Again With The Emails

This is significantly less interesting than the last time, but bears mentioning because I don't want to write my Cornell essay right now.

Anyway, after much consideration (or I think it's much consideration, anyway), and much disappointment after learning that we (mostly Tea) had stolen Dr. Cans for Science Bowl on the same day as Chess Club (the conversation between Sonny, Livny, and me on this topic is appendixed below), Sonny decided to resume Chess Club once again. He sent out an email earlier, with the following message:

Thanks for your interest in the Chess Club! We will be holding our first meeting Thursday, October 21 after school in room 1234. I hope to see you there. It will be fun, and there will be candy! If you are interested in the club, but Thursday is not convenient, please e-mail me and we can try to work around everyone's schedule. See you next week!

How delightful. I think that is also the first meeting (for new members) for Science Bowl. And since our room is in 1228, we'll be... an awkward two rooms away. So I emailed him (and everyone else, sort of accidentally) with the suggestion that he move the room to 1232, because then there will only be the chem office between the two rooms, and so they'll be connected (via the doors that lead from the office to the classrooms). Sonny agreed to that.

A few minutes later, Livny replied (to everyone):

Thursday is not convenient.

Well, there goes the rest of Sonny's plans. Maybe there still will be candy? Or maybe someone else will object that they're allergic to glucose and the club might as well just self-combust.

Appendix:

1) Conversation/Telling Sonny Dr. Cans is no longer a "full-time" advisor for Chess Club (or what I remember, anyway, since some parts of it is fuzzy):

Me: Hey, Sonny, so it just so happens that Tea and Gretchen and I and some other people have started this Science Bowl club, and we got Dr. Cans as our advisor—

Sonny: Uh-huh.

Me: And our schedules were such that it could only work out on Thursdays. So Chess Club might not have an advisor anymore.

Sonny: Wait, what?

Me: We're extremely sorry about that.

Sonny: But—but—

Livny: Don't worry about it. He'll be all right. I mean, it's only been his dream for who knows how long to start a chess club, and all you're doing is crushing all of his hopes. No big deal. He'll get over it.

Sonny: Wait, but—

Livny: Hey, look, just because you've wanted this for such a long time, and it's been the only thing you've ever thought about, and it's almost as important as your life, doesn't mean—obviously, Science Bowl is much more important.

2) My chess game with Sonny during Club Rush:

After a good fifteen minutes or so, I have lost all of my pieces except a couple pawns, a bishop, and a king. Sonny has a few pawns, two rooks, and a king. He is on offense, with his rooks ready to kill my bishop and even threaten my king.

In the next five minutes (with much foot-stomping on my part because he just won't hurry up and I had to go print out stuff for English soon), we both have the same number of pawns on the board, and a king each. And nothing else.

What Are The Chances (if all variables are independent)?

This morning, in homeroom, as we were getting out planners (completely black, which is boring, but that means colors will show up better in it), I took a seat near the front because there were only a few people there at the time. I waited in line, got everything I needed, and sat down to write my bio lab, when Lauretta walked in.

Apparently, her friend was sitting in front of me, because she took the chair next to mine and sat down. The two of them then went on lengthy discussions of colleges (while coloring in college names with fluorescent pens), including Washington University (the St. Louis one), where Lauretta wants to go. Or maybe it was one of the schools she wanted to go to. It’s kind of hard to pick up information when you’re not part of the conversation.

It was awkward, I suppose, but it was also really weird because our last homeroom (a week ago), I sat in the very back, and Lauretta still managed to sit next to me. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought that she was doing this on purpose, but that can’t be because I can’t imagine why she’d do such a thing.

I did manage to finish most of my bio lab, and I finished everything I could do in physics, while the new-to-calculus people learned another month’s worth of calculus in 50 minutes (I also realized that most of the new-calc people were in my algebra class sophomore year, which is kind of neat). Then I started on my math packets (they’re going surprisingly well, considering they’re the harder rounds this time), and one of the questions mentioned a dilated triangle, and I had no idea what that was. I asked Bryant, and he didn’t know either. (He also incorrectly calculated 6^3/3, which was shocking. Perhaps he’s too stressed right now for some reason.)

