Young Writers Society

Fahrenheit: 57

I walk into sixth period to the sight of Eric eating a banana. He gets out of his seat, dashes over, and grabs me by the shoulders.

"Dude, are you going paint balling with us tomorrow?" He asks.

"Of course. Do I need to sign a waiver just in case I, you know, die?"

"Yeah, your parents can sign it once you're there."

"Ah, cool. Can I bring an actual gun as an April Fool's prank?" I ask, in which he responds with an awkward stare.

"It's September."

"Exactly."

"I'll bring the ammunition." He laughs. We take our seats as others stare.

Eric and I are two of the four males in Choir. Eric takes singing very seriously, and is easily the best male singer. He tried out for the talent show actually, singing One Republic, but the mic kept going on and off. The principal, Mr. Hoover, took it as Eric actually sang like that, so he got denied a spot. Eric still dislikes Hoover to this day.

To the right of us is Chase, or Albino Joe as I like to call him. He has blonde hair that's almost white, wears really dark glasses, and always has dress pants on. The only real reason he joined is to be next to his girlfriend, which he has been and rarely talks to us. I'm personally not a big fan of him, as one time I sat down as a protest of the others talking in class, so he took it upon himself to hit me as hard as he could in my chest. I declared "assault" to the teacher, in which she sent him to the principal's office. Fun times.

All the way in the back, surrounded by the girls who have colorful hair and wear all black, is Stuart. Surprisingly, he is the only opera singer in this whole school, but he doesn't care for school. The majority of the time he is tossing coffee cups and erasers at Eric and I. He's been suspended twice already, has gotten a number of referrals, and spends his lunches in detention. We never liked him, probably because he's an ass, but he's really popular among others.

Eric is a huge hunter, works for the police department, and is a devout Christian. I usually would stay away from people like that, but we meet eye to eye on gun control and have a similar sense of humor. He's not the best student, sure, but he is a social person. A ladies guy, one would consider him. Good singer, attracts girls, and is super strong. Now, it comes down to me.

All I'm going to tell you is that I'm not a loser.

"Lions!" The teacher, Mrs. Josie, yells.

"Pride!" The class responds. Our mascot is the Lion, and we have a thing about Lion pride. Put one and two together, and you get why we say that.

"Alright, ladies and gentleman, before we get into actual singing exercises, let's go over the Hoodlums Project and talent show!" The class cheers. Eric hits me on the thigh.

"I'm going to sing again, and I'm going to prove Hoover wrong." He says, looking at Mrs. Josie.

"I think you need to work on your shakiness, too." I respond.

"No! Hoover just doesn't know good singing." His voice becomes a bit shaky, possibly meaning he's becoming a bit angry.

"Yeah, well, if you're doing the best impression of your grandpa trying to sing on Karaoke Night at his retirement home, then Hoover is in the wrong." This response makes him laugh.

"Shut the hell up."

I hear him and Chase discuss what songs they're going to sing, which caused a fight between the two because they both wanted to sing the same Fall Out Boy song. Hell, everybody in this class is talking about singing. I remember Hoover talking about only acts that vary from others are going to make it, so I hate to admit it, but the majority won't make it. I don't hate to admit that, to be honest. It's actually really funny.

This goes on for about twenty minutes, with about every three or so minutes I get asked if I'm doing the talent show again. I just shrug, and tell them I don't know. Which I don't. Who can guarantee that I'm funny in seven months? I can't, because who knows? However, my friend Marie breaks the pattern when she asks me,

"What are you going to do for the Hoodlum Project?"

I have yet to think about it all day. I do not know how to answer it, though. Before I could, however, Eric goes on about helping the sheriff's department. This spawns a mass discussion about what would be "helping the community". I go on my phone the majority of the time this is happening, since it still has nothing to do with me. Marie slaps Eric, which sent him to the ground, and looks at me.

"What are you going to do?"

I try to fumble for a witty answer.

"An explosion of sound."

"Like, a band?" She looks confused.

"I'm going to tie firecrackers on musical instruments and throw them at cars in traffic."

"Jesus Christ." She goes back to her seat. Mrs. Josie slaps the whiteboard to get the attention of the class.

"Okay, kiddos, today we're talking about," she draws this really weird half circle figure on the whiteboard, "eyels."

"Eyels?" A girl asks.

"Yes, that's when you smile with your eyes!" Josie announces.

"Don't you mean smeyes?" Chase asks her.

"No, I mean eyels. Tyra Banks barely knows anything." She says. 

We spend the rest of our class learning how to smile with our eyes while singing. Eric kept on making creepy stares at others, which made the teacher yell at him a few times. I spend the majority of the time trying to think of what I want to do. I don't know what to do, and probably won't.

The bell rings, and we all rush for the door. Eric tells me what time to meet him, and walks to the bus. My bus is right outside the door, so I don't have the farthest walk. I get to the bus door when Marie approaches me.

"You know, you don't have to be mysterious or odd." She tells me.

"I'm not, that's just how people view me." I reply.

"Well, I honestly like you being mysterious. Makes me want to find out more about you."

"I have a fear of goats." I laugh.

"Are you serious?" She asks. This prompts a five minute conversation on what would classify as weird or normal, in which mostly involved making each other laugh with weird phrases. After the conversation veered into talking about history homework, but it stopped once the bus doors started closing. I tell her bye, run onto the bus, and take a seat next to my friend Valerie.

"So, who was that you were talking to?" Valerie asks.

"My friend Marie. How was your day?"

We then spend the rest of the bus ride talking. Nothing out of the ordinary.

A/N: I apologize for the amount of dialogue, explaining, and bland ending, but this is only starting. Be patient, young one. Word count: 1191