Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Dedicated to Advansss Bee-o

Going to a national plus high school meant no AP or Honors classes. I remember telling myself to relax as I walk through the hallowed halls of another university. I so wanted to get in, but felt so left behind. While, all the other kids on the campus tour talk about their "advanced" classes, I keep silent and think of all the thirteen classes that I have to take. And yet, suddenly, in 11th grade I found myself staying behind on Thursdays, if my memory serves me correctly. The first few weeks of class there was a classroom full of students. There might have even been thirty of us. But by the first test, there was only six. We kept quiet up till the final test, when we freaked out over the questions and ended up holding an "illegal" discussion. Even now, I don't know and do not wish to know the score from that exam. 

When we came back, we were friends. Naturally, we became after school mates, who rarely spent time with one another during usual school hours. Exclusively each other on Thursdays meant celebrating our teacher's birthday and mine. It also meant sharing weird inside jokes and rude questions. Sometimes we'd share our lunches and gossip. But, mostly we were ourselves, which to me, did not come around as often as I'd like. 

Somewhere in between, I began a novel inspired by each one of us. The names and plot hold some sort of meaning to each one of us. We circulated the printed copies around, but it abruptly ended with tests and the pressure of getting into college. Nowadays, I'm sort of glad that I didn't finish it, because when I read back it seems that I stopped when it was all alright, when everything was sweet and our lives felt like the happiest it would ever be. 

The things that we do at Advansss Bee-o - Not Really!

Here's the beginning of the book, I might consider publishing the entire thing eventually. Please note that this is my eleventh grade English! This is dedicated to my friends and teacher at Advanced Biology (or as we like to pronounce Ad-vansss Bee-o).

Advanced Lala 
(the name I had used to save the file)

            “Are you sure there’s class today?” Summer leans back on her chair, drapes her luscious dark locks and asks frustratingly.
            “I’m positive, I swear” Jelly defends herself.
            “You’re HIV positive?” Casper swoops into the conversation, unaware of the damage he had made.
            “Don’t be such a freak! Just because we’re taking Advance Molecular Biology doesn’t mean that we should associate every single thing with a disease or bacteria or fungus” Jelly stomps her feet on the floor and takes a bite from the chocolate croissant she was having.
            Clearly annoyed, she walks out of the room to find the others.

            Alone in the cold laboratory, Summer moves her stool closer to Casper’s.
            “So how’s it going with Vanessa? Gotten lucky lately?” she inches closer trying to get a whiff of his scent.
            “Nothing much, really? Why the sudden interest?” he obliviously replies, whilst looking onto the plain whiteboard hanging at the front of the class.

The universal way of having fun in high school, oh Laurensia! 

            Realizing that her sultry attempt had no influence on him, Summer slumps back and pictures a world where she and Casper are an old aged couple sitting on a porch made of degraded wood looking back on the “good old days”. Beneath all the glamour, fabulosity and sunshine (no pun intended), Summer Rain was never the slut all her classmates deemed her to be. Nonetheless, like many junior girls bursting out of their innocence and sports bras, Summer had developed a niche around boys. Boys who were less academically ambitious drooled at her feet. Whereas, boys who had the brains to receive straight-As in advanced science courses dismissed her as just a pretty, unreachable tool.
            With this, Summer sighs as she takes a step back and glances at Casper who is now busy eating his vegetables. Before she could utter another word that might bring her to her destiny, Elmo walks in alone looking as puzzled as a fish at land would.
           
            “Where the hell is she?” he yells as if he’s on a mountain top experimenting with the phenomenon of echoes.
            “Who do you mean by she?” Casper yells back.
            “Could the two of you please stop shouting like we all suffer from Presbycusis?” Jelly nonchalantly walks in.
            “There she is! Did you manage to find the others or Mrs. Cursor?” Elmo towers over Jelly’s petite body.
            “Negative...” the youngest of all the children walks over to Casper. “Eeew... veggies, what the fuck man?!” she flips up her hand “ghetto-style”.
           
            “Watch your language Jell!” a tall, lean girl walks in and sets her bags on the next table.
            “Hey Gretel!” the others say in unison.
            “Hey guys!” she flips her curly black mane.
            “Why is there a dark cloud covering your halo?” Jelly looks curiously onto the top of Gretel’s head.
“Trouble in paradise?” Casper emerges from his lunchbox.
            “What paradise?” Gretel coyly asks.
            “Well, we didn’t see you and Rupert Tolstoy together today” Summer states her observation.
            “Rupert Tolstoy? What’s he got to do with this?” Gretel takes out her lunch and begins stabbing at her wontons.
            “Well, I heard that he likes you” Jelly adds in, “Can I try some of your wantons?” she grabs one.
            “Hell no!”
            “Hell no to the part that he likes you or the part where I want your wantons?” Jelly smiles.
            “To both of them, thank you very much” Gretel resumes to her rice and condiments, whereas Jelly pouts and takes a seat beside Summer, who’s now writing something peculiar in her notebook.

            Before Jelly could nosy in on Summer’s woes, Rosario Thatcher and Mrs. Cursor nonchalantly walk in.
            “Do we have class today, Mrs. Cursor?” Jelly looks up and asks coyly.
            “For the thousandth time Gelsomina, we do have class today!” the iron fist has spoken, automatically causing all the children to take their seats and shut up for the next hour and a half.

*All photos are owned by the writer

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