Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Big Time Rush, and therefore, do not have enough money to be sued. Have a nice day.
Summary: I've been a high school teacher for 17 years, and been principal of this one for 9. You would think I'd understand The Law of High School Cliques better than anyone. Or, at least, that's what I thought. And then I met them. / or, an outside look of our boys; pre-series.
N/A: Hi. This is my first Big Time Rush story, so I really hope that you enjoy. It also just so happens to come out the same day as the Big Time Movie we have all been anticipating. Yeah, I think that's it. Enjoy!
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I KNOW, YOU KNOW
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I've been a high school teacher for 17 years, and been principal of this one for 9. I know first days of school better than anybody. (Well, maybe not Mrs. Hernandez down in B11, but I'm pretty sure that frail old lady attended high school here two renovations ago.) But even more to the point of concept, I know how cliques operate. The players and the jocks hate each other and end up fighting for the Grade A level of popularity; may the best group win. There are the smart, "nerdy" kids, and they're the ones with dreams and a future significantly brighter than their present, are the ones that fall victim to the hospital-worthy wedgies, shudder-worthy dunks in the toilet, and news-worthy lunch money robberies. Most case scenario, everyone else, like me growing up, will end up playing to role as an observant bystander.
I know. As principal, I should not be stereotyping the kids. But really, high school will never change. Every year in my experience, it's been exactly the same, and The Law of High School Cliques agrees with me. All these kids are exactly the same as the ones before them, depending on where they belong on the social ladder. Or, at least, that was what I thought.
And then I met them.
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It was the first day of school, 2007. Or maybe it was 2008. I don't remember. Anyway, I was waiting at the front door with a big smile, a nice tie, and clean shoes, making notes of the all the kids. I took a little more of a notice of a well worn Minnesota Wild jersey on what I assumed was a tall, blond freshman with caterpillar eyebrows. He seemed to be stalking, not towards the door like everyone else, but towards the Yellow Birch by our vice principal, Mr. Hackensack's office. And what do you know? He was wandering right towards what I could have mistaken as a teenage superstar. He was also tall, with perfectly straight, brown hair, and he was wearing clothes sold only at the trendiest stores of the time. Superstar was nonchalantly waving at every pretty girl that passed by, only stopping to flick the head of a shorter boy trapped in a sweater vest.
I overheard an exasperated, "No, James. You need to do your own homework this year." The nerdy, victim, then, I suppose. At least he was standing up for himself. I wondered how long it would last.
Because, obviously, James was the bully of Sweater Vest, and wanted Sweater Vest to do his homework for him.
Then I saw Eyebrows stop in front of James, before catching his wrist mid-flick. "James, stop it."
James sighed and rolled his eyes, while Sweater Vest gave him a grateful, yet greeting, smile.
It comprehended to me then that Eyebrows and James are archenemies and thus making Eyebrows a jock and by judging that Wild jersey, I thought it safe to say that he's a hockey player. I put together some more imaginary puzzle pieces together, and came up with the conclusion that Eyebrows was aiming for the nice jock image. He wanted to be a popular, lovable guy among his peers. James, I realized, was- yes, a pretty boy, but also going for the bad boy image among the people. However, I was not sure at the time whether or not he would switch to a boy-next-door look for the teachers.
I was about to let this interaction go, finalizing that The Law of High School Cliques has never let me down, and realizing that it's not going to change this year either. Everything was the same, and nothing has changed from before.
But then, out of my peripheral vision, I saw a blur of black on top of a dark green sweat shirt zooming past me. I whipped my head and saw a little Latino- a literal hockey head, seeing a black hockey helmet sitting on his noggin. The boy managed to hug and tackle Eyebrows, James, and Sweater Vest all at the same time within his relatively shorter arms.
Carlos Garcia. Him, I've heard about. He's the precious, silly, friendly boy, with enough attention to fill half of a tablespoon but enough energy to power Los Angeles and New York City. His father is one of the policemen that visit our school during lockdown drills, fire drills, and the random drug tests. This was probably seen as just a little joke to Carlos, but I was paralyzed to watch how this went down, fearful for the Garcia boy of that James character.
I knew I was right to watch out. I kept my eyes off of them just to say hello to half a bus full of students, and glance back again, only to see James and Carlos engaged in a full on brawl by the Yellow Birch. I was moving in a millisecond, yelling a big, "HEY!" for dramatic effect. Eyebrows and Sweater Vest were trying to stop the scuffle as well. I overheard a hissed, "Guys! C'mon, guys, stop! You got the attention of the principal!"
