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 |  Andrew Champion is given a special project, partnered with the geekiest girl in school |
| Preface: This work is an experiment with the original Different and Cool, to see how it tests with a new audience after narrative and structural changes. It should still fit in with the rest of the Different and Cool series, despite the slight alterations made. As before, this story combines Japanese aesthetics with a Western-style coming-of-age story, so watch out for the huge, green anime hair alongside the adolescent hi-junks. And as always, welcome to D&C. Different and Cool 2017 By Reid M. Haynes - - ***** - - MONDAY Across the rolling landscape, Starlight City shone in the sun like a jeweler's best collection. A clean, radiant metropolis, it teetered on the edge of progress and past, a contrasting conglomeration that recalled a vision of a retro-future. On the outskirts of town, inching its way into the valleys, Starlight Jr. High and the teachers within provided the engines of knowledge that would carry its students into the world. And just behind the classroom's brick walls, one such teacher was trying to give those engines a kick-start, thrusting them onto an open road full of twists and turns. "And that, my class, concludes this period's dissertation on free-will," a tall, black man of thirty was finishing up, peering over his spectacles at his audience. Setting down a large textbook titled Philosophy Today, he folded his arms behind his back, his trim beard giving the gesture a stately image. "Questions, anyone?" he asked in a brawny baritone that bled the energy of a man with much power. His eagle eyes swept over the room carefully, able to pick out any student eager to contribute. Of which there were none. The twenty or so students before him were unresponsive, to say the least. Already worn down from 1st Period Algebra, the thirteen and fourteen-year-olds of the class had little enthusiasm for the man's lesson. Mr Clark frowned in particular at the desk in row three, fourth from the right. This was where a green-maned lad of fourteen was practically lying on his desk, his shocking swath of hair a sharp contrast with his lethargic, I-really-need-to-sleep-right-now disposition. Andrew Champion picked with disinterest at a chewed eraser, pulling at the rubbery nub until it threatened to tear off from the rest of his pencil. Looking down at the lazy arrangement of minimal note-taking on his desk, he let the lecture flow over his head like a stream over so many stones. With his cheek in his hand and his head to the side, he idly looked away from his mangled writing implement to the clock, wondering when lunchtime was. Food for the mind was something ill-swallowed these days, and now, he felt only prepared to handle food for the body. SLAM! a long, thin object came crashing down on the desk, making the boy drop his pencil like it was chewing on him. Looking up from the yardstick slapped in front of his face, Andy found a dark and very menacing figure before him, puncturing his soul with a sensation not unlike the fear of God. "Mr. Champion, if you're not too bored from my lecture on free-will and its proponents," the teacher began, tapping the flat end of his yardstick against his shoulder. "Perhaps you could make use of it and try staying awake in class." A few students let out some light titters, whether it was due to Andy's humiliation or the teacher's rebuke, Andy wasn't sure. The boy merely let out a long sigh, and propped himself up in an emulation of studiousness to placate the teacher. Still, Andy's gaze was not exactly level, and he was once more feeling rather out-of-it. He tried to stiffen up, letting the shock of the teacher's directive jolt through his system to keep him awake, but at best, he was a dripping wax statue, good for ten more minutes of holding the illusion of liveliness. Free-will. That's what this subject was about. With mixed blessings from the senior staff, Professor Trent Clark had started a special enrichment program for Starlight Jr. High, about the philosophical dilemma of free-will vs. determinism. Normally given to high school students, this special elective was meant to open up young minds and awaken them to higher levels of learning. As such, it flew completely over his head. Andy breathed heavily into the air, his eyelids falling for the moment. What business did he have tackling stuff like philosophy and free-will? He was fourteen and no wunderkind; the biggest decision-making he did was between the green or orange gelatin in the school lunch line (he liked the green gelatin). It was enough for Andy to get a C and get though the day, leaving the more complicated stuff to the wise men on the northern mountains (philosophy, not the gelatin picking). "I want all of you to give your best effort," Mr. Clark was saying, directing his attention back toward the rest of the class. "Your assignment for the rest of the week is to exercise your free-will in a way that defies everyday routine. Then, write a hundred-word summary of your thoughts and feelings leading to your decisive actions. Again, any questions?" And again, the class was silent...save for the frantic scribbling of one young pigtailed girl in the front row, who had been taking notes for the last five minutes. Her large, horn-rimmed glasses were nearly falling off her nose, and they did almost fall off her nose as she bolted up in her chair, raising a jittering hand in an "oo, oo, oo" sort of way. "Ms. Reichardt?" the teacher prompted, smiling at her participation. "What if you're a determinist?" the girl asked, with earnest eyes behind her glasses. If Mr. Clark