Chapter 1 - Nate
Nineties bands are the best bands ever. This is not something that is up for discussion. I like all of those old bands from the 90s. Pearl Jam, Nirvana, The Smashing Pumpkins, Foo Fighters, Alice In Chains, Rage Against the Machine, Sublime, R.E.M., Pixies—that’s the stuff I live for every day. If I knew no one would find out, I’d also admit to liking Backstreet Boys, The Cranberries, No Doubt, Spice Girls, and Dave Matthews Band. Rock and alternative rock are awesome, but sometimes you need some pop music to shake your hips to, right? Sometimes, when I’m driving to school in the morning, I need Rage Against the Machine to remind me that the world is a steaming crap-box; other times, I need No Doubt to make me realize things aren’t so bad.
Still, Green Day will always be my favorite, specifically the album Dookie. It’s the perfect blend of angsty lyrics and happy melodies that makes me nod my head in the car. Even when I’m at home, I usually have my headphones in—I prefer cans, but sometimes I use my earbuds—listening to music so I don’t think about life too much. Do you have to listen to music at dinner, Nathan? That’s my mom’s go-to question when we’re all sitting down to dinner together in the evenings. At school, I usually use my earbuds so that I can have music in one ear and my teachers’ voices in the other. It’s one of those survival techniques I use to make it through what is basically 8 hours of Hell. Makes things suck a little less, ya’know? During art class, I usually use my cans—over the ear headphones—so I can block everything out and just focus on my work. Music and drawing (or sculpting and painting) are like soulmates. They complete each other.
Even on the worst days of high school, music can turn things around for me. Or at least make everything tolerable. I’m not a geek or loser or anything. I don’t even really ever get picked on. If I was forced to say what exactly my high school thing is, I’m one of those guys who just kind of blends in, I guess. Of course, that’s kind of all of us. High school students, I mean. Most of us aren’t cheerleaders or football players or student council members. We’re not the teachers’ pets. We’re not the teenagers getting picked on mercilessly, either. Of course, that’s something that a lot of movies and Netflix shows gets wrong. I mean, I don’t know how my parents grew up—you can’t really ask, either, because then you’re in for a lecture or they’re seeing their glory days through rose-colored glasses—but bullying isn’t really a huge thing. Maybe John Hughes conditioned everyone in the 80s to remember bullying to be a much bigger problem? I’m not sure.
Yeah, some guys pick on other guys and girls pick on other girls—usually by posting some lame crap on social media—but teachers and principals don’t really put up with that at my school. Maybe it’s different in other schools, and bullying is a real issue, but at Long-Moore High School, most of the teachers would rip you from one end to the other if they saw you bullying someone else. They don’t have time for your nonsense during class. I’m sure some high schools have a problem with teachers not being able to control their students, but they run a pretty tight ship at Long-Moore. Sure, you’ll sometimes see one of the students who is vying for “Class Clown” do some random weird thing to get laughs—or to impress someone—or you’ll see one student say something bitchy to another student, but we mostly just learn and wait for the final bell of the day to ring.
Each day, all twelve-hundred of us show up, some driving ourselves, some on the bus, some walking, some being dropped off by our parents, and we shuffle into the halls. We do our best to get to our lockers, get the books and supplies we need, and get to our first class before first chimes. Oh, yeah. That’s one way Long-Moore High School is different, I guess. We don’t have some spine-shattering, headache-inducing bell or buzzer telling us we’re late. We have chimes. Almost like windchimes but more like a doorbell, they let us know in what is seen as a “serene and calm way” that learning is about to commence. On my first day as a freshman, I thought it was a nice change of pace. As a junior, getting close to my senior year, I kind of want to find the speakers and rip them out of the ceiling. Can’t we all just be trusted to get to each class on the hour every hour?
The halls at Long-Moore are never all that packed since the high school wasn’t built that long ago, and the contractors took student population into consideration. There are plenty of lockers for everyone, and the class schedules are usually done by administration with walking time in mind. You’ll rarely find a student who has an English class at one end of the school for one period, then a math class at the other end of the school for their next period. I’ve only been late to one of my classes once, and that was at the beginning of my junior year. I had slammed an energy drink and Dyson’d a microwave breakfast burrito on the way to school. Between first and second periods, my stomach started to rage against the machine. Mrs. Johnson, my second-period French teacher, understood, so, other than an aching butthole for the rest of the day, things turned out all right. Luckily, since I had never made it a habit of being late to classes, Mrs. Johnson didn’t even ask for an explanation. She just gave me a look that said: “And this will be the last time, right?” I nodded back, and that was that.
So, I don’t hate school. Or the people. The hours aren’t great, but I guess it gets teenagers ready for a career that might have a sucky schedule later on in life. Like a lot of people, I’m just waiting for life to begin. I don’t really know what that means, exactly, but I’m ready for it. I mean, I’ve been checking out universities and colleges, I’ve even applied to a few. That’s probably where my life begins. University, what it’s like, and what I’ll study when I get there is something I can’t really visualize, though. I assume I’ll just figure it all out when I get there.
Music gets me through until then. After music, though, books are my next favorite thing in the entire world, with libraries coming directly after that. The library at Long-Moore High School is actually pretty sweet. It’s kind of big and modern, I guess, situated in a large amphitheater-like space directly in the center of the school. A circular hallway surrounds the library and other halls branch off of that circular hallway, making the school into a big wheel. Or windmill, I guess. I’ve never really seen the school from above, but there’s a big painting of an aerial view of the school. The school looks like a windmill or wheel in the painting, so I’m going to assume that I’m correct.
Books have always been a love of mine, even before I could read. I loved being read to by my parents before I understood what written words meant. As I got older, I loved reading to myself. However, the occasional bedtime story delivering by my parents wasn’t out of the question. Then, as I became a teenager, and had more control over the stories I chose to read, my love of books exploded. Arriving at Long-Moore for my first day as a freshman and seeing the library, I realized that books might actually end up being the love of my life. It’s not just the books, though. Mrs. Clark, our librarian, is amazing.
It’s not just that she doesn’t care if I wear my cans and listen to music in the library while I look for a book or do homework as long as no one else can hear it. It’s also not just because she’s not afraid to tell anyone to shut the hell up if they’re too loud—even Principal Vernon. Mrs. Clark doesn’t take crap off of anyone. Don’t get me wrong, she’s always super cool and nice to me and everything. She always has the best book recommendations if I ask, too. But the lady is intimidating if you piss her off. Luckily, I’ve never made her mad, so I’ve only experienced her Death Glare when it has been directed at other students, or sometimes other members of the staff. Usually, I just mind my business when I’m in the library unless I’m asking Mrs. Clark for recommendations or checking out books.