Young Writers Society

The school day went by faster than I expected. I had finished at least three of my periods and was just waiting for the day to come to an end.

I was sitting at the end of one of the cafeteria tables, poking my fork into the meal of the day. The dish that was being served was taco salad, which was neither an actual taco, nor an actual salad. However, what I did was separate the meat, the chips, and the lettuce from each other. I was unable to eat. I kept thinking of Mr. Kafka’s death and what that anonymous caller said to me about “Nothing is what it seems at Corinth High School,” and couldn’t help but ponder whether they were connected, or not.

“I just can’t believe he’s dead, Jo. Like, Mr. Kafka was totes the best teacher in the school. It’s just not fair.” Anais sat beside me, staring at her tray filled with an assortment of vegetables and fruits, and, like me, she merely forked around it as she sighed with a frown on her face.

“Hey, guys. What’s going on?” Anais and I looked up and saw Roberto standing before us.

He was a lanky man with tan skin and, brown eyes with bags under them, and short black hair. He was dressed in a gray t-shirt under a red hooded jacket, blue jeans, and a pair of dark martins.

“Not now, Roberto. Jo and I are, like, in mourning,” Anais admonished.

Roberto scowled at the fashionista as he sat down in front of us. Placing his lunchbox before him, he set up his lunch—a simple bologna sandwich and a thermos filled with coffee—before he began eating it. He never ordered any of the food in the cafeteria, which is understandable since most of the times the food is almost inedible.

“Okay, princess. What’s wrong with you and mi amigo?” he questioned sternly before taking a bite.

Anais groaned and scowled at the boy. She stated in annoyed, “I told you to stop calling me that! You know I hate being called princess!” taking a deep sigh, she continued, “But that’s not what’s wrong with us. We’re upset because while we were driving to school, we saw Mr. Kafka car being towed out of Corinth Lake with his dead body inside.”

Roberto’s eyes widened in surprise as his mouth fell agape. He looked away while rubbing the back of his neck. Then he said, “Wow. I am so sorry about that.”

“Jo’s the most torn up about it, too. Like, Kafka was his favorite teacher and he’s been staring at his tray with a blank face. It’s totes sad.also, you know how he is about death since his…”

“Who said I was torn up?” I interrupted while arching an eyebrow.

Anais was shocked by my response. She inquired with her eyebrows raised: “Wait. You’re not? Why? Aren’t you sad that he’s dead?”

“Of course, I’m sad, but everyone dies sooner or later. I don’t let that hold me back,” I remarked. I furrowed my brow as I crossed my arms. I added, “Friedrich Nietzsche once said, ‘That which does not kill us makes us stronger’. So, while I do mourn for the dead, I should just keep moving forward and enjoy life as much as I can.”

“I thought that was Kelly Clarkson who said that,” said Anais in a quizzical manner.

Scowling at her, I deadpanned in grimace. I corrected, “No, she merely paraphrased it in her song. Also, his death is not what’s troubling me. What’s really troubling me was how Kafka died?”

“What do you mean?” asked Roberto.

“I mean, last night I received a bizarre phone call that told me not to trust anyone in Corinth High and that everything is not what it seemed. So, I believe there might be a connection between that and Mr. Kafka’s death.”

“Like, how is it connected?” Anais inquired.

Crushing the bridge between my eyes, I answered in an analytical tone, “Let us perceive the scenario for a moment. Kafka was a very cautious man and was nervous of injuring himself. The last time he had a paper cut, he bled uncontrollably and had to be rushed to the hospital, which is the reason why he would always wear gloves before starting class.” I rubbed my chin as I crossed my legs in contemplation. Uncrossing my legs, I started tapping the tips of my fingers while I leaned back. I added, “You don’t suppose there is some sort of conspiracy going around, do you?”

“Honestly. It’s not really surprising. I’ve been saying, for years, that there was something sinister going on in this school, yet none of you believed me,” stated Roberto with a passive shrug.

“That’s because when you keep suggesting it, it makes you sound cray cray,” Anais countered. Her tone sounded irritated as she face-palmed in exacerbation.

