《Comes as Second Nature》


 Adam

    Am I hiding in the school library? Yes. It¡¯s the only way to get away from the bullies, I am not very popular at school because I am the ¡°smart kid¡±. I mean according to all my classmates, I don¡¯t think I am particularly very talented. I don¡¯t draw. I have average grades. I don¡¯t act. Don¡¯t play an instrument. But I am also the teacher¡¯s pet. I get my classmates in trouble. Not on purpose. They just don¡¯t often follow the rules.


    I am sure I am coming off really unlikeable right now.


    Someone slams their bag onto the table. I hear some rattling in the bag. Turning around, some kid is taking a seat next to me. The library is already pretty empty, he could sit anywhere, beside next to me. What does he have in that bag anyway? It looks heavy. And uninviting. There are several patches, poorly sewn on it. An anarchy symbol. Someone has written on a black piece of fabric slapped on it; Fuck Off.


    ¡°Um?¡± I am not sure what to do in this situation.


    He looks at me. His eyes are what I notice first. Gray or are they blue? He stares at me with such intensity. He doesn¡¯t blink and it feels like he¡¯s trying to intimidate me. I admit, it¡¯s working. He looks slightly strungout, and very messy.


    He just gestures to the desk, ¡°Are you doin¡¯ homework?¡± he ask rather lazily.


    Looking at my history textbook, ¡°Uh - yes.¡±


    ¡°Good, help me,¡± he barks.


    What?


    ¡°The school has a tutor program,¡± I laugh nervously.


    He just gives me an irritated look, ¡°They can suck cocks.¡±


    He scares me. It¡¯s in his mannerisms. He might be shorter than me, but his body posture is very stiff. Like at any moment, he would snap and break my face onto the table. He wears clothes in layers. Despite it being mid summer, we just returned to school, he¡¯s wearing a long sleeve black shirt, with a white t-shirt underneath. Despite being gaunt and skinny as hell, smelling of cigarettes he looks like the type of person who could win a fight.


    ¡°I know some of the student tutors,¡± I begin.


    ¡°Blah, blah, I don¡¯t care,¡± he responds, ¡°I asked for your help. Be a good summary person.¡±


    ¡°Samaritan,¡±


    He looks irritated to be corrected, ¡°You going to help? Or am I going to have to.¡± he looks at my homework, ¡°and write Adam is a pussy all over the school.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know each other,¡± I tell him.


    ¡°Correction, I don¡¯t know you, well that¡¯s a fuckin¡¯ lie,¡± he tells me dryly, ¡°You¡¯re Smart Kid 3 of 3. In our history class. Science too. Math as well. English as well. Point fuckin¡¯ bein¡¯ I determined you ain¡¯t as much of a prick as Smart Kid 1 and 2.¡±


    Who is this guy? He pushes his jet black hair out of his eyes. He looks agitated. Like he¡¯s distracted only somewhat. I didn¡¯t know that we shared so many classes together. He looks like trouble. Smells of cigarettes, faintly of weed, and Irish Soap. He taps his fingers on the desk. He is shaking his leg. He actually kind of sort of looks desperate for the help, but in a way that says he¡¯ll punch me in the face if I decline.


    ¡°Am I being voluntold or?¡± I look at him. He looks at me back with a look that says he¡¯s going to slap me.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Yeah you kinda ¡®re,¡± he responds, ¡°But whatever. You wanna kiss teacher ass. And act all high ¡®n mighty ¡®n shit, then let your fellow student sink. That¡¯s fine. I can voluntold you or I can volunannoy you.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s volunannoy entail?¡± I ask.


    He looks annoyed, he actually stands up so quickly. I raise my hand, but he just begins to grab his stuff, ¡°Fuck you. I¡¯ll just draw you suckin¡¯ one of our teachers'' penises or somethin¡¯.¡±


    I kind of prefer he doesn¡¯t.


    He kind of reminds me of the kid who gets himself in trouble in class. I think his name is -


    -Ian,¡± I look at him.


    I don¡¯t know exactly what I did, but there is actual rage in his eyes right now, ¡°I didn¡¯t give you my fuckin¡¯ name. You haven¡¯t earned the fuckin¡¯ right to call me by my name. We ain¡¯t friends.¡±


    Technically everyone in class and in school kind of knows who Ian is. He¡¯s kind of a troublemaker. He¡¯s scattered and doesn¡¯t make a lot of sense. He acts super irrationally sometimes. One time during a test in History class, he refused to take the test and when the teacher told him to leave the class or take the test, he ripped the test into shreds and sprinkled them in the air. Calling it confetti.