Yuma searched online and found out that dilated triangles just mean that you multiply the coordinates by whatever the dilation constant is. I would provide a link, but he found it on his iPod, so I didn’t get to see the web address. I don’t get this whole dilation thing, and it sounds a lot like dialysis, which was what we were doing in bio today (shortened lab period). All sugary goodness.

During my free, Yuma and I tried to find other people with our frees, and failed miserably. So we played a round of go, in which I threw magnetic go pieces at the board and miraculously managed to attack some of Yuma’s pieces (even if I failed later), a round of connect-five (which I also lost), and then we walked down the art wing, where the lights were out for some reason, and it was nice and spooky. Then, at the end of the period, I saw Archie and Noah on the bridge, so I asked them, “Do you have a free right now?”

“Yes,” Archie said. “Why?”

“Well, I’m compiling a stalker list of a lot of people and their schedules, and I’m trying to figure the schedules out.”

That was probably not the best thing to say, but they weren’t really freaked out, and Archie supplied that he dropped period 2 physics (my physics class) for AP chem with Dr. Cans. I guess that’s why we didn’t see him in physics today. I never would have guessed (or realized, I suppose, until a few weeks later, which just goes to show how well I observe things).

IT'S FINALLY OVER (partly)

From Wednesday (didn't post because I was working on the story), but the excitement still holds.

Insert various punctuation marks, including exclamation marks, question marks, the ever-so-popular SarcMark (can't on Blogger because it's not supported), and the occasional one.

What is this special occasion?

I am celebrating the END of two most awful things that have been bogging me as of late, most notably the research paper and calc finals. I just want to jump up and down and scream for joy! (Well, not really. But you get my enthusiasm.)

Of course, who knows what will happen once I get the grades back for them? Nonetheless, that's eons away, and I'm not troubling myself with these minor details yet. (Also included in these "minor details": I have stat finals tomorrow and Thursday, a physics test on Friday, American Indian paper for US due Friday, three labs despite taking two science classes, and since we did so horribly on the latest Dr. Cans-style electrochem test, we're taking an easier version tomorrow for freebie points.)

Since I am ever so happy and ever so not wanting to study for my stat finals, I will put up a story I had been working on prior with some minor edits.




There's a thousand lies I can make up, but only one truth, and I don't know if I can ever say that out loud.

Based on a true story. But Oprah, there isn't anything that is absolutely so, not even truth, not ever truth.

one.

Friday after school I circled the hallway aimlessly. I had someplace to be, something to do, someone to see—I knew all of that, but my heart was not into it. I listened as the soles of my feet tapped along the cheap, faux-stone tiles, echoing throughout the empty hallway, just as if I had worn wooden clogs and tap danced to a worn-out pattern.

Left, right. Left, right. Left, right. Left, right. I looked up and saw Avery's red backpack ahead. Something in my mind clicked. If Avery was here, then—

I ignored the fading statement and walked faster, hoping that he would not disappear behind a set of doors before I had a chance to talk to him. He saw me, and waved, a half-motion of his arm in slow, uncertain way. I waved back, came up to him, and glanced into the glass door he was standing by.

Left, right.

"Hey," I said, my face kept carefully blank as it always was around him. "Are you waiting for Carter?"

"Yeah, he's getting his forms signed for the scholarship. You have to get forms signed by so many people, and it takes a long time."

"Oh, yeah. I realized that I didn't qualify after the first page, so I just gave up. Do you know what time it is now?"

He squinted at the clock beyond the glass doors, where Carter was pacing back and forth, making faces at us when the teacher he was talking to was not looking.

"It's two-twenty."

"All right, I have five more minutes to waste before I have to meet up with the person I'm supposed to interview."

"Why don't you just go over now?"