was shaken by the challenge to his central concept, the man didn't show it. "In that case, I simply trust you'll find a way to approach this assignment from a deterministic point of view," he supplied, making a circular motion with his hand. "But, what if we're just like any other insect or bug, and we do only what we're programmed to do?" she insisted, her wide-eyed stare never lessening in the slightest. "I mean, an ant never rebels against the queen, does it?" "Perhaps you might explain the difference between humans and ants?" he suggested, putting his hands on his hips. "And what if all life is just protons and neutrons interacting with each other in a predetermined and unchangeable way...?" A brown-haired boy practically rocketed from his seat. "You're holding up class, Reichardt!" he hissed, glaring at the pigtailed girl. "Terrible Tarah," another student groaned, rolling his eyes. At this, about a dozen spitballs and crumpled up paper wads flew at the girl from all angles, testament to the highly bored and volatile class. "Hey!" she squeaked, shielding herself from the bombardment of makeshift projectiles. "Enough!" Mr. Clark's booming voice broke through the rowdy behavior like lightning through thorny underbrush. Quick as wildfire, the students ceased tormenting their classmate and slotted back into their seats. The fire in the man's eyes seemed to burn with the afternoon light pouring from the blinds. It was as if he was some sort of samurai schoolteacher, ready to test the edge of his yardstick on any unsavory miscreant. Letting out an exasperated breath, Mr. Clark moved to the door. "The paper is due Friday, first five minutes of class. There will be no turning in assignments late." Opening the door, he deftly stepped to his left. "You may go." Like a dam breaking, the students poured out of the door en masse. Though Mr. Clark had moved aside, he found he had to flatten himself against the wall to avoid being trampled by the herd of unruly students. Soon, the classroom had all but cleared out, leaving a lifeless quality in place of its previous youthful energy. Only two students were left: Andy, gathering his books, and the girl Tarah, still struggling to pick out spitwads from her hair. Leaving his yardstick behind like a warrior setting aside his sword, Mr. Clark walked between the desks until he arrived at Andy's. At first sight of the tall man, Andy shrunk down in his seat like a whacked mole, finding nowhere to hide. A tense moment passed before Andy realized that the man hadn't come to eviscerate him. "Do...you need something from me, Mr. Clark?" he tried, hoping to phrase his question so that it didn't sound too impetuous. "Andy, your grades have been slipping." Mr. Clark started without preamble. "This is the second time I've caught you nodding off in here. This class may only be an elective, but it's an important credit all the same." "I'm...sorry, Mr. Clark," Andy said, rubbing his head with a grimace. "It's just this class is so tough, I can't concentrate." "Well, you need to learn to concentrate," the teacher continued, a certain warmth offsetting his bluntness. "This assignment may very well be your last chance to maintain your C average. Any more slip ups, and you're likely to repeat Gym next quarter, which you'll recall as the class you'd be taking in place of mine." Andy gulped at this prospect. He had no real desire to take Gym again after his experience in 7th Grade; the wedgie-incident was still too fresh in his mind. Mr. Clark paid his theatrics no heed, and stepped back from the boy with a short sigh. With his back facing Andy, he turned his head to peer at him through tiny spectacles. "I meant what I said earlier. Use your free-will, and you'll decide not only your own grade, but your own fate as well." Andy started at this, the glimmer of an image tugging at the corner of his mind. The past two years of Jr. High torments fell away way to reveal the imprint of an adventurous childhood, full of passions, exploits, and triumphs. Mr. Clark's strength of spirit recalled a time where Andy felt he could do anything, be anything, even if just in his imagination. All too soon, the memory faded, and he was left with the plain classroom decorations approved by the School Board, bringing with it the heavy aura of middle school life. While Andy grappled with these contrasting emotions, Mr. Clark had already moved half-way to the front of the classroom, where the door stood ajar after the rush of kids. Stopping at Tarah's desk, the bespectacled man turned a soft eye towards the gunked-up girl, as she yanked haplessly on a pigtail. Brushing a few spitballs off her head, he looked between Andy and Tarah, as if mulling over something in that warrior-scholar mind of his. Then, he picked up his textbooks and headed for the hall, letting the door swing shut behind him. As the door closed with a slam, Andy continued to sit idly in his desk, his fingers once again flipping a pencil between them. The second hand of the clock ticked away the time he spent in contemplation, mulling over Mr. Clark's words and the subtext behind them. Soon, even Tarah had left the room, taking with her a multitude of books that no one really needed throughout their day. This left the boy all by his lonesome, contemplating the memory he had recalled, talking to himself like a hero from an old adventure novel he had picked up as a kid. "My own fate..." He didn't know it at the time, but these three words would form the bedrock of Andy's thoughts throughout the week, outside of Mr. Clark's class and into the wild, dangerous world of adolescence. - - ***** - - The cafeteria was a crowded place, it was true. A