    ¡°That makes literally no sense,¡± I tell him.


    He takes a second, turning back just before he was about to flee, ¡°Only people who use my name are the fuckin¡¯ teachers, and the police. Sometimes.¡±


    ¡°Everyone at school knows who you are,¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but my name is like a myth when they speak ¡®bout it. Like uh fuck Hercules,¡±


    More like Lucifer.


    ¡°I was going to help,¡± I tell him.


    ¡°Wait, for real?¡± he ask me.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I respond, ¡°Uh.¡± this is awkward, ¡°My name is Adam. Adam Chambers.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need your full name,¡± Ian tells me, ¡°Ian.¡±


    Right. He sits back down.


    ¡°Pen and paper,¡± I look at him.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Ian responds, digging in his backpack. But he¡¯s doing it in a way that intentionally keeps me from looking. He grabs out one of those one dollar notebooks from the dollar store, and seems to lazily flick it open.


    I didn¡¯t expect him to be, he notices me looking and quickly flips to an empty page. As if I didn¡¯t see the drawing of a whirring machine in one of the pages. He laid out of the gears. I only caught a glimpse and I can already feel his unblinking gaze, ¡°What chapter?¡± he ask me.


    ¡°You draw,¡±


    ¡°We ain¡¯t friends,¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s how people become friends,¡± I mutter, ¡°They get to know each other.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say I wanted a friend,¡± Ian responds, ¡°I said I needed help with homework.¡±


    Is he always this abrasive?


    ¡°Right,¡± I say, ¡°Uh, chapter 25.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Ian states, he begins tapping his pen on the table again. He seems agitated.


    ¡°We¡¯re learning about how geography shapes human population and migration patterns,¡± I tell him.


    He scoffs.


    ¡°Pretty sure itsa lot more to do with killin¡¯ a lot of people, than geography,¡± he remarks.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t really gotten to the killing people part, yet,¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Ian taps his pen on the table, ¡°Can we go outside and do this?¡±


    Outside? I was in the library to avoid the rest of the school. Especially my classmates who think I am a high and mighty prick, actually.


    ¡°Why outside?¡± I ask.


    ¡°So, I can smoke,¡± Ian tells me, ¡°I been in classes all day. Don¡¯t need to spend my lunch in a building where I can¡¯t smoke.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not allowed to smoke on campus anyway,¡±


    ¡°Outside,¡± Ian repeats.


    ¡°But,¡±


    Ian looks around the library, ¡°No one''s gonna bother you when I am ¡®round. Don¡¯t have to worry ¡®bout that and if they do - I¡¯ll deal with it.¡±


    Why does that worry me and not reassure me? I cannot believe I am even going to accept going outside with him.


    ¡°Okay, I don¡¯t smoke,¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t givea shit about whether you do or not,¡± Ian huffs, ¡°People who force others to do the same shit as them are fuckin¡¯ losers anyway. I ain¡¯t like that. I am like a lotta other things. But I ain¡¯t like that.¡±


    I kind of believe him.

 Ian

    Adam¡¯s like a goldfish. Kind of looks like one too. It¡¯s the golden, orange hair I think. Wonder if he¡¯s got the memory of one too. Wait. Shit. Ain¡¯t they really smart anyway? Problem is Adam doesn¡¯t look smart. Not like Smart Kid 1 and 2. They are in gifted programs. Dress smart too. Dress like they were shot out of the fuckin birth cannal with benjamins flowing out of their mother¡¯s womb juice like she¡¯s a piggy bank.


    Adam¡¯s tall. Fuck this kids like a giant or something. Isn¡¯t he younger than me and he¡¯s already taller than the rest of his classmates? When he¡¯s stumped, his lips flap like a guppy. But he¡¯s helping at least. Both the fuck of us are cream colored assholes.


    White as fuckin¡¯ snow. But he¡¯s got some more brown in his.


    Dresses pretty fucking plain too. He¡¯s a high schooler and dresses like a sad middle aging 40 year old man, in a plain t-shirt. Some old ass lookin¡¯ jeans and some sneakers.


    Outside at last. School building was driving me insane. It¡¯s stifling in there. Can¡¯t do this. Don¡¯t do that. Don¡¯t say this. Don¡¯t say that. Then you got the lights fuckin¡¯ buzzing. The walls hum. Kids talking shit. Loud hallways. Then this migraine. My skin crawling. And then this naggy girl of mine called ethanol. Can¡¯t drink at school. Can¡¯t smoke at school.


