• • • • • ● • • • • •
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟑
" 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤 "
• • • • • ● • • • • •

          Mack:
          running late today. go on without me.
          i'll catch you at school later.
          Received 7:15 a.m.

Sighing, I stuff the phone in my blazer pocket and stand from the porch. Guess I'm walking to school alone then. Doesn't matter because I have a class to meet.

I arrive at St. Madeleine a good ten minutes before homeroom. As I walk down the patio, I grab my phone to recheck my room assignment. I've printed out my new schedule and placed it in my clear phonecase right under a polaroid from the time Mack and I stumbled into an old photobooth down by the beach. He was wearing a yellow bucket hat. I had strip of sunblock on my nose. Good times. Can we ever go back? 

Dramatic, I know, but I just walked to school alone for the first time in years. Feels weird. 

I'm probably overthinking it.

Shaking the thought away, I stuff the phone back in my pocket.

Room S-24, nearest to the field, farthest from the library. I guess even the placement speaks volumes, doesn't it?

There are already other students around, loitering outside, swapping holiday stories, waiting for the bell to ring. A group of eleventh graders burst into laughter just as I pass them. Were they laughing at me? Do they even know me? God, I feel like everyone's staring.

I pick up the pace and arrive at the S-building. Now, I have to climb a flight of stairs. This is good. Now my daily routine will include a workout.

Stepping in to the S-building is like stepping into a whole new school. Rowdy students, messy uniforms, absent faculty members. Am I even still in St. Madeleine?

"Heads up!"

A football whizzes by, an inch away from my ear. Shaken, I walk even faster. I must have bumped into six other students along the way. There are football players tackling each other down the hall. Kids dancing to loud pop music. Everyone seems to be running or roughhousing. This is madness. This is mayhem. This is high school.

Where the hell is S-24?!

Down by the very end of the corridor, I finally find my homeroom. I pause by the door. As ridiculous as it sounds, I am hoping that the people inside this room will be better than the animals loose outside. But the heavily-vandalized door already tells me everything.

A deep breath. I reach for the doorknob, twist, and pull the door open.

"EVERYONE WATCH ME EAT THIS ERASER!" a boy wearing smudged mascara yells over the thumping music. A crowd forms around him, engulfing him from my view. Thank God! The last thing I need to see right now is someone eating synthetic rubber.

One step in and I almost slip. Jesus Christ, someone spat on the floor. It's fine. I can disinfect my shoe later. It's fine, fine, fine, fine, fine.

The crowd around Eraser Boy cheers, and I assume he's achieved his goal.

"That was lit!"

"An absolute legend!"

"Eat this pencil next!"

Well, at least they're a supportive bunch, I'll give them that. Gotta have that in a team.

I steer clear of the crowd for now. I don't think I'm ready to deal with that level of crazy. Maybe tomorrow.

Cutting across the classroom, I make my way towards the front. The optimal classroom seat is always frontrow, in the column nearest to the teacher's table. This way you're always in the teacher's line of vision, unignorable when you raise your hand.

But when I place my bag on my preferred chair, I hear a familiar voice saying, "You can't sit there."

Florence Lin. Third row, right next to the wall. And sitting right beside her is baseball bubblegum princess herself, Kitty Coleridge, hosting a Tiktok live on her phone.

"Why not?" I ask, walking closer to them.

"First row's reserved for students who are lagging behind," she says. "Ms. Okoro's rules."

That's... considerate. I guess other seats will do. Maybe I can sit next to these girls, since I'm already acquainted with them. Not in the best of terms, but at least I've spoken to them before.

I prop my bag on the chair in front of Lin's.

"Seat's taken," she says.

"There's literally nobody here."

"Taken," she only repeats.

"Fine." I snatch my bag and transfer it to the chair in front of Kitty's. "Am I good here?"

Lin sits back and drapes an arm over Kitty's shoulders. I'll take that as a yes.

Second row, second column from the wall. This is totally out of the teacher's eyesight. What if she won't see me raising my hand for recitation? Oh, well. It's better than backbenching.

I fish my phone out as I settle in my seat. 

          Hey, are you in school yet?
          Sent 7:58 a.m.

As soon as the text delivers to Mack, a teacher enters the room. The click of her heels cut through the noise, along with her voice saying, "Alright, alright. Settle down. I'm excited to start the midterms, too."

Ms. Okoro, a new teacher at St. Madeleine. I did a quick check of her academy profile when I learned she'd be my new class adviser, and she seems legit. Harvard graduate, teaches literature. Looking at her now as she strides towards her table, she looks like no other English teacher I've had before. This woman actually has style. No gaudy beads on her neck. No Ms. Frizzle rip-off dresses. Just a three-piece pantsuit tailored to perfection, hoop earrings that dangle under her afro, and D'orsay pumps that sound like power every time she takes a step.

"Good morning," she says, sitting on the edge of her table.

I stand up as an instinct. Dr. Goldman preferred it when we stood up and greeted him with a bow. "Good morning, Ms. Okoro," I say, bending forwards.

The class erupts in laughter, and I sink down to my seat, my face flashing hot with shame.

"We don't do that here," Kitty informs, leaning over from her seat.

"Yes, Kitty, I gathered. Thank you."

"Okay, settle down," the teacher chastises the class, and the snickering stops. "He's new, don't persecute him. But yes, Mr. —" She looks at her clipboard. "—Gray-Gomez, we do not bow in this classroom. Especially not to me. I am not a monarch. Well, not technically." She winks.

"Welcome to the D-Class," she addresses me. "I'll give you time to introduce yourself later. But first, a few announcements." Ms. Okoro lists off a couple of notices; club openings, prom committee recruitments, etcetera. Afterwards, she clicks her pen. "Attendance check!"