"I don't feel like it," I confessed—one of the few truths I had ever told him. "It's like—I don't know. Everything's falling around me."

"Yeah, the math final?"

"It's not even just that. Everything—I don't know. It's these few weeks, and I can't wait for them to be over. Can't wait."

Left out the lies. Right over the truth.

He stared at me. I stared at Carter inside, now talking to another teacher, his manila envelope in hand, then back at him.

"Is there ever going to be another club meeting?" I asked him, changing the subject.

"Well, Carter and I both have tennis in the spring, and last year we didn't have any meetings in the spring either. Fall, maybe."

"Some time in the far, far future."

"Yeah, some time far away."

"I should get going now, I don't want to be late."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye." I turned on my heels, walked away, my back straight, not once looking back. That was where the broken promises resided, and I could not look back.


two.

"—so it was over, it was all over."

I forgot the first time I saw him, but it must have been so long ago if I could not remember. Ever since I first came here, he represented all this place ever was to me. He had the ambition that the ground reeked of. He had the false charisma the building donned. He had a snide side, much like the shadows of the neglected corners.

I listened to him as he laid his story out in a monotone voice. It was a tragic story, made even more tragic in the way he told it. But it was in my best interests to listen, and so he was to be heard, the few comments scattered here and there excepted.

Most of all, he had an eerie perceptiveness, sometimes there and sometimes not, that haunted me every time I stepped foot beyond those glassy doors.

"Why didn't you stop her?" I asked. It was a risky question to put out so early in the game, but I had my confidence.

I had probably not said anything to him, for I did not remember talking to him at all for the longest time. It was always someone around him—someone he knew, or someone who stood within earshot of him—and I brushed off those coincidences as mere coincidences. I wanted to talk to those people, yes, I really did.

"I—what can I do? Tell her not to go? Why would she listen to me? I've never been once nice to her."

Eventually I persuaded myself that I was meant for better, and I took solace in my revelation. I pulled on my brightest smile, and I gave it to everyone else. I was happy, I was loved, and I was not lonely. I was definitely not lonely.

"You had your excuses, but now is not the time." I held out my hand, and he shook it, and we both knew that he would lose, no matter what he chose.


three.

They were gone when I came by again, my feet tapping against the tiles. I stared at the empty space behind the glass doors, but it was just that. Empty. No amount of staring changed it. Walking by the computer labs on my way to the front door, I remembered that computer club usually met every Friday. I peered into the room, trying to see if I could find Sam and ask if I could borrow his phone, since I had forgotten mine.

Sam was not there, but Chris was, so I hurried away. He was another person I would rather not see. I continued on my way, stopping at the main foyer to see Tom, Stephen, and Nina climbing the stairs along the railing.

"Hey," Tom said, waving to me, then, as I came closer, he pulled me into an embrace. "I love your candy bracelet."

"Oh, it's not a candy bracelet."

He took a closer look at my wrist. "Aw. Well, I still love it anyway."

"Are you staying here for long?" I asked, as we pulled away.

"For about ten minutes, until my mom comes."

"Okay."

I left him as he turned his attention to Nina, who had made it to the second floor and was looking down, mocking Stephen's cowardice. I walked outside and stood next to Melissa, who was waiting for her ride.

Left, right.

"Hi," I said. "Do you know if there's tennis practice today?"

"No, I don't think so. Why?"

"Oh, just wondering if I should walk all the way over to the tennis courts."

"Do you have practice or something?"

"No, I just wanted to find something to do."

"Okay, well, I can't see anyone there right now, so there probably isn't practice. I have to go now, I'll talk to you later."

"Thanks, bye."

I watched as Melissa boarded the car and left. Then I tipped my toes and stared at the tennis courts on the hill. They were empty, as Melissa had said. Scott came out, carrying a racket case, just as I was about to go inside again.

Left out the past. Right into the future.

"Hey, Scott, is there tennis practice today?"

"Girls' team?"

"No, the boys."

"Yeah, but we just ran for twenty-five minutes. It's over now."

