AN: January 25, 2005 Yes I'm resurrecting this story. No promises yet but I did sit down and fix the darn thing. I assure you there are still a butt-load of errors, but I tried. I don't quiet have a new chapter to add, but I did tack on an extra five hundreds words or so. Read it, revel in it, and love it. Later.
I grabbed another box and sighed. 37 steps up the curb, 28 stairs and twelve steps later I found myself in my new room. It's Smaller than the last, but still a vast improvement over two rooms ago.
Sir stopped off at my door, "Everything okay?"
"Yep," I sighed crossing the room. Twelve more steps to the stairs, 28 down them, 37 to the curb. I grabbed another box. You'd think after so many moves we'd learn to not bring so much crap. But alas, my mother is a pack rat who's moved across the country with all of her junk. I swear half of these boxes have never been unpacked. They've moved everywhere from Idaho to Florida all across this great Nation. Sir is a general in the army. Which equals to us moving every few months. I really don't mind. I guess. I sighed again and headed to the kitchen with my box.
"Ah, sweetie where do you think it should go?" My Mom said when she spotted me. I pity the movers. 'It' is my Moms chaise lounge. I swear sometimes she loves that thing more than me. It's huge and vibrant purple, and even though every house we've moved into has been furnished we have to bring the stupid chaise. It makes her feel like a woman from those romance novels she reads, her favorite being Gone with the Winds. I just thank God my name isn't Ashley, Mom always thought that Ashley should have gone for her… There it is, the exact reason I am a social outcast. I think I'm the only eleven years old who has a mental debate over Gone with the Wind….
"Whatever you think Mom," I said shrugging and heading back up the stairs. I started unpacking with my computer and books. I have a ton, but never gotten around to reading half of them. I'm not really a sit around in the afternoon reading type, much to my Mothers dismay.
Later that night I glanced up at the clock. Nine p.m. shower time. We run like clockwork, military precision clockwork. I headed to the shower, wouldn't want to disrupt the system, I thought. My shower time was spent trying hopelessly to remove the smell of moving, you know the icky cardboard boxes mixed with sweat, not attractive on any one. Completely defeated I stepped my achy body out from under the stream of hot water, if I scrubbed much longer I'll be translucent. Quickly I dressed myself cursing the cold air. Now clad in my space pj's I started on the daunting task of brushing my teeth and doing all the other things Mom's seem to nag you about. Glancing up in the mirror I found myself horrified. Tooth paste dribbling down my chin I studied myself, how can I, after six and a half months of living in Texas, still be pasty white? The curse of being a red head I mused sliding on my thick glasses. I just recently had to get glasses, because apparently I wasn't enough of a freak.
"For those of you who have just tuned into the My Life is Over at Eleven, The David Lester Averman story here's what's been going on lately. We've moved into the middle of Freezingville, Minnesota. Famous for goon headed hockey playing and now the current hometown of the man himself Averman." I roared for the audience.
Teachers ride me off for a screw off, mainly because I am. Kids my age think I'm a freak, mainly because half the time I'd rather talk to myself than someone else. They cant possible understand that sometimes I just feel like having an intelligent conversation, and I happen to be the only one on my level. Sir thinks I don't apply myself, and mom she uses me as the ultimate accessory. She really wanted a daughter, you know someone to shop with and talk with and be girly, and instead she got me. So I fill the role of the daughter she never could have by listening intently to all her novels and helping her make dinner and on rare occasion doing yoga. "That's right ladies and gentleman I'd beat myself up," I mumbled under my breath.
"Time to head in Les," Sir said knocking on the door. "You got school Tommrow," Ahh yes, my least favorite words. It is time once again to start a new school, yet another day of retarded teachers asking me where I'm from and to share a little something about me. Another day of kids sitting around picking their nose and staring at me, oh yes I'm that captivating don't you know. I took one last glance in the mirror sticking my tongue out at my reflection. Crossing the hall I yelled, "Goodnight Mom,"
"Goodnight sweetheart." She called in a sing-y voice.
