Straighten Your Ties / Book 1

Through playful lips made of yarn 

That fragile Capricorn 

Unraveled words like moths upon old scarves

I know the world's a broken bone

But melt your headaches, call it home
-Panic at the Disco – Northern Downpour

I’m waiting. Yes, waiting, like so many of us have done before. But I’m really just waiting for nothing special. This isn’t a chapter that’s full of the religious morals. So sadly, I’m not waiting for a real miracle, but at this point, the thing I’m waiting seems to be a miracle that’s far in the distance and is never coming to your carpeted doorstep.

This miracle I’m waiting for is simply a black SUV. Nothing special about a Ford Freestyle. It’s days like these that I really hate. I can’t emphasize that enough. Mondays and Thursdays are early days. Meaning I finish class at 2:45 – good, like seriously, really good, I get to let off some steam two days of the school week and go home early. The problem is I can’t exactly let some steam off here.

School is really not a hang out place you want to go to. It’s the hang out place that the government recommends so much that they made it law to hang out there it at least five days a week. Not to mention that while hanging out, you have to be “schooled”. Wait… I have to be dissed by law? I guess it has to be in a somewhat educational way, like in Shakespearian:
“Thou art owned!”
“PEACE HO! Yo’ Momma speaks!”

Or even better, they’ll be like stupid disses:
“You just got learned!”
When you think about it, schools are the most popular places for kids to hang out. That’s just pathetic.

So while you were reading that, I was freezing my ass off in overly cold autumn of Montreal – still waiting. It’s now 4:50. Teachers end work at this time. Sometimes even before. I should technically be on the faculty payroll. That is even more pathetic. That’s the other thing I find so odd. We, the students, pay to go to school to be bored and such, while the faculty members get paid to do something boring. Or something we consider boring. Perhaps we need to see it on a different angle. Although, I’m too lazy to cock my head to the side. Then again, that might be because I’m in the Montreal winter. And if you’re wondering why I just don’t walk home, it’s because I forgot my key, the door is locked and everyone I know is busy today. I have nowhere to go, so rather than waiting outside until my parents get off work, I’d rather stay here. I could go inside, but I might not see the damn chariot that is obviously stuck in traffic. The driver will then yell at me.

Fuck it. It’s too freaking cold. Besides, I like walking the hallways of Seguin. Much more enjoyable than watching the time: 4:53 now. My cell should ring if the car does show up. Five bucks that it’s in Zimbabwe. Tonight was even parent-teacher interview night, so you’d expect my horse and buggy’s driver would be here. But Seguin teachers don’t have time to waste – hell, no. This means that they only request certain students to be called upon with their parents to talk to the teacher. Simply put – the ones who are failing their classes. I was fortunately the anti-moron. Passing all my classes. Yes, actually I was actually passing all my classes right now as I walked down the hallway. Look, there they go… MS-4… MS-3… 2… 1. Enticing isn’t it?

Chairs were lined up in the hallways, two outside each class. Some teachers inside, working on some paperwork, or whatever they like to do. Or have to do. This reminds me, I have homework to do. Shit. 4:55? It’s felt like an hour now. I was at the end of the hallway. Pushing open the double doors. But I felt like drawing it out. Using the least amount of force possible, I bent forward, moving back at an incredibly slow speed. This is nice. Soothing, calming, tranquil… Fuck – it’s boring. I sped up and started going down the flight ahead. Two steps at a time at full speed is not the best method to go down stairs. My body flung itself forward, my backpack pushing me even more, and crushing me with its numerous textbooks.

“Shit…” I muttered aimlessly, stomach still stapled to the cold grayish floor. “That really fuc-“ …And then one of the double doors in front of me slammed against my head. Fan-freaking-tastic. Now my head is writhing in pain. And so is the rest of my body. This is just my day. Thanks to the teacher who pushed the door open on me – Ms. Evans.

“Ugh… what the fuck?” I didn’t realize that Ms. Evans had done so by accident at the time. I barely noticed that she was there, and so explains the language.

“Ohmygod. Derrick, I’m so sorry. I heard – I – Someone fell, and – oh crap.” It was much too apparent that April Evans was now panicking.

