So Anyway: A Search for Cool

By Sam Trumpold

A story of bullies and victims and finding a way to get even, this story has been told a million times. This time it involves family, but not how you might think. Is it right to get revenge when it might break your sister’s heart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Jan 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483421322

Book preview

SO ANYWAY

A SEARCH FOR COOL

SAM TRUMPOLD

Copyright © 2014 Sam Trumpold.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-2133-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-2132-2 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 12/30/2014

CONTENTS

First Quarter

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Second Quarter

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Third Quarter

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Fourth Quarter - Part One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Fourth Quarter - Part Two

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

FIRST QUARTER

CHAPTER ONE

B oom, and Sebastian hits the floor, but not like it’s the first time. It’s happened plenty. This was just another time. This time was pretty much the same, but like all the rest, just a little different. Everyone seems to go through pretty much the same things in life, just in different places, with different people. At least that’s how it seems. Either you’re knocking someone down, or you’re getting knocked down. It’s like that windshield and bug thing. One minute you’re standing by your locker, and the next minute some big football jock is knocking you down and you’re lying on the floor looking like a fool and everyone is laughing. Thanks a lot.

To everyone who hasn’t finished with it—there are few phrases more melancholy than the first day of school. It’s always been that way. Each end of summer rolls around, and each year you come to the first day of school feeling different but sort of the same. In some ways it’s the most significant day of the year, and yet somehow it turns into just another day. It holds the promise of a new beginning and also the threat of being the same old painful place. You come to school all dressed in your version of what looks good and find out that everyone else looks better. You feel like this might be your year to make a mark and find out that no one is just going to give that away. It’s kind of like that crazy start to that one book about the French Revolution, Sebastian was thinking, what was it, the best of times and the worst of times?

So anyway, that’s how it was for Sebastian just now. Another guy he doesn’t even really know comes running up acting like he’s going to catch this little fake football that his jock pal has thrown, and he runs into Sebastian, and Boom, he knocks Sebastian down and sends his instrument case and all his books flying. How convenient. Like no one knew it was all staged. Like no one knew that Brad and Marty had set it all up. Oh well, Brad’s sorry, he says across the hall. No problem, Sebastian finds himself saying as if believing it was some sort of accident. It was no accident. Everyone knows an accident when they see one. This wasn’t one. It’s not like it was the first time, and it’s not like it will be the last. There are always more kids than one that get picked on, just as there are more than one that pull the pranks, but there are usually some that stand out, usually one on each end of the stick. Sebastian and Brad were those ends.

Either you’re getting knocked down, or you’re knocking someone down. Everyone gets a bunch of one, and there just might come a time when you get some of the other. At least Sebastian was hoping so at that point. Best of times and worst of times, sometimes you just never know.

He was Sally or at least that’s what everyone who called people names called him. Everyone at this school at least. There is no clear cut exact moment Sebastian got that name, but there are several reasons why. The first reason is because he always knows the answers to the questions that the teachers ask. That is supposed to be like a girl because they’re the ones that always study and know the answers as if it isn’t cool to do that. So first he became that boy who acts like a girl. Another reason is because of the way he throws a ball. It really is like a girl. Well, like the girls who can’t throw. Some of them throw a ball very well. But some of them, more of them than the boys, step with the wrong foot and look a little funny whenever they throw a ball in a game. But it’s not like Sebastian had thought throwing a ball was an important skill to have. At least it hadn’t been until recently.

So, fine, he became Sally. It could be worse. But what’s up with that anyway? Why does everything have to revolve around what they say? This nameless and faceless they? Well, it’s not so nameless and faceless really. It’s actually everyone with the right name and with the right kind of face. It’s the strangest thing how you can immediately know who they are. They sure do. They’re the cool kids. The popular ones. The ones who always have someone to talk to or sit with. They always look great even when they do something stupid, like not knowing the answer in class, or dropping something at lunch. How is that anyway? It’s like they never really get embarrassed. That’s why they’re cool.

