My first prompt response to Becky's Block Busters and I had a pretty fun time with it. I have yet to finish the prompt from Week One... "yet" as the key word. I'm getting there. I just have things getting in the way... like sleeping. Damn.

Also, I apologize ahead of time for having no life and making stuff up. I'm too lazy to check anything.

I was always expecting it to happen. I just didn't expect it to happen so soon... and in such a public place.

About two years ago, I witnessed an event that was nothing short of a miracle. Well, it was in its own right anyways. For one split moment everything was turned upside-down in Pigley Lake Senior High. Sounds like something out of that stupid Disney television special, right? Well, I may have never watched the movie (if that is what you want to call it), but I do know that some pecking orders should never be messed with... especially in high school.

It all started as the first day of the new school year came about. My older brother Cyrus was a senior that year. Everyone knew him as the most talented guy on the school football, wrestling and baseball teams. He took Honors classes and was competing for the spot of salutatorian in his class. Teachers, the guys and the girls all loved him–just in different ways.

The thing was, Cyrus was a huge closet geek.

Now I am not saying that being a geek is a bad thing; I am one myself. It was just that, in our high school, being a geek was unbecoming to someone such as Cyrus. Only my friend Jamal and I knew about Cyrus and his geeky tendencies. It did not matter that soft-spoken and sensitive men had taken over on televison and in movies, because being anything close to a geek or nerd was something akin to putting out your own death warrant. The mentality was that “smart” was one thing and “nerd” was a whole separate, untouchable entity.

Okay, you got me rambling. Anyways, it all started on the first day of the school year. Jamal and I were Freshmen, which was definitely nothing to be proud of. The two of us were always amongst the more intelligent in our class, so it only seemed natural that we were drawn to the student-use bulletin board in order to–gasp–read what was going on in school.

“There’s a field trip being planned to visit the gorge,” Jamal said, pointing at a piece of paper in the science section. “Man, I’d almost go on any field trip to get out of this place for a day.”

“We haven’t even started yet,” I laughed. That was the good thing about Jamal: he was always two steps ahead of the game.

“Well, do you see any good clubs over there?” he asked me. I ran off the list of school clubs that was inscribed onto one sheet of paper in messy secretary’s handwriting.

“Art, Music Appreciation, Theatre, Chess, Self-Defense, Mock Jeopardy, Model U.N., Film Buffs Anonymous, Comics’ Party...”

“There sure are a lot of clubs here,” Jamal said. “It only makes sense for a place so big.”

“That’s not even half of ‘em,” I replied.

Before either of us could say another word, the warning bell rung and it was time for first period. Jamal and I had all of our classes together, including lunch, and used the boring times teachers were yelling at our peers to try to decide what club we were going to join.

By the time the final bell had run, neither of us had any real preference. We had ruled out Theatre, since Jamal even has a tough time sitting through regular movies, while Mock Jeopardy was ruled out because I am no good at trivia. Both of us were duds when it came to things like gardening, animals and artsy stuff, so anything to do with that was ruled out. When we went back to my house after school, we asked Cyrus what he thought we should join.

“Go out for sports,” he said in typical Cyrus fashion. He took a sip of chocolate milk and began clearing off the folding table in the basement. “I hear that the basketball team’s looking for a few nice, tall freshmen. You’d be perfect.”

“Thanks, but me and Ricky wanted to stick together on this one Cy,” Jamal said. Ever since Jamal moved here with his aunt and cousin when we were in the sixth grade, the high school guys has been bugging him to join basketball. As an eighth-grader last year, he was pushing six feet and naturally dominating in gym class; I am still trying for five and a half and to not be picked last for teams. It is all sad, to be honest.

“Then I don’t know what to tell you,” Cyrus said. “You’d be great on the court if you just applied yourself.”

“That’s the thing... I don’t want to be on the court...”

Thus started another civil argument between my brother and best friend. They were always considered civil because their voices never rose above a conversational tone, but often had rebuttals within the campaign.

Yeah, the campaign. That is nerd-code for a gaming session in Dungeons and Dragons. We play the Star Wars edition, which is pretty sweet in my opinion. Cyrus is the Dungeon Master and has a character to go along with the ones Jamal and I have. I recently got this nifty plus-five Intelligence upgrade program for my protocol droid so that he can now make, among other things, automatic MPEGs of my holograms without needing any sort of Realplayer update...

