STORIES: Listen up (Jon’s POV) (2008, Jon: 14,Blaine; 17 )
I plopped down next to my best friend Ethan, and immediately started chatting with the rest of my friends at our table. Today was our 2nd of high school, and we all barely made it through the first. Currently, we debated the differences between high school and middle school.
“Definitely more freedom.” Jacob announced.
“More work.” Jayden whined.
“New girls.” Ethan grinned.
“And scary seniors.” I concluded. The group quieted, thinking about the seniors of PV. Throughout the first day, any male freshman who even looked at a senior or junior or talked to them got canned or swirlied. I shivered, thinking about the friends/peers that came into classes soaking wet, or with food scraps on their clothes. Shaking the thought from my mind, I turned to my orange-red chili. Ugh. I took a whisk of it, and spit it back into the bowl. Ew, ew, ew.
“Oh! Jon, I saw your brother today.” Michael laughed, as I looked up in horror. “Yeah, he threatened to shove me in a trashcan for looking at him.” The other guys laughed, as I mumbled under my breath. This year was going to suck. Blaine, my brother, was a senior and a mean one. He had been excited all summer, about me entering high school. He fed me horror stories about when he was a freshmen, and how it was going to suck for me, because him and the other seniors would make sure to give me enough wedgies that my waist band would be permanently glued to my head. How fun. Anyway, I had already successfully avoided him in hallways yesterday, and now I only needed to for 179 days. I could do it. I left my thoughts, and tuned back in to the conversation. Right now, my friends talked about the new HP movie that was coming out. I engaged, my nerves tingling. I loved harry potter. I chatted vibrantly, occasionally shouting over my friends with excitement. Suddenly, I was forced into my lunch, face first. My face was engulfed in red liquid, while the person shoved me in, deeper and deeper. They released, and I arises slowly, taking in what just happened, while I spit bits of carrot out of my mouth. I stood, hoping to retrieve some napkins, but a large hand snatched my shirt, and forced me down. The same hand that fucking shoved me in my lunch. I looked behind me, peering at a smiling Blaine. Why. I turned back to my friends, who all stared with fear at Blaine, and another senior who stood close behind. I sat, angrily, as chili dripped down my cheeks, and onto my clothes.
“Listen up, freshman fucks.” Blaine sneered. He placed his hands on either sides of me, and leaned over me. Our group sat attentively, eyes fresh with fear. “Tomorrow, as you know, is Freshman Friday.” We gulped. Every frosh knew what FF was- a day where the freshmen suffered, Girls usually were sprayed with gross substances, such as mustard or sprayed with silly string, while the males endured much more torture. Many were stripped and tied to the flagpole, taped to a wall, painted with glitter and lipstick, shoved in lockers, stuffed in trashcans, tied to a book and shoved down the stair case, or used as a pin in freshman bowling. The seniors were super creative. Of course, there are many freshmen, and if some weren’t sprayed, tied, taped, painted, stuffed, or shoved, the Freshmen Hunt happened immediately after school on Freshman Friday, so every freshmen would be cornered, no matter what. All freshmen participated (girls too!), regardless if you were already humiliated. At the end of the day, the seniors/juniors chased the freshmen with balloons containing ketchup, mayonnaise, honey, and syrup. Basically, seniors/juniors and freshman raced out of the building, the frosh hoping to escape without being ballooned, and the seniors/juniors hoping to balloon some frosh before it was too late. It was super fun, if you were a senior or junior.
“If any of you report to the senior/junior parking lot today, then you’ll only get one ballooning from each of us, and we won’t hunt you down tomorrow.” Blaine motioned to the other seniors that were talking to other tables. My friends looked at each other. We all knew this was a total lie. No matter what, the seniors/juniors would go for any frosh they found roaming the streets. Points for them for trying, though. The scam had worked for previous classes, but the class of 2012 (us) was too smart for that.
“If you don’t, its open season, boys.” Blaine shot us each a smirk, and released his hands from the table. With that, he tipped my tray, making my chili slide into my lap. I peered at it, frowning but not surprised, while the heat burned my thighs. Fantastic, I get to be called Chili Legs or something stupid like that, for the next week. I could feel Blaine smiling, as he ruffled my hair. He and the other senior laughed, and walked to another table. My friends struggled to keep their laughter, but I motioned for them to laugh away. They would be seeing me humiliated a lot this year.