Arbitration: Chapter 1

Two Months Before: It was just another day at Westfield High School, students complaining, teachers complaining, me, chilling. Mr. Robertson was not at school today. He made sure he had at least one random absence every month. I bet he's some undercover hardcore drug dealer. It's the only explanation. He was way too great at chemistry to just be a high school teacher. Whenever he was gone, we all knew what was to come. Every time, five minutes after the bell rang, came The Sub.

Years later, it seemed, she got to my name on the roll. "Perry!" Mrs. Hornbeck exclaimed. "Has anyone seen Perry today?" A few seconds later I figured I would play nice and raise my hand. "Young man, are you deaf, or is your brain just not working?" said the elderly substitute, who closely resembled Betty White. "Sorry Mrs. Hornbeck, my headphones were up a little too much." I knew substitutes were always sticklers about illegalities. For them, it wasn't about the school rules or doing the "right" thing, it was more of a war, not with us, but with the troubled memories of their youth.

"Put them up before I kick you out of this classroom," replied Mrs. Hornbeck. I politely did. I wasn't one for troublemaking, but on this particular day, I couldn't really help it. See, it was only two painstaking months until our summer break. The anxiousness was building. "Excuse me Mrs. Hornbeck, Perry is needed to the front office," said Tiffany, as she stood at our classroom door. God, I love Tiffany. She is my most wonderful girlfriend of two years. She has long, curly brown hair, hazel brown eyes, and her smile is absolutely breathtaking. "Mr. Stevenson, you're needed to the office...what...a...surprise," said Mrs. Hornbeck. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why that lady hated me so much. Well, maybe I did. As I walked out, I put my finished crossword puzzle on her desk. "Thanks Tiff, that lady has been giving me the evil eye all class period," I said as I gave her a tight hug. "Yeah, I think I had her last year as a sub once or twice. Does she ever tell the story about how she has some superstar son in the pro's?" said Tiffany. "Of course, every five minutes it seems. Do you believe her?" "Well, she's either really persuasive, or she's mad rich," she replied.

Whenever I had a substitute, I always texted my girlfriend. Whenever I didn't have a substitute, I always texted my girlfriend. It was just one of those "I always" kinds of things. Luckily, I was able to ask her to get me out of class today. I know I may seem like a bad kid, but I promise, I’m not. If you ask me, skipping isn't all that bad though, at least not to me. I could be having wild "adventures," doing heroin, or even failing school, but I wasn't. For three straight years my GPA never dropped below a 3.7. I aced all of my tests and I never came to class late, except five times, every year. It was a ritual of mine.

At Westfield, there were cameras in practically every hallway. If you wanted to do anything not specified as "doable," according to our handy dandy code of conduct, there were two places to do it. The first spot, coincidentally, would cause you to be quite sneaky to reach. It was the field right next to the school. It wasn't too far; the only problem is that there was always some monitor lurking around. The bushes were high and the grass was just low enough for you to walk on. Kids would go there when they skipped class or had to avoid a major beat down from The Bullies. Me and Tiff, well, we had our unique set of activities we did in the field, nothing illegal of course. No heroin, failing, or wild "adventures," just activities.

The next hot spot was a little small, but better than nothing. In our gym, there were always multiple games of basketball, volleyball, and stand-on-the-wall-and-try-to-look-innocent going on. Tiffany and I were usually playing along with the latter group of special athletes. The coaches didn't care. As long as you weren't fighting in public or having sex, in public, you were good to go. Behind the wall where the innocents hang, was a small locker room. No one used it because it was so compact and tiny. The school never got rid of it because, quite frankly, no one really thought about it much, unless, of course, you were a clever deviant like me. Today, we decided we wanted to go to neither of the spots, but instead go hang out in the library. Whenever we were there, we kind of gave each other a little space while we flipped through magazines or comic books.

Just before I finished flipping through some graphic novel, the bell rang. Tiffany and I got up to leave. As we walked out of the library, I wrapped my arms around her, pulled her in close to me, and gave her a signature Perry Stevenson kiss-on-the-neck. She loved it when I did that. "Perry, we could've gone to the field, ya know?" she said, smiling. Tiffany was quite the daredevil. I loved it.

"Eso si que es," I replied.

"Ce sont les seuls mots en espagnol que vous connaissez?" said Tiffany, smiling again.

"Sorry Tiff, I don't speak Napoleon," I said back to her, sarcastically.

"What on earth does that mean?"

"I asked, are those the only words that you know in Spanish?"

