PRISONER OF THE MIND
A/N: This idea is based off a suggestion from someone in which Stan is kidnapped. I told myself it wasn't something I felt I could write, especially after How the Darkness Sounds, but then ideas came into place, allowing me to put a spin on the original idea. Plus, it has been years since I wrote an actual chapter story. I hope you enjoy this one. Thanks.
MATH SUCKS
March 3rd, 2019
It was a normal enough Sunday evening in the Marsh home. Shelley was watching TV while Sharon was busy in the kitchen fixing dinner. Stan was sitting at the breakfast table doing his homework. He flipped through his Reading Adventures textbook at the questions written at the end of a story they had read the other day. He was supposed to answer ten questions about the story, The Mighty Quest by J.M. Lorrie, but it was the first lesson they had had Friday morning, and it now being Sunday, he had forgotten most of what the story was about.
Question 3: When Franklin finally met Queen Trishna, what was he feeling and why?
Stan bit his lip as he tapped his pencil to his temple. He knew it was vital for Franklin to go into the town of Alexandria, but why? He obviously met with this Queen Trishna person so he had to of felt relieved, right? No, that was too obvious an answer. He flipped around the pages of the story again. It was six pages long. Did he really feel like rereading it? He had no choice if this paper was due tomorrow. Grumbling, he pushed aside his notebook and pencil and began to read.
"I really wish you didn't wait until the last minute to do your homework Stan," Sharon spoke as she went about gathering a few spices off the spice rack and adding it to the pot on the stove.
"I don't. Usually. I just had stuff to do this weekend."
At that moment the floor rumbled and the house shook slightly. A few seconds later it happened again.
"You know I really wish your father would just give up whatever the hell he's doing in the basement. It's really becoming a nuisance," Sharon glared into the pot of chili on the stove.
"I'm sure he'll crack and tell us soon," Stan shrugged.
Silence again for the next ten minutes. Suddenly the lights began to flicker and the sounds of Randy's cursing pervaded the air, even if he was a floor below.
"That's it," Sharon set aside the spoon that was in her hand. "Stanley, go downstairs and find out what your father is up to."
"But Mom, my homework"-
"Just tell me before I find out in some other unpleasant way."
Sighing, Stan closed his textbook and went over to the basement door. He carefully made his way down to a slightly smoky room and his father bent over something on his work bench.
"Dad?" Stan called.
"Ahh! What the hell?" Randy cried, quickly draping whatever he had with him with a tarp.
"Mom wants to know what you're doing down here."
Randy frowned as he glanced at his tarp. "Pfff, I'm not telling her, she won't understand. She'll just shoot it down as one of my usual stupid ideas."
Stan glanced behind him. "Then tell me."
"Pfff, I'm not telling you, you'll just shoot it down as one of my usual stupid ideas," Randy repeated.
Stan opened his mouth to argue this but found that this statement held some truth. He cleared his throat. "Really Dad, I wanna know. It might be cool. I mean, you're close to blowing up the whole basement so it has to be somewhat interesting."
Randy contemplated this for a few seconds. Finally a grin broke on his face and he uncovered what was hidden under the tarp- a beer bottle.
Stan raised a brow at it. "Beer? Dad, I don't think Mom or I will be too surprised to see"-
"You don't understand what this represents. It represents hours of hard work so that I can unveil this!" Randy uncovered what looked to be pots, bottles, tubing, and a beer keg.
"I still don't"-
"This is my own creation Stan! I've spent hours perfecting it over the past few months and now, finally, I think I've gotten it right. This is more than just some beer Stanley; this is my pride and joy."
"Gee, thanks," Stan said sarcastically.
Randy pulled out a sheet of paper from his back pocket and smoothed it out on the bench for his son to see. "Look here son, the Coor's Light Company is holding a contest: create the next blend for their new winter brew for this upcoming holiday season. Winner gets a tour of the Coor's Light Company, their creation will be sold in stores all over the country, they will star in the commercial, and best of all, they will get an undisclosed sum of the profits from the new brew. How amazing does that all sound?"