I slowly started to sit up, “First off, I’m not going to sue. Just because you are employed at a school that has the upper-classmen, doesn’t mean my parents are that pathetic and would… Bleh… my head hurts. But secondly, I take it that my swearing is excused?”

“Oh, c’mon. I’ll fix you up in the lab…” April helped me get up and I continued to follow her back through the double doors, sticking my tongue out at them as I passed. “I don’t have my first interview till 5:30 or so.” Which reminds me – 4:59.

We entered the lab, which had been a class I had spent numerous months in, watching stupid science videos from the University of Alabama. They featured a hick who had somehow gotten a PhD named Larry Rainey. We had our laughs in science class. Although grade seven had brought territory that we couldn’t laugh at because we were studying too much.

The MS-Lab seemed to be fixed up quite nicely for tonight. Desks were straight and orderly facing the front of the class, chairs seemed to sparkle with cleanliness, and there was no sort of chemical residue around that you might usually find. Too bad by first period tomorrow, it would most likely be the complete opposite. Although, it seemed as though April took pride in the sanitation of her classroom.

“Here – here.” She pulled a chair over in my direction, as she then got an ice pack with some brown paper wrapped around it. She gave it to me, and rolled her chair from her desk over near me.

“Sit. Oh God. I’m really sorry… I just… I heard something crash, that being you, and then – you fell down the stairs right?-” I nodded, ice pack on my left temple, “OK. And then I just thought…”
“Don’t worry, I know… guh-” I winced at the pain. “I was just walking around and then I ran too fast down the stairs… No problem. Those doors are a bitch though- that came out wrong.”

“On that note, I’ll excuse the language for now.”
“Thanks. I seriously didn’t mean what I said out there.”
“You did, just not towards me…”
“You could say that.” I winced again, making a smirk out of it.
“So, how are you? – Besides the injuries, of course.”
“Fine… Kinda pissed. You know, I’m waiting around after school and this happens.”
“I see your point,” Looking around, almost twitching in a way. She looked like she was waiting for something too. I couldn’t be sure, but she still looked really distraught over the whole banging of my head.

“Ms. Evans, it’s alright… it’s not your fault. I’ve slammed into those doors before… Just a bump. Nothing more. It’s f-”
“Yes, I know, but it’s something that’s just so stupid that you really can’t just forgive and forget… you know?”
“I get what you’re saying.” Thinking of a few things in my life like such. “Are you waiting for something? You seem… anxious, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“PT night,” Parent Teacher, “And well… Seguin…” She rolled her eyes to the side like a teenage girl would do.

“Uhhh… What do you mean exactly?” Confused by her odd way of communicating. Although I thought that it had something to do with parents and them being bitchy and rather cold-hearted, but my head really wasn’t functioning at the time. I knew a lot of parents were picky on numerous things about teachers. Mr. Caldwell was one of the most criticized teachers in the school. He told us about parents complaining on PT night and how he loathed it. Though he still enjoyed meeting our parents for some reason. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. Not at Seguin at least.

Reluctant to say it, she breathed a sigh and… “It’s not the most pleasant school.”
“No school is the greatest…” I think I understood what she was saying now. “That brings up a poi-” Wince. “Guh. Point. Don’t take this in any wrong way, but could you just answer me truthfully on this one?” I looked hopefully towards her. I didn’t know id it was alright to ask.

There’s always this boundary between teachers and students that we’re never supposed to cross. I almost felt like ignoring it for once regardless of the consequences.
“Uh… yeah, why not? Oh shoot -”
“Yeah, I was going to talk to you…”

“Big meeting before tonight. Sorry about that.” Raising one of her black/perhaps-dark-brown-since-I-can-never-tell-the-difference-and-just-may-be-colorblind eyebrows.

I breathed in a heavy sigh as well. Wondering if I should even ask this question because it might be contradictory to myself. Then again, I’ve said “fuck” in front of this teacher. There’s nothing much worse than that unless I’m insulting her – which I once did by throwing my corrected essay in the trash in front of a teacher. That’s another story. And look now… my idiotic self is getting sidetracked. Fucker.

Where was I? Oh yeah: heavy sigh, then, “Do you think we’re spoiled brats?”
April merely stared at me for a second, her red-rimmed glasses acting as a telescope (so it seemed), analyzing a simple question. This is exactly why I write a bunch of fragments. That sentence hardly made sense. Perhaps I’m just retarded.

