High school is supposed to be four of the hardest years of school in a person's lifetime, right? With students roaming the wrecked corridors of Roosevelt High, bullies walking around shoving others into lockers, dunking their heads into toilets, and starting brutal fights, getting themselves suspended or even expelled. And then, there's me. My name is Jack Bruce. I've got brown hair that looks like someone had dumped a bowl of melted milk chocolate onto my head and let it dry there, blue eyes that look like they were made from the blue of the sky itself and my posture, well, I wear a hooded jacket that's covered with dirt and smells of something rancid that it's unidentifiable, and my jeans sag somewhat as I walk the halls to class with the knee holes only getting larger and larger the more I wear them. And I bet you already know about my social life due to my mental illness, by that I mean insanity. There are a couple of people who seem tohate me a whole lot, but I don't really care if they hate me because I also know they fear me since they know I've got bad, really bad, anger issues. My teacher Cyrus Johnson, dirty blond hair reminding me of the dirt of this Earth, his hazel eyes, which make me think of hazelnuts of all things, and he's well-structured but imperfect facial features. (I'm a bit surprised he hasn't gotten a date yet.) He has a small mole on his chin, and a few freckles across his cheeks. I'm pretty sure he only dislikes me because of my mental illness. And then there's Michael Canada. The school's bullying king. He's got short brown hair, forest green eyes, and a strong jaw line that doesn't look like it belongs to Michael's face. He's proud of being the biggest and meanest of all of them. I'm obviously his favorite victim, especially during lunch break. Every time I go into the cafeteria, he catches me and attempts to break me down. Has he ever succeeded at doing so? Actually, no, he has not. I've beaten him at every fight he's gotten me into and I think I must have a gift for self-defense or something.
Anyway, I do have a couple of friends, and I even have myself a girlfriend. Her name is Emily 'Jewel' Winston. She has long, beautiful brown hair that reminds me of chocolate, my favorite candy, she has mesmerizing blue eyes that seem to shine in the sunlight and she has teeth as white as white can get. I've been dating Emily since freshman year in high school and it's great! We haven't kissed yet, but I'm not planning on doing so because I'm not that kind of guy who is going to kiss unless I'm married. Anyways, my other friends are John Willington, Elizabeth Marcia, and Mark Strong. John Willington is the smart one of my friends, Elizabeth is the stealthy one, currently holding a black belt in martial arts, and Mark is the strong one of my friends, being the strongest student in the school as of this year. John looks much like me except he has somewhat longer hair, braces, and a darker shade of blue for his eyes. Mark looks like a polar opposite of me. He has short black hair gelled into a mo-hawk, small dark brown eyes, and a very strong facial structure. (He might even be able to break a brick in half with his jaw with how strong it is.) Elizabeth looks like she could possibly be related to Emily. She's got the same eyes, nose and mouth, but her hair is longer and somewhat darker. It's not as smooth though like Emily's is.
Is it creepy to know this kind of stuff about your friends? No, technically. Unless you decide to creepily watch their every move as go to class, sit through class, and then leave to the next. Not that I do that or anything, but my teacher Cyrus, (obviously) thinks I do so. (Now that I think about it, I wonder if Cyrus has been stalking me this whole time. Now I'm kind of freaked out.) Oh, it's 11:50. I'd better get to… Someone suddenly grabs my shoulder and turns me around. "Hey, what the…?" Of course, like always, it was Michael. "What's up, Jacky? You ready for what I've got special for you today?" I decided to mess with him a bit. Good way to stall. "Is it the burrito special? Because I'll be in the restroom a while if I eat any of those bean bombs." Michael looked infuriated, like always.
"No! I was thinking more of a swirly!" Michael replied.
"Ooh! I love ice cream! Where're we going?" I responded.
Michael lets out an exasperated sigh as he says, "A place I like to call 'Jacky on the spot!'" Michael tugged me towards the bathroom. I just let him because I had the perfect plan in mind to make sure he didn't harm me. Michael slammed the bathroom door open, kicked open a stall door and, thud! I got him right in his special spot. "That's what I call a 'Johnny on the spot!'" I jumped around him and kicked him towards the toilet and watched as he fell head first into the toilet. I hurried to the lunch cafeteria while he still had his head stuck in the toilet seat. Luckily, I made through lunch without seeing him again. Although, I didn't quite make it through lunch itself very well. It turns out, the burrito special was the special of the day and the rancid smell of the beans and the grisly texture made me so queasy I almost thought I was going to puke my stomach out the burrito hit it so badly.