steady stream of slightly-hyper students were lining up alongside the buffet, receiving whatever forsaken refuse the cooks had decided to dig up today. The rest of the students were cluttered at several round tables placed sporadically around the spacious, yet swarming room. With the teachers stationed throughout the tables, it made for a system that succeeded in keeping the students from bouncing off the walls, if only barely. "Dude, I've neva' seen anyone get so much raggin' from Samurai Trent," a blond boy with hair over his left eye said to Andy, picking up a big, smelly burrito to jam into his toothy maw. "You're such a bone head, Champion," a silver-haired lad added in, slurping on a soda bought from the machine next to the door. "If you'd just nod every once and awhile, you'd be able to get away with dozing in class." "Sorry, guys," Andy said, shining an apple on his shirt. "It's just hard to keep up with all this stuff sometimes." "Only for you," Silver Hair said. Andy released a put-upon sigh, continuing to wipe the apple free of any excess dirt that had accumulated. The silver and blond-haired boys, Justin and Slick respectively, tended to be less than supportive whenever they heard that the third wheel of their group had been clogging up their system. With Slick, it was mostly to derive a good laugh at his expense, if the laugh could be found. And as for Justin...well, he was just plain critical sometimes. Not exactly the most supportive chums in the world, but they did well enough in a pinch. Trying to get them off the subject, he changed tact. "So, what are you guys going to do for your free-will assignment?" he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone, biting into his mac apple with a resounding snap. "What are you talking about, Champion?" Justin muttered, regarding his can of cola with a distracted eye. "Whatever we want." "Yeh," Slick chimed in, his mouth still half-full of burrito stuffing. "This is our chance to pull off all the stuff we've always wanted to do, this time with the whole faculty backin' us up!" "Just think of it," Justin started, putting his hand to his chin in a show of deviousness. "Sneaking into the girl's locker room..." "Spray painting the statue of Saint Starlight..." Slick added, leaning forward with a slurmy smile smeared with special sauce. "Putting out the tires of Old Windbag Magee..." "Buying magical girl animated shows at half-price..." "Stealing the locker key out of the...what?" Justin suddenly snapped to attention, giving his friend the evil eye. The blond-haired boy started at bit at Justin and Andy's strange looks, then scooted away slightly. "Uh, they're for my little sisters?" he suggested, making a shrugging motion with his shoulders. Slick was saved from having to explain his proclivities by a high-pitched, slightly chirpy voice. "Um, Andrew Champion?" Andy jerked up at the sound of his name, looking to where he had first heard the voice. His face visibly fell when he recognized who it was. Clad in gray overalls, a myopic pigtailed girl was standing just to the side of him, her eyes wide and unassuming. Though her glasses were so thick, one could hardly see her eyes, anyway. Glancing at his friends on either side, he then turned back towards the girl with the fakest smile he could've possibly conjured up. "Uh, Reichardt, right?" he tried, his lip curling up to show a bit of gum above his teeth. Tarah nodded, paying his antics no heed. "Professor Clark said you needed extra help on this assignment," she said enthusiastically, speaking like a chipmunk in a position of authority. "I'm going to be your partner for the free-will project!" Andy's eyes bugged out slightly as he fought to retain this new information without freaking out. "W-what?" he stammered, lurching away from the girl as if she had bubonic plague. "P-partner?" She seemed oblivious to this, too. "That's right!" she answered cheerfully, with a nod of her head. "We'll be working together on this so we both can do well." Her glasses fogged over as she got more and more excited. "I've never had a partner before!" She put a hand on the boy's shoulder, as he fought the urge to recoil. "I have all sorts of scientific research we can try to get ahead of the rest, like how bugs can sense timid people and pick those people to bite!" Andy burbled out something in-between a gasp and a gurgle. "R-really?" he managed to force out, just as his right eye was developing a slight tic. Tarah continued in spite of his hesitation. "Well, I guess I'll see you later!" she chirped, mercifully cutting the "conversation" short. With a bounce in her step, she moved on back towards her own table in the lunchroom, vanishing into the crowd. Andy watched her go with a dazed expression, having been hit with way too much for one school day. Then, with only a few snickers as forewarning, he felt the added weight of his two friends looming over him. "Looks like Andrew Champion's got a date with Terrible Tarah!" Slick laughed, throwing an arm around the boy's shoulder. "Rock on, Champion," Justin mocked, making a thumbs-up motion. Andy looked back and forth between his brutal buddies, wondering which one of them could possibly be convinced to give him support. Finding neither to be sufficient, he stared straight down the middle of the lunch table, and softly banged his head against it. - - ***** - - Lunch passed into 3rd Period, 3rd into 4th, and then it was time to leave Starlight Jr. High for home. A medium-sized Joltswagon pulled up to the carpool around 3:15, rocking slightly with its old, automotive age. It waited patiently among the kids as Andy gathered up his backpack and hustled into the vehicle