Denny Porter
Social Studies is probably one of the most boring hours of my day. The teacher is old, doesn’t seem to have a sense of humor and resembles poultry as she struts her neck with each step she takes. It’s humorous and probably more distracting than it should be, but I need to keep myself awake somehow. We have metal baskets underneath the desk/chair combos to set our books. Luckily I’m in the front row so I get to stretch my long legs on the sides of my desk without taking up anyone else’s space. I just have to remember to draw them in when Ms. Schultz walks by so she doesn’t take a dive on my account. I can always feel my seat being pulled down by the person’s feet behind me resting on the basket but it doesn’t bother me much as long as they're still. I’m not easily upset and I’ve learned to let the small stuff go.
We are currently discussing slavery and how so many children had the same father. Having a lot of kids is fine as long as you can take care of them. I just can’t get over how they would choose the tallest, strongest man to breed the next generation to be bigger, more work efficient. It is pretty disgusting that they treated them like animals and I can only imagine the effect that had on the man who was chosen. Not only are they being picked to reproduce but then they know that all of their offspring are the ones who are going to be pushed to their physical limits. Or maybe it was slightly reassuring for them to know their kids might have an easier time working with a genetic advantage. Either way, it’s depressing, and makes my life seem better than it is by contrast.
It gets me thinking about my own dad, his bloodline. Other than the fact he was probably tall and had dark hair (if I’m an example of his DNA), he’s a stranger to me. It’s rotten knowing he didn’t care to help raise us, my brother Griffin and I. I think we are pretty cool, although we butt heads like I assume most brothers do. Griffin is the classic parent-like oldest (3 years older than me), very independent and protective of me. He’s also the first one to give me a hard time about something, but in a light joking way. He’s in high school so I guess it makes sense that he messes with me. I’m probably not “cool” like he thinks his friends are. I suppose everyone thinks their friends are cool.
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The bell rings and I realize that I’ve totally missed the rest of the lesson and possibly an assignment. I take a mental picture of what it says on the board so I can scribble it somewhere as if I’ll do it. When I reach down in the basket to grab my books, I see this sheet of shiny blonde hair flowing from the girl behind me who is the culprit that rests her feet on my basket. I pause for a second with her in my peripheral vision, letting my heart react. Our eyes don’t meet but I can tell she’s gorgeous. I speed to get out of the classroom so there won’t be any interaction but I’d be kidding myself if I didn’t hope there might be one someday.
I walk down the hall to my locker wondering what her name is and what she’s like when I hear “DENNY!” and see Tairyn, this girl from my math class. She talks to me daily and has kind of grown on me. She’s friendly to everyone but I can’t deny her positivity is intense and a little addictive. Tairyn is short and cute in a sister kind of way- light brown hair falling straight just past her shoulders with bangs, and big blue eyes she uses to get my attention.
“Hey Tairyn.” I reach my hand up for a high five and chuckle as she jumps to reach it. “How’s it going?”
“Great!” She responds in a sing-song voice putting emphasis on the a.
“Sweet. You ready for that math test tomorrow?” I ask, not ready myself.
“I will be after I study. I’ll message you on AIM later tonight and we can compare answers on the review.” She suggests, sure that I’ll agree.
“Okay that sounds good. See you later.” I reply, happy she’s chosen me as a friend.
“Bye Denny!” She yells with a giggle.
I chuckle to myself at her endless energy as I head down the hall to my last class of the day. I wonder who that blonde girl is in my last class but I’m way too shy to be the one to approach her.