"So you're saying what you have there is your very own beer?"
"Technically it's an ale, but yes, it is my very own recipe," Randy smiled proudly, holding up the single bottle to the light.
"And you could win money if they choose yours as the winning brew?"
"Yes, are you deaf?" Randy rolled his eyes.
Stan rubbed his chin. "You know, that does sound pretty cool actually."
"It does?" Randy looked surprised.
"Yeah, it's not something someone usually does, right? Sure people try to come up with their own, I dunno, apple pie recipe or even some cocktail, but to make your own beer? That's cool."
"Thank-you son. See Sharon? Stan thinks it's cool," Randy shouted up.
Stan gave him a confused look. "I thought you didn't tell Mom yet."
"Oh yeah. Guess I should. Hiding in the basement all night after work might become suspicious."
As if you weren't already acting suspicious? Stan thought. He cleared his throat. "So how will you know if it's a hit? When's the deadline to turn in the brew?"
"Deadline is April 17th. I'm going to load up this kegger and take it to work tomorrow. After everyone at the office gets off, we'll kick back and enjoy some. Then I'll know if I have a hit or not."
Stan looked at the bottle for a couple seconds. "Hey Dad… can I have a taste?"
"What?" Randy gave him a disgusted look. "Of course not! You're ten in case you forgot."
"But I did drink whiskey before. Remember? Surely beer isn't as bad."
Randy rolled his eyes as he set aside some things on his work bench. "No Stanley. Alcohol consumption at ten years old is not good. And you promised your mother and I you wouldn't touch anything until you knew you were ready to handle it. You tried to do some stupid things after we found out about your little 'whiskey' habit. Remember?"
Stan growled; he hated being reminded of the ass he had made himself out to be after he voluntarily drank whiskey after he was falsely diagnosed to having Asperger's Syndrome. Not like he wanted to drink, he was still a kid. But sometimes he couldn't help but ask to try a sip of whatever his parents were drinking at the moment. Five minutes later Sharon called them both up for dinner. The dinner table was quiet for the first few minutes. Sharon kept glancing at her husband and son, expecting one of them to spill what was going on in the basement.
"So… how was everyone's day today?" she asked around.
No one said anything at first.
"Umm, kind of boring. Kyle was at his Jewish day camp thing so only Cartman and Kenny were available," Stan shrugged.
"I see. Did you do anything fun?"
"Just hung around at the park with our bikes and such. Cartman got really jealous of my new bike but what's new?" Stan spoke as he dug into his bowl of chili.
"Mm-hmm," Sharon nodded before looking over to Randy. "Well Randy? Want to tell me about your day?"
"What? You think I have anything to add to this conversation? I was hanging around the bar with the guys Sharon."
"Dad just give it up, she's going to find out soon enough," Stan exasperated.
Randy glared at his son before turning to his wife. "Damnit… fine, I've been working on a winning formula for the next winter brew for Coor's Light. Winner gets a bunch of cool prizes."
Sharon looked surprised and sat in thought for a few seconds before returning to her food. "Wow, that sounds…interesting."
"Does it?" Randy looked back, not knowing if she was being honest.
"I mean, it's not something too outrages. Nothing like your past ideas like cock magic or pretending to like Tween Wave music. Do you have an actual recipe yet?"
"I do. I've been perfecting it for months and I might have finally gotten it just right. If you um, want to sample it… I can bring up a bottle," Randy rubbed the back of his neck.
"Sure, I'd like to taste it if I can."
An idea where both his wife and son were supportive of? Randy could hardly believe it, but he was happy nonetheless. After dinner Randy decided to come up with a bottle of his own craft beer for Sharon to try. She was currently passing around slices of chocolate cake for dessert. "Here you go my love, this might pair well with dessert tonight," he smiled as he handed her the beer.