1:00, time to head to my math class. Math is probably my second least favorite subject, since I'm not all too good at it. My absolute least favorite is History. It's too much to remember for me without getting a headache. But if I want to go to college, then I'm going to have to get good grades. Although, my lowest grade I've ever actually gotten this year was a C+. I got that grade, obviously, from History. My highest grade, an A+, I got in Science and English. For Math, I got an A- as my highest grade, which is a pretty good grade. I'm trying to bring my grades up to A+ so that I can get into better colleges. I want to major in Computer science and Technology, which explains why I get almost straight As in Science.
Ding! Ding! Ding! 1:15, Math class has started.
Today in Math class, I'm learning basic Calculus and simple Calculus equations. I think I've got the basics down and I'm just going to pray that God will be with me and that I am able to at least get a passing grade. Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention that I'm a Christian. I believe that Jesus died for my sins. (How could I have forgotten to mention that before? Forgive me Lord.) I bring my Bible to school, read it whenever I can, I pray before lunch, even if I end up getting in trouble, and I pray for others, even if they don't ask me to. "Alright, class. Take out your textbooks and open them up to Chapter 5, page 79. We'll be continuing to learn more about the basics of Calculus and how to solve equations involving Calculus." My teacher Harriet Swan commanded to all the students. Harriet Swan is about 27 years old; she has short blond hair, dull gray eyes, a face practically coated in freckles, and teeth as white as snow, literally. Some students seem to like her. So far there hasn't been a single student she doesn't like.
1:45, time for the Math test.
God, I pray that I get through this test calmly and get at least a passing grade. I pray to myself before I begin the test. Ms. Swan hands out the test papers to everyone and there's that first question just waiting for me to answer it: 'Write your legal name here.' I'm already starting to worry a bit, as I skim through the papers; I find that there are a total of 35 questions. I carefully write my legal name, Jack Bruce, and move on to the next question. I can feel myself getting ready to sweat; I calm myself and breathe deeply. The room smells vaguely like mangoes. Mangoes are my favorite fruit, so breathing deeply seems to have helped me get through the first 5 questions.
2:27, I finally finished my test and I hesitantly give it to Ms. Swan to grade. My anxiety is making me start to quiver and my mental illness is slowly getting to me, making me want to run, or scream, or fight, or do something unpredictable. Before I know it, Ms. Swan hands me my papers and as I read the grade, I literally jump in the air with such joy, I shouted 'Thank you, God!' right in the middle of class, and I didn't even care that I said that with everyone listening. I speed out of the classroom and through the corridors to find my friend, John, since he took the test earlier. I make a right turn, nearly running into several students whom I didn't recognize. And there he is. He spots me and we both run up to each other and I say, "John, you will not believe what I just got on my Math test!"
"Did you get that A+ that you wanted?" John asked, as if he already knew what the grade was before I even showed it to him.
"Yes! What did you get on yours?"
"Same grade as you." He grins.
"You're so predictable when it comes to getting good grades."
"I know." There was a silence for a brief moment, until John breaks it. "So, how are the rest of your classes going?"
"They are going quite swell, if I do say so myself."
"That's good. Oh! The coolest thing happened in Chemistry class today!"
"Did something go awry or what?"
"Heck, yes! When my partner and I started to make our mixture, my partner accidentally grabbed Plutonium instead of Phosphorus, and so, when he added it into the mixture with Mercury, the second the two made contact, the bottle of mixture literally exploded!"
"Dude, that's insane! How did the teacher feel about that?"
"She looked like she was about to have a heart attack or something she was so frightened by the explosion."
"Geez, I'm a bit surprised you didn't get detention or sent to the principal's office for that."
"Well, the explosion was a complete accident. The teacher knew that we didn't mean to add Plutonium instead of Phosphorus, so, she let it slide."
"Lucky, whenever I do something on accident, I get called out on it and I get sent to the principal's office or detention; it might be because of my mental illness is why I get in trouble. They must not think I have control over it."
"Well, we both know that you do have control over your illness, which is excellent. Several people who are mentally ill usually have a hard time controlling themselves unlike you."
"That's true. Although, I do sometimes have a hard time like today when my teacher, Ms. Swan, was grading my test papers, I could feel my illness trying to break free and take control of me, but thankfully, that didn't happen."
"That's good to hear. Well, I got to head to English, so, I'll talk to you later. By the way congratulations on getting 100% on your test."
"Thanks, congrats to you, too." Then he left. I looked at my test papers once more and thanked God for being with me during my test and then I headed for my last class for the day; History.ns126.96.36.199da2