It's Just Kinda Like That

IT’S JUST KINDA LIKE THAT



Today’s gonna be a bad day. Why, you ask? Because life isn’t fair, and if it were to suddenly get fair, it certainly wouldn’t be during high school. I don’t think anyone in the state knows that better than me. I’m the quintessential geek: captain of the chess team, a starter for the mathletes, and I wear glasses. I guess my choice of extra curricular activities and eyewear is why I’m currently sporting a shiner, several bruises and no lunch money. During the next student board meeting I’m suggesting the lacrosse team take anger management.

The halls of Montgomery prepatory academy are lined with future corporate jerk-offs. Sometimes you can just look at a fifteen year old and see the horrible person they’ll one day grow to be. Not horrible in a “Sell crack to middle-schoolers” kinda way. More like a “Drive a Hummmer with a save the Earth bumper sticker” kinda way. One day they’ll all end up like Bill Gates or some other rich ass, and I’ll be designing their websites and making them look smart.

As you probably already guessed Monty Prep is a pretty prestigious *cough-uptight-cough* school. It has about 200 students spread between 7 grades so there’s not a lot of foot traffic around our halls. But just because we lack numbers doesn’t mean you can count us out of the stereotypical high school race just yet! We got geeks, jocks, preps, super preps stoners, skaters, goth kids, emo kids (Yes, there’s a difference), straight outa the hood ganstas (We live in Malibu), and the Safety Patrol (A.K.A the douche bag brigade). We got the whole shebang…but I really don’t fit in with a group.

Most people would assume I hang with the geeks, but I don’t. In fact, I hate their guts, mostly because they fall into a blatant stereotype. I love chess, that’s true, but I’m only in mathletes for extra credit, and I loathe D&D. There, I’m not a stereotype. Okay, I get beat up…a lot, but I’m 5’1, 102 lbs, and those lacrosse girls have serious issues. The point is I’m not a geek, or a nerd, I’m just a kid. And right now I’m a kid who doesn’t want to go home.

The last bell rings loudly through the halls and I limp out one of the many doors in the school and start climbing the fire escape up to the school’s roof.
From atop the roof you can see all of Malibu. It gives you this weird feeling, like if you never saw the sun set or rise again it would be alright. Even if you know it’s not. I think that’s why my friends and I spend so much time up here. Or we’re avoiding going home.

“Aloha, Jade.” Is the first thing I hear when I hit the top of the stairs.

I’m mostly Hawaiian so my friends generally greet me in the most racist way they can think of. In fact I think some people still sing the china town song when I come into the room. No point in correcting them.
I turn to the voice and see Jonathan on the other side of the roof waving his arms like a spaz. The collar of his blazer is flipped up, he’s wearing his school shorts ACDC style, and I can tell by the damp spot on his shoulders that his hair to gel ratio was a bit off.

He follows the greeting with a, “How’s it hangin’?”

I cock an eyebrow and respond, “Slightly to the left, and bumps the ground when I walk.”
His shoulders start shaking and he gets red in the face before letting out a hyena laugh. He falls down onto the only bench on the roof, clutching his sides. Jonathan and I have known each other since we were 8 and I have answered that same question, the same way for 7 years and he never gets tired of
it. A few seconds later I start laughing too, cause it’s just kinda like that, Ya’ know? Sometimes you just gotta laugh.

But our random moment of immaturity is cut short when we here the metallic clang of Amy’s Adidas as she comes up the rusted iron fire escape and I see her dark curls coming over the side of the roof. She skips the last two steps and sprints over to me. I can see her pulling a first aid kit out of her messenger bag, and I roll my eyes.

“So how’d you know?” I ask. She’s normally the last person to know when I get beat up.

“Anne told me.” She takes out a bottle of something and starts pouring it on to a cloth, then presses it down on one of my scratches. Soon I realize I probably should have been paying more attention.

“OW!” Note to self: Iodine sucks.

“Would you like some cheese with your whine?” I can here Jonathan snickering behind me, and I glare at Amy. She just presses down harder.

