"I just got lucky, I guess."
The bell rang and we had to split up and move along. Next class was Algebra 1. I wondered just how bad it was going to be. It turned out to be just about as bad as I thought it would. It had been pretty easy and straightforward the first time around, and it sure hadn't gotten any harder since then. I was going to have to do something about this. I decided to think some more about it and speak to the teacher tomorrow.
The rest of the day was pretty much the same. I was a celebrity, in a dark and creepy sort of way, and I spent the day rehashing the entire event between classes, and the time in class rehashing ancient lessons. It got funny, though, when it was time to go home. I followed Katie out to the buses, not trusting my memory as to where in the lineup it would be. The driver refused to let me on. That led to an argument between him and Mr. Warner, who oversaw us getting on the buses, which got very interesting. It ended when Warner threatened to have the driver yanked off the bus and have Joe Jenkins, the head maintenance guy, drive us home. I was allowed on the bus, but ordered to sit in the first row with the little kids, so he could keep an eye on me. I just smiled and sat where he pointed. When one of the little kids asked why I was being punished, I just answered, "I guess he likes me!", which got me an order to shut up or he was throwing me off.
The ride home was quiet, since none of the seventh graders I was riding with knew who I was, other than 'the guy in the back who got in the fight and went to jail.' My buddies, who would all have been bugging me, and any friends of the three ex-students were all behind us. The bus driver told me he was going to see about having me removed, no matter what Warner said, but I just shrugged and ignored him.
The next morning I went running again, same route as before, same crick in my side as before. It would have to get better sooner or later. Daisy ran with me the first lap, but then I let her into the house and continued on. I suspected she was smarter than I was. The bus driver was different however, a woman this time. Katie asked her what happened to our old driver and she said that he was on a different route. She didn't say anything about any assigned seating to me, so I just moved on down to my normal seat. One of the ninth graders, a buddy of Tewkesie, gave me a dirty look, but I just looked him straight in the eye and he continued on down the aisle. After he passed, I slowly turned and saw him sitting down. He looked at me again, silently daring me to do something, but I just stared him down and after about ten seconds he looked away.
Ray reached across the aisle and punched my arm. I lowered my head to his. "Are you trying to start trouble?", he whispered.
"Trying to stop trouble. I'm a peaceful kind of guy. Trust me."
"Yeah? Well remind me before you get all peaceful on my ass. I don't need too much of that kind of peaceful!"
"I'm a lover, not a fighter!", I protested.
"You're full of shit, is what you are."
Classes were back to normal for me. Algebra was a total waste. I went up to Mrs. Bakkley after class and asked, "Mrs. Bakkley, when would I be able to speak to you about the class?"
"What's on your mind, Carl?"
"I want to know how I go about testing out of the class."
She looked at me curiously. "I'm not sure I understand."
"Is there some kind of test you can give me that I can take, that if I pass it, I get credit for Algebra 1?"
Her eyes popped wide at that. "You want to drop Algebra?"
"No, I want to do both years now, this year. Can I do it?"
She stared at me. Some of the kids from the next class were drifting in, but we ignored them. "What did you have in mind?"
I shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I was wondering, I finish this class by Christmas, and then catch up and finish Algebra 2 by next summer. Do they use a different book? Could I do it?"
"No, it's the same book. We only do about half this year, and finish it off next year. Why do you want to do this? What do you plan on doing next year?"
"Geometry."
"We don't even teach that here!"
"No, but I bet I can take it over at Towson High somehow."
She shook her head in disbelief. "You need to get to class. Let me ask around about this. I don't even know if you would be allowed to do this."
I grinned. "Do us both a favor. Don't mention my name. I don't think Mr. Butterfield is in the mood to be generous when my name comes up."
She laughed at this. "I think you're right. Now get out of here and let me talk to some people."
I didn't say anything to my folks that night. My parents would be upset because it messed up their intricately crafted plans for my future, even though it was advancing them. Mom, especially, liked being in control. Dad was somewhat easier going, but not by much. I had always avoided them in any serious discussion of classes and grades, because it was always a painful subject, painful in the sense that the oak pledge paddle invariably would be involved. I dreaded nights when the PTA had their meetings and my parents went to school to see the teachers. Since I was never 'living up to my potential', a beating was held as soon as they got home. It would be better to ask forgiveness than permission. If the school allowed me to do it, I would bring them into it then. If the school balked, I would have to get my parents to somehow force them, and this had a possibility to backfire on me. No, it was better to wait for Mrs. Bakkley to talk to me next week.
As for my siblings, Suzie was in the second grade and could care less. Hamilton would care because he was a snoopy asshole and couldn't mind his own business. He would spend the weekend telling me why I couldn't be allowed to do it, and then telling the entire neighborhood what I was trying to do. It would be infinitely better if my plans were presented as a done deal.
I continued my running over the weekend. Saturday was pretty straightforward, getting up with the alarm clock, running a lap with Daisy, and then running a bigger lap without her. I still had the crick in my side, but it seemed to come later in the run, and didn't seem as bad. I also shaved a minute off the run. Mom gave me a funny look when I came in, but I just repeated the old line about 'he who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day.' Later that afternoon I rooted around in the garage looking for something I could use as weights. The only things I could find were a couple of bricks I could do some arm curls with. I also tried doing pushups, but the calisthenics seemed to be too much. I was going to have to work up to that.
Sunday morning sucked. We were Lutheran, on both sides of the family, and while we didn't have to go to church every week like the Catholics did, I did have to go to Sunday School. Worst of all was the fact that by the time I got to college I had lost my faith. I had already seen and learned too much about the wickedness of man to believe what a church, any church, had to say about anything. My folks, however, were members in good standing of St. Paul's Evangelical Lutheran, and I was going to Sunday School and then confirmation class and communion or else Dad was going to tie me to a stake and Mom was going to light a match.
To be fair about it, St. Paul's was a pretty nice place. We had a fairly new pastor, Pastor Joe Needham, who had an excellent way with young people. He was married and had adopted a couple of nice little ones and lived in Timonium. There was an active teen program and Pastor Joe was an avid camper and canoer, often leading church group camping and canoeing trips. He and I got along just fine. I often would stop by his house to gab even after moving away, for many years, just to see an old friend and shoot the shit. We often talked about my problems with my family, but we always showed each other pictures of our kids.