The next day, Jack woke up, ate breakfast, and walked to school without Elassa nagging him. In fact, it was a tad bit odd that he didn't even see her while he was getting ready for school. At the moment, he was trying to get the last few lines of 'Romeo and Juliet: Act II' read before Mr. Jacobi came in and bitched to the class about how terrible his life was.
Honestly, with the little bit of English literature and playwriting he'd shown them, he should have gotten fired for lack of doing anything. With a sigh, Jack finished the act and slammed the book down on his desk, relieved to be done with the crap.
"Tired of this thing already?" asked Rob, Jack's best friend since kindergarten.
"You of all people should know that I hate romance in its base forms," Jack shot back with a yawn. Rob rapped his fingertips on the desk.
"And that's why you'll never have a girlfriend, Jack. You're a cold-hearted fiend, just like that guy who killed six million people in Europe? What was his name, Hitler?"
"I'm not Hitler, and that guy wrote poetry, certainly not a bit like me. And screw you, I got laid by a thirty six triple-F chick on Saturday, so you can kiss my ass right now."
"I call Bullshit," Rob declared immediately. In front of Jack, Jonathan, another of his friends, turned around and slapped his hand down on Jack's desk.
"So, what's this giga-titted woman look like, eh?" the blonde-headed teen asked. Jack slammed his fist down on Jonathan's hand and grinned widely.
"I was just getting to that. Well, she's got-"
"Get back in your seats!" yelled Mr. Jacobi as he slammed the door, stuffing his cell phone into his pocket. Rob returned to sitting in his chair instead of hanging out of it across the aisle. Jonathan turned around as Mr. Jacobi sat down in his desk, huge, rotund stomach settling long after the rest of him had stopped moving. He turned around in his swivel chair and wrote the day's work up on the board, messily as usual.
Jack groaned. They had to write a synopsis on the act, and that meant using quotes and page numbers and lots of other things that just made the activity suck up time and turn into homework in seconds. Jack begrudgingly took out his pencil and paper, reopening his book to find the start of act two. He cursed under his breath.
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About half way through with the synopsis, Rob started poking him with the sharp end on his pen. And after about six pokes, Jack growled at his friend to quit it. But Rob had no intentions of letting Jack get his work done in class. He was already done, as usual, and had all the free time in the world to do whatever the hell he wanted to while he bothered Jack for an obscure reason.
"So..." Rob began. "About that chesty chick you say you got laid by. What's her name?" he asked curiously, barely above a whisper. Jack arched a brow.
"Believing yet?"
"Not a chance," Rob shot back with a silly grin on his face.
"Fine, whatever. Her name's Elassa." Jack watched as his friend's face became dull and bored.
"You could have said Jenny, or Eli, or even Franka, and I might have believed you. But Elassa? You are such a bad liar."
"I'm not joking, Rob. Her name is Elassa. Do you want living proof?" he asked.
"You know where she lives?!" Rob whispered furiously. Jack put a thumb to his own chest and flashed Rob a wolfish grin.
"Do I know where she lives? She lives with me, boyo," he mocked. Rob grabbed Jack by his collar in his usual gesture saying that he was about to relent and change the subject. But when he did this, Mr. Jacobi looked over at them and tapped on his desk.
"Hey, you two, quit horsing around and get back to work," he ordered.
"Yeah, you two are interrupting my studies with all your talk about fantasy girls," said Brandon, the typical school jock with a hot cheerleader girlfriend that was too good for him, and the perfect teeth and the heart-winning smile, and the asshole attitude to fit. And Jack was his kryptonite, so to speak.
"Hey, Brandon, what was this act about again? Or are you going to suck Josh off again for another summary?" Jack asked cheerfully, leering at the quarterback as everyone burst into laughter. Mr. Jacobi stood up and pointed to the door with a thick, meaty finger.
"Jack, get out. And take your talk about girls with you," he bellowed. Jack inclined his head in a gesture of thanks, packed up his stuff, and threw his backpack over his shoulder. He walked down the aisle toward the door.