“Stop that. How did you find out?” She kinda just looks at me like I’m stupid. Oh, yeah, I look like shit…and they’re sisters…yep, that’d do it.

“Dude, why do Anne and her teammates hate you so much?” Jonathan asks. Honestly, I know Jon-Jon’s thinking cap has the collective wattage of Edison’s first light bulb, but I thought he’d at least know this.

I gave him the abridged version, “Anne wanted me to be in her group of friends. But I reclined due to the fact that she’s an evil, vindictive bitch. Now she makes my life Hell. Which pretty much proves the whole evil, vindictive bitch thing, but, hey, what are ya gonna do?”

He blinks a few times before going “Oh.” It was a standard Jonathan response.

I grab Amy’s arm and plop us both down on the bench that Jonathan is currently occupying and steal the other half of her turkey sandwich. It was the good turkey too, the kind left over from thanksgiving. She rolls her eyes and giggles at the faces I make as I eat. We talk about random stuff, and by random I mean stupid.
In the middle of our deeply philosophical conversation about who has the best boobs in Dead or Alive, my cell phone goes of, and I already know it’s my brother.

“Guys, I gotta go” I get up to leave, but Amy grabs my arm.

“Are you still going to the beach tomorrow?” I nod, smiling, before trekking the few feet to the fire escape and make my descent into the ally way.

I walk the four blocks to my house, a three story, Victorian styled behemoth with so much untrimmed ivy you’d think it used to be the hanging gardens of Babylon. Climbing up the steps and walking up to the door, I wondering if my brother’s actually going to be in the house tonight or if he text me from work, again. I flip through the super hero print keys on my Tiki keychain, and stick the Wonder-woman key into its receiver. It’s not until I hear the audible clack of the tumblers falling into place, that I realize how tired I am.

My bag falls to the floor right next to the door and I’m sure when my brother gets home he’s gonna bitch about it, but I honestly can’t say I care. I kick off my loafers and shuffle into the kitchen, pouring a bowl of fruity pebbles for myself and a bowl of kitty chow for Alohi.
I think cats can hear when you’re thinking about giving them food, cause as soon as I turn around he’s right there, rubbing against my leg and purring.

“What? This is all I’m good for? Feeding you?” He cocks his ears back, tilts his head to the side and looks at me like I’m stupid.

“I guess it’s dinner for two tonight, huh buddy?” We both find a comfortable position on the living room sofa and I turn the TV to Animal Planet, because Alohi’s very particular about what he watches.
The sofa ridiculously comfortable, so by the time Meerkat Manor goes off I’m already half asleep and it’s only eight. I stare at the mantel above the TV. It has all of our family photos on it. Pictures of me winning surfing contests, Benjamin winning the national spelling bee, and a large portrait of the whole family, even grandma, with a banner proudly saying “THE YONGZHENG FAMILY”. They do nothing but remind me that my parents are gone, and while my father was on earth he never smiled. Now Ben’s starting to end up just like him. I like to remind him that Dad always looked better in a suit.

I swear I only shut my eyes for a split second and suddenly it’s five in the morning and Ben’s just getting home. He throws his bag on the floor right next to mine and kicks off his shoes before loosening his tie.
“How was school?” Some how, even when we were little kids he always knew when I was awake. I mumble something inaudible and roll over. I hear him chuckle before sinking into the sofa next to me and getting comfortable.

“You know, you shouldn’t walk home alone.”

I snort at him, “I don’t think I’ll be getting mugged in Malibu any time soon.” I wait a few seconds for a reply, but only get the sounds of soft snoring in return. I groan, get up off the couch, and shuffle to the linening closet to get a blanket. I shuffle back over to the couch, stubbing my toe several times, and snuggle into the warmth my brother’s body provided, throwing the blanket over all three of us.

Everyday is different then the one before it. Just because the last one was crap doesn’t mean the next one has to be. Every morning is a chance to make it right. And, hey, I’m sure no one will mind if you sleep in.