Read Online King Dork Approximately by Frank Portman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Frank Portman
Ads: Link
of high school could not. And it couldn’t have happened to a more deservingschool, despite being a decade or three late. I doubted anyone would mourn the demise of Hillmont High School.
The Hillmont students were to be filtered into other schools beginning in the spring semester. The end of the letter informed me that following winter break, after doing “Finals” at the Hillmont “campus” (ha, I inserted mentally), I was expected to show up for registration at Clearview High, with classes to begin officially the following week. That was really soon.
It was difficult to believe. I just stood there turning it over in my mind, getting more and more annoyed. I certainly wasn’t upset that Hillmont High was closing. I had no delusions that Clearview would be much better, but it could hardly be worse, and I hated Hillmont more than life itself. What was bugging me was my stupid, incompetent family, who couldn’t even manage to open the mail every now and then, who showed no interest in participating on my behalf in what appeared to be a considerable orgy of forthcoming litigation against the school, who basically refused to bother to do or know anything about anything. Plus, there was the fact that I was only finding out about it now, when Sam Hellerman and everyone else had already learned of it ages ago.
I was still standing there, letter in hand, when Little Big Tom came up behind me and started giving me one of his trademark unsolicited back rubs, the sort that are supposed to be comforting but actually make your skin crawl.
“Listen, chief,” he said in his soothing therapy voice, the one like thick, gentle, alarming syrup. “I know you have deep, deep concerns and anxieties about Y2K. But the first thing to remember is, this is a safe place.…”
I started to see bubbly colors like I had seen before I accidentally beat up Paul Krebs.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch a baby in the face.Most of all I wanted to get out from under Little Big Tom’s oppressive therapy grip. But what I did was, I tipped up the kitchen table and knocked it all the way over, scattering the mail, dirty dishes, and everything else that was on it in a big clattering crash that made Little Big Tom jump five feet in the air and brought my mom and Amanda rushing into the kitchen at light speed.
“What on earth happened here?” said a Christmas tree who happened also to be my mother.
“The time bomb finally exploded,” said Amanda, even as she was tapping in a number on her phone-baby to report the latest to her bureau chiefs at headquarters. Her shoulders raised slightly as though to say “It was only a matter of time.”
“Never seen someone so darn upset about Y2K,” said a visibly mystified Little Big Tom, dabbing his shirt where a flying open bottle of wine and a tub of butter had landed with satisfying accuracy.
“They’re closing Hillmont High School,” I said when the colors had receded, rattling the letter.
“Oh, yeah,” said my mom. “I heard about that.”
I stared at her. My eyes said: “You heard about it and didn’t bother to mention it? And that’s because why?” And I’m not at all sure that one of my eyebrows didn’t add the word “bitch” somewhere in there.
It was the easiest game of Try to Guess What I’m Mad About in the history of the world, but, well, my family really, really sucks at Try to Guess What I’m Mad About.
“Chief,” said Little Big Tom, still in the therapy voice, taking my hands in his. “Going to a new high school is a challenging time for any teen.…”
I twisted away and left the room, winning.
APLPA-016
So, Queerview High School. It had to be better than Hellmont, it just had to be. And while I couldn’t go so far as to say I was looking forward to it, I could see some definite pros among the cons. One of the cons was that as awful as Hillmont High was, we’d been there for a year and a half and we knew precisely how things failed to function there,
The Hillmont students were to be filtered into other schools beginning in the spring semester. The end of the letter informed me that following winter break, after doing “Finals” at the Hillmont “campus” (ha, I inserted mentally), I was expected to show up for registration at Clearview High, with classes to begin officially the following week. That was really soon.
It was difficult to believe. I just stood there turning it over in my mind, getting more and more annoyed. I certainly wasn’t upset that Hillmont High was closing. I had no delusions that Clearview would be much better, but it could hardly be worse, and I hated Hillmont more than life itself. What was bugging me was my stupid, incompetent family, who couldn’t even manage to open the mail every now and then, who showed no interest in participating on my behalf in what appeared to be a considerable orgy of forthcoming litigation against the school, who basically refused to bother to do or know anything about anything. Plus, there was the fact that I was only finding out about it now, when Sam Hellerman and everyone else had already learned of it ages ago.
I was still standing there, letter in hand, when Little Big Tom came up behind me and started giving me one of his trademark unsolicited back rubs, the sort that are supposed to be comforting but actually make your skin crawl.
“Listen, chief,” he said in his soothing therapy voice, the one like thick, gentle, alarming syrup. “I know you have deep, deep concerns and anxieties about Y2K. But the first thing to remember is, this is a safe place.…”
I started to see bubbly colors like I had seen before I accidentally beat up Paul Krebs.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch a baby in the face.Most of all I wanted to get out from under Little Big Tom’s oppressive therapy grip. But what I did was, I tipped up the kitchen table and knocked it all the way over, scattering the mail, dirty dishes, and everything else that was on it in a big clattering crash that made Little Big Tom jump five feet in the air and brought my mom and Amanda rushing into the kitchen at light speed.
“What on earth happened here?” said a Christmas tree who happened also to be my mother.
“The time bomb finally exploded,” said Amanda, even as she was tapping in a number on her phone-baby to report the latest to her bureau chiefs at headquarters. Her shoulders raised slightly as though to say “It was only a matter of time.”
“Never seen someone so darn upset about Y2K,” said a visibly mystified Little Big Tom, dabbing his shirt where a flying open bottle of wine and a tub of butter had landed with satisfying accuracy.
“They’re closing Hillmont High School,” I said when the colors had receded, rattling the letter.
“Oh, yeah,” said my mom. “I heard about that.”
I stared at her. My eyes said: “You heard about it and didn’t bother to mention it? And that’s because why?” And I’m not at all sure that one of my eyebrows didn’t add the word “bitch” somewhere in there.
It was the easiest game of Try to Guess What I’m Mad About in the history of the world, but, well, my family really, really sucks at Try to Guess What I’m Mad About.
“Chief,” said Little Big Tom, still in the therapy voice, taking my hands in his. “Going to a new high school is a challenging time for any teen.…”
I twisted away and left the room, winning.
APLPA-016
So, Queerview High School. It had to be better than Hellmont, it just had to be. And while I couldn’t go so far as to say I was looking forward to it, I could see some definite pros among the cons. One of the cons was that as awful as Hillmont High was, we’d been there for a year and a half and we knew precisely how things failed to function there,
Similar Books