But no one teases them either, so it can’t be too hard to be cool then. Try being cool with a note taped to your back because some cool kid slapped you on the back and acted like he was interested in your story or assignment or whatever for a moment, and you fell for it again. Why does everyone so want to be cool? Why can the slightest bit of attention from the right kid just turn you into mush brains and make you think that you have a chance at being cool, when actually it’s just to make you do something stupid again? You just end up not realizing that there was a note in his hand with some tape on it and now even your friends are laughing at you, if you had any to begin with, which isn’t a given either. Friends are hard to come by sometimes. So you’re walking around school wondering at everyone’s giggles, like a dork, until you sit down in a desk and hear the paper rustling against the backrest. Just try being cool then, Mr. Jock. But of course that never happens to them. They’re too cool for that. And anyway, their friends would tell them about it if it did happen. Regular people can’t say anything because if you spoil a joke like that for some huge jock, he’ll only bring it down worse on you later. It’s a no win kind of thing. The only given is that life is a search for cool.

CHAPTER TWO

T he story should begin with a little about who Sebastian is. Not that it matters. Kids like him are the same all over. At least they’re all trying to be. It’s that part of growing up. Middle school. Adolescence. Trying to fit into a group. Trying not to stand out like a dork all alone. Some think God messed up when He made adolescence. Think about it. For the first time in your life you notice there is another sex out there different from your own, and all you can think about, well, mostly all, is trying to get one of them to like you, or at least talk to you. Fine. But what else does He throw in? Let’s start with this voice change thing. What’s up with that? Try being cool in chorus when you try to hit a high note and this clarinet screech comes out. Add in a little body odor. Thanks a lot. But only when you get nervous, right? Uh, well, that’s all the time you’re around people. And let’s not forget the classic: pimples. Perfect. Now try walking up to some girl and saying something cool. Not.

So anyway, about Sebastian, he’s the kid always carrying a bunch of books around and the characters in the books were his friends. At least they didn’t stick notes on his back. They didn’t send him stupid emails. They didn’t knock him down. They didn’t call him names. It’s weird to call them friends because they are fictional, but sometimes he catches himself almost referring to them that way. You don’t really know them, because they aren’t even really real. They weren’t ever really real human beings, but you feel like you know them when you read about them, what they go through, how they react. How would you describe you? Some writer said that it’s what we do that determines who we are, so that might be how best to describe everyone. By what they do. Sebastian is the kid who’s always getting knocked down, or walking around with a note on his back, or getting picked on. He’s the kid who throws like a girl, and he always knows the answers in class.

He even gets teased by teachers for knowing the answers in class. Isn’t that odd too? Aren’t students supposed to know the answers? Isn’t that what school is all about? So why do even some teachers make a face when kids like Sebastian always know? You can understand it if it’s a kid. They’re just jealous, or lazy, or just plain stupid and don’t like to be shown up. But a teacher? Like one teacher at Sebastian’s school. He’s the physical education teacher. Now there’s a laugh. Physical education. You have to wonder if some of them have any idea what the class is learning about their physical selves when they’re throwing balls at each other? Learning how geeky kids like Sebastian look and feel compared to the lucky ones who are tall and all filled out and can play football or basketball? Learning how humiliating it is to have the ball always bonk you on the head in front of all the girls? All just to have to get into a room full of showers and naked people and shower with them? Maybe teachers should have to shower together. See how they like that.

So once this ‘teacher’ calls him Poindexter or something when he happens to know where James Naismith was when he invented the oh-so-glorious game called basketball. Of course all the jocks who can play the stupid game didn’t even know that. They would never read the hand-out that was assigned the day before. Like that was too much trouble. The teacher probably didn’t even read it. He reads the questions off some sheet that has the answers on it. Thanks. Nice effort, coach.

Sebastian was usually new in school. His family moved a lot. Especially after the divorce. And the new mom. Now it was his dad, his new mom, his sister, Cynthia, who was one year older than he, and Sebastian. He was a small kid for his grade, and some teachers would call him timid. He had a lot of his mom in him, but he didn’t really know it because she wasn’t around anymore. All Sebastian knew was that he wasn’t much like his dad. And his dad knew it too. Dad was tall and strong and was this great athlete in high school. Now he just sort of ignored Sebastian. Dad had made himself exactly as he wanted to be, a kind of self-made bull in a china shop, and he figured that everyone would do the same.

