Darryl's Background story!

[Janice Johnson]

This is a "background" story of my character Darryl. Even though I originally did not create this character, I though I could do so much more with "Darryl". I already have two other "Darryl" stories,(This Darryl is technically "My" own character, even though without the "real" Darryl, I wouldn't have a "Darryl Character) and I decided to write Darryl's "background" in the first person narrative, as If Darryl himself is telling the story. Tell me how you like it!

This is the first part.


Hi. My name is Darryl Johnson and I am a 16 year old at Marshall Johnson prep school. This institution was founded in 1898 when a very entrepreneurial son of an oil owner had a vision of creating a school for young scholars. His name was Marshall Johnson, and after a rough start (his family and friends didn't believe he'd make it), he proved them wrong by having a successful school in Jacksonville, Florida, that was the envy of other prep schools such as Brian Macarthur's Academy in Pennsylvania, and Maxwell Andrews Prep school in Boston, Massachusetts.

But enough about the start of the school. This is about me. I entered this school on a scholarship that my mother forced me to apply for. That's right. Forced me. She found out I had been living a wild life. I was mugging people, robbing convenience stores, burglarizing homes (red alert security alarms and Rottweilers that bite in homes ain't pretty I tell you), and hot hot-wired cars, stole them, and took them out for joyrides. My friends Julian, Sean, and Mario, contributed in my "wild life" too. We made lots of money "earning it" if you get my drift. My mother did not like how I "earned" my money and gave me an ultimatum: Boot Camp or Boarding School. I'm no dummy. Who wants to get up at 5 A.M. to do 100 push-ups and clean floors with toothbrushes? And I don't even LIKE the military (no offense to people in the military). And if you scream at me, I will scream at you back. In Boot Camp, that's called insubordination. And insubordination makes your whole "platoon" get punished for it. And they don't take kindly to people who make them work even harder.

So I chose boarding school. My mother went to my school, North Miami Senior High School, and talked to the principal, Mr. Kurns about getting me tested for scholarships to go to prep school. He agreed, and I ended up taking three tests in one day. (I got to miss a whole day of classes though, wink, wink). The three tests were FCAT, SAT, and an IQ test.

I started on the FCAT first. I had questions at first such as, "What is the square root of 16?" Easy stuff at first, then it got harder, such as, "If Johnny is standing next to a 30 foot pole and he is 6 feet tall, how tall will his shadow be? You know that kind of question. I panicked a little. I am not good at Math. I'm smart at other subjects, but Math is my bane. Give me Science, give me Social Studies, give me Language Arts, I'll ace those subjects. Give me Math and I shrink. My Math teacher says that I have Math Anxiety. I AM good at basic Math: Addition, Subtraction, Multiplication, and Division, but when the Math problems have "pi" and "radius," I start to shrink. Do you know how "well" I did on the question about Johnny? I multiplied 30 times 6 and got the answer 180 and put it down. Now, I KNOW that's wrong, but I answered it like that. And you have to explain how you got your answer in little "essay" lines provided on the FCAT test (many questions are multiple choice, but some are "essay" questions.) I actually told the truth about how I did it. I KNOW that the evaluator of my test will go, "Whoa, this kid is lazy", but it's not really "laziness." It's more of, "I want to get this problem out of my face."

I was sure I aced the other portions of the test. They were, Reading, Science and Grammar. I'm really good at those subjects.

After the FCAT, it was time for the SAT. I LIKE the SAT because you don't have to do any "essay" answers. It's all multiple choice. I did GREAT in the other subjects besides Math, and when it came to the infamous MATH, I didn't know if I did well. Once again, the first questions were easy like questions about exponents and equations. I'm good at that remember? The ASMD comes easily to me. So does PEMDAS (Parentheses, Exponents, Multiplication, Division, Addition, Subtraction). Many people say the best way to remember the order of operations is as, "Please Excuse My dear Aunt Sally," but I don't like to remember it like that. I like to remember it the way it is spelled. PEMDAS (Pem-das). I'm probably the only one who likes to remember it the way it is spelled.