And suddenly, an angel of the Lord appeared. Or, rather, that's what it seemed like, for the full on brawl on the blacktop suddenly ceased. All four of them were dusted off in a blink of an eye, standing in a single file line, and waved back innocently with their right hand, making sure to plaster on a childlike smile. I hesitantly stopped, feeling exceedingly suspicious before snapping out of it at the bringing of the bell.
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It was a couple of days after the brawl on the blacktop when I got a call from Mrs. Hernandez, telling me that she caught a trouble maker named Kendall Knight. Not too long later, into my office came the one, the only, Eyebrows.
I gave him a pointed look and decided to raise my eyebrow straight back at him, knowing full well that he got the message. In return, he gave me a half smile, half smirk and gave himself a seat.
"So, Mr. Knight," I said, using my greatest interrogation voice, and hoping it sounded as good as it does on Rickshaw Cops. "What brings you here?" One raised bushy eyebrow. "I know I don't want to sit here all day, Mr. Knight, but I will wait for you to speak up." Two raised bushy eyebrows. A stubborn child, then.
Seconds later, I received a long, hard stare and a sigh.
"Kendall-"
I was interrupted by the door squeaking open rather loudly, almost obnoxiously. I was greeted with a bashful look from Sweater Vest, who was wearing a button down today, a helmeted Carlos Garcia with his mouth full of Fruit Smackers, and that James boy examining (judging, I bet) my office while pretending to just be innocently humming. Carlos waved with his free hand, while Sweater Vest gave me a timid smile and a mumbled "Sorry to interrupt." They stayed standing behind Eyebr- I mean, Kendall.
I assumed they were sent for different reasons than their green-eyed friend and quite possibly by different teachers that just decided not to give me a call. Perhaps Carlos got sidetracked, could not do his work, and thus, distracted the rest of the class, like his father warned me happens more than often. Perchance, Sweater Vest and James are in the same class together, and James was caught cheating off of Sweater Vest. It's a school rule that the person cheating and the person that let's their peer cheat from their paper both be punished. Why Kendall was here, however, I had no idea.
After another look, I asked the three boys in the back what they were doing in my office. "Oh, well, we just figured, one is good, but why not just give you the package deal, huh?" James said to me, smiling. He was definitely going for the boy-next-door thing, and there was no doubt about that.
When I asked about what Kendall specifically was doing in my office, then, I got another vague answer of, "We were bored." What they imagined to be entertaining enough to risk a visit to my office was beyond me.
"Look, Principal Wally. We were in Spanish 1, when Carlitos got bored- which happens more often than you'd think, and he already speaks Spanish." Kendall began.
Sweater Vest picked up, "And it's not even that we sit all that close together in that class, but we're on the same side of the room because our seats are in alphabetical order."
But it wasn't like I knew what James' last name was, let alone Sweater Vest's first name.
"Yeah, and then Carlos was throwing Fruit Smackers at me," James explained while gesturing around with his hands. "And then I was throwing some eraser pieces back at him."
"And I don't know how, but he missed!" Carlos told me as if he was telling a story to a group of young boys rather than his rather stern principal. "He threw too far to the left, and it hit Logan in the head. So then Logan-"
"So then Logan," Kendall started off all over again, gesturing to Sweater Vest, "threw stuff at them, and I just decided to join in because they were having fun without me, and we were stuck taking stupid notes from the textbook, anyway."
"And if we didn't have Carlitos, I would be worried about how we're supposed to learn how to speak Spanish if we're only going to be learning the grammar and spelling."
I was not surprised to find Logan, the boy in the button down, looking incredibly anxious.
"Yeah, that's actually really concerning for your school, Principal Wally. You should seriously ponder on that."
"And now that you can ponder on something so… what's that word again? Oh, right… so monumental, you don't have to waste your time punishing us." Carlos said, while Kendall popped out of the seat, fully intending on leaving with the others.
"HOLD ON." I thundered, as they froze in their spots. I smirked to myself at how admirable my timing worked with such dramatic effects. "If you were all in the same classroom, all throwing things, why was Kendall the only one sent to my office?"
Another sigh and x amount of seconds for the boys to get back into their original positions of Kendall in the seat, Sweat- er, Logan, Carlos, and James standing behind him, I heard a, "Look. I understand that you're the one with the tie here," Kendall began to explain to me again, as his friends complimented by diagonally striped blue tie.
"Oh, no, no, no, no." I wanted the answer, and not some lame excuse to change the subject. I made sure to control them with a glare.
"We were just minding our own business, having a good time in Spanish, and things got a little out of control. Kendall threw a crunched up paper ball at Mrs. Hernandez by accident, and it went down her dress, so she sent him to the office."