Curious, Sharon took a sip. Randy bit his lip and cupped his hands together in anticipation.
"Well? Well? Is it awful? Just tell me now, I can take it," he said dramatically.
Sharon took another sip. "Actually, it's really nice. This is really good Randy. How did you do it?"
Stan looked back and forth between his parents, eyes wide, as if wondering whether his mother was making a joke.
"Well I'm not going to tell you exactly how I did it, this is worth money Sharon. But you really like it?"
Sharon nodded. "I don't drink beer too often but I can tell you right now that what you have there is a great contender. Imagine having this to serve during Thanksgiving this year?"
Randy appeared to be radiating joy at that moment. "Thanks a lot honey. Wow, I can't wait to have everyone at work try his out now." With that he hurried back down to the basement.
Stan turned to his mother. "Were you telling him the truth just now?"
"Yes, your father may have some stupid ideas but this time I can really see something amazing coming from this beer of his." Sharon finally sat down with some cake for herself. "Oh, Stan, I hope you completed all of your homework due tomorrow."
"Yes Mom," Stan rolled his eyes as he drank some milk with his dessert.
"Because tomorrow is the start of parent-teacher conferences so I hope I get a good report on you this week."
Stan's eyes dilated for a second; he had forgotten all about dreaded parent-teacher conferences beginning tomorrow. He gave a tiny cough as a reply. Nothing else was said and he soon finished his cake and retreated upstairs to go on his computer, just in case he only had a couple more days left to do so. Stan was of course dreading the event like the majority of kids were. He had an idea of how he was fairing in class but he didn't know the actual letter grades he received in each subject. He would find out that Thursday night after his mother came home from her meeting with Mr. Garrison. There the two would be going over Stan's report card and he would see which one of two things happened: he had good grades and would be free to play and love life for a few more months, or he had bad grades and would be in for a long lecture from his parents, and possible grounding time. Stan already knew the report cards had been completed by now and his homework for this week wouldn't count on it, however he still did double-check his reading assignment just before bed, in case he did need a jump-start into the new trimester.
March 7th
Once his mother left the door at 4:45 that Thursday evening, Stan let out a nervous breath and turned on a game on his PS4, savoring the final time he would be able to do so after tonight. He'd be okay; he knew what subjects he was good at and which he wasn't; he knew what his parents would have to say about them and that would be that.
"Hello Mrs. Marsh, glad you could make it," Mr. Garrison greeted when she stepped into his classroom.
"I'm hoping to hear some good news," Sharon said as she took a seat at one of the front desks.
Mr. Garrison pulled out a folded tan colored sheet of paper and passed it along. "See for yourself."
Sharon broke the seal and looked at how her son was doing in fourth grade as of now. Each subject was broken down into subcategories such as 'follows directions', 'writes legibly', 'works well with others', 'understands concepts' and things of that nature with a number next to it with a one through four scale, four being the worst. Next to each subject all the scores were rounded up to an actual letter grade. Sharon was pleased she saw many ones and twos on the paper, with a three thrown in twice. Overall it was a good report from what she saw so far.
Language Arts Reading: A-
Writing: B+
Social Studies: B+
Science: B-
Art: C
Physical Education: A
But that's when she frowned at the one subject she feared most for her son-
Understands basic math concepts: 2
Understands multiplication: 3
Understands division: 4
Understands decimals: 3
Understands fractions: 4
Understands place value: 3
Understands area and perimeter: 4
Uses correct units of measure: 2
Effort: 3
Mathematics: D
Sharon looked up at Mr. Garrison, shock clearly on her face. Mr. Garrison sighed and took a seat in front of her.
"I'm assuming you are wondering about his math scores."
Sharon shook her head slowly. "I- I don't understand. A- a D? How? I mean sure he's always had trouble in that subject but…a D?"
