Trouble On
Exeter Street
By:
MW Huffman
Trouble On Exeter Street©2013
By Marshall Huffman
All rights reserved
WaJe Productions
ONE
IT STARTED WITH MIDDLE SCHOOL
I couldn’t understand it. It seemed like school had just let out a few days ago. What happened to the summer? One minute I’m playing with my friends and the next minute school is starting up. Did a time warp just happen? This is so unfair.
I checked the calendar one more time but no matter how many times I looked, tomorrow was the day. My best friend Eric was actually happy about it. What a dork. Who in their right mind could be happy about school starting up? And being a lowly sixth grader made it even worse. We would be the lowest of the low.
I walked down the hall to the kitchen where my mom was making dinner.
“Mom, I don’t feel very good. I think I am coming down with something,” I told her.
“I’m sure you are dear.”
“You are?” I said hopefully.
“Yes. The medical term is Scareditis.”
“Wow, is it serious? I mean is it contagious or anything cool like that?”
“I’m sure several of your friends have come down with it tonight.”
“So I should stay home tomorrow?”
“Oh heavens no dear. The only cure for Scareditis is to go to school and face your fears.”
“Awe mom. That isn’t going to help. All those big kids will run right over us.”
“Warren, they were just like you once. They had to go through exactly the same thing you are facing. They weren’t always eighth graders. At one time they had the exact same condition you have.”
“You’re a big help,” I said sarcastically, stomping out of the room.
“Always glad to help,” I could hear her yell down the hall.
I went to my room and closed the door. Why don’t parents ever listen? Didn’t she realize she was possibly sending me to my death? This was serious business and she was joking about it.
I was thinking this would be a good time to run away and join a rock band, but I can’t sing or play an instrument. I don’t know many rock bands with an eleven year old in them anyway. I gave up on that idea.
I did a quick inventory of my stuff for tomorrow. Backpack; check. Pencils; check. Note books, ruler, erasers, folders; check. Most important of all was my tablet. I had spent hours downloading some really cool games.
Everything fit neatly into my new backpack. If I had to go, at least I was ready.
**
“You have everything ready for tomorrow?” Mom asked as I was getting ready for bed. I had brushed my teeth, washed my face, and put on my jams. Mom sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Yeah mom, I got everything,” I said rolling my eyes.
“Are your clothes laid out? I don’t see them.”
“Awe mom.”
“No awe mom. Just go ahead and get them out. I want to see what you are wearing.”
Geez did she think I was a baby? I know how to pick out my clothes. I went to the closet, rummaged around and got out a pair of cargo pants and threw them on the floor.
“Warren, you are not getting something from the dirty clothes pile,” she scolded.
“These are great. I’ve got them just the way I like them,” I tried to explain but you know how moms are. They always have to have the last word.
“Get a fresh pair of pants from your dresser. Oh, and a nice clean shirt. None of that rock band stuff on it.”
“Mom,” I moaned, “I’ll look like a dork. Everyone wears some kind of band shirt.”
“Not tomorrow. Tomorrow I want you to make a good impression,” she replied.
“Why? They aren’t going to kick me out if I look bad are they? I don’t think so.”
“I am not going to argue with you Warren. Just do as I say,”
I knew the battle was lost when she took on that tone so I got out a tee-shirt with some stupid design that I was given for Christmas by my grandmother. I was going to be the dumbest looking kid in the school.
TWO
MY NAME IS WAR, NOT WARREN
I stood at the bus stop with Eric, Tommy, and Peter waiting for the school bus to come and take us off to prison. At least it seemed that way to me. My summer was gone and now I was faced with having to do school work instead of having tons of free time.
“I can’t wait to see who we have for teachers,” Eric said, almost jumping up and down.
That kid is definitely weird. If he wasn’t my best friend I wouldn’t even be seen with him. Tommy was quiet. I could see he was feeling the same way I was. He was the smallest of the four of us and I think he was worried about that. Peter was too busy playing a game to even realize where we were. He is a serious gamer. He is going to need Gamers Anonymous by the time he is thirteen.
I saw Susie Tanner and Tammy Link walking to the stop. Gross, the last thing I wanted to do was to talk to them. Especially Susie. She was always talking about how much she loved school. Gag me will you. No one loves school.
“Hi boys,” Tammy said as they stopped just feet from where we were standing.
“Hi Tammy. Hi Susie,” Eric said, “Ready for school to start?”
“You bet. I can hardly wait. I don’t think I slept at all last night,” Susie said.
That’s because you’re a vampire and they don’t sleep at night, I thought.
“Are you ready Warren?” she asked.
“My name is War, not Warren.”
“Oh, really? When did that happen?”
“When I graduated.”
“What, from fifth grade?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter when. My name is now War.”
“I see,” was all she said.
