Date: Tue, 15 Nov 2005 09:54:01 -0700
From: jlhobson@gmail.com
Subject: Ten Minutes From Providence: Part 1

(This story is complete fiction. All characters are figments of my
imagination. As stated previously, this story does not contain sex...if
you're looking only for that, this story is not for you. If you're
looking for something with more "artistic" content or an actual story,
read on. This is the first few chapters. E-mail me at jlhobson@gmail.com
if you have any comments ideas, or suggestions. Please see the
introduction/foreword for more background information relating to this
story)

Chapter One

    "Honey, you need to get up, it's seven o'clock," my mom yelled from
outside my door.
   I mumbled something back, probably incoherently because she kept
telling me to get up or she was going to send in Shredder, my four month
old black-lab puppy, to get me up. Since I didn't want
Attack-of-the-Slobber, I groggily got up and went into my own bathroom.
   It was pretty cool, really. I mean, I was the only kid my age that I
knew of that had my own bathroom attached to my bedroom.
   My bedroom was nice, I thought. Thick blue carpet, white blinds, and
red walls covered with Seattle Mariner and Seahawk posters. I had my own
TV with cable, a stereo, a new computer with a desk and chair.
   Everyone teased me for being rich, but I never saw it. Looking back, I
see how lucky I really was.
   Kyle always loved to come over, but he sort of had to out of
necessity. His mom worked multiple jobs to make ends meet, and was gone
constantly. Her boyfriend, a real prick, liked to think of Kyle as his
own private punching bag; Welson was one of those places where everyone,
from every background, lived within a few blocks of one another.
   I turned my TV; it was still on ESPN from the night before, and
stumbled into my bathroom.
   I turned on the water and got in, still half asleep.
   Today was the first day of junior high- lockers, showering in gym,
seven different teachers and classes, and no recess. I would be lying if
I said I wasn't at least a little bit nervous, but there was also a sort
of excitement. It was a new world I was entering, and I'd see some
friends I hadn't seen since school let out in early June.
   As I exited the shower, I dried off and brushed my teeth. After a
moment of consideration, I decided to finally open the unopened stick of
deodorant that had been there for a couple of weeks. I was twelve years
old now - in the early stages of puberty, and it must have been showing.
Or smelling, for that matter.
   After I got dressed, I turned the TV off and headed downstairs to get
some breakfast.
   As I went down the stairs, I saw Kyle was already waiting for me in
the living room.
   "It's about time you got down here. I was afraid I was going to have
to flush a toilet to get you out of the shower," Kyle said as he grinned
sheepishly. "Seriously, though, hurry up. I want to get there early to
scope out the girls."
   Kyle was about five months older than I was, and further along in the
puberty department. I still didn't have much of an attraction to girls,
but he thought they were the greatest thing in the world.
"Sorry, I was kind of daydreaming in there. I apologize to have kept you
waiting, your majesty, but it's only," I said. I looked at a clock and
saw that it was 7:40. "Um, well, I guess I was in there quite awhile."
"Yeah, I've been waiting here ten minutes. Just think, Jay, there's some
poor fish out there dying because you used so much water," Kyle said
sarcastically. "I can only imagine what your mirrors look like. It'll
probably still be steamed up when you get home after school."
"You know, Ky, you're awfully talkative for being in such a hurry," I
sniped back. "Let's go, Mr. Patience."
   We headed out the door, through my yard, and onto the sidewalk. It was
only 7:45, so it wasn't very bright out, and there certainly wasn't much
traffic, but it was cloudy and rainy. I swear I thought Kyle was going to
play in the puddles like we used to do, but he didn't.
   I only lived about five blocks from the school, which was nestled into
my neighborhood, or stamped in the middle of the three that just ran into
each other one day when they were being developed.
"I hope I have a class with Becky Stewards, she's so cool and hot," Kyle
said with a fairly new, ever deepening tone to his voice. "I wonder if
she got any taller over the summer."
