Chapter 1
When Artsuhtaraz was 15 years old, he left his junior high school and advanced into the 9th grade. He was a year older than most of his peers, a product of his parent’s insistence on placing him in school a year later, and by intellectual standards, far ahead. The previous two years had been times of despair. Metaphorically and existentially, he had been lost. It was on this warm summer morning in August, his first day of school that Artsuhtaraz gazed upon the sun and spoke thus unto it: “For two years you have failed to shine on me. For two years I have lived an endless night. For two years, I have been cursed. I now understand, oh sphere of light, that it was not your fault. You rise and set as surely as the Earth circumvents your rays, and you hold no prejudices against those of us who depend on your warmth. It was my fault. The dark veil I had caste around myself prevented your light from penetrating my soul. Alas, I have thrown off that veil. Nevermore will it block your healing waves. I am yours, forevermore.” And so Artsuhtaraz was driven to school by his brother, and thus began Artsuhtaraz’s new life.
Artsuhtaraz arrived at school on time and proceeded to the administration office to pick up his schedules. He saw a group of his friends in line, and, being waved to by a particular friend, Robert (robby), he pushed through the crowd to join them. He felt an overwhelming sense of optimism, not even the presence of, Patty, the girl who rejected him, could dampen his spirits. He knew he would have her one day, because the sun shineth on him now more than all the others. “Hello” said Patty. Artsuhtaraz glanced at her, or rather, glanced straight through her as if not even seeing her, then turned and spoke thus unto Robert. “What classes did you sign up for?” Patty, dismayed, left to join another group of students. Robert quickly listed off his classes, then commented “You totally ignored her, she’s pissed.” “I’ve turned a new leaf my friend,” spoke Artsuhtaraz, “If I ignore her, she’ll come to me.” “Good plan,” replied Robert. Artsuhtaraz got his schedule, and after a quick comparison with Robert and some other friends, realized he had not one single class with someone he knew. Dismayed, Artsuhtaraz walked to his geometry class.
His teacher, Mr. M, was also the quarterback coach of Artsuhtaraz’s football team. Mr. M had never played football though, and Artsuhtaraz found it strange he would be hired to coach the most important position, in Artsuhtaraz’s opinion, on the team. Artsuhtaraz was the quarterback. Mr. M gave Artsuhtaraz a look that portrayed him as having far more intelligence than he actually did, and in smartass fashion, told him how glad he was to have him in the class. Artsuhtaraz shrugged and took his seat. Mr. M told a few jokes which elicited some awkward half laughs, then told the class to take out a piece of paper to take notes. Mr. M then picked up a geometry book and proceeded to lecture, telling the students to take down what he said and wrote on the board. Artsuhtaraz enthusiastically copied down every word that pasty man said, and then took out his geometry book to do some supplemental problems. Opening up to the chapter, his eyes caught the first introductory paragraph. He then glanced at his notes. They were identical. Artsuhtaraz raised his hand and spoke “Mr. M, excuse me, but aren’t these notes verbatim from the book?” “What are you talking about?” Mr. M answered with snobbish prose. “Well, that last sentence you wrote down is exactly from our book.” Mr. M turned a shade of bright red, and told Artsuhtaraz to meet him outside. “What did I do wrong Mr. M?” spoke Artsuhtaraz. “I’m the teacher, I know best. If I want to teach my lesson from the book, then I will, and I won’t listen to some 15 year old child tell me how to do it!” Taken aback, Artsuhtaraz spoke again, “but Mr. M, why come to class if we can find the same material in the book?” Mr. M sneered, his bald head perspiring. “You’ll be running laps today after school, now sit outside until class is over.” Sadly, Artsuhtaraz sat down at an empty desk in the hallway, and began reading a textbook on microbiology. The rest of the day continued much the same. Artsuhtaraz learned Richard Wright was black, he learned in Spanish class that the students suspected the teacher of filming a porno, and in psychology he learned that his teacher had once ridden a motorcycle barefoot, and that House was in its third season. Artsuhtaraz arrived at football dumbed down and tired. It wasn’t long before Mr. M made Artsuhtaraz run laps, watching constantly as if he got a sick pleasure from it. But as soon as he realized Artsuhtaraz wouldn’t tire very easily, he gave up and found another player to pick on. Artsuhtaraz excelled in practice, out-throwing and outrunning the backup quarterbacks. At the end of the day, Mr. M came over to him and said “poor day of practice Artsuhtaraz. Keep that up and we’ll replace you.” Artsuhtaraz shrugged and walked away.
-L.C.
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