I was still thoroughly confused and was getting a rather large headache. "But she did send all four of you down here, correct?"
James and Carlos shook their heads. "Nope," they said unanimously.
Carlos continued solo, "She was busy watching her favorite scenes from a bunch of Spanish soap operas. They're the same ones mi mamì watches"
"Yeah, or she'd be rockin' out to some Shakira," James said, all the while doing a little dance in front of my desk.
"Plus, we all just decided that we should come here. Kendall wasn't the only one throwing stuff. To let him get all the blame is wrong and would mean that he would have the best friend code over all three of-" Logan kept rambling on and on, but I was still stuck on this one small thing.
"You're best friends?" Because, surely, there was no way that was true. I mean, sure, I guess they could be classroom friends. (They're friendly towards each other and throw eraser pieces at each other, but after the class ends, that's the limit of their friendship; they talk about their how annoying their classroom friend was being to their real friends.) A jock, a player, a nerd, and a class clown being best friends? What is this? The Breakfast Club? High School Musical? That would go completely against The Law of High School Cliques, and that's just… It's not that it's not acceptable. It is; that'd be great. It's just the thought of The Law of High School Cliques just never happens. It's too unrealistic.
The Law of High School Cliques has been something I've been basing the high school life on since I was in middle school. Everyone knew about this law. It's real; 12 years of being a student, 17 years of teaching and 9 years of playing principal taught me that. To have evidence in my office more than 30 years later that I was wrong… That's just crazy.
I was met with confused faces before the realization dawned on me that I asked them my inquiry out loud. I gave a look of a deer in headlights.
"You can all go. No charge." So they left, albeit hesitantly, and made their merry way back to Spanish 1. Mrs. Hernandez can deal with them.
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The Law Breakers- as I thought was clever of me to call it, seeing that they're trying to break The Law of High School Cliques- continued to baffle me for months. (I would say, something along the lines of keeping me up into the early hours of the day for dramatic effect, but that'd just weird.) I just could not get the concept of four very different boys becoming the very best of friends, and according to the juicy gossip, fresh from the faculty room, that was exactly what they were.
Additionally, according to Gordy, our ever friendly, weasel-catching janitor, the boys have system at the lunch table. James likes a light lunch, usually a salad, but his mother supplies him with money for lunch special and a Snapple. He buys his lunch, only to give it to Carlos, who in turn gives him the Chicken Caesar Salad his mother packs him so that he "eats healthier". Kendall's mother packs him three mean, homemade sandwiches. One and a half for Kendall and the rest for Logan, who throws away his two Uncrustables since they're usually soggy or still partially frozen by the time he needs to eat it.
For instance, on Mrs. Hernandez's chapter tests, there is now an interview section in which the student must answer three or four questions in Spanish to test their ability to hold a conversation. When she asked Carlos what his best friend was like, he rambled on about guapo James, inteligente Logan, and simpatico Kendall. He spoke for four minutes and forty-seven seconds straight about how Kendall is always the man with a plan, how James is the one that really understands, embraces even, his craziness, and about how Logan is secretly his mother's favorite because he's helping him with his algebra homework every night. Carlos was only stopped when Mrs. Hernandez interrupted him to be able to interview the other students.
Our choir director, Ms. Charlotte, was gushing over how amazed she was with James and his three friends when she heard him sing for the talent show auditions. Nobody was allowed within the auditorium besides the kids still waiting to audition, Ms. Charlotte, and the backstage kids working on the sound. Of course, that didn't stop The Law Breakers. They tried just walking in to watch. Backstage Kid #1-3 stopped them. They tried dressing up as ballerinas in girly wigs to follow the large group of ballet dancers trying out for the show. Backstage Kid #2, 4-5 caught onto their trick once more. Carlos tried knocking down the bolted, steel door with the protection of his helmet. The boys eventually settled for visiting James backstage and improvising choreography as James' back up dancers during the singing piece. Logan, apparently, even did a back flip at the end! Evidently, he also fainted right after because nobody, not even him, knew he could do something like that, and seemed to have just fainted from too much pressure and demands to know what just happened.
There was a time when Coach Roth was cleaning up the volleyball nets after school when he heard a muffled yelp. He went to investigate and found a bruised and black eyed Logan Sweater Vest, and the wingman of the captain of the wrestling team passed out on the floor. As it turned out, Logan had called the wrestling team "iactationibus" earlier in the year, and James had defended him. However, all the boys were always on look out, just in case the wrestling team decided to have a dance with revenge. Even though it was only one boy lusting over retribution, all three boys had Logan's back once they heard the pounding in their eyes as the shorter boy obtained a punch to the face. And when Kendall, James, and Carlos were given a two day suspension and a Saturday detention for knocking a kid unconscious, they merely shrugged and patted Logan's back because he's worth it.