Then the questions got harder. I had another "Johnny" type of question. "If Sarah is standing next to a 20 foot ladder and she is 5 feet, how tall will her shadow be?" I quickly multiplied 20 times 5 and got 100. But I could not put "100" because there was no "100" on the multiple choice. The choices were A. 500 feet, B. 320 feet, C.120 feet, D. 200 feet, and E. None of the above. I didn't want to pick "E" and the answer WAS one of the choices, so I decided not to pick "E." I chose "C" because that was the closest to my answer. Lazy, lazy, lazy, I know. I had a question about the Pythogeroum Theroum, and just blindly picked an answer (AKA. Random Guess).

After the SAT was done, I got a 20-minute break. I went to a fountain and gratefully drunk from the fountain. The water was so good to me and so refreshing, that I ended up drinking for almost two minutes. Then I went to the bathroom. (Drinking water for almost two minutes does that to a person.) After that, I got a bag of chips from the vending machine. It was a big bag of Lays. I slowly ate my chips, savoring the salty, fatty taste of the chips. I love that combination, even though I know it's not good for my health.

[Janice Johnson]

Part 2


I finished eating the chips in 10 minutes. As I wondered the main hallway, I looked at the familiar green paint under white paint. Our school colors are white, green, and gray. I realized this would be my last week or so at North Miami Senior High School. I was overwhelmed by shocking sadness. I would miss this school. I would miss my friends and family. It all depressed me deeply. I began thinking of a John Mayer song, “No Such Thing.” Two lyrics go, “I wanna run through the halls of my high school. I wanna scream at the top of my lungs.” To make me feel better, I did just that. I walked to one end of the hallway, and then ran to the other side of the hallway screaming like a maniac. Don’t worry. I don’t usually do this, and this was a regular school day. If anyone was walking around and saw me doing that, they’d call the men in white coats to come and take me away to a nice “hospital”. I felt much better after running and screaming (I’m surprised no one heard me screaming), and went back to the testing room. It was time for the IQ test and I cracked my knuckles and prepared to work.

The IQ test was fairly simple. It had a few math questions, but none that made me “shrink”, like asking how tall a person’s shadow was. Some questions asked about logical reasoning such as what design comes nest. I told you, I’m no dummy. All you have to do is follow the pattern closely. There were questions about other things, such as History questions and the other subjects I always ace. One IQ question kind of did make me “shrink”. It was a question that went something like this: “If all Spinks are Sporks and all Voors are Vines, are Sporks also Vines?” I know I did not word that correctly, but you know what question I mean. I have trouble answering those types of questions. The best way I answer then is Yes. My reasoning is: Kelly can have a sister, Charlene, and Kelly can have a brother named John, but John and Charlene are not related.

After the IQ test, I turned all three of them into the proctor, and went home.

Things were tense between my mother and me. I am an only child, and my father and mother were never married, so he doesn’t live with me or raise me.(That’s right, I’m a bastard, even though the nice way is to say illegitimate, even though that doesn’t really sound nice at all. The best way to describe what I am is a love child.) He begrudgingly pays child support for me. Begrudgingly. He should not begrudgingly be paying child support for me. He helped make me didn’t he? But back to my mother and I.

“Darryl, I don’t want you going out anywhere. You’re to spend your time at home,” she told me firmly.

“Mom, I’m 16. You can’t keep me locked up like a little boy, “I whined.

“I can when my grown teenager earns money by “earning” other people’s money and “borrowing” other people’s cars."

“But mom”,…….. I began to whine, and then closed my mouth. Arguing with her was futile.

I went up to my room and flopped on my bed with the blue covers and colorful shapes. I know. Even my covers look childish, but I like them anyway. They’re “homey” to me.

I turned over on my back, and stared blankly at the ceiling. Would I pass the tests? Would I go to boarding school? Or would I have to wake up to, “Hut, two, three, four?”

I got up and looked at my last report card. A.A.A.A.A.……EEEEEEEEERRRRRHHHHH. (Imagine a car suddenly screeching) D (In Mathematics) I would have made the honor roll if it weren’t for that Mathematics. (I wanted to add a “D” word between the word “that” and the word “Mathematics, but I decided against it, no pun intended). I’m really smart. It’s just that I make dumb decisions for fun like “earning” money and “borrowing” strangers’ cars.

I turned on the T.V. “And no TV until you finish your homework!” My mom yelled.

“I don’t have any homework mom. I took the tests today, remember?” I yelled back.

“Oh yeah. So how did it go?” She asked me, coming into my room.