    Probably should actually eat before thinking about those two fucking things. But I didn¡¯t have the money to get anything at the cafeteria. Had enough to scrounge for some potato chips from the vending machine. So all I got is those two things to forget what I don¡¯t. Or to forget being sad or something like that.


    Lighting my cig, Adam watches. He stares with his brown eyes. He¡¯s judging. Everyone judges. I just don¡¯t care to let it bother me. Where were, anyway. History. I mean public brainwashing to make me believe like the masses. Make zombies young.


    Starting to feel nausea, but I gotta get my grade up from an F, to a D. Else I will be stuck in 9th grade forever. That or I get expelled first.


    ¡°Chapter 25,¡± I tell him, after exhaling out some smoke.


    ¡°Right, we were working on regional cuisine,¡± Adam tells me.


    ¡°Right, right, like hot climates put spicy shit to preserve their meat,¡± I respond.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    He seems surprised. Like I don¡¯t listen in class or something. Or that I am dumb. I should probably play the role of dumb better.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Adam tries to remain encouraging, ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    Look, I know this shit. I have ears. It¡¯s that I cannot really read them right. I can not believe my grade is so focused on taking notes.


    ¡°Look, I just got to take the notes,¡± I tell him, ¡°Don¡¯t treat me like my brain fell out of my ears.¡±


    ¡°Oh, sorry,¡±


    It¡¯s not like I don¡¯t know Adam. Well we¡¯ve never spoken before. Not once. We just have a lot of the same classes and because of that I know he ain¡¯t liked very well.


    Kids in class think he¡¯s an asshole. He sticks to the rules. Tells them. Teachers praise him. But he¡¯s pretty fuckin¡¯ average. Never heard of Adam joining the student council not like fuck what¡¯s Smart Kid 1¡¯s name. Never heard of Adam acting in a school play. That¡¯s why kids don¡¯t like him. Cause he doesn¡¯t have looks. He¡¯s just a kid. A big tall kid. With guppy lips. Who has no sense of style. Average weight. He ain¡¯t a jock. He just exists. Haunting the school with his presence.


    ¡°How do you take your notes usually?¡± He ask, attempting to look at my notebook, we found a table outside. I keep my hand firmly on my notebook.


    That¡¯s personal.


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± I tell him.


    Adam looks a bit confused, ¡°No wonder you¡¯re failing class.¡±


    ¡°Apparently drawing a car is not considered good enough,¡± I shrug.


    ¡°How does,¡± Adam takes a second, ¡°I mean I would have probably given you a failing grade too, you cannot blame the teacher for that.¡±


    Course he would.


    ¡°It ain¡¯t like that,¡± I say, opening up my notebook to the car, ¡°See when I was drawing this wheel, he was talkin¡¯ bout how hunter gatherers¡¯ only had 20 hour work weeks in comparison to our 40 hour work weeks. When I drew the drawer we were talking about other subspecies of humans. It¡¯s notes.¡±


    Adam looks at the car, ¡°How is anyone supposed to know that though?¡±


    ¡°Ask,¡± again I shrug.


    ¡°Are you taking this seriously?¡± he looks at the car, ¡°Door, not drawer.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s what I said,¡± I reply.


    ¡°Um,¡± Adam nervously skims his assignment list, ¡°We need to take notes on regional differences. The question says, describe how geography shaped early human civilization and how it affected language, cuisine, and regional differences.¡±


    He scoots the textbook closer, ¡°What have you read so far?¡±


    ¡°None of it,¡±


    ¡°So, should we start from the beginning, if I am going to help you have to take this more seriously,¡±


    And I am done.


    ¡°I¡¯ll just figure it the fuck out on my own,¡±


    Getting up. Whatever. I don¡¯t need two headaches. A double headache. Guess I¡¯ll just get expelled or something.

 Adam 2

    ¡°Phillip!¡± I can already hear Mom yelling outside the house. Dad has done something to get himself in trouble, probably. As usual I took the bus home because Dad hasn¡¯t been able to get his car fixed and Mom won¡¯t pay to have it fixed. They don¡¯t always seem happy with each other any more. It¡¯s why I try hard not to cause any more trouble for them. I try not to make trouble for them, not like my older brother or my younger brother.


    Hesitating, I finally open the front door. Pretending that I heard nothing. Jamie is sitting on the couch. He looks a lot like our Dad. He¡¯s probably better looking too. I hear he¡¯s popular in the middle school he goes to. He always gets things like confessions and letters in his locker. Which he ignores. He cares a bit more about things like appearance and fame.


