Chapter 2: Back To School With A New Outlook

Home. It had been a few weeks since I’d actually been here, I realized. My parents must have been at their wit’s end, and even my sister who wouldn’t normally give me the time of day, said she was glad I was home. My mother made all my favorite foods for dinner, and by the time it was over I was feeling rather bloated. But we all have to make sacrifices. I could get used to this indolent life, but it only lasted another week.

The last Sunday before I returned to school, I suddenly realized that I’d missed a big chunk of school and wondered how I’d catch up. My head, while better, was still having a little trouble focusing for extended periods and I wondered how I’d be able to concentrate in class. But that was a problem for tomorrow. Feeling surprisingly tired, I went off to bed and fell right to sleep.

My sister woke me in the morning with a cheerful, “Hey, stupid-head, you better get your butt out of bed or you’re gonna be late for school.” Just like old times. I did manage to get some breakfast in me and went off to the bus with a warning from my mother not to overdo it.

My friends greeted me at the bus stop like a conquering hero and they all asked to see the scar (which was under the hairline and not that obvious). The chatter was nonstop on the ride to school as they tried to catch me up with all the important stuff in their lives.

When we reached the school, the principal pulled me aside as we came in and told me that they were happy and relieved to have me back and that I shouldn’t worry too much about what I’d missed; the teachers had put together some resource packs that detailed what I had missed and would go over them with me after school and I should be back up to speed in no time. I was advised to take it easy. No problem, I can do that with my eyes closed.

First class was math, what they now call pre-algebra, simple equations. I’ve always been pretty good at math, so even though I hadn’t seen this topic before I was able to pick it up fairly quickly. I was still a curiosity to most of the class, he-who-has-returned-from-the-dead, so I was catching a lot of glances from everyone around me. Normally they would ignore me like I didn’t exist, but today at least I was a celebrity.

Oddly, in the few weeks I had been out, the girls in class had seemed to get a little hotter. Things couldn’t have changed anatomically so dramatically in so short a time, so it must have been me looking at them with fresh eyes.

Of course, none of this had mattered much previously because, as I said before, they considered us boys much too immature, unlike the more sophisticated high school sophomores who had reached the advanced age of sixteen. At least one of the girls, it was said, went out with a seventeen-year-old.

It’s like we spoke two different languages and they weren’t in the least interested in learning ours; we just happened to share the same space for a few hours each day. They ignored us and went about their business.

So I tried to focus on what the teacher was trying to get through our dense heads, already so filled with hormones that there wasn’t much room left for math. But somehow I was getting it, even though I was only half listening. I kind of understood what the teacher was trying to say before she actually said it, and I found that it made some sense.

But part of my mind was looking around the room at the girls I had gone to grade school with who now seemed to be quite different people, aloof, sure, but sexy, too, with their bodies filling out in such interesting ways.

In particular, I was looking at Melissa Cooley who had changed from something of a tomboy who I used to play softball with into one of those sexy young things you see on the cover of the fashion magazines like YM that teenage girls buy so religiously. Flawless complexion, short light brown hair, and a kind of breathless expression that hinted at banked fires if only the right person knew how to fan the flames.

I think she had just turned fifteen -- there were only a couple of months between us -- but she looked so much older and sexier. Her legs had gotten long and her hips filled out, and while she didn’t have the big tits we all fantasized about, they were perfectly proportioned to her body size. I couldn’t wait for summer to see what she looked like in a bathing suit. But it was all academic speculation; since she had given up her pursuit of tomboy-ism, she no longer spoke to us lesser beings.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to turn on my psychic charm and see what happened. If it worked on the rusty and cantankerous Nurse DiNardo, perhaps it would work here, too. So, as class approached the bell indicating the end of the period, I started sending out the “Hey, nice guy to your right and a row back” signal to her. When the bell rang, everyone jumped up to grab their books and backpacks to head off to the next class, and Melissa turned to look at me as she left and she smiled at me. Well, it’s a start.

Next up was English, where we were apparently in the middle of reading Hamlet aloud. Where was I? Sorry, I dozed off for a moment there. Hamlet would probably be more enticing if it were not read by adenoidal teenagers in a monotone. Periodically the teacher would interrupt with a pointed question to the class about why this character had acted as he or she had, which was usually met with a thunderous round of silence from the glazed eyes attending her.

I found I was able to make one or two almost cogent comments, which I think earned me some brownie points, but I was having trouble building much enthusiasm or sympathy for the tortured Dane. English was followed by PhysEd, which was boring in a different way, but the next period was early lunch, and that I could get enthusiastic about.

The bell rang and it was like an old West cattle drive, with the cows being herded down the chutes into the corral. It always felt like that to me. Say what you will about school cafeteria food, but I rather like it.

I suppose that says something about the state of sophistication of my palate. But who doesn’t like hamburgers and chips and lime Jello? I guess some don’t because the school now offers a vegetarian option and at least a few people were gathered there.

Including Melissa Cooley, who turned as I approached and said, “I’m glad to see you’re back. We were worried about you.”

I had the common sense to smile and say, “Thank you, I’m glad to be back,” while also turning on the psychic charm, sending out “This is a really good guy, sensitive, smart, and funny,” vibes.

I went to the more heavily populated hamburger line and got my usual, filling up my tray. I found a half-filled table and slid into a seat and before I could even open my bag of chips Melissa was standing on the other side and said, “Do you mind if I share your table?”

I mentally slapped myself when I was about to say something flip, and instead said, “Of course not, please sit.” James Bond would have been proud.