"They were fine, except for, I began to confess sheepishly, the Math questions. I am sure I bombed on the FCAT and SAT Math portions. I think I passed the IQ Math portion, because the questions were about basic Math."

“You HAVE always had trouble with advanced Math problems, “she agreed softly.

I looked at my mom intently. My mom is really pretty. She is 5’5, with short hair like Halle Berry in the early ‘90s and Toni Braxton in the early ’90’s. She is so light, she is considered “red”. “Red” is when a person’s skin is so light, it looks like Sean Paul’s skin color. “Gina from Martin is considered to be “red” too. My mom’s eyes are a golden brown, like Bow Wow’s. She’s a slender woman.

As for me, I am 5’10 with a short afro like Cole from Martin. I am a little “husky” like Malik Yoba. My skin color is light-skinned, considered caramel. I’m a few shades darker than my mother, and the best way I can describe my skin color is that it looks like Chingy’s skin color. My eyes are dark brown, like Usher’s.

“Mom, do you think I’ll pass the tests?”

“I’m sure you will. You’re very smart. Look at this report card.” She motioned to my report card. "Besides Math, you are a genius. You just behave “dumb” when you “borrow” cars and “earn” money.”

I blushed a little. Did she have to bring that up right then?

“I love you, Darryl,” she said, looking at me with shiny eyes.

“I love you too, mom," I said back.

She gave me a kiss on my cheek. She left the room. We have DirecTV, and I wanted to watch Spongebob Squarepants. There’s something I love about that little sponge. He’s very adorable and lovable.

I watched an episode where Spongebob wanted to be a “Jellyfish.” He gave up his “industrial, cold life” to live with the jellyfish. The episode was called “Nature Pants.” A word to the wise: Patrick is pretty possessive about Spongebob (Not in THAT way, wink wink). He just wants Spongebob to come back because he misses his friend.

After the episode was done, I turned off the T.V. for a while and listened to my Ciara CD. I listened to the “One Two Step: and “Goodies” songs. I have a confession to make: When I first heard “Goodies” on the radio, I thought that it was Beyonce singing the song. My cousin Tasha said, “No that girl DOESN’T sound like Beyonce.” She was right. I ended up feeling “hurt” when I found out I was wrong. “Hurt” is a slang word for standing corrected.

Speaking of Beyonce, I LOVE her! I LOVED her in Destiny’s Child and Solo! I have all of Destiny and Beyonce albums! I have: the Writing’s On The Wall, Survivor, Dangerously In Love, and Destiny Fulfilled. She is PERFECT! What a Goddess! I am so jealous of Jay-Z. What does she see in him? She can dump him (I’m available, wink wink).

I took out the Ciara CD and put in Survivor and listened to the songs, Survivor, Say My Name, and Bootylicious. I love to jam to those songs. After the songs were done playing, I took out the Survivor CD and listened to my “Hits of The 80’s” CD. I have 18 hits on that CD. I love the 80’s. Wasn’t that a great era for music? I listened to 5 songs off that album, “Cruel Summer by Bananarama, “Putting On the Ritz by Taco. “Somebody’s Watching Me” by Rockwell, “She Blinded Me With Science” by Thomas Dolby, and “Walk Like An Egyptian” by The Bangles. When I was done with those songs, I pressed, ‘Stop,” and called Sean.

“Sean, my moms got me on lockdown. I can’t go nowhere, dawg." (I am good at Grammar, but I talk “slang” when I talk to my friends).

“Dawg, that’s messed up,” Sean said.

“My moms straight busted me. She’s trippin’," I continued.

“Yeah, she is trippin’. Fool, your old lady got you locked.”

I suddenly didn’t feel like talking about “lockup” too much anymore. “So, Sean, you still gonna “earn” money with Julian and Mario?”

“Fo sho *beep* he answered. “Ya know, me, Mario and Julian scored $300.00 muggin’ 5 people yesterday.

“Wow. Ya’ll don’t need me,” I said, feeling left out. I know, it’s stupid of me to feel left out.

“We DO need ya. We ain’t the same without ya, dawg.”

“Well. Ya’ll gonna be leanin’ on each other for a LONG while," I answered him.

“Since your moms got you on lock down, what you gonna do for fun?” Sean asked.

“Watch T.V, listen to the music, play video games, do my homework,” I answered him.

“Ya call doin’ homework “fun”? Sean asked me sounding incredulous.