I ready myself to raise my hand and say "Present" but they don't check the attendance the same way Dr. Goldman does.

"Anyone missing from the pact?" Ms. Okoro asks.

"Rafael's running late, Ms. Okoro," Eraser Boy informs. He didn't even raise his hand. Is that not a thing in the class, too? Why is everything so different here?

Ms. Okoro nods and notes that in her sheet.

"Chipp won't be able to make it this morning, Ms. Okoro," Lin says, pointing to the seat next to mine. "He texted me saying that their café's short-staffed."

"Tell him to email me for Lit notes. We are going to dive into Afro-American literature starting with Langston Hughes," the teacher replies. "Also, would you be a dear and inform him of whatever activity he has to make up in your other a.m. classes?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Great!" she says, putting her attendance sheet down. Ms. Okoro turns to look at me, and I take that as my cue to pull out the two-paged introductory speech I wrote last week. I knew I'd be asked to do this. I came prepared.

"As you may have noticed, we have a new student among us," she says to the rest of the class. "Come on up and let us know a little bit about you."

Ms. Okoro stands aside as I take center. I smile at her before clearing my throat. "Good morning, Ms. Okoro. Good morning, D-Class. My name is Nicolas Gray-Gomez. I'm seventeen years old. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, my new classmates here in St. –"

"Pleasure?" a backbencher calls out. "Didn't you call us runts, though?"

My eyes immediately land on Kitty and Lin. The former is still tiktoking away on her phone. Lin, on the other hand, is raising a brow, challenging me.

I let out a nervous laughter, struggling to keep my composure but my palms are sweating already. "Well, I –"

"What's a runt?" Eraser Boy asks. I gather he's not the sharpest tool in this shed of dull devices.

"Hold on, I googled it," Kitty says. "The search results have puppies!" she gasps, turning the phone towards his direction. 

"You calling us dogs? Is that it?" Eraser Boy asks. The rest of the class breaks out in murmurs, some of them giving me the stink eye.

"No, I –"

Eraser Boy howls, immediately cutting me off. The rest of the idiotic pack joins him. Some of them straight up barks at me. Others growl like rabid dogs in need of veterinary care.

"Enough!" Ms. Okoro bellows. The commotion dies down as she raises her hand. "That it is no way to welcome a classmate."

"But, ma'am, he called us dogs!" one student yells.

"I'm sure that was just a misunderstanding," she replies. "Be nice. No more howling."

The class lets out a collective groan, but they acquiescently toe the line.

"Ignore them, they can be rowdy at times," Ms. Okoro whispers to me. "Thank you for your introduction, Nico. Welcome to D-Class. If they give you any trouble, don't hesitate to come to me, okay?"

I nod. I have a feeling that I'm gonna need to.

"You can go back to your seat now."

I raise the papers in my hands. "But my speech..."

"Oh." Ms. Okoro's lips twitch up in a grin before she catches herself and puts on a serious face. "This might not be the best venue for a speech anymore," she says.

I look out to the class. They're already talking to each other, passing notes, and throwing crumpled up paper balls at each other. Definitely not the right place.

"But," Ms. Okoro adds, "you can give that to me, and I'll read it. I'd love to know more about you."

That's a petty consolation. Sighing, I hand the speech over to her. I spent an hour penning that and I don't even get to deliver it. Nothing is going right.

I saunter back to my seat, shoulders drooped, lips pursed. As soon as I plop down on the chair, the students beside me growl and I turn to the only two people I know in this class for some help, but Kitty's still doing her thing and Lin only crosses her arm. Her narrowed stare makes me feel like I deserve this. Do I?

The rest of the morning goes by in a blur. The D-Class keeps making dog noises at me. I passed by some of the A-Class in the hallway and they sniggered, exchanging whispers as I walked by.

At lunch, it's even more chaotic. The cafeteria is buzzing with post-holiday reunions and first-day funk.

"Thank you," I say to the server as she puts a pudding on my tray.

I stand by the corner of the cafeteria, scouting for a place to sit. Students flock together with their classmates. I used to sit with other A-Class students, specifically at Anya's table along with Mack. Can't sit there now. Not with the queen of mean in the vicinity.

Mack hasn't responded to my text either. I haven't seen him around. I grab my phone for the nth time today to check. Nada. Still no reply. Is he freezing me out? Where is he?

Looking for Mack, I spot the D-Class near the emergency exit instead. Lin and Kitty are sitting with Eraser Boy and some other kids.

Building up the confidence, I walk towards them. My tray is practically rattling in my hands.

"Hi, guys," I greet, awkwardly shifting my feet as a stand in front of them. "Is this seat taken?" I ask, pointing to the spot next to Eraser Boy.

The backbencher who interrupted my speech plops his plate down the table. He takes the free seat, and stares up at me. "Only dogs allowed," he says, and the others laugh.

I should have expected that. Still, it stings. I speedwalk away from the group, hoping that the faster I get away, the faster the shame will subside. Thankfully, I find an empty table nearby. Right next to the trash, but it's either this or eating in the bathroom.

I put my tray down and just sink to the seat. They're serving baked mac with a side of string beans today. Chocolate pudding as dessert. I don't even have the appetite anymore.

Groaning, I rub my hand over my face. This day could not get any worse.

A tray plops on to my table, the clink of it jarring me, making me squeal. I'm quick to get my hands on my tray, ready for flight mode, in case some other bully sequesters this table from me. I'm too tense, I don't look up at the guy. I just wait for him to tell me to leave, or even shove me off. But he doesn't. 

"Is this seat taken?"

I look up. Oh. 

The tension breaks and a smile forms on my face.