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Hey, Jon here. What is this, like AA? Am I suppose to divulge everything and break down in tears?
Sorry, my writer says I should behave. She says I'm her Nanowrimo project, whatever that means. I told her she has to get in line. Everyone seems to be making me their special project these days. The gifted-student teacher, the remedial teacher... yeah, isn't it great? They can't make up their mind--Am I a genius or a moron? So, genius school, remedial school, and now back to genius school. The College Preparatory Academy. I start as a senior next fall. I should have graduated, but after getting expelled twice, what do you expect? They accelerated me a year when I was a freshman--so now we're even. Whatever.
Hey, you want a smoke? Anyway, they just don't get it. I don't give a **** about all that. There's more important things going on that they have no idea about. You see, I did something. Something really bad. They don't know I did it, but I'll never forget. Some people suspect, I think. That's why they had to pull me out of that remedial school.
And then I met Mr. Falke. Well, he's my mom's friend. I guess I'd met him once when I was eight or nine, but I don't remember. He's one of the English professors at CPA. He pulled some strings for me to get in. He knows what I am, what I can do. I'm supposed to help someone, he says, but I don't know who or why. I'll know when the time's right. Sounds like a bad B-movie to me, but whatever. Time will tell. In the meantime, I've got to pass my classes. I guess I should think about my future--college, and all that. I think Mom's finally given up on Harvard and Princeton. I hate to disappoint her, but I did the best I could.
posted
Hey Jon. What do they think you're a genius about? Can Mr. Falke do the same things you can do? Do you have any friends? What do you do just for the hell of it, 'cause it's fun?
Posts: 188 | Registered: May 2008
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posted
Hey Jon. What do they think you're a genius about?
You know, if I could figure that out I'd be a lot happier. I guess I scored really high on some test way back in the day. And then every time I "act out" they think I'm just not "challenged" enough. It makes me laugh. Once I got to spend all day playing a video game because some teacher thought it would stimulate me. It was cool, I'll admit.
Can Mr. Falke do the same things you can do?
Mr. Falke, yeah, he's kind of a mystery to me. I don't know what his deal is. I don't think he can do things... he says I'm different that way. But he knows things, things no one else should be able to know, right? Like he knew a lot of details about my life that even my mom and dad didn't know.
Do you have any friends?
I'm not a nerd, right--just a reject. So I've got friends. Christine, Nat, David, Pennie, and Sean. Christine and Nat go to CPA. I don't know what I'd do without them, 'cause I know I won't fit in with the bright, happy, motivated types. My friends--they're real. Sometimes I look around and everyone else seems hazy, blurred. Like they aren't really real. And no, it's not cause I just dropped some acid. I don't do that anymore. Life's ****ed up enough as it is, right?
What do you do just for the hell of it, 'cause it's fun?
Fun. Right. Well, when Sean got his license we all piled into his Jetta and drove to an old military installation near our town. We had to climb over a chain link fence to get in, and Pennie got really pissed because she ripped her jeans, but it was worth it. We built this huge bonfire, explored some of the old buildings with branches held out as torches--all Medieval-like. Then we kicked back with a couple forties of the Beast, some JB, and the usual accompaniments. But the best part was when we lay outside and just stared at the stars. And then watching the dawn. It was one of those moments where you didn't have to talk. You just felt, and you knew everyone around you felt the same thing.
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Ack, Jon, I'm one of those "bright, happy, motivated types" so you're probably going to want to rip my face off in a minute. But what I really want to know is what's up with these "more important things" you talked about. So you've got some kind of special, B-movie power - damnit, man, that's pretty cool, isn't it? Don't you ever wonder what you could do with it? Or do you have to just keep your mouth shut and wait for Mr. Falke to give the go-ahead, so something bad doesn't happen again? Speaking of which, doesn't it piss you off that he won't give you the details of what he knows about it?
Posts: 188 | Registered: May 2008
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posted
No worries. If you don't bark at me I won't bark back, right?
Oof, yeah, important things... I don't even know what they are yet, really. Mostly like I look around and feel... I don't know how to make this make sense. An undercurrent. Things making sense of acting with a sense we can't understand. Now I'm really sounding like a stoner.
Honestly, no, I don't want anything to do with what's happening. All I seem to do is manage to hurt people. I can't control what happens. I just have to exist--that's what my super power is. I exist, and **** happens. I don't get how I'm supposed to help anyone.
Yeah, Mr. Falke. I'm not sold on him either. But he knows more than I do, so for now, I'm going to listen to him.
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You seem pretty disrespectful, what do you know about AA and why do you feel obliged to make fun of the program? What are your goals? Why do you smoke/when did you start/will you quit?
Posts: 72 | Registered: Aug 2007
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