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.
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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.
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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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