The Assignment

I sit in science class listening to my teacher lecturing on and on about pressure. What happens when you apply constant pressure to a solid mass? Blah blah blah blah blah blah. Your basic high school science theory.

The question should really be what happens when constant pressure is applied to the Tudge? Will the pressure cause the Tudge to crack? Will the Tudge fold under the pressure? Will the Tudge not be able to handle it? Will the Tudge start going looney tunes?

Mental note to self: Must stop referring to myself in the third person. It freaks some of the less secure beings out. Scratch that---It freaks me out.

I'm a bit off the beaten path, I admit that willingly. Those around here think of me as geeky Larry Tudgeman, voted most likely to become a super evil genius, obsessed with Star Wars and the like, and once ate live worms to get elected seventh grade class president.

Truth be told, I never ate any live worms. It all started as a media stunt I set-up to prove a point to my fellow classmates about the current state of school politics.

Not one person ever doubted that I ate them. They assumed it was something I would do. I didn't. You see, I had a bowl of live worms in a bucket and a bunch of pretty life like gummy fakes I cooked up to actually eat. It won me the election. Go figure. I proved my point.

That was two years ago, before the pressure intensified. When I had more time for games.

Now it's pressure to achieve, pressure to have the best grades, pressure to win prizes, medals, competitions, contests, to win scholarships, to get into college.

I'm only in the ninth grade. I should be having the time of my life. Going to parties, meeting girls, "hanging" at the mall.

Well, not necessarily the mall part. I never really understood what was so intriguing about sifting through racks and racks of clothing or sitting in the food court staring off into space for hours on end. Don't people have anything better to do with their time? I don't even have that kind of time. But I digress...

I copy science notes off the board almost robotically.

It'd be nice to know what it feels like to have no expectations placed on me. No dreams, hopes or bars to raise to the next level or constantly have to live up to. To have no pedestal to stand on.

To be someone like Ethan. Not for long of course. Just long enough to see how the other half lives. I could never give up being the Tudge. I have an identity and persona to maintain after all.

I'd miss Anita, Jeremy and Veruca too much. My friends, my pals, my intellectual sparring buddies, fellow sci-fi freaks, whatever you choose to call them. Anything's fine with me. I don't like labels.

Nobody in Ethan's family puts pressure on him. They don't have unreal expectations for him to fall short of. That is the only role my parental units have of late. That's a fact.

My parents never made it through college. No Tudgeman has. I'll be the first. A bit surprising, eh?

If most people don't know that about me, it's because they never bothered looking. It's no secret. I'm not ashamed of anything.

My family has a lot to show for themselves. It's no secret that my dad manages the local hardware store and my mom dropped out of college when she became pregnant with me. She meant to go back, but it didn't happen. My brother happened instead.

My parents are the pull 'em up by your bootstraps kind of people. They're hard workers who work hard for everything we have. They want for me what they never had, the opportunity. They want to live out their dreams through me.

I want it for me too. But I don't want any old school. I want the best. Harvard, Yale or Princeton. A place to be among the best minds in the country, among people who are focused and driven, above all the pettiness. A place unlike here.

Ivy League schools cost more than blue collar families like mine can afford. The books alone are a pretty penny. I need scholarships. Schools like those don't give academic scholarships. It's hard enough getting in in the first place. That's why I work so hard, bust my butt. I have to find a way to make the cut.

Hillridge is an upper middle class suburb. Big comfortable houses, cushy jobs and spoiled kids who revel in the luxuries mommy and daddy can afford to give them. The Tudgemans aren't poor. We do all right, we have enough to eat and a house we like.

There are lots of people worse off than me. I've been taught never to forget that. But even I myself have been prone to a bout of jealousy from time to time.

When I was younger, before we were separated into different social classes, I'd go to Ethan's house. He lives in a big mansion with maids and servants. His dad, though not the brightest, has been to college and has one of those cushy jobs.

His dad gives him everything. Ethan wants for nothing.

At his house, he had the most toys of anyone I'd ever seen. It was like his own personal toy store. My parental units chose to buy me all the educational type toys instead.

Ethan's dad only wants for Ethan to have fun and be a kid.

I've never been much of a kid. I'm always working and competing for something. It's hard for me to relax and kick back. Adulthood comes more naturally. It's both a gift and a curse.

At first I blew off Mr. Dig this morning and his silly little essay question. It wasn't for a grade. Why should I expend the typical Larry Tudgeman effort if I wasn't getting a grade to put on my college transcript?

