Chapter 1: Sideways

Chapter 1 is here.

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"Can you believe Spring Break is coming soon, Rico?"

I pause my music and respond, "No. Can you?"

"Of course not!" Luciana ecstatically remarks. "I'm just glad we're finally having another break! What are your plans?"

"I don't have any plans other than listening to Debussy, Mozart, Bach, Pachelbel, Chopin—"

"Way to kill the mood by educating me," she cuts in.

"Classical music shouldn't kill any mood," I defend, "It's a masterpiece altogether, that everyone should appreciate—"

She puts her hand up, signalling for me to be quiet. "Don't preach to me right now about the importance of classical music and how much it evolved, giving us a lot to be grateful for. Please."

I sigh, putting my earphone back into my ear.

"Can you for once in your boring life do anything that's not related to classical music?" she exasperates, "Classical music this, classical music that. I don't think this is healthy, Rico."

I start humming the tune to Jesus Alegria Dos Homens.

"Rico."

I continue humming the melodic music.

"Rico!" She snags my music player, pulling my earphones from it. "Don't you think you should spice up your break this time?"

"It's already spiced up," I remark, "Classical music is my gateway from reality."

"You said that last Spring Break, Thanksgiving break, and Christmas break! In fact, you say that for every break we have."

I shrug. "So what? I utilize my breaks differently than you. You spend your time outdoors, I spend mine listening to my music. What's so wrong with that?"

"I think it's boring, Rico."

"Well, I think otherwise," I counter, taking my music player and earphones back from her.

"I can't believe you're still obsessed," she mutters, annoyed. "You've been like this, since you found my baby cousin's Beethoven CD in middle school!"

"Are you accusing me of having a mental illness?" I narrow my eyes at her. I remember begging her to buy me one of those CD's after I stumbled upon it.

"If boring was a mental illness, you'd have it times ten."

"I'm not obsessed. You're mistaking my adoration for obsession, Lucy." I turn down my music. "Obsession is when you're too preoccupied on something in particular, meaning they're persistently impulsive and are drilled into your conscious state, which usually has an association with anxiety."

"Rico, enough. No need to give me a essay on it."

I sigh, "Fine." I plug my earphones back into my music player.

She takes a huge bite of her salad, sneering at me. "I hate when you sigh and say something smartass."

I take a bite from my hoagie, placing an earphone into my ear and pressing play.

"You say that whenever you fail to realize no one gives a crap about the info you happened to give a lecture about."

I shrug. "Just thought I should point it out, so that you won't have this wrong image of obsession."

"Whatever you say, Rico Arias," she sarcastically responds.

"You're talking to me in that patronizing tone of yours."

She puts her hand up again, so I shut up. I take another bite from my hoagie.

Luciana nearly gags. "Why have you only eaten cheese, lettuce and tomatoes on those things all week?"

"I'm a vegetarian."

She stares at me for awhile and then she bursts out laughing. "Rico, when did this happen?"

I respond, "Since Jake Terrence argued with me last week."

She giggles, "About what?"

"In study hall, I was talking to Tessa Hall about how I love animals and how I'm against things being tested on them. Then, before she got a chance to answer, Sir Asshole decided to chip in his two cents, saying that if I'm so against animal cruelty, then why do I eat meat. And, I made an argument that I'm not much of a meat eater anyways, then he said I'm a hypocrite, so I'm going to make him think differently."

"Oh my gosh," she chuckles, "So you're trying to prove a point?"

"Sort of," I fib.

She smirks at me in disbelief.

"Okay, eighty percent is to prove a point but twenty percent is because I really do feel bad for the animals. You can't say how much you love animals and are for their rights, but eat meat still."

"Why are you worried about the way he sees you?" she asks, still cackling. "Does his opinion matter?"

"Of course not," I answer quickly.

"And now that I realize it, you're starting to sound more and more like him each day."

Before I could respond, my hoagie gets taken away from me, throwing me off guard.

Jake Terrence looks into my hoagie and laughs, "Are you a veg-head now?"

"Give it back to him," Luciana groans.

He takes a bite out of it from the opposite side. "Not bad, but it could use a little, you know, ham."

I glare at him, as he seats himself next to me. "You can have it now, asshole."

"My pleasure." He takes another bite.

"You're vegetarian too?" Luciana questions, taking another bite of her salad.

"Not at all, but I have my occasional dosage of veggie burgers."

"Let's not forget that dosage of asshole," I add, taking a sip from my water bottle.

He eyes me, smirking. "How is this vegetarian thing coming along?"

"It's great," I answer, "I'm enjoying my maggot-free meals nowadays."

Jake takes another bite of my hoagie and then places it back on my tray. "See you in study hall, my vegetarian nemesis."

"See you too, you dumb jock."

He laughs, "That's where you're wrong. I may take a tremendous part in my athletics, but I am intelligent. I've been on the honor roll my whole life, with all A+'s."

I roll my eyes. "So, you're saying you've been perfect your whole life?"

"Well, I've gotten an A before one quarter in a class," he sighs, "But, it's more significant than your grades."