"Goodnight Sir," I nodded to him as he passed me in the hallway.
"Goodnight Les, sleep well." He nodded back.
I closed my door behind me looking around my room. The floor covered with boxes and clothes my tiny bed shoved up in a corner. Home sweet home I thought trying to find a path to my bed. I collapsed under the covers falling asleep immediately.
"David Lester Averman, get down here right now. You're going to be late for school." My Mother called from the bottom of the stairs. I groaned willing my eyelids to open. 'Too early' I mumbled into my pillow.
"Come on sleepy head," Sir's voice came floating from behind me.
"Too early, too cold." I said griping my blankets a little tighter. He laughed coming across my room.
"You got school kiddo." I groaned hearing the evil word. The s-word is profanity in my world.
"I'll drop out, develop my side show act." He laughed again pulling my covers
"We'll discuss it," He said amused. "After you go to school." He added making me groan
An act of God caused me to become upright. An act of mothering caused my belly to be full of cereal. An act of insanity got my out the door with out faking sick.
"Walk six block straight turn left and your there." My Mom called shoving me out the front door. Her perkiness annoyed me. School annoys me. Minnesota sucks.
Six blocks away from my new school, I sighed inwardly. Oh yeah I'm excited about school. "Think of all the new people you'll meet," my mom had gushed while shoving more toast down my throat. Great, I get to meet more dumb people. I hate people. I'm anti social. Oh yeah I can feel myself getting all hyped. Not.
I checked in with the office and found my classroom. Did you know that every classroom that I've been in has had the same stupid alphabet going across the ceiling? You would think by the fifth grade we'd know our ABC's. Maybe kids in Minnesota have permanent brain damage from the cold. I pondered this while the teacher happily chattered handing me all my books. He was a stereotypical nerd, balding with glasses and almost a nasal way of talking.
"Class we have a new student, David Averman, lets make him feel welcome," Mr. Fillmore said when class started up. I gave a lame smile to him. Thankfully I wasn't asked to go up and tell them about myself. Instead I was assigned a "buddy" to help me around. Her name is Connie. She seems nice and pretty, in a future cheerleader of America way.
The bell rang letting us go for lunch. This school has a cafeteria. I found my way through the masses filling my tray with the delicacies of public school before finding my new table in the corner. Another lunch alone, joy. In a couple of weeks I'd find someone to sit with but till then I'd have to rely on good old me for entertainment.
'Alright ladies and gentleman welcome to the School Sucks and then you die the David Lester Averman show. Today we have a fabulous game going, you favorite and mine, find that click. My eyes swept over the cafeteria. Ahh the popular click. Lets start there shall we? All right you have your typical skinny blonde your faithful brunette sidekick. Ah and yes that girl from class, Connie I think. But where is the queen? I clicked my teeth searching the table, aha, there she is. Not exactly what I was expecting, she has curly black hair and deep chocolate skin very exotic looking. All right well name her Cleopatra.' I decided talking another bite of my ham and cheese. Next I skimmed the dorks next, followed by the jocks. I was disappointed to find there was nothing new to report, just the same old it old. I took another bite out of my sandwich, convinced that this school would never be any different than the last six seven, hey who's counting any more?
I finished up my lunch throwing it in one of the gigantic trash cans. I cold hear my Mother already, once she caught sight of how much food were wasting here she'd be all over the PTA lecturing about starving children in Africa. Can you imagine what those kids parents lecture about, "Now kimbjojo my son, you must stay moral through your urges, just think of all those dirty American sluts. They don't have enough morals to learn these things, you are very lucky." Parents are the same everywhere: clueless.
"Hey Goldberg you crow in my space man," Some random person yelled somewhere off in the distance catching my attention. I looked up scanning trying to find the source. I came up empty. Could it be, was I loosing my touch? Could it be that David Lester Averman could not identify someone?
I plan on being an annalist person for the CIA when I grow up. I can read people really well just from a first impression. Then I study them, make sure I'm right. And I'm always right. Hey I'm a bored kid with an over active imagination, what else am I suppose going to do, my homework?!