The Story Of Jacob Havens
Chapter 1. The Start
I had heard the rumors about Bullworth Academy, but I didn't believe it until I walked into the main building and saw some boys in white dress shirts beating the tar out of a plump boy with his fly undone. Where was the authority in this place? And who was in charge of everything here?I wanted some answers, so I quickly dashed up the stairs and into the principal's office. A woman with curly brown hair stood behind the counter. She raised an eyebrow as I stormed up to the desk.
"May I help you?" she asked, sourly.
"You can help by telling me who runs this madhouse!" I shouted, clenching my fists in anger.
"Madhouse? You little monster! I'm very appalled by your-"
"The name's Jacob! Now will you just tell me already? This school is going down as we speak!" I snapped.
"You've got that right." someone said from behind me.
I turned around and saw a short boy with a pink shirt underneath his uniform standing through the doorway.
"There you are Peter. Where is Dr.Crabblesnitch?" the woman asked, crossing her arms as he approached the desk.
"Sorry Ms.Danvers, but Mr.Crabblesnitch had some business to attend to. He told me to take over and show the new kid around."
"Very well then. He's all yours, Peter." She stuck her nose up in the air to show superiority and walked into Mr.Crabblesnitch's office.
"What's her deal?" I asked, looking at the smaller than average boy.
"Don't worry about her. She always treats students this way." he replied.
He stuck his hand out and smiled.
"My name's Pete Kowalski, and you are?"
"Jacob Havens." I said, not bothering to shake his hand. "Now skip the intros femme boy and just show me around this prison."
Clearly, I hit a sore point, for at that moment Pete clinched his fists and started at me like a murderer in one of those shower scenes.
"Don't call me femme boy, loser!" he snapped.
"Loser? Well, at least I'm not Crabblesnitch's pet!" I yelled, storming out of the principal's office.
"At least I don't have a low GPA!"
I ignored the little midget and pounded down the stairs. He threw his arms up in the air and speed-walked in front of me, stopping me in my tracks.
"What do you want?" I asked, frowning.
"Jacob, listen. I'm just here to help you." Pete said, frowning.
"Oh, I'm really touched. I think I'm going to shed some tears." I replied sarcastically.
"I'm not playing around, okay? Students here are all about fighting." he explained, "You're going to get in loads of trouble if you don't know your way around here."
"Thanks for the advice, but I'm all about fighting too."
I was about to walk away, but his tiny hands grabbed at my arm and he turned me around.
"Don't touch me!" I snarled, glaring down at him.
"You dim-witted numbskull! You may be able to fight, but it won't do much good if you don't even know your opponents fighting style!" Pete snapped viciously.
After those last few bits of words, the anger boiling inside me died down as I put some thought into what he said. The sissy boy had made an interesting point. It was my first day here and I had no idea how the kids in this school fought.
"So? Are you going to trust me or not?" he asked.
I shrugged. What harm would it do? At least I'd know how to survive until I came up with a brilliant plan on getting out of here.
"Come on then. Let's go get some lunch." Pete said, releasing my arm.
I wanted to break the little squirt's skull into the wall for grabbing me in the first place, but I digressed and followed him into the cafeteria. The room was filled with a pretty big crowd when we came in. I saw some students sitting together dressed in the same uniforms at different tables. Pete sat down at an empty table and motioned me over.
"What's with the kids in different duds? Cliques right?" I asked, taking a seat beside him.
"You got it." Pete replied, taking an apple from the basket and tossing it to me.
I caught it and took a bite as he pointed to the first table. The group of students sitting there dressed in green vests, wore glasses, and had fat or skinny figures.
"Those are the nerds. Their clique is the lowest in the pecking order." Pete explained, "You can usually find them in the library or at the comic book store in town."
I nodded and looked over at the group sitting at the table next to them. They dressed in light blue vests and talked in snobby rich accents which annoyed the crap out of me.
"Most call them the rich kids, but we prefer the preppies." He rolled his eyes in disgust and pointed out to the next clique. A group of boys in leather jackets with their hair slicked back stood at the table near the preppies.
"The greaser clique is a pretty tough bunch. The best place to find these throwbacks are at the Autoshop." Pete said, frowning.
"Oil slick losers." I muttered under my breath.
The last clique he pointed out was the brainless sport freaks. Yes, the jocks. The big strong boneheads who put spirit back into the school or whatever nonsense like that. I told Pete he didn't have to tell me about them because of a little experience I had with some jocks at my old school. He wanted some details, but before I could say anything, a bell rang all around the school and everyone began to dash out of the cafeteria.
"Is lunch over?" I asked, glancing over at the clock.
"No, someone pulled the fire alarm again. They can never make my job any easier can they?" he hissed through clinched teeth.
With that said, the little guy was off, bounding up the stairs. I followed behind him until he stopped just before reaching the doors leading into the grounds. Pete turned around with a smile on his face. I took a few steps back as he approached me.
"What?" I asked, not liking the stupid smile that stuck to his face.
"Do you see that girl over there?" He pointed down the hall to a girl with long brown hair dressed in preppie attire. I nodded my head.
"I need you to-"
"No! There's no way!" I snapped, storming off.
"Please Jacob! I'll pay!"
That stopped me dead in my tracks. With a cruel smirk, I turned around and walked towards him.
"How much?" I said quickly, raising an eyebrow.
Pete pulled out his wallet and wove a crisp ten dollar bill in my face. I snatched it from his tiny hand and walked down the hall feeling a bit of regret on what I was about to do.