"Oh, okay. Are you on varsity or JV?"

"Varsity."

"Do you know if the JV team had practice today?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry."

"It's all right. Thanks." I walked inside again, where Tom was still there, now singing with Stephen. I asked to borrow his phone, and called my mom as I watched Callie sit in one of the benches beside the front door. I wondered briefly if her brother was here, but then decided it did not matter.


four.

We walked to the parking lot behind the supermarket and watched as the truck unloaded crate after crate of potatoes. He stared at those crates, then at me, and I could tell he was upset, more so than he had ever been when he had told me his story. I had given him hope, and hope was more frightful than the lack of it.

When he smiled at me I smiled back, seeing no harm in the exchange. He was just another person I would encounter in my life, with no more special preference than anyone else I acknowledged in the halls. He waved, an awkward, hey you're here type of wave, and I said hi, and he did not say anything back, and we left it at that.

"You're sure she's going to be here? How can you know?"

I tried my hardest with my excuses. The clock is right there—that was all I was looking at. Ben and Alex always made some sort of joke, and they were in that corner. I had a question, and no one else could possibly have known the answer. I deluded myself, told myself I did not know, told myself I had no other choice, and in doing so I believed it.

I smiled. "I have my ways, or I would not be in this business. Oh, and, you know what you owe me. Remember that, whatever choice you decide to make in the end."

One day I woke up and I knew—I simply knew. It was in the way the wind blew, or maybe how the clouds had rearranged themselves. It was in the air, and I simply knew. When I went downstairs I had my confirmation in brown, stiff cardboard. I played with the roll of tape on the table for a while, and I was almost relieved.

"Yeah, yeah. This had better be worth it." But he knew already, and I needed no further persuasion. I watched as he left, his back an awkward, retreating shape, as though he were not certain of the path he was taking.

It was over. Finally over. One last time, and everything would be over.

It could not have been so. He knew his choices, and I knew mine. After so many years, I had long ago learned that the secrets to this trade was not business savvy, but a willingness to make sacrifices.


five.

When I got home my mother was on the computer, but I told her I needed to finish writing up my plan for the trip, and she went into her room to watch TV. I opened up a new browser and typed in the address for my email. It took a while to load, and when it finally did, I searched the side panel and saw Ronnie online.

I opened a chat window with her, and debated what to type. There were several things I wanted to ask her about, but I needed to tailor them to fit my persona, and I wondered how far I could go with tampering with the words until they became too obscure to be understood. That was happening a lot lately, if any of Dena's feedback on my short fictions were of any hint.

Left, right.

"Hey," I wrote, making up my mind.

"Hi," Ronnie replied back. "Did you talk with Jennifer yet?"

"No, why?"

"She said she knew something interesting about you and Jack, but she wouldn't say what."

"Oh. I bet it's nothing. There's nothing between Jack and me, but she doesn't believe me."

"Well, you guys sure act that way. People are always going to think things if you keep that up."

"I suppose. Did Jennifer say anything else?"

"I don't think so. Oh, wait, she said that Carter wanted to talk to you about something. Not sure what either. I think he didn't tell her."

"Huh. I wonder why?"

"I don't know. He's a strange boy. Oh, and, have I told you about the new physics teacher?"

"No, you haven't."

"Well, the new physics teacher has a PhD in the study of enthalpy and entropy, and he's a huge fan of alternate dimensions and inter-dimensional travel!"

"Really? Wow, that's so cool!"

"I'm going to ask him some questions about the field later, but I want to do some independent research first to get a general idea."

"That sounds like fun. Tell me what you find out. I have to go now, dinner."

"Okay, I'll talk to you later. Bye."

"Bye."

Left without a mark. Right here in nowhere.

I clicked the chat panel and made myself invisible, then stared at my inbox. It stared back, taunting me with its bold, unread messages. I pressed alt-F4 as fast as I could, then ran into my room and grabbed a coat. "I'll be back soon," I told my mother, and she asked me where I was going.

"Just out for a walk."