Cynthia was fine, she was athletic and almost popular because of her looks. Dad liked her. They even shot some baskets in the driveway every now and then. She wasn’t at a school long enough to get into the cool group, but Dad focused some of his attention on her, whatever he had left after work and new mom. He never seemed to have time for Sebastian.

New mom was a little cool about things. She mostly babied Sebastian trying to make up for coming to the family late and him not having a mom and all. She’d bring him cookies or something while he was reading. Dad would stick his head inside the door where Sebastian was reading and just snort or say something under his breath about reading again. Dad was just starting to realize that his son was more like his first wife than he was like him, and it bothered him. She had left, or was driven away, and now one of his kids was still turning out to be like her. He often wondered how that had happened.

But this year was slightly different for Sebastian. It would be the same school for a second year. Dad had the same job, and they had even bought the house instead of just renting it. Cynthia had a shot at the cool group this year, especially if she could get together with one of the cool boys. Coming back for a second year was why Sebastian had a nickname, if that’s what you want to call it. It’s more just the label that he had around school that the cool kids could use when they had to refer to him. At least it’s not the fat kid, or the stupid one, or worse. How do some of those kids make it through the day? Most don’t have the books that Sebastian had to help.

So anyway, here he was on his back with his books spread around him on the hallway floor where they had flown when he went flying after being hit by accident. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, and Sebastian was taking his time getting up, no big deal.

Oh, gee, sorry, Sally, the big guy says, but not reaching to help him up. He did manage to kick the clarinet case a little closer with the tip of his shoe. Thanks. Nice effort.

No problem, Sebastian mumbles. It was probably my fault.

And off they went down the hallway, the cool guys, walking arm in arm after another prank well pulled. Most of the daily pranks were just silly stuff between friends. Some pranks you stumbled into, some you planned and carried out. Some of it was usually still just silly stuff, that was understood to be some sort of fair game among friends, like being able to punch someone in the shoulder when you wanted to; even though it still hurts. Or like when someone hits too hard but you can’t say anything or you’ll look like a wuss. Sometimes it was a line about being too fat, or too small. But Sebastian and Brad had the potential to become something more than that, especially because they weren’t friends, and they didn’t really know much about each other at all. If you don’t know who you are making fun of, you don’t have to worry about hurting his feelings. It’s been said before that remorse is what men feel the least. Brad would definitely fall into that category.

But it was the first day of school, and a little fall like that wasn’t going to get Sebastian down. Okay, well it did get him down to the floor. There’s no getting around that. You’re going to be on the ground a certain amount of school time. At least when you’re Sebastian. But he rarely lets it get to him inside. Oh, he gets embarrassed and all that, but he doesn’t let it ruin his whole day. Like some girls. They’ll mope around a whole day, heck, a week, over something someone said to them or about them, or just said something to someone else and it didn’t get told to them too. Not Sebastian. Got better things to do. Like today it’s all about getting to the first classes of the year. And it all starts in the English room this year. Doesn’t get any better than that, if you’re Sebastian.

CHAPTER THREE

T he rest of the day went by without any more major or minor incidents of embarrassment. Sebastian of course found all his classes having mapped that out in advance excitement for the day. He only dropped a couple of books here and there. He of course ran into some kids he hadn’t seen in a while. Some good, some not so good. He found someone to sit with during lunch. Actually the day was almost easy. He already knew who all his teachers would be, so there was no surprise about that. He knew which ones would give homework the first day, and they did, right on cue. Why were teachers so predictable? He did see the guys with the football later, but they didn’t even notice him of course, which he was happy about. And that was about it. Didn’t get any really juicy assignments to do, just some reading. It was a pretty good first day of school. Another year was back and he had already gotten that first fall out of the way and it wasn’t too bad. It’s amazing the different standards everyone has about what is a good day.