as if it were an escape pod from a doomed starship. Then, with a sputter of exhaust, that escape pod was launched, zooming away from the lot and off towards the main road. Andy watched with relief as the school sank into the distance, falling behind the hills like a sinking city. He turned around towards the front of the car, where he had a better view of his ever-changing environment. The trees made for a comforting blanket as they whizzed against the sky, enveloping the car in a sea of brown, green, and blue. It was like some deity had heard the boy's call for friendlier skies, seeking to comfort him with a cornucopia of calming color. It had been a long day, to say the least. Justin and Slick had made it Prerogative #1 to tease him about Tarah all day, right up to carpool. It made no difference that he had hardly even spoken to the dorky girl before today; as far as they were concerned, Andy had been dating her since the beginning of time. It boggled his mind how easily this notion infested their minds, and he only hoped the disease didn't spread itself among the rest of his peers. Andy arranged himself as comfortably as his seat belt would allow, and sunk into the car seat with a long sigh. As the boy struggled to melt into the treated leather, his dedicated driver chanced a brief look behind her. "Something the matter, Andy?" she asked, turning back towards the windshield. He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a moan and a snort. "I've had better days, Aunt Mary," he admitted. The young lad placed his hands on his stomach and looked up towards the open sunroof. "I'm supposed to come up with something special to do for my Philosophy enrichment class," he explained. "An exercise of free-will, that's what Mr. Clark is saying." "Free-will?" Mary exclaimed. "How exciting! It sounds like your professor is a real go-getter." Andy chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. "It's really not as great as it sounds," he said. "They're making us do this weird work, but I'm just trying to get through this year without ending up a laughingstock like in Gym, Now I'm stuck with Tarah Reichardt for a study-buddy, and the guys won't let me hear the end of it, What Mr. Clark wants...it's just a waste of time." "Oh, but there's nothing wasteful about free-will," she insisted, easing the steering wheel towards the left. "It's something you have every day. Mr, Clark is just giving you a chance to express it in ways you haven't thought of before." After making sure the intersection was clear, Mary quickly dug into the purse on the passenger seat for some unknown object. Coming up with a peppermint, she pinched the object between two fingers, and brought the stick back into first gear again. They had been driving for about half-a-minute when Andy started talking again. "It just...kinda hurts my head thinking about it," he murmured, almost to himself. "I mean, I guess I have free-will, but it doesn't seem to affect anything with me. I mean, I still go to school everyday and I still worry about the same old things. What's so free about that?" The woman shook her head in disbelief. "Andrew, there's free-will in every aspect of life," she told him as she rounded the turn. Coming upon a straightaway, she took a second to place her procured object on the empty ashtray: a small peppermint. "Okay, there's a peppermint," she stated, a subtle smile on her lips. "What are you going to do?" "Huh?" Andy was a bit flabbergasted at the puzzle presented to him. He took a closer look at the peppermint, as if it was going to sprout legs and start disco-dancing. "What do you mean?" "Do you choose to take the peppermint, or not?" she repeated. The boy struggled to keep from rolling his eyes. "It's a peppermint," he said, losing interest in this thread of conversation fast. "Of course I'm going to take it. See Aunt Mary? It's meaningless." "Ah, but no one's making you take it," Mary said pointedly, making a small motion with her finger. "You've got to do that on your own." As the car swung through a turn in the subdivision, Andy continued staring straight ahead in confusion. "I don't get it." "Maybe you're feeling sick that day," she began, keeping her eyes carefully on the road. "Maybe you distrust it on grounds of it being so close to an ashtray. Even the simplistic situation can yield multiple outcomes depending on what you decide to do. People aren't that easy to manipulate." The car was rolling up to an intersection, a crossover between Lolo Drive and Kirby Parkway. After coming to a stop, Mary made the turn onto Kirby, dodging a pothole that the city hadn't patched up. "Andy, life's no different than you and the peppermint," she continued, slowing the car down to around five mph. "The stakes may be higher, but it's all a simple decision, once you learn to put your mind to it." Andy's face knotted up in confusion, his eyebrows twisting into an awkward configuration. "If you say so," he assented, shrugging off his doubts with a flex of his shoulders. "I do say so!" Aunt Mary hooted jovially as she turned the Joltswagon into their driveway. "I do!" Andy, for his part, pondered on whether or not to pluck the proffered peppermint from its perch. He felt railroaded by circumstance all day, and hadn't given any thought to whether or not the little things in life added up. Could even simple decisions change the course of his life, and if so, which ones were the right ones? It was a thought that lingered at the corner of his mind as he prepared to tackle the free-will project, the abandoned peppermint in the ash tray awaiting his decisions in the upcoming days. |
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