“Yeah. It’s basically all I have to look forward to. My moms said, “I can’t go out nowhere,” I reminded him with emphasis.

Sean said, “Well, I gotta go. I’ma holla at ya later.”

“Bye,” I said, and we both hung up.

Sean, Mario, Julian, and I have all been good friends since we were little. We are the Inseparable Foursome. We are all tight as four peas in a pod. We have little squabbles from time to time, but we always make up. Rarely, we do get into BIG arguments, like the time Sean got a girlfriend and spent all of his time with her, and blew us off. We were so mad, we wanted to kick him out of the friendship and become a threesome. We confronted Sean and told him we wouldn’t take a backseat to this girl and would stop being his friend if he continued to neglect us. Sean decided to balance our friendship with his relationship and we forgave him. He and his girlfriend broke up 6 months later because she felt that she didn’t like him too much anymore. We all consoled Sean, and he quickly got over her. I think.

The other “big” argument was the time when we robbed a convenience store and left with $1000. We argued over who should get the bulk of the money. Sean, Julian, and Mario wanted more than $250.00from $1,000. ($250.00 is what each person gets from $1,000). I told them that they were idiots because that was the only way four people could split $1,000 evenly. They called me a control freak and we almost had a physical fight right then and there. I had a sudden light bulb. I didn’t want our relationship to end like this, over money. So I suggested that all three of them get $300 and I get $100. They asked if I didn’t want more than $100, and I told them no. So they were happy with the $300 they got, and I was happy with the $100. I got. $100 is still a lot of money, especially when you “earned” it.

[Janice Johnson]

NOBODY is replying to this story.................................... (Except for me).

[Janice Johnson]

Back to the near present. I love those guys. I don’t know if I would be able to take being so far away in Jacksonville while they were here in Miami. I’d miss my mom and dad (though he REALLY doesn’t want to pay child support for me), my aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. I soon got that overwhelming feeling again. That overly sad feeling that I got at school. I was feeling deeply depressed again and I was afraid I was going to fall into a depressed trance. I decided I did not want to become slightly comatose, so I decided to shake my head and ‘snap out of it.” I went into my book bag and got out my “feel good” book, How To Eat Fried Worms by Thomas Rockwell. I always read that book when I am feeling blue. It makes me laugh to read about people who would be stupid enough to eat worms for $50.00. The T.V. show fear Factor comes to mind when I read this book. These people will do ANYTHING to win money. One guy stuck his face in pig blood to pick out pig parts. Disgusting, but funny. I read some of the book and felt better. I was not overly depressed now, I was just a little bummed.

It was now 6:00. I turned on the TV to TVONE and watched Good Times. My favorite characters are Thelma and J.J. Thelma is fine and smart and J.J. is cool and funny. I don’t like Michael too much. Too me, he’s annoying and my least favorite character. I watched an episode called, “J.J. And The Boss’s Daughter.” J.J. dates Valerie, his boss’s daughter. Valerie wants J.J. to ditch his friends to hang out with her. Does this seem familiar?

After the episode was over, I ate some dinner and then took a shower, a little after that, I watched American Idol. I love watching people who CAN’T sing but think they can sing. I am an American Idol whore. I love when Simon harshly criticizes the ‘singers”. I swear, some of these “singers” are singing badly on purpose. But it makes for good television. One guy butchered a Michael Jackson song. I think it was “Thriller or maybe it was “Billie Jean.”

When American Idol was over, I watched another episode of GT. This time, it was an episode where Thelma wanted to be engaged to Larry. I felt so jealous. Larry was so lucky. Anyway, Mrs. And Mr. Evans (Florida and James) were against it. J.J. stood up to James for Thelma, and Thelma proved she really did love Larry, and that she wouldn’t marry Larry until they were both at least eighteen. (She had been 17). Her parents agreed to let her remain engaged to Larry.