"Becky Stewards? I could have sworn you liked Amy Brewer a couple of
weeks ago," I said. "Why can't you pick one to be obsessed with and stick
with it?"
"Ah, Amy is cute, but she's kind of a bitch," Kyle said. "Now,
Becky...she's got the total package: she's hot, nice, and smart. Even you
have to admit that."
"I don't really see what's so great about her, but whatever makes you
happy, I guess," I said. I actually did like her, but only as a friend.
Besides, it was fun to keep Kyle going by not letting him have his way.
"Well, Jay-Jay, maybe when you've matured a little bit, you'll see what
I'm saying," Kyle said.
   Like I said, Kyle was several months older than I was, and it showed.
He loved to tease me about being short and interested more in sports than
girls.
"Hmm. I think you're just a little girl crazy," I said. "You're pretty
obsessed with them, you know."
"What can I say? I'm a ladies man," Kyle said. I could tell he was
enjoying this, so I decided to end it and change the topic before he
tried showing me some obscure, faint body hair he recently discovered.
Besides, he certainly didn't need any ego-boosters. Self-confidence was
not something Kyle lacked, at least not on outer appearances.
   We walked for a few more minutes until we were in the parking lot of
William P. Blackton Middle School. Middle school, junior high, what's the
difference? It seemed so big, and as we walked into the doors it felt
like we were entering into a new dimension, unfamiliar to us. I felt like
I had just entered a prison, walking to my execution.
"I don't know how I'm ever going to memorize these mazes they call
'halls'," I said. "It's like they designed the school just to confuse
people."
   Kyle, the constant optimist and smart-ass saw the perfect opportunity
to tease me yet again.
"Oh, poor Jason. Would you like me to hold your hand and walk you to your
first class so you aren't scared?" He asked in a deliberately patronizing
sort of way. "You'll be fine. It'll take a few days, but you'll get it
down. And, if you don't, I'm always here to make sure you don't run off
to a closet or anything to cry."
"You think you're cute, but I happen to remember a certain day in first
grade where you weren't so happy," I retaliated.
   On our first day of first grade, Kyle needed to go to the restroom,
and, as he put it, since he was a 'big boy,' he could do it on his own.
To make a long story short, he couldn't find it and got lost in the
school, crying for his mom. A teacher found him sobbing, showed him where
the restroom was, and took him back to class.
"Hey now, I was six," Kyle said defensively. "At least I made it to the
bathroom."
   Kyle was of course referring to my infamous accident in the third
grade. I was really nervous and getting up to do a presentation on a
project we had done together, and I had to go to the restroom, but my
teacher told me to do the presentation first. I was really nervous, and
my bladder was full, and I lost control and...it went all over the carpet
in the classroom. Between people shrieking and my teacher yelling at me,
Kyle was laughing his ass off, and he'll tell that story to anyone who
will listen, even if was years ago.
"So, um, where's your first period again?" I asked.
   We had seven classes now, and five together. The only two classes we
didn't have together were math and an elective we had different. He tried
to change his schedule at registration and come into both of my classes,
but our counselor said the class was full, and to come back after the
first week of school. Our only different classes were the first two
periods of the day.
"Hmmm....Pre-Algebra with A.Faulkner," he responded. "What about you?"
   I fumbled around for my wrinkled schedule. It looked like it had been
through a war with as many creases and wrinkles it had. Maybe it had just
gone through the washer a time or two.
"Keyboarding," I said.
   After the first two periods, we had the rest of the day together. P.E.
was third period, Social Studies was fourth, lunch, Science fifth,
English was sixth, and Study Hall was seventh.
   After we talked for another minute on how much fatter Greg Gephurn had
gotten over the summer (He guessed 40 pounds, I said probably closer to
30...Turns out he gained 27 pounds, but also put on about 7 inches of
height) when a friend of ours came over to us.
"Hey, Jason! What's up, Kyle?" Brad Crechton, a short, thin boy with a
curved nose and brown hair and eyes, said.