Mr. Garrison took a moment to answer, trying to be as understanding and sensitive about the topic as he could. He didn't need parents to go to the principal saying their meetings with him were a joke and he didn't care about his students at all. He didn't, but still… to avoid such discussions…
"I know there is a lot nine and ten-year-olds are expected to learn Mrs. Marsh," he began. "And when they get to fourth grade they are hit with a lot of new ways of doing things. Stanley's always had trouble since kindergarten. Unfortunately he really hasn't been performing as well as one would want."
Sharon still looked a little thrown off. "He's always had troubles but he's always been able to scrape by. I've never seen a grade this low for his overall math score. What does this mean?"
Mr. Garrison sighed. "Like I mentioned, there is a lot fourth-graders need to learn in math. Most of the students grasp it enough. Some take longer than others but in the end I don't have a class full of retards."
Sharon glared.
Mr. Garrison coughed. "But um- your son doesn't do what the other students do when he has trouble. He doesn't ask for help and there are inconsistences in his work. Some worksheets have perfect scores, others he fails. I think he might be copying from his friend Kyle sometimes. At the end of the day he still gets low scores on math tests."
"Oh Stanley…" Sharon said heavily. "What can I do? He obviously can't continue doing math work like this. All those times I ask him how school was... He tells me how well he's been doing in language arts and P.E. but when I ask how math is, he just tells me 'nothing new.' I should have pressed for real answers long ago."
Mr. Garrison got up from his seat to get a paper from his desk then sat back down and faced the mother.
"There are a few options available to get Stanley help. But I think it's best to eliminate the first. Another student."
Sharon nodded. "I don't know what I was thinking, believing he would get help from Kyle. He's a smart kid but no way will Stan pay attention to someone teaching him school work if it's his best friend."
"He could get help from an older student, someone in the sixth grade but I don't know if that would help," Mr. Garrison shrugged.
Sharon shook her head. "I don't want another student helping him; it would be too much distraction."
Mr. Garrison nodded and went to option two. "You could enroll him in one of those special homework help centers around the state. They're run by adults and offer help in all sorts of subjects. He could get extra help in other subjects he sucks at too. There's a place thirty minutes from here called Markenson's Learning Center. Tutoring, homework help, and a special break and snack room. At least that's what it says here…" he refereed back to his paper.
Sharon thought for a second. "Hmm, that does sound nice. But I don't know if my husband will want to pay for something like that. There has to be a more affordable option to get our son help. What's option three?"
Mr. Garrison looked up. "The school has Tutor Groups that take place after school. The fourth grade math group meets every Thursday after school in an unused classroom."
"Okay. What exactly is it? How is it run?"
Mr. Garrison sighed; he really wanted to get through his conferences with the parents quickly to go home for the day. He hated this time of the year.
"A teacher- not myself- helps students out who are having difficulties. It doesn't cost a thing. Students struggling meet after school for tutoring. It could be just the thing for Stanley."
Ten minutes later Sharon left, head full of many thoughts. She tried to calm herself since the ride home was less than ten minutes away. Her son was borderline failing math. But he was doing well in his other subjects, he didn't need to be yelled at. He had been struggling for years, it wasn't like this was intentional was it? He just needed extra help, a little boost in the subject to raise his grade and the after school group sounded great. But she knew how he would react to it. She wasn't looking forward to it but she was the parent and had to put her foot down for what was best for her child. And before she knew it- she was home.
"So how'd it go?" Randy asked from the TV, the usual beer in hand.
Sharon sighed. "Shelley, go upstairs, Dad and I need to speak with your bother in private."
Shelley snickered as she went up the stairs. Stan frowned.
"What is it? I'm- I'm not doing that bad am I?"
"The good things- you have an overall A in Language Arts, in PE, and your extracurricular activity, football. You also have a B in social studies. Mr. Garrison wrote here that you work very well both on your own and with peers. But Stanley…Stan, you have a D in math."
Stan's stomach plummeted. "I- I do?"
Randy took hold of his report card and scanned it. "Oh god Stanley, three 3's and three 4's? Are you not even trying anymore?"
