Marco
April 15th, 1984
"Yo, Rands!" I shout. Him, me and Daria just got thrown together for a group project. It's a poetry project where we have to write poetry and the other two people in our group assess our work. Then Ms. Kane, the teacher, decides if it's a good assessment or not. Daria just left with Aly and Sue Morales while me and Randall have to clap erasers in Ms. Kane's.
"What?" he says. His arms are crossed, and he's leaning against the wall. His head's low, and his hood's pulled over his head, so I can't see his eyes. This is one of those days when he's still pissed about the pantsing thing. Randall was definitely not amped about it. Jack and I still feel really bad about it, except Randall's less mean to me. Jack? He won't even talk to him. Let's just leave it at that.
"We have to clap erasers in Ms. Kane's," I say. Randall looks up at me and pulls down his hood. His hair is tied back in a ponytail, as usual. It makes him look like a mini version of those yuppies, only with acid washed jeans and metal band t-shirts.
"I know," he says. "I hate Ms. Kane. Big time."
Randall says that all the time. I don't think anyone likes her. Bhegad thinks she's one of the best teachers in the school, but in reality, she's just bootleg, like Dimitrios, the gym teacher, or Cyclops, the science guy. Especially when you compare her to Mr. Fritz, or Mrs. Wilson. They're the real deal. Everyone likes them.
"But we still have to do it," I say. "She'll give us detention if we don't."
As soon as we get to Ms. Kane's, Randall picks up two erasers and starts clapping them together. A lot of dust starts flying around. I also talk some erasers and begin clapping them. While I start coughing from all the dust I'm inhaling, I hear a door shut, followed by the sound of high heels on the floor.
It must be Ms. Kane coming in.
"This is punishment." Her sharp voice pierces my ears as my eyes twitch from the chalk dust.
What is this punishment for? Did she find out about the pantsing incident? If she did, how come Jack's not being punished? He was involved in it too. Then again, he in in Mr. Torquin's home room, though not in his French class, which I think around half his home room is in. Mr. Torquin will probably give him a different punishment, like 15 push-ups. I remember hearing a story about Mo Willems, who called someone fugly and had to do 30 push-ups because Mr. Torquin heard. I think that was last year, when we were in Grade 6 and Mo was in Grade 7.
"Marco, this is punishment for hanging out with Randall. I'm surprised he doesn't embarrass you because of his grandparents. You need to know that being with someone who has grandparents like that brings consequences."
What. I was expecting her to talk about how bad it is to pants someone. And why would she punish me for hanging out with Randall? He's pretty chill, and so are his granny and gramps.
I'm tempted to tell her to get lost, but that would mean I'd be in a lot of trouble.
"Randall, I feel like I'm going to hit someone every time I see you," Ms. Kane says, as I finish clapping the erasers and set them back. "You are not normal. I don't care if your excuse is that your parents died. Anyone who lives with their grandparents really is an idiot."
Whoa. She's harsh.
"And grandparents like yours, no less. Honestly, if I were principal, I would expel you right there on the spot because you will embarrass us."
Ok. That's it.
"Who do you think you are?!" I yell, folding my arms. "Randall's a nice person. Yes, he doesn't always think before he speaks, but still. You have no right to treat him like this."
"You are being sent to the principal's office," Ms. Kane says, pointing to the door. "Teachers are people you are supposed to respect. And you just acted extremely disrespectful."
I don't care if I'm trouble. This was worth it.
Jack
I watch Cass smoke another cigarette as I lean back against the rails.
"Dude, 'sup with the cigs?" I ask, pointing to the box.
"Oh, that," Cass says, "some smoker on the street gave them to me. For six bucks."
"For cear?!" I raise my eyebrows.
"Yeah. It's flange." Cass looks away. "Though my teeth are yellow now and my breath stinks, which is bunk, but still. I like it."
"Can I have one?" I hold my hand out. Cass pulls a cigarette out of the box and puts it in my hand. He lights a match and hands it to me. I light my cigarette and take a puff out of it. It makes me feel like Dad, who's trying to quit smoking for some reason. Why would he quit? This stuff's fun.