What brought that on? I mean, I just opened my mouth and out it came. Even Peter stopped playing his game for a second and looked at me. I just shrugged. It was kind of cool. War. Yes, I decided. No more Warren for me. That is a name for losers and I certainly wasn’t going to be a loser. It would be War from now on. I would have it changed to my legal name. If my dad would let me. You never know about him.
Just then the bus came around the corner. What a disgusting sight. A big yellow and black bus belching smoke and sounding like it was going to fall apart any minute. It stopped in front of us and the doors opened.
“Come on. Get moving,” a guy shouted.
Man, give me a break. It had hardly stopped before he yelled at us. Eric was in front and he let Susie and Tammy get on first. What? Is he crazy? We were here first. Eric is just too weird sometimes.
I had hardly sat down when the bus made a groaning sound and lurched forward. I looked around and realized that it was only about a third full.
“Hey, this isn’t so bad. Look at all the space,” I said to Eric.
“That’s because the other grades don’t start until tomorrow,” Susie said from behind me.
“How do you know?” I asked.
Pretty sharp come back huh?
“Because that’s how they do it every year. They let us get used to the school the first day. We find our locker and they take us all around. It’s called orientation.”
“Well, for your information, I don’t need any ornamentation.”
“It’s called orientation dummy, not ornamentation.”
“Whatever. I still don’t need it,” I told her.
**
I couldn’t believe it. When we got to the school, teachers were actually waiting outside for us. I guess they couldn’t wait to get their hands on us and start torturing us.
Each teacher had a sign with
student’s names on them. It was like a scavenger hunt as students scrambled around to find the right teacher.
Mine was named Ms. Carrington. She didn’t look very old to me. Certainly not as old as my mom. She smiled the whole time as we finally lined up and she led us to our new homeroom. When we got in the room she closed the door.
This was it. She had us and we couldn’t escape. Now she could do whatever she wanted.
“Boys and Girls you can sit wherever you want today. I will have a seating chart made up by tomorrow with your permanent seat assignments.”
I took a seat about halfway back. I didn’t want to be within arm’s length but I wanted to be pretty close to the door in case I had to run for my life.
She started calling out names one at a time and making a check mark on a piece of paper.
“Warren Taylor?” she said looking around.
I did not raise my hand. If I was going to change my name this was as good a time as any.
“Warren Taylor?” she said again.
“He’s Warren Taylor,” Susie said pointing at me.
What a blabber mouth. She just had to get her two cents worth in.
“Are you Warren Taylor?” Ms. Carrington asked, standing up and walking toward me.
“I have changed my name. I am now War Taylor. You can just call me War,” I said and immediately felt my face turn red.
Had I lost my mind? It was one thing to tell that dumb Susie and Tammy but my new homeroom teacher. I must be crazy. Maybe it was something I had for breakfast causing me to do this.
She stopped by my desk and squatted down so she was eye level with me.
She leaned toward me and in a soft voice said, “Warren. I don’t know what all of this is about. I realize you are nervous about starting middle school but when I call your name in this classroom you will answer to Warren. I don’t want to embarrass you the first day but in this classroom there is only one person in charge and that would be me. Understand?”
“Yes ma’am,” I managed to get out.
“Good. Now I am going to go back up and call your name, and you will answer,” she said and walked back to the front.
“Warren Taylor?”
“Here,” I said.
“Thank you,” she replied.
THREE
THE LOCKER BLUES
Look, I will never admit it but I was glad they had orientation. I would have starved to death trying to find the cafeteria. I was secretly happy when they said that everyone went by grade as well. That meant no seventh and eighth graders trying to get in your face.
Everything was going pretty smoothly until it came time for locker assignments. Susie’s last name is Tanner. It seems like she follows me everyplace I go. As it turned out, this was no exception.
“Now class. In just a few minutes I will take you and show you where your lockers are. The combination of the locker is taped on the door. It is important for you to remove this number, memorize it or put it someplace safe so you can get into your locker tomorrow.”
“Can we decorate our lockers?” one of the girls asked.
Decorate? What’s to decorate? I mean you just shove a bunch of stuff in and that’s it. You aren’t going to live in it or anything.
While I was pondering this Eric asked if he could paint the door of his locker. Help me. If he wasn’t my friend I would bonk him for that. What was he thinking? Painting a school locker door. Maybe the summer heat had gotten to his brain or zombies had eaten it while he had been asleep. Paint the door.
“No Eric. You may not paint school property,” Ms. Carrington told him.
He seemed dejected. It was all I could do to keep from bopping him for even asking such a dumb thing.
“I have a handout of what you can and can’t do to your locker. You can have mirrors and other personal items but you need to be advised that the school has the right to search lockers at any time. If they find something on the list I am about to hand out, you could be suspended or if it is severe enough you could be expelled,” she told us.
Humm. Expelled. That would be like an extra vacation I was thinking but then I had visions of my Dad and Mom standing there when I came home. I decided that wasn’t a very good plan.
