AT FERNGULLY HIGH SCHOOL, AUGUST 29, 2006, 8:00 AM
It was the first day of the new school year and, for Crysta, high school. Over the past six months, her pediatrician's prophecy came sooner than expected: the fourteen-year-old grew erect as a cougar in her thirties. Her mannerisms grew expressive enough to catch the attention of many people. Even her voice altered to a healthy mezzo as if she could sing her talking through her kissers. Angelica and Crysta shopped for clothes that hugged the latter's pronounced curves, especially a pair of navy jeans with red hearts embroidered on the back pockets. Last Thursday, the school staff arranged a special orientation day for neurodivergent people like Crysta to know the whereabouts of the high school. Every one of Crysta's teachers along with the principal and counselor were informed of her hormonal condition. The counselor gave her a business card for future reference.
When the Merlots arrived at the school, Angelica briefly pampered her daughter with a black vest and light coat. As she brushed Crysta's hair as a reminder that everything would be okay, Father Lindsay approached the two after dropping off his son.
"Hello, Angelica," he shook hands with Angelica.
"Hello, Father Lindsay! Beautiful day for the first day of school, isn't it?"
"Sure is! Are you dropping off your sister on her first day of work?"
"That's my fourteen-year-old daughter."
Father Lindsay became spooked, "Oh! Excuse me—I…—part of me thought of that because of…of…"
Angelica clarified the misunderstanding, "It's a hormonal error. My daughter cannot help it."
Father Lindsay took short breaths and rubbed his hand behind his neck, "Anyway, I must get going with writing my next sermon and helping out workers at the church." He went back in his car and drove away at a legal speed.
Crysta removed her headphones and looked to her left, "Everything okay with the pastor, Mom?"
Angelica responded, "Yes, hon'. Now get to your first class. I will see you after school. Also,...now that you are in high school, you can just fly from home to school and back."
"So, why did you have to drive me here?"
"It's the first day of school, Crysta! We want to make it special for you," Angelica kissed Crysta's cheeks and waved goodbye as the latter entered the building.
IN ELA 9, 8:35 AM
"Hello, class! I am Mrs. Kowalski and I will be your teacher for ELA 9," a slender woman in a plaid blouse greeted. She surveyed the class as she wrote her name and the course name on the whiteboard, "Now, did any of you enjoy your summer vacation?"
A majority of the twenty-four students said yes. Four of them shrugged.
"Okay. Before we move on to the syllabus, does anyone have any questions or concerns about the course and its materials?"
A brown-haired boy in a green coat raised his hand high.
"Yes, sir?"
The boy responded, "I am already uncomfortable with the school letting me share classes with my mom."
Many students looked at Crysta and snickered. She leaned forward to cover her mouth and placed her elbows on the desk. Mrs. Kowalski looked at her and deeply breathed, "Now, children. I know that meeting new people can be a challenge, but we can do it! Why won't you introduce yourselves to anyone you are not familiar with?"
Most students gathered in pairs and introduced each other. Two boys and a girl close to Crysta faced her.
"Are you someone's mother?" the girl asked.
"No. My name's Crysta and I am a freshman," Crysta corrected.
The red-haired boy with freckles and light skin tilted his head sideways and commented, "My name's Nathaniel. When I grow older, I want to be a mechanic for NASCAR. I used to have a girl named Crysta back in middle school. I even went to her fourteenth birthday party."
A blushing Crysta asserted, cooing slightly, "Yes, Nathaniel! You were at my fourteenth birthday party."
Another boy with dyed blue hair combed to the side said, "My name is Eddie. My mom works as a plastic surgeon and she stands by the rule of refusing service to people under the age of eighteen. Did you get your procedure done in Florida?"
"I did not get plastic surgery. I was born with a hormonal defect," Crysta asserted.
"You should be a stand-up comedian like Michael Richards of Seinfeld," the girl jokingly suggested.
Crysta sighed, "If only you can understand my condition for once,..."
She placed her head down on the desk. The three kids looked at each other and wondered if they had broken her. Mrs. Kowalski noticed the scene and reminded them, "As I said before, meeting new people can be challenging."
"Well, [Crysta] claimed she knew me back in eighth grade," Nathaniel said.
"And I asked her if she happens to be someone's aunt," the girl added.
"Mother," Crysta corrected.
Mrs. Kowalski cleaned her glasses and explained the misunderstanding, "Crysta was born with a hormonal defect. Her mother and I discussed this situation. Yes, the Crysta you know from middle school turned out to look like someone's mother, but we can all promote a positive environment by understanding everyone's differences constructively."
The three kids then apologized to Crysta, and everything was forgiven. The class concluded the introductory segment, and Mrs. Kowalski began discussing the syllabus.
LUNCH, 12:00 PM
Compared to the grim-looking cafeteria from middle school the one at FernGully High was warm and inviting. Abstract outlines of food and beverages were precisely painted in warm colors on the walls. Orange and pomegranate-colored tiles on the floor formed a defined zigzag pattern. Food menus were located near the kitchen and stations. Warm-colored lights shone above everyone's heads to help them feel a sense of welcome.