April had to complicate things, so that she wasn’t answering yes or no. Understandable, but last time I read in the yearbook, she had a bachelor’s in education, and a bachelor in Science. Since when did she go to law school? “You have a point in a way but you can’t exactly generalize five hundred students into one category. You do mean the students, right?”

“Yeah, but I just keep thinking… I pay a bunch of –” Wince again, “money… I mean my parents –” As if I ever paid the bills. MORON. “Pay a lot of money to get me here. And I work. I do.”
“Your exam marks were great last year. I can say that.”

“Thanks, but I just think… a lot of people don’t take things seriously. They’re fed the info but they don’t digest it. And then we have laptops, and SmartBoards, and… I think it’s this huge jump from public school to private school. I just haven’t quite adapted as well perhaps.”

“Derrick, I’ve taught at schools where they don’t even have enough textbooks to go around-”
“I’m unsure about this better education thing… I mean… is it just another thing on your CV to help you, or does it actually serve a purpose throughout life other than just a name?”

April was probably overwhelmed with my philosophical mindset on all this stuff. I don’t blame her… I have “skillz.” April was now getting more sympathetic. She moved closer to me, still staring through those two lenses of a facial telescope, “You really weren’t all right this morning in homeroom, were you?” Still staring, her eyes softening. Gosh, why does it sound like I’m writing a romance novel? “Der, you shouldn’t be worrying about all this. It’s worth it. Trust me. You’re not a spoiled brat. You know you don’t want to be. Just don’t let yourself become one.” Good advice from a teacher who is nervous about meeting parents. Good advice indeed.

I looked at her, almost feeling like we should make out after something like that. I reconsidered that thought as I thought Chris Hansen would come in, and then tell April to “have seat, right over there.” Then he would begin questioning her… That would be… a first for Dateline… A woman who is a predator.

“Tonight on ‘To Catch A Predator,’ one of the strangest screenames popped up on Perverted Justice’s computer yesterday: Kittyluver34.” This is why I’m not going into scriptwriting.

I turned my head away, looking at the clock: 5:09. “Thanks, I appreciate it. That actually helped.” And truthfully, it did. I hadn’t been feeling so hot lately, and it wasn’t because of the weather. I always go through these phases of doubt every few months. Then there was someone out there that could help me, but this was feeling strangely uncomfortable. Just… guh. More wincing. “I’ve got to go. I think…” My phone wasn’t really ringing/vibrating, but…

“…my phone is ringing. My mom’s outside probably.” I put down the ice pack on the table. This meeting that I thought would be fine and all, that I hadn’t planned, that just happened, but now I was feeling oddly drawn to her. This was as wrong as anyone could think it was.

“Wait, do you need help getting out?” April stood up, putting her hand on my shoulder. I pulled away, now noticing that I was barely able to stand because of the pain. “No. Nonononono…” Through the evident pain. “I’m fine.” I grabbed my backpack, as heavy as it always is. Shit, I gotta get out of here. “Thanks once again. Have a good meeting with the parents.” I had said that to spite her. I must admit that I can be really mean sometimes.

“Well, I’m sorry once again –”
“It’s fine.” I knew she was sorry – Couldn’t she just shut up? “Goodbye.”
“Bye. See you tomorrow.” I wished I wouldn’t be seeing her tomorrow morning.
Why was I…? Guh… I don’t even want to explain it days after doing so. It’s funny how things just go from good to fuckin’ bad.

I got out of the classroom, and surprisingly, my phone began to ring – For real this time. I dashed down the hallway, seeing the double doors, not wanting to take my time anymore. I just wanted to get out of here before a certain infatuation took over what I knew was me. Forget waiting, now was a time to act, even though my head hurt, even though April was attractive, even though all can be absolutely absurd. I now burst through the double doors, jumped the three steps, and there was the glorious black chariot waiting, just as all was about to explode, like something sent from whoever they call God.

But things aren’t always so glorious. As I have warned you before, never jolt down the stairs two at a time, even though they’re obstacles in life, wait a little longer and go slowly:

I dashed down the few steps that lead to the sidewalk, but misplaced my step, lost balance, and face planted once again to the snow-covered ground. This was going to be a long week.