Read Online Of Hearts And Stars (Classic Editon) (The Cadet Starship Chronicles) by Edward West - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Edward West
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at being ordinary. Which is actually quite normal, and that was the problem.
Desiring a bright and successful future for their son, Corrigin's parents enrolled him in Arbalest Military Academy, a learning institute with a major emphasis on ship to ship combat and technology. Corrigin felt his parents never gave him enough attention. He is the middle child between his little sister, who is a musical prodigy, and his big brother Alan. Alan, the genius inventor. So Corrigin guessed that his parents shipped him off here to keep him out of sight, not like that was entirely hard to do anyway.
Like any other kid going to a new school, Corrigin was curious and did a search on Arbalest Solar Academy. The posts on the cadet forums were startling to say the least. Rampant bullying, snobby cliques, impossibly hard classes, and mean teachers awaited him. He thought to himself “I'm screwed.”
When he went to plead his case to his parents they simply stated this was normal for a school like Arbalest Solar Academy. When he insisted that this school was a particularly bad case, his parents told him that he was being irrational, which was perfectly normal behavior for a boy his age. Corrigin came to the conclusion that normality sucks.
- 25 -
On his first day of school at Arbalest Solar Academy Corrigin walked in ready to be chewed up and spit back out. Here comes the new guy, Mr. Fresh Meat. He had been standing at a water fountain, waiting for his next class to start, when it happened.
An upperclassman approached him with a sneer on his face and asked “Sup dork?”
Corrigin got the impression that this guy really didn't want to know what was up, but still replied “Oh, you know man. Just waiting for my next class to start.”
The upperclassman cracked his knuckles and asked “What's the matter loser? Cat got your tongue?”
“ I er wait... What?” Corrigin asked confoundedly.
The upperclassman moved passed him and grabbed a student that had been standing behind him.
“ This'll be a slaughter!” said the upperclassman as he began to wail on the unfortunate student.
“ Holy cow dude!” shouted Corrigin, and he ran off to find an instructor. The one he did find appeared mildly interested to the news of a cadet being pummeled, and indolently said he would write a report.
Class wasn't any better. When he had the answer to a question Gin would raise his hand, and each time the instructor would call on another cadet. He tried standing up and raising his hand, only to have the cadet behind him called upon. Finally he tried walking to the front of the class and putting both hands up, and yet again he was not called on to answer the question. He wasn't even told to go back to his seat. Such is the fate of the hopelessly plain and normal.
After a week of many similar situations Corrigin felt as if he were a ghost. He came and went as he pleased, often taking unannounced bathroom breaks during class. He had to bring his finished assignments to the teacher's desk, and since his papers were not returned with the others he had to collect them himself. Oddly enough his papers were graded despite his overwhelming obscurity, and for his efforts he received B’s as usual. During lunch he would fix his own tray, taking whatever he whatever he wanted to eat. Extra fries? Word. Endless salad bowls? Just like it says on tv. Seating was never a problem, as he would sit wherever he pleased without so much as a passing glance. Today with the cool kids, tomorrow with the outcasts. Hold on, he's got lunch with the jocks on Wednesday. Ghosts were like the depressing VIPs of the lunchroom.
One day Corrigin found himself in the library when he should have been in algebra. In his defense, he had already taken all of the notes and turned in the assignment of the day before wandering aimlessly into the hallway. The selection of books in the library impressed him. Wall to wall bookshelves, with material ranging from classic literature to present
Desiring a bright and successful future for their son, Corrigin's parents enrolled him in Arbalest Military Academy, a learning institute with a major emphasis on ship to ship combat and technology. Corrigin felt his parents never gave him enough attention. He is the middle child between his little sister, who is a musical prodigy, and his big brother Alan. Alan, the genius inventor. So Corrigin guessed that his parents shipped him off here to keep him out of sight, not like that was entirely hard to do anyway.
Like any other kid going to a new school, Corrigin was curious and did a search on Arbalest Solar Academy. The posts on the cadet forums were startling to say the least. Rampant bullying, snobby cliques, impossibly hard classes, and mean teachers awaited him. He thought to himself “I'm screwed.”
When he went to plead his case to his parents they simply stated this was normal for a school like Arbalest Solar Academy. When he insisted that this school was a particularly bad case, his parents told him that he was being irrational, which was perfectly normal behavior for a boy his age. Corrigin came to the conclusion that normality sucks.
- 25 -
On his first day of school at Arbalest Solar Academy Corrigin walked in ready to be chewed up and spit back out. Here comes the new guy, Mr. Fresh Meat. He had been standing at a water fountain, waiting for his next class to start, when it happened.
An upperclassman approached him with a sneer on his face and asked “Sup dork?”
Corrigin got the impression that this guy really didn't want to know what was up, but still replied “Oh, you know man. Just waiting for my next class to start.”
The upperclassman cracked his knuckles and asked “What's the matter loser? Cat got your tongue?”
“ I er wait... What?” Corrigin asked confoundedly.
The upperclassman moved passed him and grabbed a student that had been standing behind him.
“ This'll be a slaughter!” said the upperclassman as he began to wail on the unfortunate student.
“ Holy cow dude!” shouted Corrigin, and he ran off to find an instructor. The one he did find appeared mildly interested to the news of a cadet being pummeled, and indolently said he would write a report.
Class wasn't any better. When he had the answer to a question Gin would raise his hand, and each time the instructor would call on another cadet. He tried standing up and raising his hand, only to have the cadet behind him called upon. Finally he tried walking to the front of the class and putting both hands up, and yet again he was not called on to answer the question. He wasn't even told to go back to his seat. Such is the fate of the hopelessly plain and normal.
After a week of many similar situations Corrigin felt as if he were a ghost. He came and went as he pleased, often taking unannounced bathroom breaks during class. He had to bring his finished assignments to the teacher's desk, and since his papers were not returned with the others he had to collect them himself. Oddly enough his papers were graded despite his overwhelming obscurity, and for his efforts he received B’s as usual. During lunch he would fix his own tray, taking whatever he whatever he wanted to eat. Extra fries? Word. Endless salad bowls? Just like it says on tv. Seating was never a problem, as he would sit wherever he pleased without so much as a passing glance. Today with the cool kids, tomorrow with the outcasts. Hold on, he's got lunch with the jocks on Wednesday. Ghosts were like the depressing VIPs of the lunchroom.
One day Corrigin found himself in the library when he should have been in algebra. In his defense, he had already taken all of the notes and turned in the assignment of the day before wandering aimlessly into the hallway. The selection of books in the library impressed him. Wall to wall bookshelves, with material ranging from classic literature to present
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