Crysta gathered her lunch—a bacon cheeseburger, crinkle-cut fries, cobb salad, and reduced-sugar chocolate milk—and searched for a seat. At one table, a boy with a blonde mullet and a 76ers sweater waved his hand and called her, "Excuse me, ma'am! Who are you subbing for?"
"I am not a substitute teacher. I am a freshman," Crysta corrected.
The boy looked at his friends and asked her, "Anyway, how about you come and sit with us?"
Crysta walked to the reserved seat and got in it with great effort.
"Don't break it now," another boy joked.
"Hey!" Crysta grew annoyed and the boys laughed.
The blonde-haired boy introduced himself, "Anyway, my name is Zak Young. I come from a family that runs a furniture store brand across the county. How about you?"
Crysta responded, "I am Crysta Merlot. My family runs a winery."
A husky boy in a blue flannel shirt commented, "My father once had a bottle of Chardonnay from your parents. He said it was one of the best wines he ever had."
Another boy in a red flannel shirt joined the group, "Did any of you guys play anything cool over the summer?"
Zak replied as he bit into his corn dog, "I only played Oblivion and King Kong on my Xbox [360]. I asked my parents for a copy of Saints Row, but they told me they spent the money on TV advertisements. Do you play any games, Crysta?"
"I have a PS2 and Gamecube at my house. For my last birthday, my parents gifted me three Sly Cooper games, and I enjoyed playing them."
The boy in red asked Crysta, "Do you have an Xbox 360?"
"No, but I asked my parents for one and they said I should wait," Crysta said as she munched on her burger, "I read in a gaming magazine that a lot of people are hyped up for Halo 3."
The boy in blue got excited, "Oh! You should get it! I played the first two Halo games with my father. They are amazing! Oh shit—here comes that asshole Keith Willis."
The group looked at the boy wearing a Patriots sweater, a pair of khakis but no belt, blue-white shoes with velcro straps, a necklace with a cross, and a Republican-branded pin above his right breast. His brown hair looked like he had not showered for two days. He smelled of canned tuna because he would eat canned tuna for lunch. While his parents and teachers treated him like a king, treatment from the students was drastically different.
"Hi! You all must be talking about violent video games," Keith said.
"Dude, we know the games we play have violence. You do not have to tell us that like we are fucking dumb," Zak responded.
"Those violent video games can make anyone have sex and kill somebody."
"Bullshit! There is no way anyone is going to plan on raping a person after playing Pac-Man World 3!"
"Some of those violent video games can pose as a family-friendly experience to lure the innocent into the subliminal messages that are too much to describe in detail."
The boy in red disagreed, "Timothy and I have been playing role-playing and fighting games since kindergarten. Look at us! We turned out just fine!"
"You tell him, Raleigh!" Timothy cheered.
Zak was not done with Keith, "One more thing, Keith. I did some scientific research on how your father is making millions from his operations in Argentina, Venezuela, and the Middle East. Do you want to know how?"
"That's fake news. My father is a great businessman with his hotels and casinos."
"Your father did not do jack, Keith! He inherited the assets from his father because he is part of the family, not because he had the merit and balls to run the places!"
"Again, that is fake news," Keith retorted before skipping to the courtyard.
Crysta remarked, "Wow, that kid is something else."
"And by 'something else,' I mean he is a nepo hire next in line and a poser when it comes to politics," Zak commented as he downed his can of Mountain Dew. "Do you all want to see the latest commercial my parents and I made and released?"
The four gathered around a table inside the computer lab to watch a video on Zak's laptop. He claimed an A&E reality show inspired his family to market to viewers looking for themes of romance, teamwork, adrenaline-laced arrests, and a philosophy of hope and second chances. The commercial even had a parody song sung by Zak:
START
There's fear and darkness all around you.
Labor Day discounts are on the run.
There's no reason to let them go.
Head down to County Furniture 'cause we're the Dawgs!
Queen-sized beds for only $850.
Designer loveseats down to $530.
And sofa-ottoman sets for $1425.
Don't miss out on those great deals 'cause we're the Dawgs!
We are the Dawgs! The big bad Dawgs!
The County Furniture!
(Sale ends September 4th, so hurry today. Some exceptions may apply.)
END
"So, what do you think?" Zak asked his friends.
"Hate to be a killjoy, but I figured an adrenaline-fueled theme is not going to work for your furniture store," Crysta disagreed.
"Crysta, we have been putting out ads with high adrenaline levels and we turned out fine."
"That's great, Zak. Maybe you should be a stand-up comedian like Drew Carey of Robots."
"Which character did Carey play as?" Timothy asked.
Zak then brainstormed an idea to prove Crysta wrong, "Okay, Crysta. I would appreciate it if you could come to County Furniture and see how business goes. No pressure. However, I should write you the address for it…and my home address." He wrote and labeled two addresses on a blank flash card and handed it to Crysta.