School’s not so bad, it can be pretty fun actually. There, it’s said. School can be fun. Learning is fun and interesting. It’s supposed to be, right? So why is it so odd when some of the kids figure that out? Why does everyone set them apart as a non-normal group? The bookworms they used to call them. Now they’re the geeks who study. It’s hard to really understand that one. It’s coming at you all the time. All the teachers of course are always saying how important school is. Parents tell you. You get sent there year after year, it’s not like you get a year off, although some kids miss so much school it’s like they do get a year off. You get into trouble for not following their rules. It must be important. Why don’t more kids understand that it’s important to do well in school? Maybe it’s because if you understand that then you’re not cool. Great.

It’s like that line by that old guy in the gods and goddesses movie. He says something about the young. Something about why don’t they ever listen and learn or something. There was another line in that movie. Sebastian never really got it when he saw it, and he didn’t really get it now. Something about youth being wasted on the young. What? That’s kind of like Ponyboy remembering that poem for so long because he didn’t know what it meant either. That poem about gold. Sometimes if you listened at school you heard important stuff like that. Sometimes you didn’t understand it anyway.

Of course it’s not like school is always like a carnival or something like that. There are some things not to like about it too. Here’s where most kids would say something like homework, or tests. But those were Sebastian’s favorites. He really is a geek isn’t he? For instance, he doesn’t like it when the teacher won’t call on him because they know he knows the right answer. They want a few others to take some wild guess first. Sometimes someone else will know the answer. Not very often. Most of the time not too many kids are even paying enough attention to know the question or topic. Sebastian always wishes he had a dollar for every time he heard a teacher say something like, Did you hear the question? That’s another thing that bothers him, well actually two. One is that kids don’t listen. Another is that teachers are always lowering their standards from what they said when everyone in the class, or most of them anyway, don’t do something on time, or understand something because they didn’t read it first. First they say it’s due on Wednesday. And then when that period comes and everyone says Oh, I’m not done, the teacher will always give everyone another day. And those who are done get to work on something else. Oh yes, sure, as if they have anything else to get done. That’s why they’re done with the assignment that everyone is doing now, because they do their assignments on time. Like they did all the rest of them. At least Sebastian gets to read. Some small consolation prize after being singled out as a grade geek yet again. Thanks.

So anyway, the next morning’s bus ride answered the question about when the next thing would happen, the next thing to embarrass Sebastian, or just make someone else laugh a little. Some people don’t keep track of that kind of thing, they just want to forget, but Sebastian does. Maybe it’s because he always wears a watch that has the date and time right there and he usually looks at it whenever something happens. So it’s easy to remember. And then when the next one happens, if it hasn’t been too long, he’ll figure in his head, hey, less than 24 hours, or wow, only two hours and fifteen minutes. He’s had both. It’s one way to get the picture of just what sort of target he is. Sometimes he feels like he walks around with a big target on him all day. Like the kids on the commercial about the store. They run around with these red and white rings on them. It’s like their clothes are made of target material. That’s him. Or at least that’s how he feels most of the time.

This time it was on the bus. Buses are notorious for kids having fun and causing problems. That day they didn’t get caught. He must have had his target on in bright flashing colors, because there were a bunch of spit wads that connected with the back of his head on that ride. Now there’s a dilemma. When the first one hits, do you turn around right away? You do if you want the next one between your eyes, or worse, stuck on your glasses. No, you wait. You know the next one is loaded and ready to be fired. See, you just have to out think them a little. You take the second off the back of the head as well. And then you turn just a little, to show you know but maybe are too scared to turn all the way. The side turn will get a misfire to whoosh right past your face because it’s not enough target to hit. That always makes Sebastian smile. A miss. Caused by him. He always wants to stand up and turn around and say really sarcastically, Nice shot, Not! But of course that would get him hit or worse. So he just thinks it. From the back, where the shooters are, it probably looks like he’s really squirming in his seat after causing a miss. But actually what’s going on is he’s doing his own little version of a touchdown