"What have you been up to?" I asked.
   Kyle acknowledged Brad, but seemed distracted with something.
"Not much. Let me look at your schedule," Brad said.
   We swapped schedules. Turned out he had math with Kyle, and language
arts with both of us.
   We talked for a few minutes. It was pretty boring stuff, really. Just
the typical BS you have to go through when you see a school acquaintance
you haven't seen since the end of the last school year.
   The first bell rang, and I told Kyle and Brad I'd see them later as I
headed for Room 03.


Chapter Two


As I entered Room 03, I smelled something odd, and saw Greg Gephurn with
his goon posse of Skyler Burns and Scott Newsom. He dwarfed them in
comparison, but they weren't small by any standards.
   "Oh joy, I've got a class with them," I mumbled to myself.
   Greg was one of those people that is mad at the world. He hates
everyone and everything, and he lets you know what he thinks of you.
Bully is an understatement, and the ground moved when he did.
   I had actually felt sorry for him at one point. His parents were both
abusive drunks, and his mom died of drug-overdose when he was seven, and
his dad was seldom around, and when he was, well, Greg showed it.
   Kyle and I had tried to be friends with him because we felt sorry for
him, but he wouldn't have any of it. He was giving Kyle his weekly
beating, and I, who had enough of the constant fear, ran for help after
previous futile attempts to help Kyle (gaining myself my own beating)
were thwarted.
   To make a long story short, he got suspended for a day from school,
and his dad wasn't happy about having to pick him up during his hangover.
Greg showed his parent-imposed punishment, and since then he had been
royally pissed off at us, even more than usual. Our weekly beatings
turned into daily occurrences, but we didn't dare tell anyone after that.
Last year, as he began to miss more school, he started to leave us alone
more often, but we were always on edge around him.
   The room was filled with different colored computers (green,
pinkish-red, and purple) and a short, plump woman with rosy cheeks was
sitting at a desk talking in the corner to someone who appeared as
nervous as I felt.
   I sat down at a green I-Mac and turned it on. By that time, the
teacher, who later said she was 'Mrs. Joplon', started telling everyone
coming into the class to stand up by the wall because she'd be assigning
seats at the beginning of class.
   So, I got up and stood by the wall, hoping I wouldn't have to sit next
to Greg.
   We stood for about six minutes until she took roll and started
assigning seats.
    "Ok, guys, I'm going to be giving you all an assigned seat. It'll
help me remember all of your names and help keep you on task to do our
first section. You'll be learning the keyboard, and I don't want there to
be any distractions that are going to slow you down," Mrs. Joplon said.
"But when we're done with the section by the end of the month, you can
chose where you want to sit, assuming you're on track and there haven't
been any problems." I could have sworn she looked at me when she said
that last bit. I turned a little pink, but couldn't help but grinning.
Had my reputation made its way to the Big World of Secondary School?
   She pulled out a paper with names in little boxes, and started calling
out names and giving directions. And of course, with my luck, what I
didn't want to happen did:
"Gephurn, Greg? Ok, good. Take the green computer in the back," Mrs.
Joplon said. "Peterson, Jason, are you in here?"
"Yes," I stoically said.
"Ok, well, take a seat at the purple computer next to Mr. Gephurn," she
said. "You know who he is, right?"
"Yes," I said as I slowly walked over (in protest) by Greg and slouched
at my computer. My nose already was burning because of the stench of his
body odor and bad breath.
   My facial expression had to of looked with pure contempt, because he
started to harass me, which was something I was certainly used to since
it had happened daily since the start of Kindergarten, aside from when it
began to slow down  last year.
"Oh, what's wrong, Jay-Jay?" He provoked. "Do you miss your mommy yet? Do
you want me to go and get her for you?"
   'Jay-Jay' is something I only allowed my parents or Kyle to call me.