"You'd dead sixth period," whispered Brandon as Jack passed by him. He ignored the jock's threat and opened the door. On his way out, Mr. Jacobi said something that made Jack's blood boil and all the gears in his brain stop at once.
"Like he could ever manage to get a girl," he said. The class erupted into another fit of laughter and Jack walked back into the room, backwards. He spun on heel to face the fat teacher, a livid look in his eyes. He balled his fists when he spoke.
"Oh yeah? When I go home today, I'm getting fucked by a beautiful woman, which is more than I can say for you, you fat asshole!" And with that, Jack turned back around and slammed the door behind him as he left.
He walked down the hall to his next class, which happened to be lunch. He never had understood why lunch was considered a class in its own right, nor why he and every other student got a hundred in it every year. But then again, he rarely ever understood anything about how this place worked.
The bell rang and Jack opened the door to the cafeteria and set his backpack down at the nearest table. He plopped himself down on the bench and waited for the big room to fill up. Within minutes, it was packed as it usually was and his table filled up with friends. On his side of the table was Samantha, himself, and then Nick. On the other side were Jonathan, Francisco the foreign exchange student, and Rudolf.
None of them were what anyone would consider entirely normal. Like everyone else, they had their vices, and their odd spots. But Rudolf, Samantha, and Francisco were the only ones that could be considered part of the normal classification.
Nick was really into German stuff, entirely engulfed in the culture and the music and the language. In fact, he was in German V, a class that he was taking via online college classes. The guy was going to be some kind of translator, either that or a WWII historian.
Jonathan was inclined to be a bit boisterous, much like Rob, but with more inclination toward shouting perverted or very odd things in the middle of a conversation so loud that it drew attention from even the nerdy students absorbed in their talk about God-knows-what.
Jack, well he was the anarchist. He talked back at his teachers when they were belligerent toward students, had jovial conversations with his crazy history teacher and Nick about the early forties in Europe. He stood up for the little guy, really, and that was what had earned him much ire from people like Brandon, who wanted to assert authority that didn't exist.
"So, guys, what's new? Anyone find a girlfriend yet, or am I still your clique's only girl?" Samantha asked to start up a legitimate conversation. Jonathan took the mustard-smothered corndog out of his mouth and glanced at Jack before speaking.
"Jack got fucked by a chick who had thirty six triple-F's Saturday. And she's living with him right now, so he says." Everyone looked at Jack and he turned a bit red. Samantha elbowed him in the side playfully.
"Hey, way to go buddy. Finally lost your virginity, eh?"
"Yeah, and why the hell are you three still staring at me? You got a problem with consensual missionary-position sex?" Jack growled jokingly. Rudolf shielded his eyes as if he were trying to block out the light of the sun.
"My eyes! They burn with the horrible image!" he cried. It was a running joke between the group of friends that if any of them ever had consensual missionary-position sex, that the others would beat him within a inch of his life and then make him, or her, repent by fighting a battle to the death against a bear. (weird, right?)
But, seeing as everyone present had their own way to be weird, it wasn't out of the norm. In fact, their usual conversations at lunch tended to make the prissy girls at the next section over blush and try to tune them out. And at their worst, they could even get people to move, simply with words.
"So, Jack, tu tienes puta?" Francisco asked. Jack shrugged.
"Whatever that means, yeah."
"You have pussy?" the foreigner asked in a hushed, secretive tone.
"Damn straight amigo," Jack replied, snapping his fingers. Rudolf scratched the side of his head and then looked around as if he didn't want to be heard. He even leaned in toward the center of the table so he couldn't be heard by anyone not already involved in the conversation.
"So, her tits were big?"
"Hell yeah, dude, like two cantaloupes on her chest. I couldn't even get my hands all the way on 'em," Jack boasted, trying to put his hands at a distance from himself to represent her bust line. Rudolf's eyes went wide.
