Monotone Chapter 1

Instructions

The bell rings, and twenty-five textbooks slam shut in unison with a dusty THUMP. “-And finish page 23!” Mr. Coleman raises his voice to almost a shout, but no one can hear him. By the time I finish packing up and sling my backpack over my shoulder, the classroom is already empty. “Bye, Mr. Coleman,” I smile. The old guy may be the most boring teacher ever, but you gotta feel bad for him. The kids in his class don’t even pretend to pay attention. “Bye, Jason. I hope you have a good weekend.” I head out the door. By now, there’s practically no one in the hall. Kids are so eager to get out of school - especially on an early dismissal - the place looks like a hurricane evacuation site. Papers are scattered on the floor and so trampled on that any remnants of words are now too blurred to make out. There are books with pages ripped out and strewn around. I even spot a kid’s entire lunch box, with tupperware strewn around nearby. When I walk out to the parking lot, I immediately make a beeline to the big cherry tree that overlooks the pick-up line. Most kids ignore it, or kick old, crumpled soda cans at it, but I love it. Its gnarled trunk and strong branches are comforting, and when I’m up in its branches, it’s almost like I’m invisible. I grab the lowest branch and heave myself up. I climb to the biggest branch, directly above a big red Subaru (Wonder what the insurance for that is!), and sit down. The bark from the cherry tree has dyed my hands orange, but I don’t mind. I set my backpack down next to me on the branch and take out a slim novel. The title reads: Of Mice and Men. I’ve been wanting to read it for a while, but now that it’s assigned, I finally have a chance. I open to page fifteen and start reading. “Guys like us, who work on ranches, are the loneliest guys in the world. They have no family. They don’t belong in any place.” My heart pangs for George. I know how he feels. All my friends are in the advanced classes, and have completely different schedules. And lately, at lunch, they’ve wanted to sit with their new friends. My parents keep telling me that this is a sign that we’re growing apart, and that I should make new friends in my classes, but all the kids in my classes already have little groups that they’ve been in for years. My only friends are my teachers, and they don’t count. Honestly, in middle school, getting along with your teachers is probably going to deter any potential friends. Oh, well, I guess I’ll just spend the next three years of my life in this cherry tree. It doesn’t actually sound so bad, to be frank. I look back at the page, realizing that I've been zoning out. I continue reading, getting so sucked in that I don’t even realise that my dad is parked right under me, honking loudly, until he gets out and yells, “Jason! Time to go home!” I close my book and slide out of the tree. I open the passenger side door and am surprised to find “Mom? What are you doing here?” “Well, your Father and I have some news for you, and we thought it would be better if we were both here. “Wait, what? What is it?” I say, buckling into the back seat, “Are we going out for dinner? Are people coming to visit?” “No, Jason, it’s not either of those.” My Dad’s tone of voice is one that he might use for someone who just learned their best friend died. “The news is… we’re moving.”