Short Story | Anton Vayedjian | P8 PIB LA

Ricks day had been going horribly. Thered been several students staring at him
in disgust, but that was casual. He had started his first class with high expectations, but
everything went wrong instantly. As he walked into the classroom, a tall, blonde haired
boy slammed his hand downward onto the textbooks he had been holding, causing him
to drop them. Rick did nothing in return and decided to pick up his stuff and find a seat.
Since the desks had been grouped into fours, the blonde boy sat in the desk facing him.
As soon as the teacher entered the room, he slammed an enormous ruler onto his desk.
Mr. Duffy was one of the most hated teachers in the entire high school. Hed scream in
students ears, violently knock over desks, and basically find any way possible to ruin
your day. In order to get onto his good side, Rick raised his hand to answer any
question he provided for the classroom. Rick would rarely do well in school, even
though he showed so much effort. The grades he received would always diminish his
view of himself. Mr. Duffy refused to pick on him and would constantly glare over at him
with a similar disgusted look that other students normally used when looking at him.
When class was coming to an end, Rick was extremely relieved. Little did he know that
things were about to get worse. The blond haired boy that had been sitting in front of
him leaned his desk far backward. Ricks fingers were already laying in front of his desk
and as the boy dropped his desk, he gave a large grin. Rick screamed with agony. He
quickly pulled his fingers out from in between the desks to find that he could no longer
move them. Mr. Duffy screamed, What is going on back there? Stop fooling around you
idiots! Rick showed Mr. Duffy his hands who gave a chuckle at the sight. Get to the

nurse. Im quite happy that this will teach you a lesson next time you decide to fool
around. Rick, being as shy as he is, wasnt able to defend himself and simply left the
room.

For nearly half of the school day, Rick lay in the nurses office with a large pack
of ice on his damaged hand. He had badly fractured most of his fingers. The nurse
brought out a sleek, white bandage and placed it over the ice onto Ricks hand. That
will hopefully let you carry on with the rest of your day. Dont try to move your hand for a
few weeks. Do your best to let it rest. she said with a soothing voice. Rick continued on
to his fifth class. He expected immediate harassment but everyone was sitting down in
their desks. The teacher hadnt arrived yet. I thought this was an advanced class. What
is he doing here? said a short, brown haired, beady eyed girl in the back of the
classroom. Rick found the one empty seat and walked toward it. Right before he was
able to sit down, the boy next to him laid all his folders and textbooks on the seat.
Sorry, its taken. he said. Rick decided to sit on the ground. Ricks fifth period teacher
was Ms. Morris. Everyone agreed that she was an absolute loon. Shed scribble
nonsense on the chalkboard at times, call out students awkwardly, and she rarely
finished any of her sentences. Always preoccupied, she was another one of the schools
dreadful teachers. Ms. Morris's class flew by very quickly. Before she was able to fully
start teaching, the bell rang and the students got up and left almost instantly. As Rick
rushed through the hallways to get to his next class, he encountered the blonde haired

boy again. Rick tried his absolute best to avoid him but the boy kept following him. Get
back here Ricky! I have a present for you. he yelled. When he finally caught up to Rick,
he grabbed him by the collar, lifted him up, and spit in his face. Get out of this school
****** (n-word). he shouted into his face. Rick freed himself from the boys grasp and
ran to the bathroom. He scrubbed his face with soap and walked into a stall. Rick
decided that hed stay in the bathroom for the rest of the school day. When the bell rang
to mark the end of school, Rick slowly left the school in an immense amount of
depression and sorrow.

As Rick was pacing home, he heard several snaps and rustles in the nearby
bushes. Each one frightened him increasingly. He finally decided to start sprinting and
as he turned his head, he noticed the blonde haired boy and two other boys that he
didnt recognize. They were hurrying over to him so he ran even faster. Come back!
one of the boys yelled. We just want to see how your hand is doing. Rick didnt bother
to listen and continued down the street until lost the complete sight of the boys. He ran
up to his apartment building and began buzzing his father frantically. Whats going on?
Ricks father mumbled on the speakerphone. Just open the gate Dad. Rick responded.
The gate unclicked and Rick rushed into the lobby. With less anxiety, Rick slowly
trudged up the stairs to his Dads apartment and walked in. As usual, the first word
uttered from his mouth was, How was school? I dont want to talk about it. Rick
replied. Ricks father glanced down at his injured hand. Again? he said with a tone of
anger. Just, dont call the school Dad, please. Rick begged. What am I supposed to

do Ricky? I cant just keep allowing this to happen. Ricks father explained. Rick
slouched on the torn, beatdown couch.