Date: Thu, 17 Mar 2005 17:03:03 -0800 From: Cole Parker Subject: Eighth Grade, Chapter 1 The following is a work of fiction. If you don't know the meaning of that, then you shouldn't be reading this, as the story is more complex than that statement and you won't understand it. This story will contain some sex between consenting partners. Both partners will be boys. If that isn't your cup of tea, I respectfully suggest you find your beverage of choice elsewhere. If you shouldn't be reading this, please don't. I don't want either of us to get in trouble, particularly me. If reading this is illegal where you live, then absolutely, do not read it! This story will not contain a lot of sex, in fact, just the exact amount appropriate for this story. What a coincidence! If you want a lot of sex, you probably should read a different story. There are a lot on this website. I would like to thank a friend who assisted me with this story, but forgot to get his permission to do so. Oops. Well, later. This story has several chapters, so there's still time. Remarks may be addressed to: Cole Parker 8th Grade Chapter 1 So I knew I shouldn't do it. You get that feeling sometimes-you just know it's a mistake to do something and then you go ahead and do it anyway, and of course you were right, and it was wrong, and it ends up just like it should, with you embarrassed or humiliated or punished or hurt or some such shit. And you don't even feel that upset because you knew that was how it was going to end up when you did it. That's just the way it works. And it really isn't that bad to be humiliated. Hell, I'm in middle school-humiliation is a daily way of life. You trip and your books fly out of your hands just when you want to look cool, you spring a stiffy just when you're about to get called up to the blackboard, you get bumped in the cafeteria just when you've got your head leaning way back and are you're about to drink the last of the chocolate milk in the carton and are wearing a white tee shirt, you forget your jock strap and the coach has to know why in front of the whole gym class and you don't want to say your mother forgot to wash it but he keeps talking about it and everyone ends up starting at your crotch knowing there's nothing under your thin gym shorts but you, you get an F on the math quiz because you were thinking about how to avoid the jerk in the next class who told you he was going to break your arm in three places when he saw you today and maybe drop you out the window to boot, so you weren't paying attention to the problem and who cares anyway but Mrs. Graedon has to call the names of everyone who got F's and it was only you and Jesse and Jesse always gets F's but you don't, and, she asks you in front of the class in that very nice voice that rubs like sandpaper on fresh sunburn if you'd like her to arrange a tutor for you and, well, yeah, you know about humiliation. You and every other teenager. But, even knowing about it, and knowing you shouldn't do it, you had to open your mouth. You had to get involved even though it was Brad Decker, only the coolest kid in the whole damned school and certainly not someone who'd even know who you are and what were you thinking, speaking up at a time like that? You knew, YOU KNEW, you should just sit there. With your mouth closed. But when Mrs. Graedon decided humiliating you wasn't enough to get her jollies for today, and started in on Brad, and you could tell it was getting to him, and him being a cool kid and not really used to being humiliated, being perfect and all, and he was biting his tongue and turning red well, then you started feeling a little sorry for him and what in the world were you thinking, feeling sorry for BRAD DECKER??? It was painful how it went. First, she asks you if you need a tutor. "Danny," she says in that really nice, oh-you-poor-little-boy tone she uses when she's trying to piss you off or embarrass you, "Danny, do you want me to assign you a tutor? Someone who can make you understand this really easy algebra better than I can? I have some little 7th graders next period and I'm sure one of them can work with you. Would you like me to ask one of them? Danny?" She paused, staring at me and me staring back. She could tell I wasn't going to answer, so that's when she started speaking again, an evil smirk added in with her childish inflection, talking to Brad. "Brad, you got a D, and since that's not unusual for you, you always get D's, why don't I see if that 7th grader could work with you, too? Danny was just being lazy, just like he sometimes is, but you, you could do with a steady course of tutoring. I think I'll do that. Do you want a little boy or a little girl 7th grade tutor?" So that's when I had to do it. That's when I had to open my mouth, when I knew full well that it was a mistake with a capital M, I went ahead anyway. I went ahead because Brad was getting seriously upset and I was pissed at her anyway and what was my father going to say about an F in math, he'd be disappointed in me and, awww, fuck it. "Mrs. Graedon," I heard myself saying, "I think both Brad and I would just love to see if one of your 7th graders could show us how to do advanced 8th grade algebra. Since you obviously can't teach us how to do it any better than where we end up with D's and F's, I can't imagine one of them knowing how to do it either, especially as they're in YOUR class." Mrs. Graedon marched right over to my desk, much more quickly than I thought an 85-year-old fat lady could march (well, she looked that old to me, and she WAS way too heavy), leaned down to me with glaring eyes, a red face and spittle on her lips. Then here came this huge noise, and I think I heard a word. "DETENTION!" I think that was the word I heard. It was so loud, and screamed right in my ear, that the buzzing was a little disorienting, but I'm sure that was the word. It was the next three words, however, that shook me up more than her bellow. Those words were, "Both of you!" Oh shit, I thought, what did I do now? I wasn't the only one with a question. "What?" screamed Brad. "Why me, I didn't pop off like Danny did. Besides, I've got basketball practice after school. I can't go to detention." "You laughed," explained Mrs. Graedon, visibly pleased with herself and with Brad's reaction. "You WILL go to detention. TODAY!" "But everyone else laughed, too," said a shocked and now bright red Brad. "Besides, there's no way today. I can't. I've got practice and then a dentist appointment. My mom is picking me up. I can't." "You should think about things like that before laughing at your teacher. Detention tonight, and now tomorrow night, too, for arguing. That will give you lots of time to think about your behavior and how you can improve it. And since you're stuck two nights, it's only fair that Danny be there to commiserate with you. Both nights." She grinned her evil grin at me. Mrs. Graedon and I don't much like each other. Brad shot a truly murderous glare at me. Well, he may not have known me before (although he did know my name. I'd have to think about that some time), but he sure knew me now. Not good, not good at all. After class, Brad headed up to talk to Mrs. Graedon while I unobtrusively tried to leave the class. I overheard Brad repeating, "But everyone laughed." "But everyone else didn't get a D," retorted Mrs. Graedon smugly. I was going to go back to point out that that was a total non sequitur, but decided, belatedly, that maybe that sparkling insight wouldn't change her mind and that I'd done enough damage for one day and should do what I should have done earlier, just put a sock in it.