"Randy we are not going to handle it like this again, understand?" Sharon glared. She had to compose herself because she wanted to yell at their son too but yelling would get no answers from him. It hadn't in the past; it was time for a new direction. "Stanley, why do you think Mr. Garrison gave you this grade?"
Stan was looking at the carpet now; he shrugged. "I dunno, he just likes exaggerating things Mom. He's a bad teacher."
"The thing is Stanley; you've had problems with math since kindergarten. This isn't the first time we've gotten back a report like this. Perhaps not exactly like this but we have seen 3's and 4's in your mathematics grade for years," Sharon tried explaining.
Stan was feeling defensive now. He glared as he looked to the floor, hands in pockets. "It's not that bad…" he mumbled.
"Not that bad? You have a D Stan! You've never had a D as your final grade!" Randy pointed out.
"It's not my fault! The stuff we've been learning's been really hard!" Stan cried.
"If you were having problems why didn't you ask for help?" Sharon asked.
"Like I'm going to ask Mr. Garrison for help?" Stan rolled his eyes.
"Then why don't you ask Dad or I? You know I don't mind if you ask me for help," Sharon pressed.
Stan shrugged again. He didn't like asking because he would feel stupid. His mom was busy going back to school for a nursing degree so he didn't want to bother her, and his dad simply didn't take over homework help. And so what if he had a D? The last math test they took was hard. How was he supposed to remember everything that was taught the past two months? A lot happened in his life since then, he had other stuff to worry about. He could bring his grade up no problem. His parents were worried over nothing.
Sharon sighed and had Stan sit at the dining room table. She set the report card to the side.
"The thing is Stan, Mr. Garrison is worried too. Don't give me that look young man, he does care. He was surprised to see this grade too and he wants you to get extra help," the mother went on.
"Oh my god you guys are making a big deal out of this! I don't need 'extra help'. I have Kyle…" Stan put his face in his hand.
Sharon and Randy shared a look.
"Doesn't look like he's been of much help has he?" Randy raised a brow.
"I'm pretty sure you two spend more time goofing around than helping," Sharon interjected.
"He helps! Really!" Yet Stan's stomach twisted again- he knew Kyle had passed math with an A+ this trimester. If Kyle was properly tutoring his friend his grade would have been higher.
"Listen Stan, you need extra help. I know it's not what you want to hear but this has gone on way too far. We should have intervened long ago. I'm sorry we didn't step in when you clearly needed extra help on the subject," Sharon said concerned.
"You- you don't need to be. It's no biggie. I'll just try harder," Stan said uncomfortable.
Words his parents heard so many times now Sharon pretended she didn't hear them.
"Mr. Garrison told me about something that could help. It's called MathQuest."
Stan's eyes grew as round as his head. "What? Not MathQuest! Don't you know? That's the group for the really slow kids!"
Randy looked at the paper that held information on the group. "Hmm… sounds pretty reasonable…"
"No, you guys can't put me in there; I'll be the laughing stock of my class!"
"Stanley, if it can help you with this math problem you have"-
"It won't! I just need to study more. And I will this time, promise!"
Randy and Sharon looked to each other. Randy gave a nod and she knew he was on the same page as her for once.
"Dad and I think it will be a good thing to put you in there. If it can help than that can only be a positive thing," Sharon tried.
"No! No please! Please don't make me go! I promise I'll try harder! Promise!" Stan pleaded, eyes stinging.
"The group meets every Thursday after school for forty minutes. You will meet with the other kids in the group in one of the sixth grade classrooms. Sixth grade teacher Mr. Ryland is the instructor for the fourth grade MathQuest," Sharon explained over Stan's protests.
"The guys will rip on me for this. Not even Cartman goes to one of these Quest groups! And I know he has worse grades than me!" the boy argued.
"You don't have bad grades honey; you have four As, two Bs, and one C. That's very good. You just need an extra push in one area, that's all," Sharon touched his arm as he put his face in his arms. "Sweetie…"
"Everyone's gonna think I'm stupid," he moaned.