Me and Tiffany were both in upper level foreign languages. I was in Gifted Spanish IV, while she took the inferior AP French. "Of course not, I'm one-third Spanish Tiff, I thought you knew that?" I said to her, trying to hold in my laugh. "Are you kidding right now, or am I that forgetful," said Tiffany. "Well, I guess you forgot. That's horrible Tiffany Chambers! How could you not remember?" I said. She stared at me, almost as if she knew I was kidding. I didn't buy it though. I kept trying to use the guilt card until she offered something.

"I can't believe..." "Perry, I wasn't born last night," she said with her beautiful hazel eyes squinted. "You're never gonna get me. Just give it up you poor adorable boy." "Fine. You got me. I'm not one-third Spanish. But señorita, I'm all the jalapeño you can get!" I said, with my award winning accent. "Jalapeño? That's all? A wrinkled, bitter-in-the-mouth pepper? Ya got that right," she said laughing. "Okay, you got me," I said, holding up my hand for a high five. "Aaand again...," she said as she faked me out. "Alright, I won't be cruel." "You're the sweetest," I said, sarcastically serious.

After me and Tiff said our goodbyes before next period, I decided to take a shortcut to my American History class. I had a pretty long walk through the hallways. They were filled with faded blue lockers and white walls. I would have to go full "hulk mode" and squeeze my way through the suffocating crowds of kids. On my way there, I saw a couple of rich kids. I’ve never been a “popular.” For one, it required me to have a much higher level of care for society than I already did. Secondly, I actually enjoyed being weird. Tiffany understood me, and I understood her. I didn't have very many friends. The only two people besides Tiffany I normally conversed with were Jake and Tommy. They were pretty cool dudes. We met freshman year. When we first began to hang out, we noticed something about each other:

A) We all loved nice, big asses. (Guy Code)

B) We were all outcasts, but by no means "pushed around."

C) We hated the popular kids.

After we discovered these wonderful facts about each other, our friendship was pretty much set in stone from there. Tommy was the type of kid that didn't talk much. If you didn't know him, you would probably guess he was a push around. This is by no means true. One time, in the cafeteria, a group of populars tried to make Tommy get up and move to another table so that they could have their daily dose of mutual douche-baggery. I was in line, trying to decide between a dry hot dog or dry hamburger. When I looked over, I saw Tommy with the meanest face I've ever seen on a 9th grader. Next thing I knew, the populars had magically chosen another table. It blew my mind. When I asked Tommy about it, he said, and I quote, "Just had to handle a little business, that's all." I didn't really question it. Tommy was a year older than me and Jake. He had been held back his first time around 9th grade year. He said he had issues at home with his parents that year. I didn't question it. See, I wasn't afraid of Tommy necessarily, I just knew not to piss him off. I’d seen him fuck up too many kids.

Jake, well Jake is like the comedian of us three amigos. If he isn't making fun of his English teacher or some politician, he's thinking of something clever. I can see it on his slender face every time we hang out. It's almost as if he sees things that the naked eye can't. Maybe Jake's an alien. A funny, skinny alien.

Once I got to class, Ms. Andrews had up a fantastic PowerPoint. Total sarcasm. There was nothing wrong with power points of course, except that Ms. Andrews was worse at presenting than my five year-old self. When I had to present to my parents on why I should be treated like a big kid, I stuttered uncontrollably. That was my vice, stuttering. It only happened when I was either extremely nervous, or super angry. "Are these notes for our upcoming quiz?" I asked. With the most condescending tone, Ms. Andrews replied, "Yes." I immediately knew where this was going.

Whenever she used that tone, she was in Yes Mode. This mode of communication relied heavily on the use of the misleading word "Yes." Simple, right? Yes, but quite annoying after a while. "Are we going on a field trip this year," I asked, testing her for Yes Mode. "Yes," she said, blankly staring at me. "What time is it Ms. Andrews?" "Yes." "May I leave class?" I asked. I knew the answer already. Not the one she would audibly speak, but the answer that had always been the answer to that question. "Yes," she replied. I gave up.

As we were going through the fantastic PowerPoint on the Civil Rights Movement, I felt my right thigh vibrate. It could only mean one of two things, either I had just received an invitation to become part of some secret undercover society, or it was Tiffany. The latter seemed more reasonable. When I finally got the chance to pull my phone out, lo and behold, it was my beautiful, sweet Tiffany.

Tiffany: Hey babe, I need a favor (((:

Me: Sure, what's up? ;)

Tiffany: Can you take me home today? My mom has to go to some parent thing at my little brother's school :|

Me: Prepare yourself for a spicy adventure with El Jalapeño !

Tiffany: Whatever loverrr, thankss!!!