Chapter 2

by Dahni

© Copyright 6/21/09

all rights reserved

The new Jr. High school wasn’t that new, but it was brand new to Ben. And so he thought would be life for him. A new school meant new classes, new faces that did not know him and maybe a new chance at not being made fun of over his name. It would not all be new, not exactly the same as before, just different. The only American History he was interested in, was making history in America. History would be his-story.

Maybe the old “have you Ben Silent long,” thing, was just just grade school; just old school? Things would be different here. And so they were, just not as he would have preferred or anticipated.

This new school became necessary to fill the need for the many young adults, which were mostly coming from the western part of town. These students were the upper middle class and the upper class. Ben was kind of like on the border of the district. It was like being the middle child in his family, he was too far from one school and for some strange reason, too close to another.  But he had to go to this one in the ‘middle.’

It was modern and newer for sure, but so was he for the most part and not too many knew him. This was just fine to Ben and he preferred to forget about the past and many of those from it. But most of the students here knew each other. The rich kids came from homes with their own swimming pools or were part of a private pool.  Several had their own horses.  They had fine clothes and just lots of stuff. They hung out together and had been inside each others homes. They went to the same parties. Ben was an outsider and they looked at him and treated him as such.

He was not stupid. He could see them stare and whisper behind his back when he was at the drinking fountain or his locker. They were either too stupid or just did not care that they whispered loud enough for him to hear. These people did not know him. They didn’t know anything about him. What was worse is that they didn’t even ask. Apparently, it was unnecessary, as they had him all figured out? Ben was from the wrong side of town. He didn’t come from money and certainly did not possess the proper pedigree of snobbery and social graces. So he must be one of those ‘bad boys,’ a ‘hood’ or some other unseemly character. Grade school was looking good to Ben now. At least there, he knew why people tried to take advantage of him. But here, this was something new alright. It was something unexpected and not something he was prepared to deal with. Ben now had a reputation. And it was a bad reputation, one of which, he had not earned.

There was not a few that acted like Ben was being portrayed. Some of them even came from money and the ‘right’ side of town. But the ‘cool’ people must have had an answer to this abnormality. They must have not had the right kind of breeding, the right ‘papers’ and they must not have had the right ‘kind’ of money. Then again, sometimes trouble just courses through the veins of some people, no matter where they come from.

Ben felt with all this new pressure, it was pointless to try and defend that he was NOT one of the ‘bad boys.’ He really didn’t want to be one of ‘them’ or one of  ’those’ rich snobs either. Nothing was new in this. There he was, stuck in the middle again. Oh well, if he couldn’t beat them, he might as well join them. And the bad boys had no memberships, they just took anybody. For the first time, Ben had friends. But it would be several more years until he knew what a friend really was.

There was still, a lot of really new stuff going on in this school.  It was the first time he would be in a school for just three years. For many, it would be the first time in becoming teenagers. There were new hormones moaning, girls were getting interesting to guys and the girls were attracted to the guys. Girls were budding and the boys were beginning to bulge. Some were slower than others. One girl lost her toilet tissue stuffing, and ran down the hall in tears with the TP streaming and trailing behind her, while others laughed. Cruelty, meanness and teasing was not new, it was just evolving.

What’s the big deal about being different? Everyone is different anyway, so why is it necessary to brand people, elevate some and lower others? These questions had no answers for Ben. But it just seemed like eating your favorite comfort food, if you could just be in a group. Accepted not for who you were or even what your wore did not matter, just as long as, you were part of a group. Like a real family, pretty much all one had to do was just show up and you were ‘in.’

Besides all this stupid pecking order, grouping, groping, and gushing gee-whiz eyelash batting and impress the girls with some bravado, there was school to deal with too. Classes and teachers all seemed to have the same agenda, to get knowledge into heads of these emotional creatures and get them passed on to the next grade and for the next group of teachers to deal with.

Ben was running out of excuses. This first year of the three years he would be here, would be the last time he could use his grade school ploy of getting out of class and going home.

“I split my pants,” was just not cutting it anymore. This place was advanced. They would not put up with crap. They had ‘the enforcer’ to paddle the butts of smart-asses. They also had duct tape, which to Ben was more embarrassing than even if he would have been ‘bare-assing,’ instead of covering some hole in your pants. They could also send you to the gym teacher to borrow some gym shorts. And of course, one would have to wear them over the pants that split on purpose or for real.