"You aren't stupid and you know that. I had problems with math growing up as well. Randy?" Sharon looked up to her husband, wanting him to say something to make their son feel better.
"Um, well, I didn't have such issues with math when I was your age. You need to try harder son," were Randy's words of wisdom.
"I'm trying as much as I can," Stan mumbled.
"Well now you have no choice in the matter. Now it's up to Mom and I as to what to do about this grade," Randy pointed a heavy finger at the report card.
Stan groaned. "Are you really gonna put me in there?"
Sharon and Randy shared a look and they both nodded. Stan moaned and put his face in his arms again as if this were his death sentence. What a joke! How dare Mr. Garrison suggest such a stupid thing? A special tutoring class after school? It wouldn't work, he knew it. So what if he always had problems with math? Maybe this time studying really hard on his own would be all he needed to raise his grade. Not surrounded by a bunch of losers that also couldn't do math. The kids in school no one liked in the first place because they needed help in certain subjects. There was no way he could get out of his friends finding out. And once they did he would be the butt of all sorts of new jokes. The 'oversensitive animal lover' of the group had now become 'the dumb kid.'
It was now past six so Randy got up to order pizza for dinner. Stan didn't want to look like an idiot if Shelley came down when the pizza got here so he pulled his head up and wiped his face. Now that his parents were out of the area he grabbed his report card to read it over himself. He had to admit, those four As were pretty sweet and made him feel slightly smarter. He had studied really hard for his last social studies test and the good grade he got on it turned that B- into a B+. He was told by all sorts of adults he was a smart kid but he didn't know why. Kyle was the one who had report cards with nothing but As. Stan always had a mix of As, Bs, and Cs. And now a D. He couldn't remember the last time he got such a low final grade. He wasn't smart. He had good grades in language arts because it was easy enough to read a story and answer questions about it. He knew all about proper punctuation and could write good stories and poems if he put his mind to it. PE and football were no-brainers. He had always been on top of any sport he tried. He had a mild interest of the world so social studies and history could be fun.
How can you remember how to draw a replica map of Colorado but you can't divide two and eight? Stan thought to himself. Dinner was uncomfortable; Shelley wanted to know all that had happened when she had gone upstairs earlier, she even asked around what grades her little brother had received. Her parents told her it was not her concern and left it at that. The rest of the night was depressing in Stan's mind; he picked at his dessert and took a long bath, thinking more than anything. When his mother came into his room to kiss him goodnight he sighed and faced the wall.
Sharon placed a hand on his shoulder. "We're not trying to be unfair Stan; this is just something we have to do. We're really happy with your grades overall; you just need extra help in one area."
Stan sighed deeply but didn't move. Sharon still kissed him on the cheek and left.
As expected that Friday all of Stan's friends wanted to discuss their grades with each other. Unlike the others Stan left his report card at home.
"Well nothing here that's surprising," Butters spoke, looking down Kyle's report card.
"Only a few 2's in the behavior part but so what? Thankfully my mom didn't get on my case for it," Kyle looked over the blond boy's shoulder.
"Ha! Kenny you suck!" Cartman pointed at Kenny's report card.
"Your grades are hardly any better!" he said angrily.
"So what did you get Stan?" Kyle looked over at him. "Did Mr. Garrison rat you out about anything this time?"
Stan shrugged, looking to the ground. "You know, same ol'."
"Then where's your report card?" Cartman demanded.
"Why does it matter? It's my business," Stan glared.
Cartman chuckled. "I bet you have an F or something, you're hiding something. That's why you didn't bring it."
"I have the same grades as I always do! Good at the same stuff, suck at the same stuff…"
"Did you finally fail math or something?" Cartman continued.
"No!"
"Stan's right dude, it's not our business," Kyle spoke.
"I actually have four A's so just shut up," Stan told Cartman.