Letting out a groan, Roberto pointed his finger and corrected, “First of all, ‘cray cray’ in not a word. It’s just a form of newspeak created by the media to degenerate the youthful populace. Second, what I said before is not insanity.” Roberto wasn’t very fond of incorrect grammar. I’m the same as well, but I let it slide since Anais is my childhood friend.

Taking a bite of his sandwich, he continued with his mouth full, “I have noticed a lot of strange occurrences going on in the school. For example, haven’t you noticed none of the students ever went into the teacher’s lounge? Even students who were assign to deliver some stuff to the room weren’t permitted to enter, which makes me wonder what the staff does in their spare time that keeps them from showing it to anyone? Also, haven’t you ever noticed how freaked out the custodian is? Almost like he saw something traumatic when the school is closed.” Anais couldn’t help but roll her eyes before taking out her smartphone and scrolling down her messages.

I, on the other hand, listened closely to what Roberto was saying.

Then I pointed out, “If there is something sinister going on campus, do you think it’s linked to Mr. Kafka’s death?”

“It may be and we could investigate on the matter. However, if we do, we need to make sure no prying eyes are watching us,” Roberto warned me with a serious expression.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I cringed in dismay at the sight of the time. It was 20 minutes ‘til 2:00PM, and I needed to help Anais finish her essay before class started.

“We need to go,” I said to my childhood friend.

She looked at the time, as well, and shared the same expression as I had. Throwing our paper trays away, Anais and I power-walked our way to the computer room with our backpack and satchel over our shoulders as fast as we could without alarming the hall-monitors.

20-minutes-later, Anais was finally caught up with her work and made it to our fourth period class as fast as we could before the teacher could enter and mark us tardy. Once we arrived, we both immediately took a seat at the front row, on the right side of the classroom.

“God! That was literally the most exhausting thing I’ve ever had to do!” she sighed in bliss, finally having such a weight lifted off of her shoulder. She leaned against her seat with both of her hands behind her back.

“Don’t let your guard down so fast, Anais. You never know when another assignment will pop…”

Whack! I felt the sting of something small, yet sharp, hitting the back of my head. I cringed but prevented myself from yelping in anguish.

“Jo! Are you okay?!” Anais asked in worry. She leaned over and rubbed the back of my head. The sight of blood on the tip of her fingers took her aback.

She reached down to the floor and picked up a ballpoint pen with the cap removed and the sharp end sticking out.

I took the pen and examined it. There was only one person I knew who would do something like that. We both turned our heads and looked back with our faces scowling in anger.

Sitting in the back was the one responsible for nearly stabbing me in the brain stem. In every high school movie ever made, there is always a bully who antagonizes the protagonist. For me, that bully would be Ambrose Drake.

That troglodyte stood about 6ft in height, having black skin and a robust body. He was dressed in a blue jersey with the number 19 on the back, jeans, and a pair of sneakers.

“Hey! What’s the matter, Jo! You’re suppose to be Japanese?! Don’t you have like ninja reflexes to catch what was coming at ya?!” I growled with my fists clenching. No matter zero tolerance policies enforced on campus and all the afterschool specials featured on TV, there will always be someone harassing those they deemed inferior. I wanted to bash my fist into his face so badly, but I inhaled and exhaled my frustrations out of my system and turned back to the board.

Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I turned to see Anais smiling proudly at me. I smiled back. She knew how I was feeling and she was relieved I didn’t go through with it.

Then I heard Ambrose added jovially, “Oh yeah, that’s right! You’re half-Japanese! So does that mean you also only eat with one chopstick?!” I could even hear his cronies laughing with him also.

“Wow! Ambrose! That didn’t sound racist at all!” said Anais in a sarcastic manner. She stood up and turned towards the bully’s direction with her hands against her hips. “Seriously, Ambrose! Isn’t there, like, a detention seat your bigoted ass has to fill?!”