There was a moment that I witnessed during our most recent pep rally in January. In line with The Law of Pep Rallies, the seniors were winning, the juniors were trying hard to break this law, and the freshmen weren't even trying. Finally, some normality since those boys came to my school. And we were down to the last event of the pep rally- the hockey scrimmages. Freshmen versus sophomores, winner versus juniors, winner versus seniors, winner versus teachers.
It's a simple enough concept, but what caught me off guard was Kendall Knight. He was up against some big sophomore kid, probably next year's junior varsity captain. Kendall was thoroughly a better skater than Shakopee High School's Next Junior Varsity Captain, and so he hit the puck with such grace, the puck looked like it twirled into the net.
And so, while Kendall was busy doing what he does on the ice with the puck, his friends were cheering louder than the obnoxious senior cheerleaders. ('Don't judge the obnoxious varsity cheerleaders, Principle Wally.' I know.) The Law Breakers were jumping, clapping, stomping, yelling, singing, throwing Fruit Smackers, anything to show their support of Kendall.
All of their cheering grabbed the attention of the other students, and soon the whole freshmen section, dressed in a sea of blue, was cheering for the tall, blond boy. Even when the senior kid, Shakopee High School's Current Varsity Captain, made a cheap shot and beat Eyebrows, even when that same kid made the same cheap shot against Coach Roth, the boys were still cheering, still chanting, still showing their support for their friend. And when Kendall returned to his spot on the bleachers, he was holding his breath between three bodies congratulating him as though he single handedly won the Stanley Cup.
These stories were the steps to when I finally realized that maybe The Law of High School Cliques is wrong. But, there's no way that could happen, right? But as you already know, I was mistaken.
Nevertheless, that's how the school year went for the rest of the year. The boys would be a predicament for disrupting Mrs. Hernandez's class or starting a food fight in the cafeteria or for provoking the figure skaters, the wrestling team, or the girls' field hockey team or something else of the sort. I would redirect their problems to Mr. Hackensack, and the boys and I just never interacted again after that time they were in my office for throwing things.
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It was just another day of the school year finished, another day of school to look forward to. Standing two parking spots away from my car, was a group of four boys. And what do you know? It's The Law Breakers themselves. I walked slowly as to ensure I wouldn't startle them, as well as to ensure I heard every last word.
"Guys, we got to stop this," Kendall said, snipping through the tension and bickered words as if they were scissors slitting ugly, wide ruled paper.
"I smell speech!" chorused three voices, pointing their right forefinger to the sky.
An eye roll, before Kendall's voice began once again, "We always promised in pee wee hockey that we would stick together."
"This is how you start all your speeches," whined Carlos.
"Carlos is right, buddy. You really gotta spice that up a bit," James agreed.
"Guys!" came from an irritated Logan probably really wanting to get this spiel all over with.
Meanwhile, I was getting rather close to my car, and I had no idea how I was supposed to not leave my parking spot to listen in without the possibility of being reported as one of those principals. (Because, I'm not one of those. I swear. That'd be, like, grade A weird. In general, that'd just not right nor okay. Call the 9-1-1 if you do have one of those principals.)
"Anyway," Kendall responded by making his speech an even bigger deal with the way he used his arms so dramatically. "What I was going to say is that we made a promise to stick together. We're not just going to let some girl rip away years and years of friendship and laughs and times, both good and bad. We're not going to be those kinds of guys. From here on out, we only date girls we either meet alone or girls that none of us are not fighting for. Agreed?"
After smirks, glances, and nods were exchanged, they seemed to all agree.
"And," or maybe they were all just sending some sort of secret message to each other and nominated James to be the one to say it out loud. "No dating girls the other three, or the mommies, don't approve of."
"Deal."
"We're brothers of the ice. We stick together no matter what. And fighting over a Gwen Stefani wanna-be is just- it's just stupid. We watch out for each other from bullies or stress-"
"-or pressure," supplied Logan
"-or icky girls not worth it," James added
"-or the dumb Camerelli's." Carlos said, looking and sounding faint just saying their names.
"Exactly. So no more fighting, okay? I mean, guys, seriously, what if it eventually just gets out of hand? Replacing any of you guys just isn't an option and we all know everything's different with just three of us. And nothing- none of those things or anything else we haven't listed- is going to tear us apart."
There was a moment of silence before, "Good speech- no, great, wonderful speech," and, "I am just tearing up because I am just so proud of you," and, "that's probably my favorite one yet." Then they patted and bumped shoulders, barely noticing the bamboozled principal frozen inside the snow stained, black, scratched Acura.