He may have gotten away from spilling his horrible math grade to them today but he knew they would find out sooner rather than later. But it didn't mean he wasn't going to do what he could to prevent them from finding out he had to go to MathQuest; Kyle was already giving him the look that said 'I think you're hiding something'. Saturday came as did Kyle, over to the Marsh house. Time to make the most of the weekend as usual. Even though Stan didn't want to let him in on his secret he couldn't say no to him coming by so the two went about playing with some of Stan's cooler toys. Thirty minutes into racing cars on a Hot Wheels track Kyle decided to break the ice.
"So, what did you get on your report card anyway?" he asked casually.
"Why does it matter?" Stan frowned, stopping his car on the track.
"Just curious. We always swap grades. Things we think the teacher made up, you know…" the ginger boy shrugged.
"I already told you it's no big whoop."
"If it weren't you'd let me see. C'mon dude, there's no way you have worse grades than fatass."
Stan sighed. Sometimes having best friends sucked, you were obligated to say and do things you didn't want to but they always found a way to get you to spill all your secrets anyway.
"Well, it is the same stuff pretty much… good grades in what I'm good at and same marks in what I'm not…"
"Well I wanna see if me tutoring you in math helped. Seeing how you haven't told me you have a better grade in math, I'm judging it didn't," Kyle said in an obvious way.
Stan blinked. "Do you really wanna know dude?"
"I'm not going to force you to show me, do what you want."
One more shrug from Kyle was all it took. Stan cursed 'god damnit' as he got to his feet to get his report card. He passed it along to him.
"Amuse yourself," he said angrily.
Kyle scanned down and gasped. "Oh wow, you have a D in math dude? Really?" Stan sighed heavily. "Damn, that's rough. I'm not sure if you ever had a D before as a final grade in the subject."
"My parents were shocked too. They definitely don't want you to tutor me again since it's 'obviously not helping'," Stan did air quotes.
"I was helping! At least, I was doing my part. Maybe you just need to study better."
"I've been doing the same shit since kindergarten! Nothing works! I remember being forced to study for a math test in third grade. My dad had me sit in the office and pour over my math book and notes for two hours before bed once but I still got a C- on the test the next day! There's nothing left to do! I suck at math and always will," Stan elaborated.
Kyle was looking at the paper again. "I don't really know what you can do to get better Stan. You're right; you have always sucked at math. But even still you always managed to pass the subject at the end of each quarter." He examined it again. "Damn, three 4's? That's bad dude."
Stan glared clearly saying 'like I didn't know that?' through mind-reading.
"How can you still have problems with division? We were learning it as soon as fourth grade started. Same with fractions. You should know how those work, you like to bake. Do you not pay attention to how much one cup or three fourths looks like when you fill the measuring cup up? Area and perimeter I guess I can give you, it's still fairly new. Even still, all you do is"-
"Stop pointing out all I'm doing wrong, I already know what it says!"
Kyle finally took a rest on the report card. "What are you going to do about it Stan? Did your parents ground you? I can't imagine your dad's happy about this."
Stan rubbed his eyes- time to lie about the rest. "I dunno what's going to happen yet. My parents haven't grounded me yet. I'm sure they want to but Mom won't let Dad get too angry about this. Says grounding doesn't help so I dunno what they're going to do." Of course Stan did know partly what his parents were going to do about it, however he still didn't know if he was going to be grounded. Of course Randy wanted to ground his son but Sharon told him it was 'obviously not working'. They were just going to see how MathQuest worked for their son before proceeding with any other punishment. In Stan's eyes MathQuest was just as bad as being grounded from the TV or computer.
Thankfully Kyle did not elaborate anymore after and the next week came like any other. Stan's other friends seemed to have dropped the subject of grades too. It was the hot topic last week since it was parent teacher conferences but since they were over with it wasn't very interesting anymore. Thursday the 14th arrived and Stan spent the day trying to come up with a reason in his head why he would be staying after school once the bell rang at 2:45. His face was contorted with anger as he played with his friends during their final recess for the day.