With a smile on his face, Ambrose stood up and waltzed over to the girl, standing over her like a monolith over a small village. He remarked defensively, “Lighten up, Anais! I’m just having some fun with the little dweeb! No need to get triggered! Besides, I don’t understand why you hang out with those losers when you could be hanging out with the champ!” he patted his chest to emphasize his hubris.

“Right…like I would hang out with a bunch of meatheads when I could be hanging out with a sophisticated group like Jo and Roberto who actually have interesting things to say!” A sly grin formed on Anais face as she waved a dismissive hand at Ambrose, which by the look of his face, seemed to have bruised his ego.

I even saw with fist clenching and was ready to smack my friend in the face. However, he released his grip and shrugged it off.

“Whatever,” said Ambrose before walking back to his desk.

Anais smiled with pride while crossing her arms in victory. However, that didn’t last long.

“Sit back in your seat, Ms. Muller! Class is about to start!”

My friend and I turned our attention to the door and saw Mrs. Austin with a stern expression on her face.

Anais complied and ran back to her seat before the teacher could proceed into the classroom. Walking over to the front of the class, she turned on both her computer and the smart-board.

My essay paper was already out and ready to turn in. I even arranged my pencils in order from small to large. Anais, however, was rummaging through her backpack to put everything together.

“Okay, class. Before we get everything over with, I’m going to proceed with roll call,” said Mrs. Austin in a ruff, yet tired, tone of voice. Dressed in a dress suit with her brown hair tied in the back, you could consider her the embodiment of a lifeless proletariat, only working to finish the feasible hours throughout the school day. Taking out the attendance sheet, she proceeded calling out our names:

“Herman Alejandra?”

“Ambrose Drake?”

“Here!”

“Alexia Evergreen?”

“I’m here!”

“Johashi Kazama?”

“Present!”

“Anais Muller?”

“Like, here!”

After about 5 minutes, roll call was already over and almost everyone was checked present with only five people absent. Then Mrs. Austin demanded, “alright. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s move on to handing in your essays before we start class. Hopefully, most of you had done better than last time.” From back to the front, each student passed in his or her draft through each row up to the front as the teacher began taking them up one stack at a time.

After Anais’s paper was extracted, she started silently praying to God for a good grade. It didn’t have to be an A, but it had to be an acceptable one. I never understood the power of praying. Mostly, because what we perceived as miracles are merely thermodynamic coincidences that arise at a certain point in time, or its just dumb luck.

The period moved on quickly. It was now 3:00PM in the afternoon. We had gotten through Mrs. Austin’s lecture on the Battle of Gettysburg and Robert E. Lee’s humiliating defeat. Packing everything up, we were’ all ready to leave. However, before we could walk out, Mrs. Austin stated, “Remember, class! In three days, there’s going to be a test on what we’ve learned from the first day! So, you better be prepared for it, or there will be consequences!” despite being disillusioned, she still had a thing for the dramatics.

Sauntering out of the front entrance, we immediately jumped into the Chevrolet and drove home. Along the way, we started conversing.

“So, Jo. You think you could help me study for the test on Friday? The last test was totes hard; I only got a 60 s a result. So, will you, like, help me?! Please!” Anais’s eyes widened in a puppy dog stare with her lips quivering, begging for my assistance like she always does.

Letting out a sigh, I smiled and nodded my head. Anais’s face lid up and she quickly grabbed my hand, chiming in a high pitch tone, “Oh! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” my body tensed up from her touch.

Suddenly, her tone changed as the atmosphere started getting somber.

“When do you think preparations for the funeral for Mr. Kafka will start?”Anais asked with a saddened expression.

My brow furrowed as I grimaced. I replied, “I have no idea. It’ll probably be a week, or so. There not just going to set up the casket and reserve the sermon, but also make his carcass look more presentable for the open-casket.” I wanted to change the mood in the car, but what I said after that wasn’t vey pleasant. “Did you know that when they prepare the body for burial, they would first drain the corpse of unnecessary fluids and then start injecting large quantities of embalming fluid? Then, they would refrigerate the body before getting it dressed and adding makeup for the memorial service.”

