Date: Thu, 17 Mar 2005 17:03:03 -0800
From: Cole Parker <colepark@gmail.com>
Subject: Eighth Grade, Chapter 1

The following is a work of fiction.  If you don't know the meaning of
that, then you shouldn't be reading this, as the story is more complex
than that statement and you won't understand it.

This story will contain some sex between consenting partners.  Both
partners will be boys.  If that isn't your cup of tea, I respectfully
suggest you find your beverage of choice elsewhere.   If you
shouldn't be reading this, please don't.  I don't want either of us to
get in trouble, particularly me.  If reading this is illegal where you
live, then absolutely, do not read it!

This story will not contain a lot of sex, in fact, just the exact amount
appropriate for this story.  What a coincidence!  If you want a lot of
sex, you probably should read a different story.  There are a lot on
this website.

I would like to thank a friend who assisted me with this story, but
forgot to get his permission to do so.  Oops.  Well, later.  This story
has several chapters, so there's still time.

Remarks may be addressed to: Cole Parker <colepark@gmail.com>


8th Grade

Chapter 1

So I knew I shouldn't do it.  You get that feeling sometimes-you just
know it's a mistake to do something and then you go ahead and do it
anyway, and of course you were right, and it was wrong, and it ends up
just like it should, with you embarrassed or humiliated or punished or
hurt or some such shit.  And you don't even feel that upset because
you knew that was how it was going to end up when you did it.  That's
just the way it works.

And it really isn't that bad to be humiliated.  Hell, I'm in middle
school-humiliation is a daily way of life.  You trip and your books
fly out of your hands just when you want to look cool, you spring a
stiffy just when you're about to get called up to the blackboard, you
get bumped in the cafeteria just when you've got your head leaning way
back and are you're about to drink the last of the chocolate milk in
the carton and are wearing a white tee shirt, you forget your jock
strap and the coach has to know why in front of the whole gym class
and you don't want to say your mother forgot to wash it but he keeps
talking about it and everyone ends up starting at your crotch knowing
there's nothing under your thin gym shorts but you, you get an F on
the math quiz because you were thinking about how to avoid the jerk in
the next class who told you he was going to break your arm in three
places when he saw you today and maybe drop you out the window to
boot, so you weren't paying attention to the problem and who cares
anyway but Mrs. Graedon has to call the names of everyone who got F's
and it was only you and Jesse and Jesse always gets F's but you don't,
and, she asks you in front of the class in that very nice voice that
rubs like sandpaper on fresh sunburn if you'd like her to arrange a
tutor for you and, well, yeah, you know about humiliation.   You and
every other teenager.

But, even knowing about it, and knowing you shouldn't do it, you had
to open your mouth.  You had to get involved even though it was Brad
Decker, only the coolest kid in the whole damned school and certainly
not someone who'd even know who you are and what were you thinking,
speaking up at a time like that?  You knew, YOU KNEW, you should just
sit there.  With your mouth closed.  But when Mrs. Graedon decided
humiliating you wasn't enough to get her jollies for today, and
started in on Brad, and you could tell it was getting to him, and him
being a cool kid and not really used to being humiliated, being
perfect and all, and he was biting his tongue and turning red well,
then you started feeling a little sorry for him and what in the world
were you thinking, feeling sorry for BRAD DECKER???

It was painful how it went.  First, she asks you if you need a
tutor.  "Danny," she says in that really nice, oh-you-poor-little-boy
tone she uses when she's trying to piss you off or embarrass you,
"Danny, do you want me to assign you a tutor?  Someone who can make
you understand this really easy algebra better than I can?  I have
some little 7th graders next period and I'm sure one of them can work
with you. Would you like me to ask one of them?  Danny?"

She paused, staring at me and me staring back.  She could tell I
wasn't going to answer, so that's when she started speaking again, an
evil smirk added in with her childish inflection, talking to Brad.
"Brad, you got a D, and since that's not unusual for you, you always
get D's, why don't I see if that 7th grader could work with you, too?
Danny was just being lazy, just like he sometimes is, but you, you
could do with a steady course of tutoring.  I think I'll do that.  Do
you want a little boy or a little girl 7th grade tutor?"

So that's when I had to do it.  That's when I had to open my mouth,
when I knew full well that it was a mistake with a capital M, I went
ahead anyway.  I went ahead because Brad was getting seriously upset
and I was pissed at her anyway and what was my father going to say
about an F in math, he'd be disappointed in me and, awww, fuck it.

"Mrs. Graedon," I heard myself saying, "I think both Brad and I would
just love to see if one of your 7th graders could show us how to do
advanced 8th grade algebra.  Since you obviously can't teach us how to
do it any better than where we end up with D's and F's, I can't
imagine one of them knowing how to do it either, especially as they're
in YOUR class."

Mrs. Graedon marched right over to my desk, much more quickly than I
thought an 85-year-old fat lady could march (well, she looked that old
to me, and she WAS way too heavy), leaned down to me with glaring
eyes, a red face and spittle on her lips.  Then here came this huge
noise, and I think I heard a word.  "DETENTION!"  I think that was the
word I heard.  It was so loud, and screamed right in my ear, that the
buzzing was a little disorienting, but I'm sure that was the word.  It
was the next three words, however, that shook me up more than her
bellow.  Those words were, "Both of you!"

Oh shit, I thought, what did I do now?

I wasn't the only one with a question.  "What?" screamed Brad.  "Why
me, I didn't pop off like Danny did.  Besides, I've got basketball
practice after school.  I can't go to detention."

"You laughed," explained Mrs. Graedon, visibly pleased with herself
and with Brad's reaction.   "You WILL go to detention.  TODAY!"

"But everyone else laughed, too," said a shocked and now bright red
Brad.   "Besides, there's no way today.   I can't.  I've got practice
and then a dentist appointment.  My mom is picking me up.  I can't."


"You should think about things like that before laughing at your
teacher.  Detention tonight, and now tomorrow night, too, for arguing.
 That will give you lots of time to think about your behavior and how
you can improve it.  And since you're stuck two nights, it's only fair
that Danny be there to commiserate with you.  Both nights."  She
grinned her evil grin at me.  Mrs. Graedon and I don't much like each
other.

Brad shot a truly murderous glare at me.  Well, he may not have known
me before (although he did know my name.  I'd have to think about that
some time), but he sure knew me now.  Not good, not good at all.

After class, Brad headed up to talk to Mrs. Graedon while I
unobtrusively tried to leave the class.  I overheard Brad repeating,
"But everyone laughed."

"But everyone else didn't get a D," retorted Mrs. Graedon smugly.  I
was going to go back to point out that that was a total non sequitur,
but decided, belatedly, that maybe that sparkling insight wouldn't
change her mind and that I'd done enough damage for one day and should
do what I should have done earlier, just put a sock in it.