“Alright line up and I will take you to your lockers. I will assign the number and you are to use the combination to make sure it opens. Do not remove the number from the door until you are sure it is correct. We occasionally have problems with some of the lockers,” she told us.
I slipped beside Eric and whispered, “You are a dunderhead. Who in their right mind would paint a school locker?”
“I would,” was all he said and turned around.
We all trudged down the hallway like sheep going to be sheared. Ms. Carrington stopped at the end of the hall and had us face her in a semi-circle.
“Now I will call your name and the locker number assignment. Find that locker and test the lock. Remember, do not take the tape off the door until you are sure that it works. If you have no problems, then remove the tape and put it in a safe place.”
She started calling off names and just as I suspected Susie’s locker was right next to mine. I have to do something about my last name as well.
“Oh look, we have lockers right next to each other,” Susie said.
“Well duh. We do every year. What did you think was going to happen I said,” making a face at her.
“You are so mean sometimes,” Susie said.
“And you are so dumb sometimes. Taylor, Tanner. Of course our lockers are going to be next to each other,” I insisted.
She rolled her eyes and turned away to work on her combination.
I looked at the numbers and spun the dial. Twenty-one, ten, sixteen and pull. Nothing. It wouldn’t open. I spun the dial three or four times to make sure it was clear then put in the combination again. Pull and...nothing. I thought about kicking the thing but realized the teacher was watching me. I slowly cleared the dial one more time and carefully put in the numbers, stopping after each one and checking that I had it right. Twenty-one, ten, sixteen, and gently pull.
“Aggh,” I screamed, “This stupid locker,” and then realized everyone was looking at me.
“Is there a problem Warren?” Ms. Carrington asked.
“This dumb locker won’t open.”
“Did you follow the instructions?”
“Instructions? You don’t need instructions to open a locker,” I insisted.
“Did you turn the dial five times before you started?” she asked.
“Five? Why five?” I asked dumfounded.
“Because that is what it says to do. I’m sure by sixth grade you can read and follow simple instructions.”
I dropped my head on my chest. How humiliating. I was the only one in the entire class that hadn’t read the first part that said in big letters: Clear dial by turning to the right five (5) times.
I turned around, spun the dial five times and then put in the combination. Plink, it opened immediately. I almost gagged when I did get it open. It smelled like a girl had used it last. Some kind of sickening perfume or something came drifting out and assaulted my poor nose. They should have a school policy that says that all girl lockers have to be hosed out and sterilized before someone else can use it.
I pulled off the tape now that I knew how to open it and placed it on the upper shelf.
“Now I want you to close the doors and try to open it by memory. If you have to use the tag that’s okay but the faster you remember it the better off you will be.
The slamming of locker doors filled the hall. I spun the dial five times like I was supposed to and started to put in the combination. Wait. It was twenty something. I looked at the dial hoping it would give me a clue but the dumb thing just sat there.
Twenty-one. I was sure that was the first number. I was at a total loss for the second number. Fifteen? Twelve? No, wait, I got it. Twenty-one, twelve, fifteen. Nothing happened.
I slowly banged my head against th
e door. I couldn’t remember it no matter how hard I tried. The harder I tried the more confused I got.
I was just about to hit my head again when Ms. Carrington said, “Is there a problem here Warren?”
“I can’t remember the combination.”
“That’s okay. It happens to a lot of students. You can look at the number,” she said calmly.
“I don’t have it.”
“Excuse me? You don’t have it? You have lost it already?” she said, not quite as calmly as before.
“Well I didn’t exactly loose it. It’s in the locker.”
“In the locker? Why in the world would you put it in the locker before you memorized it?”
“I was following your instructions,” I told her.
“What instructions?”
“You said to put it in a safe place.”
“Oh my heavens,” she said holding her head with both hands and walking off.
It turns out it wasn’t all bad. I got a new locker assigned and it was nowhere near Susie’s locker. I guess, looking back, it all worked out for the best.
FOUR
SUSIE TANNER
I guess Susie Tanner is okay for a girl. I mean I have known her like forever. She has lived across the street ever since we moved to Exeter Street. She moved in to the same new addition within a week of my Dad and Mom moving us here.
My mother always wanted a girl and I guess Susie must have kind of filled in. She would always have her over and they would bake cookies and stuff. I thought it was kind of neat when I was a little kid but now that I’m grown it’s like a major pain.
To make it worse, Susie was always the smartest kid in the class. Mom would always say how smart she was, especially when report card time came. Susie would always have straight A’s and I would have mostly B’s and C’s.
“Susie made honor roll,” she would announce at the dinner table.
“Well la-de-da,” I said and got the ‘mother look’. You know the one I’m taking about. When you go too far and they stop what they are doing and just look at you. I got those a lot.
Trouble On Exeter Street Page 1
