Fast Times at Whoville High
Chapter 1
The loud hiss of the bus released a gray fog in the chill autumn air. The sun was high in the bluish-gray tinted sky as it hung above a buzzing school, fresh into its first day of a new school year. Dozens of cars passed by the school, leaving behind students old and new. The teenage students walked onto the campus, greeting friends and past teachers, while others entered quietly, observing their new schooling grounds. Whoville High was a large high school with hundreds of students. This year Jojo was among those returning.
The morning breeze flowed through his messy black hair. His chocolate eyes jerked back and forth to remember from the last year which part of the school was which. His long arms hung at his sides, afraid to lift them into his pockets. His gray backpack tugged at his shoulders, straightening his posture the slightest way it could. Jojo sighed. From the looks of it, he was still the shortest kid in Whoville High.
In the world Jojo McDodd lived in, a world which he just found out was a speck on a clover, his people, known as whos, were acknowledged for their greatness. All he was acknowledged for was being Mayor Ned's son. It was only recently that Jojo's secret infatuation with music was discovered, and after years of silence he spoke to his family. He thought that after he helped his father and an elephant named Horton save his town things would change for the better.
Not many were changing as well as he hoped. Ned accepted what Jojo wanted to do with his life, but he still talked on and on about the benefits of being a mayor, telling Jojo how great a mayor he would be. It was almost as if what had happened three months ago never happened. He did admit it felt good that Ned knew he didn't want to be mayor, and he was proud of him no matter what. Jojo didn't have to hide anything anymore, and he was somewhat happy.
He glanced behind himself. The bus was miles gone, abandoning him on that buckled strip of sidewalk. He didn't take it, but he could've snuck on and gone somewhere, anywhere, else if he had the chance. He let out a quiet sigh and did a mental recheck of his things.
Lunch money, check. School supplies, check. Cell phone, check. Dignity…back at home. Crap.
He rolled his head around his shoulders and ran his white hand through his hair. It was all or nothing.
His left foot slid forward almost automatically before his right foot followed in response. His walk was slow, as if walking through a mine field, as he unplanted himself from the sidewalk. His feet barely hovered over the beige concrete ground, heels scraping at the beginning of each step. His sight focused on the school's horizon, on both the ground and what was in front of him: a crowd of kids older, younger, and the same age as him. And obviously taller. Some of the kids stared as they made their way through the crowd, whispering about him as they did. He knew they were when someone said, "That's the yopp guy." He tried to make as little eye contact as possible, hoping to avoid humiliation. That, or to keep from pissing his pants on the first day.
In the back of his head, a voice was screaming at him to turn around and head back home, to stay in the comfort of his room and mindlessly watch music video marathons on WhoH1 or listen to the soundtrack for RENT for the billionth time. For some reason though, his legs didn't comply, forcing him forward as if they had a mind of their own. The same thing happened that morning when his overly cheerful father woke him up so he could walk to school before he was late. He wanted to plop back in bed and, as one of his favorite songs said, wake up when September ended. Yet his arms flung off his bed sheets, and his legs swung to the carpet floor to get ready for the big day.
So there Jojo was, stuck in a crowd of sophomores. And now he was one of them.
"Jojo!"
He stopped breathing. His body came to an abrupt stop. He didn't have to turn around to know who had said that. Not one, not two, but fifteen girls all scampering to him excitedly. All twelve and thirteen, all from the middle school connected to his. All his sisters.
"Jojo!" they squealed again, this time tackling him.
He'd forgotten they would go to the eighth grade this year. Whoville Middle School was next to Whoville High. They both must've decided to save some money during construction because they shared a hall. The eighth graders were allowed to go into the high school hall, probably because they would be going there the next year. They were even allowed at the high school lunch area for some reason. There was a small circle for the eighth graders in the lunch area to divide them from the high schoolers. Probably to prevent something like this from happening.
Jojo stared at the concrete pressing against his nose. He blew out a sigh. "Hi, girls."
Their combined weight kept him from breathing normally. He simply lied there like a crash test dummy that had no idea something hit him. He prayed no one has seen this, that only he was aware of the pile of girls on him. Unfortunately, high schoolers weren't that ignorant. A clique of the school's popular kids, most either dressed like gangster rappers, call girls or Whonnah Montana, had seen the whole performance, and snickered at the who's expense. He moaned and rolled his forehead on the ground in humiliation.
"Girls, do you remember what I told you yesterday?"
Their silence was enough of an answer. He slowly slipped out of the pile and stood up to talk. "Listen, middle school and high school are totally different from each other. You can't follow me around like you do at home. If the kids here saw you hugging me everywhere, I'll get a bad reputation. If they make fun of me, they'll make fun of you for being related to me. You know I don't want that for you, so you have to stop this. You can tackle me all you want at home, but not here. Understand?"
The fifteen heads nodded. Obviously they didn't.
Despite this Jojo said, "All right, now go back to the other school before you're all late."
The crowd of girls scurried away and out of the high school campus. Half of what he said was a lie. He did care about how his sisters were treated, but everything about himself was completely false. His reputation was destroyed the minute he was born. The minute he refused to be the next mayor. The minute he silenced himself in fear of rejection. His reputation was slaughtered, shredded and mangled until there was one word left to describe him.
His reputation was emo.
Jojo turned away from the path his sisters went, and came face to face with the snickering popular clique. They weren't afraid to laugh in his face either, as if their high social rank made them impervious to glares such as his.
He rolled his eyes under his black bangs. "Perfect." He turned the opposite direction and walked an alternate route to the school administration building, where a class schedule with his name on it awaited him.