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It was a random, Friday afternoon when realization slapped me in the face with a textbook while I was sitting at my desk; thank you light bulbs. (And don't think I spend all my time just sitting there, thinking about this friendship. I do work, too, you know.) In simple terms, yes, Kendall is the hockey player jock, James is the pretty boy player, Logan is the sweater vest wearing geek, and Carlos could be stuffed into a class clown sort of category if you stuffed him into one.
However, they have a dynamic. Kendall is the overall leader, the glue, the duct tape. He's the most responsible, so the boys look to him for advice and scheming plans and to make speeches, which is something he apparently does. James is the face. He's the one the boys look to for girl advice or fashion advice or looks advice, and the fact that he's self-confident doesn't mean he's heartless. He won't mind giving his friends a boost of their own cockiness; he doesn't mind giving out a compliment when he knows you need it. Logan is the smart one. He's the one the others go to when they need help with school and homework, but more importantly, he's the guy the others need to stay sane. Without Logan, they'd be biting before they chew, taking risks not worth their life. They need Logan to keep themselves on Earth. Carlos is the person the guys need to counter Logan. He's the guy for a good time, to add the risk when there isn't any. Carlos is there to test the other boy's responsibilities, and to keep them youthful in the grown up world of high school.
They need all four in order to get a balance from within. I'm sure just two of them could work, but it would feel empty and conversations could get bland. A group of three could just equal a three-wheeled friendship or could make some sort of friendship triangle, but either way, someone will be left out of the group. As individuals, they're good kids. They have their own identity, and all four of they're stars. But when they're together, they become the sun. And James, no matter how weary of him I was in the beginning of the school year, was right. One is good, but four is better.
My mind continued to supply me with imaginary puzzle pieces that wouldn't leave me alone until I finally figured this out. Kendall is the most known for his hockey love, but all four of them are brothers of the ice. All four of them have passionate dreams. For example, everyone that has ever been within a hallway radius of James knows he dreams of fame and Nicole Scherzinger and five houses. Officer Garcia rambles on about his boy who dreams of underwear over spandex, superheroes and superpowers, and his little black helmet. With the way he plays the game, I'd be surprised if Kendall didn't dream of the Minnesota Wild and being right in the center of it, brunches with Wayne Gretzky, and the Stanley Cup. Logan's schedule for this year and the classes he's planning to take next year, point to the dreams of medical books and the antiseptics and white walls and being a surgeon. (Not that I asked Leanne Evans to let me have a look at their schedules. Because I didn't. That'd be weird.) Even though deep down they probably know their dreams would never let them work together doesn't mean they aren't willing to do anything to help their brother achieve it.
That was the moment when it really, fully occurred to me that maybe The Law of High School Cliques was wrong this whole time. Maybe I've just been so convinced into this "law" that I didn't see the chance of anybody changing it. I believed in stereotyping my kids, and I ended up neglecting certain ones because of this. I believed that all the kids are basically the same ones as all the students before them. I thought I was so right.
And then I met them.
And at that moment, I knew it was time to call a PTA meeting to plan an assembly on stereotypes. It now comprehends that cliques don't have to be all that they may seem if the people participating do something to change the status quo. I fully understand that maybe The Breakfast Club could happen. I learned that even though I've been a teacher for 17 years, and principal for 9, that doesn't mean the students can't teach me something too. I know that I was wrong.
I know, and you know too, that those boys are going to be great someday.
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FIN.
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N/A:
Cheese-tastic ending. I know! \:
I am also so incredibly sorry if I made it look like I hated James (or Kendall or Carlos or Logan). I don't; I promise you that I absolutely do not hate any of them. I love all four of them, I swear.
Iactationibus means jerks in Latin. Guapo means handsome, inteligente means intelligent, simpatico mean nice in Spanish.
But seriously, though. Real talk, rant, whatever. Stereotypes are not okay. They can damage a person's character because they're trying so hard to fit into shoes that don't fit. They can stop you from getting to know somebody that's really awesome. Who are we to judge who we're going to have a good time talking to before we even have the chance to experiment the theory? Who are we to decide who we're better than? For real, don't judge a book by its cover. Break stereotypes, break free, and show the work what's up. Shock the world, and let them be amazed at all the things you can do without a nametag glued to your shirt chaining you down.
THE BIG TIME RUSH MOVIE COMES OUT TODAY. There are no other words that need to be said on this topic.
And lastly, reviews make me as happy as thinking about kittens do. :D
Have a nice day, and thank you for reading!