Chapter II: A good first impression...
Jack looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He wet his hands, shook off most of the water and ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it. Now it looked greasy. He'd been taking care of it for too long. He grabbed a towel from the top of the shower and rubbed his head so hard he could feel his scalp burning. Then he tossed the towel aside, shook his head a few times and lightly combed his hair with his fingers.
"Okay, that's passable!"
Just then, someone knocked on the door.
"Jack, come on, hurry up! We're going to be late for school!" Dal shouts to him.
"Yes, I'm coming!"
He takes a step toward the bathroom door and realizes he forgot to put on deodorant. This would make a really bad impression for his first month at Themall High School. He could already hear the girls: "Yeah, I had class with the new guy. The red streak is cool. But the b.o., oh my God!" Jack sprayed himself with deodorant, checked the mirror to make sure he hadn't done anything else stupid, like put his underwear outside, then went downstairs. He arrived just in time to hear Dal tell his father that he was pretty sure the school cafeteria wouldn't have change for 100$. Jack winced. How could Peter be both a brilliant lawyer and a complete moron?
"Come on, let's get you to school," says Peter.
"Thanks Peter, but I only use my skateboard."
"Yeah and I ride my bike Dad, see ya!"
"Okay then, see you guys later, have a good day!"
The two friends leave the house and head for school. Jack suddenly realized that the school was in sight. The place looked like a TV show with rich kids. His brother Lex would die laughing if he saw it. Jack turned to the bike racks with Dal, observing the groups of clones gathered in clusters here and there: all the guys with their perfect short hair, all the girls with their perfect teeth, makeup, and nails.
"I'm definitely not in Brooklyn," Jack thinks as he waits for Dal to park his bike and lock it on the rack. In Brooklyn, people are always trying to individualize themselves - whether through clothes, like Lex's black ones, or hair, like Jack's ginger streak, or old school sneakers, piercings, tattoos, split tongues - whatever they can find to play with. Maybe they just thought they were shouting about their individuality, when they were just shouting about belonging to their own little group. But at least there was a little diversity to keep things interesting.
"Freak, what happened to your hair?" said one of the boys.
"Were they out of green at the store?"
Jack was already learning to distinguish between clones. This one was a dickhead.
"That's Luck Holloway...the soccer team...of course! Forget it Jack and get to the calls. See you later buddy!" said Dal before heading off in the direction of the classroom himself.
"I see... Don't worry Dal. Okay buddy, see ya!"
Of course, a few other people turned to see how Jack would handle the situation. He didn't blame them. He especially didn't blame the incredible Pretty One with her long blond hair, blue eyes and expression that seemed to say, "I know he's stupid and I'm sorry."
Dickhead moved closer, another dickhead on his heels.
"My friend asked you a question. Where are your manners?" asked the second, Bray Knightley.
Jack raised both hands, palms facing forward, in the universal symbol of "Wait!".
"Sorry. I didn't catch that. You see, I don't speak moron. But since you do, maybe you could translate for me?"
The clones watching began to laugh. And when they laughed, they didn't look like clones anymore. Jack could make out the Pretty One's laugh. It was low, and a little knowing. He liked it. He also liked the way the two buttheads struggled to come up with an answer. Before they could come up with anything, Jack slung his backpack over his shoulder and entered the school.
A good first impression, he thought as he once again checked the piece of paper with his locker number on it, then turned left, passing a display case filled with trophies and photos of soccer and cheerleading teams through the decades.
"Hey!" a girl's voice called out to him.
The voice matched the laughter, and he turned to see Pretty One standing there, a small smile forming at the corner of her mouth.
"You were pretty bold back there."
"Bold. Sounds good!" thought Jack. Not that he was going to brag about it or anything. He'd seen girls' eyes go wide before when guys got cocky.
"It was just strategy, really." says Jack.
She laughed, as Jack had hoped she would. He had experience with girls, and when he made a girl laugh, he felt he'd done something right.
"Strategy?" she asked.
"I find it best, when dealing with an unknown bully, to strike early with sarcasm."
The words just came out. He didn't know how it happened, but he continued.
"Then they wonder if I have some secret ass-kicking prowess they can't detect."
She laughed again.
"Wow... well done anyway." she said before leaving and entering a classroom.