Codename: Loser

School's been going on for about three long and exaggerated weeks now. And I ignored my new names as I went to my locker. The Normals were over by the water fountain talking it up, and occasionally got "hey's" from The Populars (if they felt humanly and not Godly that day). Finally I arrived at the locker that held all the crap school teachers called 'essential.' I will never understand why each class needs, like, 5 notebooks. After punching the blue metal three times the creaky door swung open. This method of opening ones locker is bittersweet. Sweet because, hey, no locker combinations to take up brain space on remembering more important stuff. Stuff like that back-hand indy tail grab on your skateboard. Bitter, well because, a Popular can just walk up to your locker, bang it, take all your school-essential-crap and throw it in the toilet because that's the "cool" thing to do. Who cares anyways? Because I'm a Loser I got the textbooks with all the cussing and tik-tak-toes anyways. I wouldnt mind if someone got rid of that shit for me.

But anyways, I got all my crap out the locker and shoved it into my messanger bag. I reached down and picked up my skateboard. The bottom was covered in dents and scratches. These were probably from all the grinds I did on a daily basis to and from school. I'd broken two others in half already, it didnt matter to me. So I put the skateboard into my locker diagnally and slammed the door. Boy am I lucky not to be one of the Losers with a bottom locker.

First I have my math class. My teacher, Mr. A, seems to know a lot about polynomials, but he cant seem to understand what it means to open up a goddamned window! I mean, I shouldnt have to sit here and smell farts all of class, and me burning up in a 97 degree air-tight classroom. This room isn't a can, everything doesnt have to be sealed in!! And to make things worse, as if a freaking War of the Gas Bombs in the Sahara isn't enough, Mr. A talks like one of those teachers in Peanuts. All you hear is, "Wah Wah Wah" in slow motion. And I'm not trying to be rude, but if you look closely at his mouth while he's talking can see spit flying in every direction, it's like a friggin firework show. And it's gross because he has this special hanky in his suit pocket that he uses to clean his mouth. It's like watching someone spit tobacco. And what's worse is that we know he doesnt clean that thing because it's starting to turn yellow. I almost cried when I first saw that.... I mean, how nasty can you be....?

"Mr.Crowen!" Mr.A blared.

I woke up from staring, jaw dropped, at his wet, rubbery mouth, "Huh? Wah-?"

"Would you care to explain why 'x' might be 5 in today's warm-up?"

I stared at the numerals on the board, "Err," I studied the equation, "Well, because you divided. Yeah, that's why.."

"What exactly did we divide??" Mr. A hissed out. People not paying attension must really bother him. Well, it's not OUR faults, look at his damn lips!

"Uh." Yeah, that's a sentence. I looked at the board again, "25 and....5? Yeah, 25 and 5." I zoomed back in on his mouth, discust on my face.

He squinted his eyes at me, "At what might you be staring at?" He asked. That question is code for: 'Quit staring at my lips!'

"Nothing," I jerked my eyes up and tried to stare past his head, "Nothing." I said again.

He turned back around and stared spitting ruthelessly as he explained a new question.

After class I stopped by one of the Geeks locker. He was pretty cool to me. His name was Thomas Thuttbutt and he was my Also-Turned-Into-A-Loser-Cause-of-His-Name friend. Except, his nicknamse made "Alpha" sound like "God". People would call him just by his last name and giggle, or call hime the following: ButtHutt, and because of the T in his first name and the T at the begining of his last name: Titties n Butt, King ThuttButt the Third (You know, the pharoh Thutmose the Third?). It sucked. Anyways, I stopped by his locker where he and a bunch of other Geeks were giggling on about somesort of technology. I peeked over the shoulders of the huddled Geeks to see into the locker the were around.

"What is it?" I asked.

Thomas turned his curly head around, "It's the new issue of MegaHurtz." He said it as if he found a Playboy.

"Uh huh. I see." I answered.

Thomas turned back around with the magazine in his hands, and the others followed like dogs. Thomas flipped the page and a drop out poster rolled down. A couple of Geeks whistled and a chubby one said, "Holy Motherboard." I quickly peeked over to see if they weren't actually looking at a Playboy inside of that geekzine. There wasnt another magazine, but it was a girl they were looking at. She looked japanese with an anime schoolgirl outfit on. She couldn't have been over 14.

"You guys are perverts." I stated, "What the crap is she even doing in a computer magazine?"

They all turned around and gave me a 'shut the hell up' look, "What?" I asked.

"She's not even human Alpha." said some guy.

I squinted at him, "Alright then. What is she?"

Thomas replied, "She's a Japanese CQRS5, model-10, figure-11."

"Aaaand what the hell is that?"

Everyone moaned in an annoyed 'this guy don't know shit' way, "She's a goddamned robot Einstein." Thomas spat.

"Well so-rry! I didnt mean to mock thou's holy computers!" I said back.

"If it's possessive then it's thy or thine, not "thou's"." someone corrected.

"Yeah -snort- what the hell is 'thou's'?! Hakhakhakahak!!" All the Geeks joined in laughing at my mistake. My eyebrow twitched.

"Haha...whew. You crack us up Andy." Thomas said patting my shoulder.

"Anyways," I said, "I came to walk with you to class Thomas."

He looked up, "Oh. Alright, just let me get my stuff."

Thomas shoved the MegaHurtz into someone elses hands and grabbed his school-essential-crap out of his locker and then slammed the door shut. Little pieces of thin blue paint fluttered off and drifted to the ground. Soon me and Thomas were walking.