GYM CLASS, 2:20 PM
Crysta's gym class gathered around on the bleachers inside the dark gym save for some lights at one end. A muscular man in a white T-shirt, blue running shorts, and black running sneakers entered with a clipboard. "Hello, class! I am Mr. Kimball, your gym teacher for this semester. Since I look like I am in my early twenties despite being thirty-one, everyone calls me Connor. Before we discuss the syllabus, does anyone have any questions or concerns about this class? Let's hope we are clear on hazing as it is bad for you and bad for everyone you know or don't know!"
Many students raised their hands with glee.
Mr. Kimball clarified, "Any questions or concerns not about [Crysta]?"
Only a boy in an Orioles sweatshirt and hat kept his hand high.
"Yes, can I get your name?"
"Chess Clary."
"Okay, Chess. What's on your mind?"
"Is there a wrestling unit?"
"Yes, there is. The catch is you should not mimic what you find on TV as pro-wrestling is not a sport."
Many students groaned.
"Any other questions, class?"
A Chicano individual raised his hand.
"Yes, can I get your name?"
"Ruben Gonzalez. Where is that Willis kid?"
Nathaniel said, "Yeah, he's been in the locker room for eight minutes now. Why won't he show his face to us?"
Mr. Kimball responded, "Just give him some time. Keith is on a flexible schedule as he has a condition."
Zak asserted, "There's no way that dildo has a condition, let alone a plan for a flexible schedule!"
"I am someone who has been diagnosed with ADHD, or attention deficit hyperactive disorder," Crysta noted, "I can confirm any neurological disorder or symptom is much harder to mimic than you expect."
Keith quickly entered the gym and panted, "Sorry, I'm late. I need to apply lotion to keep my skin clear."
"How much lotion did you use?" Zak asked.
Keith retaliated as he sat in a seat, "Whatever I do with my body is none of your business!"
The class stayed silent for many seconds. Mr. Kimball picked up where they left off, "Okay, class. I would discuss the syllabus with you, but I figured you could read over it on your own time, get it signed by your parents or guardians, and bring it back to me by the end of the week for full credit. Okay, you can choose to run laps in the other gym or play basketball here. I will get the speaker set rolling."
As Mr. Kimball tuned to Three Days Grace's One-X album, the students began their activities. Crysta grabbed a basketball and shot it into a hoop. It was all net. She then made a hook shot from the right. Then a half-court shot.
Her basketball skills surprised some students. "Wow! I didn't know you can ball…and you don't even need your wings!" Zak said.
Crysta responded, "I could use my wings whenever I want, but I still need to work on my legs. This is P.E. after all."
The girl from the ELA 9 class looked down at Crysta's black sneakers with a vaporwave design, "Those are some cool shoes! Where did you get those?"
"My mom and I went to JCPenney to buy me new clothes including these [shoes] and my new jeans."
"And I envy you for having such a butt and rack boys would kill for."
"Stop, Maria! You are embarrassing me!" Crysta giggled.
Zak looked to his right and sighed, "What is Keith doing now?"
Crysta et al. followed suit to watch Mr. Kimball carry a junior-sized basketball backboard and hoop adjusted to six and a half feet tall.
"Why thank you, Mr. Kimball!" Keith said, "I always wanted to play basketball without having to jump super high due to my condition." He tried to dribble the ball, but his timing was either too early or late. Fearing his classmates would get vocal, he sternly told them, "I am doing my best, guys! I just want to have fun without getting hurt!" He then made a shot and the ball bounced off the rim to the right. It rolled and stopped at a closed door. Keith turned around and asked, "Can any of you get the ball?"
"Keith, it's fine. You can get the ball yourself," Zak frowned.
Keith complained, "But it's over at the door and someone from the other side might open it to scare me and I would fall on my coccyx."
Nathaniel grew frustrated along with his friends, "Oh my God! Grow a pair and get your ball! It's not that hard!"
Keith argued, "That is not what I believe a Good Samaritan should do! I need someone to get me the ball so I can play more basketball."
Maria pointed to the distance between Keith and the ball, "It's only around twenty feet from you."
"I appreciate your mathematical efforts, Maria, but I still need a Good Samaritan to help me get the ball."
"Here you go, Keith!" Mr. Kimball handed Keith the ball.
"Thank you so much, Mister!" Keith responded. He stared angrily at the group, "Why can't you be like him before?! I guess you are better off playing your violent video games and watching wicked television shows; therefore, rotting your freaking brains out!"
The group united in a circle. "This kid is a fucking fake. We need to do something about it," Maria said.
Ruben suggested, "Do we anonymously invite him over to the community pool, hire some guys to blindfold him, lead him inside, and have him make out with a pampered-up sheep?"
Maria declined, "No, that would be too easy. There is another way and I know the right person to talk to."
She lowered her eyebrows, grinned to the right, and looked at the eyes of the group.