"What's up your asshole?" Cartman shot as Stan threw the ball they were kicking around hard into his chest.
Stan huffed; time to initiate his lie. "Ms. Manstorm gave me detention last week. I have to serve it today after school," he said, speaking of their P.E. instructor.
Cartman smiled. "Ha! What did you do?"
"I just cursed at her 'cause she was telling me I was doing something wrong. I only said 'fuck you'."
Kyle thought. "I don't remember that. When did this happen?"
Stan tried to continue on with the lie without being caught. He was pretty bad at fibbing. "Um, last week. Remember um, when everyone was doing kickball on the field and I had to sit out 'cause I was feeling sick? Well once everyone went back inside she went over to me and said something so I got annoyed and said 'fuck you'."
Kyle was thinking again. "I thought you sat out because you've been having problems with your allergies."
"Well allergies can still make me feel sick!" Stan could feel the heat rise in his cheeks. "Anyway I have detention today so I'm pissed off okay?"
And they believed him. Unfortunately he would have to either come up with a better lie next time or tell the truth for next week's lesson. 2:45 soon struck and every one of the students in Mr. Garrison's class hurried out, all glad to finally be able to go home. Stan was the only one left behind after Kyle wished him good luck in detention. Mr. Garrison walked to Stan's desk.
"You have a ten minute period of 'free time' before you are to report to MathQuest. If you want to go to the drinking fountain or use the bathroom you can do it now. But you are expected to be at Mr. Ryland's class by 2:55. If you arrive later than 3 o'clock three times or more you'll be considered to leave the group. Other such rules and so on will be explained once you're there," the man waved a hand.
Frowning, Stan got up and gathered his things. "Um, what room is Mr. Ryland's room?"
"34. Now hurry up, I have errands to run," Mr. Garrison shooed the boy out and locked up his classroom.
Stan did indeed use the bathroom and drinking fountain as suggested, although went to the ones downstairs just to space out his ten minutes a little more. He was a little nervous; he knew this classroom was down a hall where the sixth grade classrooms were. It was a small hall but one he had never been down. The way the floor plan was set up, preschool through third grade was on the ground floor, fourth through sixth grade on the second. It was the general rule by the older students that anyone who wasn't in fifth or sixth grade should not be allowed down those halls so most of the younger students avoided them. Now Stan had no choice but to be over there. It was only ten minutes after the bell rung, surely there would still be fifth or sixth graders wandering around or hanging out there. Sighing, Stan gripped the banister to go back up to the second floor of the school.
"Out of my way you little prick!" a sixth grader pushed Stan to the floor.
"Not to be rude but I think your class is a floor down," spoke a girl, raising her eyebrows at him after he got to his feet.
Trying to ignore them Stan hurried off and found room 34. He saw another boy his age standing by the door too. They both looked at each other and they knew the other had the same thought in their mind- they did not want to be here. A second later a rather nerdy looking girl came forward.
"Go in you two, it's really not that bad," she said, pushing her thick glasses up her nose.
Inwardly groaning, Stan followed after the girl and a few other kids into the room, half of him hoping these lessons wouldn't work just so he could be right, but the other half hoping they would work. He was terrible at math and always had been. Either way, Stan was going to be angry as he stepped inside room 34.
A/N: Not much action yet but every story needs some build-up first. I decided to make Mr. Garrison the boys' teacher again. After knowing Matt and Trey admitted not knowing what to do with him after he unintentionally became president… well, no better spot than his original position imo. Once again, part of this was sitting in my laptop for years. Stan has to get tutoring in math. But I had no idea what to do with that idea. I myself have had troubles with math since elementary school and have been in a few 'help' courses which I felt didn't help me at all. Anyone else can relate? I'll stop rambling. Please do leave a review, that would mean a lot. Thanks.
Lots of love: May 20th, 2019