"My grades are fine," I defensively reply, "I have A's and B's."

He reminds, "You're taking all general classes and I'm taking all IB classes."

"Actually, I take AP Music Theory, IB Music, and IB Art for your information," I point out. "Also, your grades get weighted too."

"Of course you'd only have IB and AP classes in the fine arts. What's your grades in them?" he challenges.

"Well, I'm passionate about the arts and I actually put effort into them," I growl, "I have all A's in them, however, I have B's in my other classes."

"You're one of those kids, Rico." He snatches my apple from my tray and takes a huge bite from it. "I'm here." He raises his hand high. "You're here." He lowers his hand. "When I get my IB diploma, I'll benefit with it more than your regular diploma."

Luciana snarls, "Take your IB diploma and shove it up your ass. I hope you'll become one of those smart kids, who'll end up in a mental hospital."

"By that, you mean the ones that lacked social interaction through their years in school?" He additionally says, "I have a well-balanced life academically, athletically, and socially." He flickers his eyes at me. "Rico is who you should worry about. He's so stuck on Beethoven's balls, that he has lost touch with reality."

"You're going to lose touch with reality when you finish CAS project, which requires 150 hours of creativity, action, and service."

He grimly looks at me. "Nice try, but I've already completed 132 hours so far." Seeing that he won this argument, he waves and goes back to his table.

"I hate him," I growl.

"You do have a problem though," Luciana mumbles, "With the reality thing. Even you say classical music is an escape from reality."

"Are you agreeing with Jake?" I snap.

She shrugs. "It could happen, with you being in a mental hospital."

I angrily eye my best friend. "Screw you, Luci and screw him."

"Yeah, you want to screw him."

I look at her in astonishment. "What?"

"I've been holding this in for a long time," she confesses, "But, I see chemistry between you two."

"That's where you're wrong, Luci. Chemistry is the class I'm taking this year and the only thing between him and I are quarrels—"

"See? You're sounding like him. Quarrels really, Rico? Now, where did you hear that word?"

I arise from my seat and storm to his table. I'll let him have it this time! I'm sick of him screwing around with me. Once I'm at his table, I take away his milk from his tray and start drinking it.

"What do you want?" he asks in annoyance.

"Get off my balls for once, okay?" I snip, "I thought the only balls you'd worry about was the balls in soccer and basketball and maybe even your own, considering the fact that you don't have any down there. You practically have lady parts down there."

People at his table start laughing.

Jake clenches his fists, not saying a word.

"Is it that time of month, Jake?" I ridicule.

His table laughs even louder. I place his empty milk carton back on his tray.

The bell, ending lunch, rings. I go back to my table to throw away my trash.

"What happened?" Luciana asks.

"I won this time," I respond, grinning.

Pride becomes of me. I won. I actually won this battle! Jake usually wins, but this time, I won!

*~*

During the remainder of the day, I was in high spirits. Even in study hall, where Jake menacingly looked at me, whenever his eyes flickered upon me.

In chemistry, I finished my classwork early, so I started doodling in my notebook. "Rico."

I turn around, facing Luciana behind me. "What?"

"Jake is being an ass more than usual."

"And why should I be worried?"

"Word is that he has it in for you," she says, "And he has that same angry look from lunch."

"I've got nothing to worry about." I shrug.

"No offense, Rico, but whenever he says that phrase, it means trouble."

"I'll be okay. He'll probably just insult me again, like he always does."

"Remember when he said that last time and he made you the school's target?"

I nod, suddenly realizing the possibilities. All I said was that Jake's pants looked like girl pants and he touched my hair one day and screamed, "Oh my god! Is that a bug?" That whole school year, people thought I had lice and avoided me. A few even teased me. Whenever Jake feels that I humiliated him enough, he'll humiliate me two times worse.

"Just be careful. Don't let him come near your hair today," she admonishes, "Or else I'd have to kick his ass. I'm not afraid to fight boys."

The only thing that came to mind was Jake's vengeful eyes.

*~*

After school, I go to Music Club's meeting, only to be stared at by numerous club members. Some started whispering when I caught them looking at me. I haven't seen Jake anywhere and he hasn't been near my hair either.

Ken Edder seats himself next to me, eyeing me peculiarly. He runs his hands through his blonde hair.

"What?" I ask, "Why are you staring at me like that?"

He leans in closely, until his mouth is near my ear. "I heard you went sideways," he whispers.

An overbearing sensation of puzzlement seizes me. "Sideways?"

"Like, you drove completely off the highway route, into a ditch."

"Into a ditch?"

"You know," he groans, "Your car isn't driving a steady path. Instead, it lost all control and swerved off the road."

I punch his arm. "What is it that you're trying to tell me?"

"Ow," he groans, "I didn't make it obvious enough? You know, with the car and the swerving and the part where I said you go sideways now?"

"No!"

"Well, you're not straightways."

I aggravatingly threaten,"Your face isn't about to be straightways in a second, if you don't—"

"Gay," he hisses, looking around. "Rumor has it that you're gay."

My expression remains the same. "And people are just realizing that?"

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