In Which We Meet Zac
August 25
Boredom is not a thing to be tolerated, especially in high school, our last four years as kids. If you ask me, boredom is actually fairly easy to avoid, as long as you’re an avid thinker. Anything is better than just sitting around! We already get nearly 40 years of sleep as it is, why should we get more? Wasteful, as I’m sure anybody would agree, is spending your life sitting. That is why I’m determined to bring some interesting ideas to high school; so people can avoid the ever-present threat of boredom. What if there’s nothing to do? I’ll make something to do! That will be what I write when they hand out those papers on the first day, asking what your goal for the year is. See? I’m already planning ahead! High school, here I come!
Chapter 1
In which we meet Zac
I’m wasting my summer. And yet, I can’t do much about it. We’ve already come back from our vacation in Florida, and all my friends (well, my only friend) are still out of town. All sports are over, all clubs closed until the beginning of the school year. And the sun is so hot; the mere heat alone could probably fry an egg if you were to crack it on the sidewalk.
I briefly consider the idea of actually going out and cracking an egg, but then realize my mom would probably get mad. I’m putting good food to waste, she’d say.
I sigh and start combing through my hair. The dull blonde color seems to match my current mood. Mom always says it would look better if I used the right amounts of shampoo, if I got a good haircut, if I kept it from getting so dry, if.... I swear, if she could she’d talk about my hair all day, pointing out more and more things I need to improve. Generally, the rule with my hair is that I can do whatever I want with it as long as it doesn’t grow long enough to fit into a ponytail.
The screen door opens and then closes with a loud clang, and I immediately look up, hoping it’s a friend. No such luck; Mom’s scrambling to bring in groceries before the heat can melt our next frozen dinner. I shrink into my chair a little more, hoping to get away with the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ tactic.
Mom is such an odd word, I think errantly. I mean, it’s just... like some weird baby word. I wonder why it stuck to a ton of cultures. Sorry if this sounds a little confusing (and a lot random.)
Here, let me explain: sometimes I have these weird moments where I’ll see everything in a fresh light, free of my or anybody else’s opinions. It’s kind of like... seeing things as if you’re seeing them for the very first time. It’s kind of hard to explain, unless you’ve experienced it as well. Sometimes I’ll see letters as random shapes, and start meditating on why and how those shapes came to be letters. Weird, huh?
Well, now that I’ve started on me, I may as well get it all out now: I’m a human (hopefully) of the male gender, fourteen, starting high school in a week. I live in the wonderful town of Sunlin, Texas, and I can assure you that it is just as boring as the name implies. No offense to other Sunlinners; that’s just my personal opinion. And no, no southern accent here. Not even an occasional “y’all”. I like trees, words, and any sport that’s currently open to the public. No, I’m not a jock, just some lanky kid who really has nothing better to do.
I slither out of my chair and sneak to my room, which is full of clothes I have yet to put away. A ton of medals and trophies are strewn across every available surface from all the sports I’ve played in. Someday I’ll take the ones that aren’t plastic and mold them into something cool, like a ton of pen caps. Then I’d be the kid with the cool pens. I wonder what kind of reputation I’d earn from that, if any. Maybe I’d just continue being invisible, as per usual.
See, I wasn’t particularly anything or anyone in middle school. I was just that guy who happened to go to your school. I had never really been spectacular at anything; okay at most sports, A’s and B’s on my report card, regular attire being T-shirts and jeans. Nothing spectacular unless my hair happens to be out of my face one day and my eyes are visible. They’re this weird shade of purple, like some exotic jewel, as my mom had once pointed out (or, for anybody normal, amethyst).
I’ll shut up about me and my miracle eyes. I don’t want to sound all narcissistic.
And now, back to my endless yet much too short summer vacation.
Boredom is not a thing to be tolerated, especially in high school, our last four years as kids. If you ask me, boredom is actually fairly easy to avoid, as long as you’re an avid thinker. Anything is better than just sitting around! We already get nearly 40 years of sleep as it is, why should we get more? Wasteful, as I’m sure anybody would agree, is spending your life sitting. That is why I’m determined to bring some interesting ideas to high school; so people can avoid the ever-present threat of boredom. What if there’s nothing to do? I’ll make something to do! That will be what I write when they hand out those papers on the first day, asking what your goal for the year is. See? I’m already planning ahead! High school, here I come!
Chapter 1
In which we meet Zac
I’m wasting my summer. And yet, I can’t do much about it. We’ve already come back from our vacation in Florida, and all my friends (well, my only friend) are still out of town. All sports are over, all clubs closed until the beginning of the school year. And the sun is so hot; the mere heat alone could probably fry an egg if you were to crack it on the sidewalk.
I briefly consider the idea of actually going out and cracking an egg, but then realize my mom would probably get mad. I’m putting good food to waste, she’d say.
I sigh and start combing through my hair. The dull blonde color seems to match my current mood. Mom always says it would look better if I used the right amounts of shampoo, if I got a good haircut, if I kept it from getting so dry, if.... I swear, if she could she’d talk about my hair all day, pointing out more and more things I need to improve. Generally, the rule with my hair is that I can do whatever I want with it as long as it doesn’t grow long enough to fit into a ponytail.
The screen door opens and then closes with a loud clang, and I immediately look up, hoping it’s a friend. No such luck; Mom’s scrambling to bring in groceries before the heat can melt our next frozen dinner. I shrink into my chair a little more, hoping to get away with the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ tactic.
Mom is such an odd word, I think errantly. I mean, it’s just... like some weird baby word. I wonder why it stuck to a ton of cultures. Sorry if this sounds a little confusing (and a lot random.)
Here, let me explain: sometimes I have these weird moments where I’ll see everything in a fresh light, free of my or anybody else’s opinions. It’s kind of like... seeing things as if you’re seeing them for the very first time. It’s kind of hard to explain, unless you’ve experienced it as well. Sometimes I’ll see letters as random shapes, and start meditating on why and how those shapes came to be letters. Weird, huh?
Well, now that I’ve started on me, I may as well get it all out now: I’m a human (hopefully) of the male gender, fourteen, starting high school in a week. I live in the wonderful town of Sunlin, Texas, and I can assure you that it is just as boring as the name implies. No offense to other Sunlinners; that’s just my personal opinion. And no, no southern accent here. Not even an occasional “y’all”. I like trees, words, and any sport that’s currently open to the public. No, I’m not a jock, just some lanky kid who really has nothing better to do.
I slither out of my chair and sneak to my room, which is full of clothes I have yet to put away. A ton of medals and trophies are strewn across every available surface from all the sports I’ve played in. Someday I’ll take the ones that aren’t plastic and mold them into something cool, like a ton of pen caps. Then I’d be the kid with the cool pens. I wonder what kind of reputation I’d earn from that, if any. Maybe I’d just continue being invisible, as per usual.
See, I wasn’t particularly anything or anyone in middle school. I was just that guy who happened to go to your school. I had never really been spectacular at anything; okay at most sports, A’s and B’s on my report card, regular attire being T-shirts and jeans. Nothing spectacular unless my hair happens to be out of my face one day and my eyes are visible. They’re this weird shade of purple, like some exotic jewel, as my mom had once pointed out (or, for anybody normal, amethyst).
I’ll shut up about me and my miracle eyes. I don’t want to sound all narcissistic.
And now, back to my endless yet much too short summer vacation.