If anyone else did it, they were in for a black eye and busted lip, as
Norman Vicks, a boy in my sixth-grade class, learned last year. But by
this time, Skyler and Scott had waltzed over to us. Apparently, they all
had their assigned seats surrounding me.
"Don't call me that, Fat-Ass," I shot back. "Take yourself, your
Suck-Squad, and combined IQ of 48 and leave me the Hell alone."
   Skyler, the obvious dumbest of them all, was a little slow on the
uptake, as usual.
"Huh? Did you just call me 'Fat-Ass'?" He asked.
"No...'Fat-Ass' is reserved for him (I pointed to Greg)," I said. "You are
Moron-Boy. Is it that difficult to comprehend?" I really tried not to
treat most people badly, but these three were idiots who terrorized every
kid around them, and even through my anxiety, I was sick of their crap.I
figured, if I was ever going to start standing up to them, why not today?
   Anyways, by the time they processed what I had said (and it did take
several seconds), they were coming unglued. They began to stand up, and I
could tell my skin was about to change colors.
    "Leave him alone, gentlemen," someone had said. "And I use the term
loosely."
   I recognized the voice, but couldn't place it until I turned around.
It was Becky Stewards, Kyle's new crush.
   She was taller than most girls her age and had shoulder length blond
hair, blue eyes, and had obviously been working on a tan over the summer.
She was dressed very...nicely today; she looked more like a woman amongst
the rest of the girls in the class.
   She also had a real spunky street, and wasn't afraid of anything. I
think that was one of the reasons Kyle liked her: she'd stand up to you
if you were out of line.
    "Oh, and what are you going to do?" Greg asked. "Beat us over the
head with a high-heel?"
    "No...you've probably got enough of those to beat yourself with,"
Becky hissed. "But I don't really think you want to be on daddy's bad
side. You've met Principal Stewards, haven't you?"
   The Suck-Squad mumbled something and sat down. Becky was to my left,
Greg was to my right, and Skyler and Steve were behind Greg and I.
"I didn't know your dad was the principal," I whispered to Becky as she
sat down. "I guess I just never clicked 'Principal Stewards' with 'Becky
Stewards'."
"I didn't until a minute ago, either," Becky winked back at me. I grinned
back at her, knowing she had just scared the living daylights out of the
three people that wanted to break my neck more than anyone I had ever
alienated before. And that list includes quite a few people, even with as
lovable as I always was!
"You're something else," I whispered back, trying to supress a a laugh.
Man, we were odd twelve year olds. Is there such a thing as a "normal"
twelve year old?
   By that time, Mrs. Joplon had started her talk on her rules and
expectations. She began to hand out a contract she wanted us and our
parents to sign saying we'd follow her rules and the rest of the standard
drivel.
   I heard Greg and his goons complaining about not being able to play
any games or get on the internet until they finished the entire section,
but I guess they didn't realize that the longer they complained about
something they weren't going to change, the longer it would be until they
could play the crappy school computer games or get on the half-blocked,
slow internet the school allowed us to use.
    "I wonder if they realize how stupid they sound," I rhetorically
asked Becky. "I mean, do they really think anyone wants to hear their
opinion on anything?"
    "Well, they might as well stick to their current theme," Becky said.
"They already look and act stupid, so they might as well sound like it,
too."
    I chuckled. "At least they're being consistent."
   I could tell with Becky in there it was going to be interesting. As
long as the Suck Squad thought she was the principal's daughter, we
wouldn't be bothered, and I'd have someone to crack catty, sarcastic
jokes with the entire semester. Maturity was still a few years off, if
you hadn't noticed.
   The rest of the class was pretty uneventful. Besides the occasional
mumbling from Fat-Ass about having to do class work on the first day of
school, everyone was quietly working on the first lesson, "The Home Row."
   After about 15 minutes of working, Mrs. Joplon told us to get ready to
leave, and that this would be what we'd be doing for the rest of the
month until we got into real assignments.
"Hey Becky, before class gets out, can I see your schedule?" I asked. We
swapped schedules.