    I don¡¯t see Brenton. Looking up the stairs, is he hiding out in his room?


    Jamie looks up from his homework, ¡°Twister Terror.¡±


    That¡¯s his code word for when Mom is upset, but not too upset. She hates it. He¡¯s gotten in trouble for it a few times, but since she¡¯s busy yelling at Dad in the kitchen about something she doesn¡¯t hear him. It¡¯s not the only thing she hates about Jamie. Since he hasn¡¯t entirely hit puberty yet, he tends to dress in a relatively androgynous way. Sometimes it¡¯s confusing too, I am not sure if he wants to be a girl or not, especially with keeping his hair long. Acceptably long. Mom won¡¯t let him go to a certain length so it remains at chin length. He usually wears it in a ponytail that the girls at school really like.


    ¡°You know you¡¯ll get in trouble for saying that,¡± I tell him.


    ¡°Yeah, and?¡± Jamie ask.


    ¡°Brenton upstairs?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s hiding,¡± Jamie responds. While fixing a crease in his pink shirt. Deciding to avoid Mom and Dad right now, I head upstairs. Brenton usually has better advice than Jamie does. Well of course he would, he¡¯s our older brother. I go to him or Dad usually. Mom¡¯s usually still at work by the time I get home from school.


    Our house isn¡¯t relatively that large. The upstairs hallway is relatively small, the master bedroom is down the hall. Us boys share one bathroom. Brenton is probably trying to stay out of trouble, he¡¯s already in trouble for getting a lip piercing. And he already got in trouble for dying his hair navy blue. Mom made him change it. Now it¡¯s slightly dark red. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Brenton¡¯s door is guarded by some caution tape. I knock.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Brenton responds.


    ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± I respond.


    I hear him slide his desk chair to reach the door knob, opening it up, ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Something happened at school,¡± I state.


    He sighs, ¡°Sure. Come in.¡± He swings the door a bit wider open. I don¡¯t see him in anything else, but his oversized sweater. He¡¯s been hiding more. I think some stuff happened at school, before summer break, that boiled over into summer break. I don¡¯t really know much about his life outside of our home. I sit on his floor. He looks at me.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Brent ask me.


    ¡°So, I got uh, volunannoyed to tutor someone today at school,¡± I tell him picking at a string on the carpet.


    Brent, ¡°Volun, what now?¡±


    ¡°Volunannoyed, to tutor someone at school today,¡± I state, ¡°He¡¯s kind of the bad kid at school. He also has bad grades too.¡±


    Brent takes a second, gives a, huh, before going back to his computer. He¡¯s still listening. He kind of dresses sort of like the goth kids at school, but not as extreme. Mom wouldn¡¯t let him, ¡°Sounds like someone I would know.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, um,¡± I begin, ¡°It¡¯s Ian Gregory.¡±


    Brent gives a, ¡°Uh. Huh. That checks out.¡±


    ¡°You knew him?¡± I ask.


    Brent gives a so, so gesture, ¡°Not really. We hung out in similar circles. So I know Of Him. I talked to him a few times, but indirectly. He was dating my best friend.¡±


    That girl Mom never approved. Because she showed her bra. And shaved her hair.


    ¡°Right,¡± I pause, ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°About?¡±


    ¡°Helping him?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know Adam,¡± Brent tells me, ¡°That¡¯s up to you to decide. All I can say is Ian is self destructive. He sabotages almost everything he touches. If he has an ounce of something good, he does something to set it on fire. Dousing himself and everyone else in fire.¡±


    ¡°So, I shouldn¡¯t,¡±


    Brent shrugs.


    ¡°You have to decide yourself, I am just warning you, he doesn¡¯t seem like the type of person to care much about others,¡±


    Watching Brent for a second, ¡°He was actually super terrifying. Is he always that intimidating?¡±


    ¡°Yep, that¡¯s Ian,¡± Brent responds with a nod.


    ¡°How good is he in a fight?¡± I ask him.


    Brent scrunches up his face while focusing on a document, ¡°Last I heard, he got the shit beat out of him after running his mouth to some jocks.¡±


    ¡°Really he looked like he could snap my bones,¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s Ian,¡± Brent shrugs, ¡°I really don¡¯t like talking about him. He was pretty outrageous over the summer from what I hear. Worse than his usual. He was tearing through every person he knew. He even stole money from what I hear. Everyone in our circle is a little burned from Ian. So let¡¯s drop the subject.¡±


    Well that doesn¡¯t really help me. I feel like Ian is the type to hunt me down if I tried to avoid him and I am not sure what type of repellent works on him.