

‘What did you say, Pasta?’ A deep, threatening voice spoke out from behind him.

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