...but enough about that and back to the story. Cyrus has been into the whole roleplaying game thing for quite a while at that point. He played World of Warcraft like he was some sort of god, having taken only two weeks to get to a level forty as a Horde Undead Warlock... and that was just from playing only a couple hours a night. Jamal and I play Dungeons and Dragons with him twice a week in our basement; one campaign is for the Star Wars edition and another is for the regular one. We had been thinking of starting another one for this Japanese cartoon we saw on the international channel one time, but it looked like too many weird spells to learn.

Still, it was tons of fun and made sure I had something to hang over Cyrus’s head if he was being difficult at school. Jamal and I were the only two known players of Dungeons and Dragons to actually bathe and not like animated porn, which was something commonly associated with the game thanks to some creepy guys that were Juniors. They are the sadly-classic examples of why nerds will never be fully accepted into society as being “cool”, defying all the media’s hype over geek chic.

The entire time we played, Cyrus and Jamal were going at it. Jamal’s Jedi Knight had “accidently” lopped off the head of Cyrus’s wamp rat familiar, while a Jawa-fied Cyrus tinkered with the Jedi’s service droids and pods. I, the illustrious bounty hunter, sat back and watched. Neither of them seemed to notice that I was getting all the credits when it was time for monetary gain, which was nice. I finally got to buy that thermal detonator for my imminent visit with Pizza the Hutt.

That was a Monday.

The awesome part though, happened to take place on a Thursday.

That week, we had a “Spirit Assembly” in order for the students to be introduced to the sports teams for the season, mainly football. Cyrus has been training hard over the summer, so he had been given one of the top spots in the Varsity hierarchy. He was a lean and nimble tight end, enough to give any opposing quarterback a run for his money. That was why he had the microphone.

“I would like to hear from all the Freshmen in the stands!” he said enthusiastically. Lots of my classmates cheered. I never much enjoyed pep rallies, so I sat back and kept my voice from going numb.

“I can’t hear you!”

Another squeaky, squealing roar, shaking the gymnasium’s walls.

“Now you runts may not realize this, but we here at Pigley Lake have a set, unwritten, series of rules and traditions when it comes to our school,” Cyrus laughed. “We try not to shove Fresh Meat like you guys in lockers–often–but we would like you all to know that here, you’re all like our little brothers and sisters... aren’t I right little bro?”

Suddenly, everyone was looking to me as Cyrus pointed the microphone in my direction. Sure, I was at least ten rows up in the bleachers, but a Senior was addressing a Freshman... that seemed to be beyond family.

For a second, I just sat there. I mean, Cyrus had already attacked me in the hallways with noogies on more than one occasion, so why did he need to come at me again?

Suddenly, Jamal stood up. I stared at him as he cupped his hands to his mouth and began to shout down at Cyrus.

“Are you nuts, man!?” he shouted. “The boy has only two charisma! Being a Freshman only gives him a minus-three modifier!”

“You stay out of this,” Cyrus replied blankly into the microphone. “This is some plus-one clout if I’ve ever seen any.”

I blanched.

“You rolled a five for wisdom, my friend!” Jamal shouted back.

“All I need is a five! You just rolled a one for your check!”

“Half-night elf troubadours have no need for modifying checks!”

“Punk! Why I ought to...!”

Thankfully, one of the Varsity cheerleaders put a hand on Cyrus’s arm to stop him. He looked down at her and I saw his face turn a nasty shade of magenta as he realized what had happened. She took the microphone from his hand and led him off to the sidelines of the basketball court.

All around us, people were whispering. People who had known Cyrus for ages were puzzled over the outburst. Some were laughing; others could not find any words.

“Jamal!!” shrieked a voice. Jamal and I both gulped, as we knew it could only mean that Veronica, Jamal’s cousin and captain of the girl’s basketball team, was charging her way through the bleachers.

“Oh crap,” we said in unison. We were lucky enough to make a break for it and evaded Veronica’s grasp. Basketball may have given her a sweet jump-shot, but karate gave her fists of steel. We hid in Jamal’s aunt’s office, promising her we would do yard-work for free for a month if she kept us from Veronica.

It worked and Jamal’s yard looked really nice that autumn. People laughed at Jamal an me for about a week, but Cyrus felt it for the rest of the year. He did get salutatorian that year, but never really recovered from screaming Dungeons and Dragons jargon at Jamal. On Prank Day, he found his locker full of six-sided die. The less-social-savvy students seemed to talk to him more and a whole bunch of the girls that would have gone out with him on dates kept on turning him down flat.

That is why instead of running campaigns every Monday and Wednesday, we run a three-man support group instead.

Feature: 06/10/08 | Posted By: Nehszriah | 6 comments