One needed to be a much more creative; a highly evolved and intellectual giant, to foil the smart people in charge here. One guy got out of school after the police showed up and raided his locker for a reported bag of ‘weed.’ No one thought that was too funny when it turned out to be just that, a plastic bag with dried weeds in it. It did get him out of school though. Ben did not have the guts or the stupidity to try something like that. It was bad enough that he was hanging around the guy, the unofficial crowned leader of the bad boys. Ben didn’t even like him. But Ben was after all, part of a group and that had to count for something.

With the lack of fortitude or just too smart to pull off such elaborate schemes like this , just to get out of school, Ben actually stayed in school longer than he was used to or desired to.  And by that fact alone, he might even learn something. WOW, what a concept, in school and learning!

There was still a lot of looking out of the window and dreaming whenever he could get away with it, but these teachers were smarter and much more aware than what he was used to.

There was art class and Ben enjoyed it and his teacher encouraged him. He aced the class.

There was English which started out poorly, but changed after a confrontation with his teacher in class. Besides gym, this was Ben’s first male teacher. The girls went gah-gah over the blond haired, blue eyed good looking guy in his Ivy League sport coat. He wore a three piece suit or a jacket and a tie every day and he was smart. But Ben could not stand the guy.

One day, Ben was looking out the window. Then all of sudden, the room was silent. That was loud enough to catch Ben’s attention. When he turned back towards class to see what was going on, everyone was staring at him and his teacher did not look too happy.

“It is nice of you to rejoin us Ben,” was the next sarcastic thing Ben heard. And that was followed by spontaneous laughter in unison from the whole class. Ben’s eyes must have turned red, not his face with embarrassment, but his eyes with anger. He was about to explode.

Mr. Mason raised his hands for effect. “Quiet class, perhaps Ben can answer this question?”

Ben could see several smirks from jerks and he could feel the vein in his neck throbbing as he waited for the shoe to fall.

“Ben, can you give us a reason why you cannot seem to afford to pay attention.”

Ben was just infuriated now and he just let loose.

“Yeh, I can give you two. One, public education is supposed to be free so I don’t have to ‘pay’ attention. And no one has ever told me how much attention costs.”

Heads turned to the front of the room and some were lowered as if they were ducking to avoid the crossfire of something being thrown from the front of the room to the back at Ben. The room was instantly and strangely silent. The pause seemed to last for an eternity.

“Ben, you have been silent far too long! That was without a doubt, the funniest thing I have ever heard.”

Then Mr. Mason did something Ben had never seen him do before. He laughed. And Ben found himself for perhaps the first time, not being laughed at. His teacher was just laughing. And others were too.

From that moment on, Ben and Mr. Mason bonded. Now no one ever said a word to him after class, but Ben had something from all them that day. It was something that he had never had before. Ben had respect. Ben aced English.

Other subjects and other teachers were not able to reach Ben. He tried football and was deemed too small for the line. He was moved to the back and actually started to both enjoy it and got better at it. But who gets kicked off the football team for smoking? And who flunks gym when all one had to do was to show up and take a shower? If anyone could accomplish these things it would be Ben and he did. Ben picked up the nasty bad-boy group of smoking. Taking a shower and even showering with other guys didn’t bother him. The problem was it was difficult to grade a student that rarely showed up for class.

Ben just could not get math. Algebra might have well been a foreign language to Ben. Some referred to this branch of math as ‘algae-bra’ a tiny female sea creature with small breasts with not ‘enough’ to fill it out, like the brassiere worn by the poor girl who had lost her TP stuffing. Ben was really good at counting, especially the minutes and seconds on the clock, before this boring class was over; school was out, for the day or the week.

Music was cool. Ben loved to sing. His teacher used to gather them around in a circle especially on Fridays. She would turn off the lights and strum her guitar quietly. “Ben, tell us a story.” He did and often. And he aced that class.

Social studies? Taught by Mrs. Battle? I’m not making this up. She had a battle with Ben and Ben battled her the whole year. And her husband would be waiting for him, if Ben ever managed to make it to high school. But social studies complete with that American History thing and the dreaded presidential notebook? Ben thought he had died and gone to hell. “Here we go again,” he thought, with all those dead guys and dead presidents. Benjamin Franklin who? Thomas Jefferson who? And his presidential notebook? Not memorable and incomplete. His boredom and utter discontent was, complete!

To this day, Ben does not understand how he ever graduated into the 8th grade, sucking at math, failing social studies and flunking out of gym. Perhaps it was a mercy passing? Maybe it was a “he’s got potential,” passing? Then again, possibly, it was because they had to pass everyone or lose their standing as one of the a top Jr. high schools in the country? Whatever, Ben was glad to get the hell away from American History and ready to dive, headlong into summer.

What a summer it would be!

Click here to: Chapter 3