“Ew! What’s wrong with you?! I didn’t want to hear that!” Anais playfully punched me in the shoulder as she wreathed in disgust and then started laughing in glee. That seemed to have lightened up the mood a little.

After dropping Anais off at her house, I drove down the street before parking my car in my driveway. Walking up the porch steps, I walked through the front door and noticed how everything was dark. None of the lights were on and all of the blinds were closed. In the living room, I saw my mother, sleeping on the couch with a beer bottle on the coffee table and a bottle of anti-depressants on the side. My mother works three jobs, everyday from morning to the late afternoon, and every time she comes home, she usually takes her meds and falls asleep in the living room.

Taking in a deep breath and exhaling, I grabbed the blanket and gingerly repositioned it on her upper body. Then I walked down the hall and headed straight for my room. I took off my backpack and threw it on my bed, taking a seat at my desk and leaned back as I stared up at the ceiling.

God. All has happened in just one day. Maybe, what Roberto said was right? Maybe there is a conspiracy going on in the school. That’s when I quickly grabbed on of the blank notebooks and started tracing down everything. From the death of my teacher to all the oddities Roberto had mentioned earlier. However, none of it was adding up. What does the teacher’s lounge have anything to do with the accident, or how the janitor’s catatonia related to it, also. It was surely a thought-provoker, that is. I guess I needed more information if I’m going to piece more of it together.

6:47AM. The next morning, after taking the shower, I stared into the mirror after whipping much of the condensation off of the glass. My arms were placed against the rails of the sink as I stared at my own reflection, taking note of how I looked such as my lanky, yet husky, physique and the bags under my eyes. Cracking the joints of my neck and sauntered out of the bathroom. After getting dressed, I walked into the kitchen, on the right, and was greeted by my mother.

“Morning, sweetie! I hope you had a good night sleep,” she said with a smile. It was rare to see her happy and cheerful in the morning.

“Mother, you know it is highly improbable to receive an actual good night’s rest. Only the amount of sleep you require to function throughout the day,” I pointed out in a methodical tone of voice. My mother stared at me with a baffled pause.

Then she remarked with a shrug, “Well, at least you’re rejuvenated to start the day!” she moved a strand of her blonde hair away from her own face. Then she added, “I made breakfast. Want to eat before you head to school,” another rarity in my life, which I calmly declined as I had no time to eat.

I always begin my mornings early as possible, so to prepare myself before school started. It was one of the many rituals I had to commence.

An hour later, Anais and I had arrived earlier with no circumstances having impeded our journey. We were in the library, getting what we need to study for the test that was coming up, grabbing any book and started taking notes on what was essential.

“Like, I don’t get it?! Why do we need to study in the library when we already have notes in our notebooks?! It’s just ridic!” she pointed out in an irate tone before getting shushed by the school librarian.

“That’s because Mrs. Austin has a reputation for adding certain subjects that we haven’t learned on the test just to challenge us and, possibly, restore her hope in humanity!” I whispered in a scolding tone.

“Yeah, but still. It shouldn’t be this hard for a high school student to do,” Anais murmured with her arms cross and her face becoming annoyed.

I sighed and responded while searching through the history section, “Well she was originally a college professor before losing her tenure and started working here. So, it would make sense that her teaching style would be a little unorthodox.”

It was difficult to find the correct book, especially when using the Dewey decimal system to locate it. I would use the library’s computer to find it in the system but I didn’t want my observation skills to go to waste.

“Here it is! The one book that’ll rule them all!” I mused with a slight grin.

Arching an eyebrow, Anais stared at me in confusion. She question, “The one book to rule what?”

My face deadpanned as I muttered to myself, “Oh yeah. That’s right. You’ve never read Lord of the Rings, have you?” I pulled out the book and was about to head back to the table, that is, until I saw something in the back of the shelf. Way in the back behind the row of books, there was a strange looking hole in the shape of a six-pointed star surrounded by a square golden plate.

All that came to mind from seeing that was: what the hell is this?