"Come back before it's dark," she said. I nodded, but I was already half-way out the door, and she could not have possibly seen me. I had places to be, things to do, people to see—and never enough time.


six.

"You could have told me."

I looked down, my eyes not meeting his. "I meant to, last week, but you were so busy, and I thought maybe, maybe—"

"You had plenty of time, and I wasn't ever that busy."

"I—Okay, I wanted to tell you earlier, but I figured you wouldn't care, so I decided not to instead."

I raised my head, this time staring into his eyes before remembering why I had chosen not to. I stared at the spot on the bridge of his nose, between his eyes, and told myself the intensity of my stare was enough to dispel all suspicions.

"That's not true. I'm here, aren't I?"

I did not respond.

"Why are you doing this?"

"It's not my choice," I said. "I don't have a say in this."

"Yeah right. You could've said no. Could've—how long will you be gone?"

"Long enough."

He looked as though he wanted to say something more, but he merely nodded. I smiled, apologetically and not so at the same time. I supposed I would regret this moment, years later. I would berate myself for letting such an opportunity slip through my fingers. But right now, I needed to escape. I needed to
stop this toxic cycle, and this was the only way I knew how. I was running away, I knew that. I had always known that.

"Just—one thing that's been bothering me."

"What?"

"How did you find out? How did you know I would be here?"

"I just know," he said, his eyes unwaveringly trained on mine. "Just like I know that you will be coming back, and I will wait here until you do."

Left here once upon a time, came back and there was nothing left. Right here where I made my vows, I'm staring at old memories wondering if I was ever right.

Beware Of The Email Mafia

Earlier this week, I walked with Mogley to see Dr. Cans. Well, it was more like, Mogley had to see Dr. Cans for super complicated chem problems that Mr. Coffee did not even begin teaching us yet, and I tagged along because I had nothing better to do.

It so happened that Dr. Cans was also Paperclip's chess club's advisor. Upon seeing me, he asked, "Do you know what's going on with chess club now?"

Oh, I don't know. Probably something along the lines of Sonny decided to temporary stop chess club, because I told him I couldn't go, since it was on the same weeks I planned to host my hiking club. I never did talk to him afterwards about chess club, and with break and everything, I guess we just forgot all about it.

So I told Dr. Cans that I will ask Sonny, and later on, Sonny told me that he will send out an email regarding club.

On Wednesday night, I received an email from Sonny, titled "Chess Club" and addressed to the chess club email list.

Hi everyone,

Sorry for the short notice, but I thought it was time to have another meeting. Let's meet tomorrow Thursday March 4 after school in room 1234. Hope you can make it. 

I didn't think much about this email, since I had received similar emails before.

Last night, however, someone by the name of Kirk (an alias which probably won't be mentioned again since I don't know him) replied to the email. It was Friday, a day after the planned meeting, and I really did not see the point in replying so late. So, being curious, I opened it and read.

WHY THE HELL WON'T YOU RESPONG AND TELL ME WHO AND WHAT THE HELL THIS IS

Okay.

That was... interesting.

I figured Sonny had made a separate email just for chess club, because he never responded to me before either. But I mean, the title says "Chess Club." I really don't think it can be any clearer than that.

So I ignored the email again, figuring it wasn't important.

This morning, Livny replied to the reply Kirk had sent.

Dear Kirk;

Here is the respong you were asking for: I am Livny Fancylastname, professional boxer and sharpshooter. "This" is the largest drug trade ever to take place on the East Coast.

Because you obviously care very much about this and are already losing sleep (1:48 AM is pretty early), I will let you off with your rude language just this once. If there is another instance of such an outburst I promise you will never wake up again. Watch your tongue.

Sincerely,

Dr. Livny Fancylastname

I am so glad I am a part of this largest drug trade ever to take place on the East Coast, despite only being aware of this deal early this morning. I am sure my queen and rooks can be bartered for large amounts of illegal substances.

I mean, seriously. Who doesn't want a molded piece of plastic?