But knowing how Mr. Dig has been there for me over the years, I gave it a shot and thought about what he asked. I am blessed in life, but just once I'd love to let loose and lose my constraints. I want to know what it's like to have the tremendous weight lifted off my back. That made me think of Ethan and amazingly, that's what I wrote about.

He's actually one of the few guys at this school who I can genuinely say I like. He's not phony and plastic. Sure he lives in his little bubble of popularity with Kate, Claire, Danny and the rest, but he's never really been one of them. He's never mean or insulting or cruel. A little clueless sometimes, but hey, though I come pretty close even I'm not perfect.

As many times as Danny's come after me or Kate's used me for target practice, Ethan's never been a part of that. He talks to me in the hallway and invites me to his parties, even if I rarely attend. I'm usually busy.

Maybe it's because we were friends once or maybe it's because I saved his life once. Maybe it's a guilt thing.

We were nine and hanging out in the deep end of the town pool. Ethan was staring at some girl like usual. That was Ethan even at a young age. Could you blame him? I looked too, but the difference is with him they looked back.

Ethan wasn't paying attention, hit his head, knocked himself unconscious and it was the Tudge to the rescue. I'm no athlete, but I can swim well enough. If I were an athlete my college career would be set.

Ethan's also a real guy's guy. Though it might sound macho and chauvinistic to the females, he enjoys life without all the major stress and drama. He goes out on Friday nights, plays ball with his buddies and doesn't feel guilty for doing it. My weekends are not my own. I have to stay ahead of my studies. I work odd jobs trying to save up what little bits of money I can.

I want to go out on dates like Ethan. I want to kiss a girl and hold them in my arms and forget all about my future for a few minutes.

I look at Lizzie next to me, arms folded neatly in her lap. The perfect girl couldn't be any closer or more fetching to behold. I think about her often enough. She invades my dreams. She could be my undoing.

But though I'm confident, I'm no Ethan in the dating department. The girls get weak kneed and starry eyed around him. I've never made a girl melt, or at least not to my vastly superior knowledge. Well maybe Veruca...but I don't know if melt is the right word. As she once told me, I'm the only guy in school that doesn't make her sick to her stomach. Not exactly the right ingredients for a budding romance.

According to all the leading psychologists, this is supposed to be the best time of a person's life. From here on out, it only gets harder. For guys like Ethan, that's probably true. He's the normal one. I'm the one who's got it all backwards and mixed up.

For me the best time will be after. After I get my acceptance to the college of my choice, after I get the loans and scholarships secured I need to attend that higher institution of learning. After I'm out of my parent's glaring spotlight and submerged in the world of academia. That's when my life will truly begin.

I'm not worried about handling the work load or making it in college, the part most worry about. I've got that part covered. It's getting there that's the difficult part.

I'm not unhappy now, though I might make it sound otherwise. I think of it all as an important investment in my future.

And I do have fun. I can't forget that. I go to the movies with my crew and we get together when we can. Then there's the sci-fi club I started. The masses think it's dorky, but we do cool things like visit movie sets, read books and go on trips. It's my lone school activity that I do for me and not to impress some faceless dean of admissions. It helps keep me sane.

The bell rings and I hop off my stool, saying goodbye to Lizzie quickly. I need to meet up with Anita and Jeremy before my next class, independent study. I'm helping one of the teacher's with a research project for extra credit. I can't be late.

I scan the halls for my friends, but spot Ethan instead. He's leaning against a locker talking with Miranda. He's got a huge grin on his face.

"Hey Tudgeman", he acknowledges me as I walk by.

I wave at them but have no time to stop.

I steal a look back at the two, laughing and talking—in no rush to get anywhere, obviously enjoying their own adolescence. It's almost as if they're not real, merely characters created for one of those typical high school television shows where all problems are solved within a span of thirty minutes or less.

I check my watch as the warning bell rings. Damn, not enough time to find Anita and Jeremy. I grab my research material and head to class.

I hear Ethan's laugh permeate through the hallway in the distance. I can't help but hear it. It's the same overexcited laugh he used to get when his nanny would sneak us extra Double Stuf Oreos to cheer us up on rainy afternoons.

Some things don't change.

Yes they do. Somewhere along the way we switched places and he became the smart one.

I want to chill in the hallway talking with my buddies, flirting with Lizzie, my arm draped casually across her shoulders.

My teacher comes in. We get to work. Not today. Maybe tomorrow.