"Cool. We've got P.E. and Social Studies together," she said. "See you
then!"
   I told her I'd see her later, and she smiled as we exited and went
different directions in the hall. I was headed to math. I knew I'd see
Kyle for the rest of the day after second period, and it seemed like
Becky and I would become good friends this year.


Chapter Three


    I headed down the long, narrow halls surrounded with lockers and
people looking down at white pieces of paper, probably their schedules
and school maps. Teachers were standing outside of their doors, greeting
students back warmly with bubbly smiles and phony optimism. This was
middle school, afterall. Who the Hell would be happy to be around us?
   One of the things I really noticed was how crowded the halls were, and
how rude the people were. I honestly didn't think I'd ever get the school
memorized, and with all of these people so thoughtfully stopping in front
of you to talk with their friends, or make lines at vending machines, I
had no idea how they expect anyone to get to class on time.
   But, they did. Although the school says they won't give detentions out
to people who are late to class the first week of school, after that they
think you should have memorized the maze and figured out a way to get
past those thinking they were the sole proprietors of the hall.
   Security didn't help matters. All they did was stand in the middle of
the hallways, supposedly "directing traffic," when all they really did
was stand with their arms crossed, clogging the hallways even more.
   But I eventually made my way through the halls and into my class: Math
7 with "B.Tyson."
   As it turns out, B.Tyson was a tall, lanky man with short black hair,
beady little eyes, and by the looks of his skin color, he hadn't seen
natural light for about three years. I glanced around for a coffin and
cape, but didn't find either.
   I took my seat, in the back by a window. I guess I figured if he
turned into a vampire or something, my best bet would be to jump out the
window and run for the high-hills. I'm telling you, this guy looked like
the main character out of a 1950's horror movie.
   As the class started to fill, people took their seats at the
multi-colored desks that were visibly falling apart. There were no
posters on the wall, no bulletin boards, it was dull and bland. It was
bare, like a classroom you'd expect to see on the last day of school. It
reminded me of someone with an empty soul and no personality.
"Man, that guy looks scary," a voice nearby said. It turned out to be the
person across from me at my left.
"You're telling me," I said. "I thought when I walked in he was going to
eat me or bite my neck."
"I can't believe they actually let him near kids," the voice said.
"Yeah, I think if he ever mentions being hungry, I'm going to say I need
to go to the nurse," I said. "Better be safe than sorry."
Yes, we were once that stupid.
The voice laughed. "So what's your name?" He asked.
"Jason Peterson," I said. "What about you?"
"Nick Davis," the voice said.
   By that time, the vampire-looking teacher told everyone to sit down
and be quiet, and he'd explain his rules. Of course, rather than running
the risk of turning into a night-walker, everyone sat down and shut up.
   He introduced himself, and laid out his very strict rules. I could
tell he was going to be a hard teacher, and that he was all business. So
much for having any fun in math this year.
"Furthermore, if you forget a homework assignment for the second time
during the quarter, you will be calling your parents during class and
coming in at lunch to write out my rules and go over your assignment for
half credit," Mr. Vampire (As I so nicely named Mr. Tyson) said.
"Wow, he's a nice guy, isn't he?" Nick asked in a whisper.
"What was that, Mr..." Mr. Vampire said.
"Nick Davis," Nick said, coolly.
"Perhaps you'd like to be the first this year and come in at lunch to
call your parents and write my rules," Mr. Vampire said. "Otherwise, I'd
highly advise you maintain your silence while I am speaking."
   Nick slumped over and didn't say anything, while Mr. Vampire turned
around and murmured something that sounded like, "insolent child."
   The rest of class went on without a hitch, and Mr. Vampire spoke the
entire time. Of course everyone was scared he was going to show his fangs
and go after them, so no one talked and Nick was still staring off into
space.
   As class let out, I could hear Nick mumbling something as everyone
walked out, but I couldn't make anything out but it sounded something
like, "He's going to pay. No one embarrasses Nick Davis."