After the show, I went to bed to go to sleep, I know, it was pretty early to go to sleep. It was only about 9:30, but when you are stuck at home, there’s really not much to do but sleep at this time (besides, I was tired). I fell asleep, and dreamt that I was in an airplane, and not only was I in the plane, I was piloting the plane. All of a sudden, the plane got out of control. It hit major turbulence and began shaking like crazy, and even began taking a nosedive. The stewardess, the passengers, and my co-pilot were screaming, and what’s worse, even I was screaming and I’m supposed to look in control. I knew I couldn’t let everyone on the plane crash and die! I had to fix the problem. I pulled the shift stick, aligned the plane, and got us back on course. The plane glided smoothly, and passengers were crying. Out of relief or shocked fear, I don’t know. I turned to my co-pilot and he looked at me with awe and incredibility. “You really had us scared for a minute, Captain, but you pulled us out of trouble,” he said gratefully. The stewardesses looked a little disoriented, but okay. “That was a close one, Captain, “one of them said to me.

“You know how I do it,” I said a little smugly. I was getting a little cocky. Then I woke up.

I didn’t think much of the dream after I had woken up. I’m 16. Who would give a 16-year-old a pilot license? I laughed at the thought.

I looked at the clock. I t was 3:00 AM. I was still tired, so I went back to sleep.

I had another dream. I was riding a ride in the Youth Fair, and the ride got stuck in mid-air. I was terrified! I looked at the sign of the ride. The Ride Of Doom. How ironic, “I thought. Granted, it WAS fun until the ride got stuck. The other people looked terrified too. I literally was stuck in the air. Some people were stuck close to the ground. I looked at my partner and he looked terrified too. “Someone help us!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Sorry,” the ride operator said. “You guys are stuck here. The ride is stuck. I’m going home. You guys will be fine when the electricity works again, which will be soon, I think.” He sounded unconvinced. “Hey, you can’t just leave us here!” an angry voice yelled. “Hey, get us off this ride!” Another angry voice yelled. “Yeah! I have to get off this ride and go home!” Another angry voice yelled. “Sorry,” the operator said. “I’m leaving!” He started to walk away. A flurry of obscenities and profanities spewed out of the angry riders’ mouths. The operator looked helpless at us, and then ran off. He left us abandoned.

I decided to do a risky thing. It literally could have hurt me badly. I unbuckled the safety latches and seat belts and leapt out of the ride. Remember, I was in mid-air. I luckily landed on both feet with just a bit of a painful jolt as I landed. I quickly latched and buckled my partner back in, so he wouldn’t fall out. I already knew what I was going to do. I walked over to the operating station. I figured out quickly what had gone wrong. A wire had broken in half. I quickly found another way to get the ride moving. I manually turned the dials and pushed a few buttons. I got the ride started again. I went as fats as I could and the ride went relatively fast. When the ride was over, I slowly pulled the ride to a stop. The riders were now all close to the ground. I pressed a button to release all latches and safety belts, and everyone got off the ride all right. They all looked shaken.

“I’m suing!” a few of them angrily exclaimed. “I am filing a report on this ride!” a few others exclaimed. “I’m never going on this ride again!” some others exclaimed. I didn’t blame them for saying those things.

“You are a hero young man!” a woman in her 20’s said to me, looking at me with bright eyes. “You saved us all!

“Yeah young man!” You ought to be on the NEWS!” a man in his 30’s said to me, shaking my hand. I smiled self-consciously. Then someone took a camera and surprised took a picture of me. My partner came up to me and gave me a hug. “Thank you for saving us.” I smiled and hugged him back. He looked to be about 12 years old.

Then I woke up. I was still smiling as I woke up. I had saved people on that ride! I felt happy! I looked at the clock. It was 6:00. It was time for me to get ready for school. I showered, brushed my teeth, put on lotion and deodorant, and put on my red T-shirt, blue jeans, white socks, and white Nike sneakers. I quickly brushed my hair, packed my book bag, and left my room to eat a bowl of Fruit Loops cereal. After breakfast, I got my book bag and keys, said “bye” to my mom and got into my car and drove to school.

At school, I was a little early. It was 7:15. School starts at 7:25. I went to the library which has computer access and went on www.amazon.com and typed in “Snoop Dogg”. When Snoop Dogg search results showed up, I clicked on “Doggy Style.”

I read some reviews about the album, such as one who said, “This album is great. I love the song, ‘Gin And Juice. That’s’ my favorite song from Snoop Dogg. All of the songs on this album are great! He’s a great rapper! 5 stars! Another review was not glowing at all. “I give this album a 1 star. Snoop Dogg is a washed up crack rapper. He has very little talent and ALWAYS looks stoned when he is on T.V. And that is because he is! I’m glad I didn’t buy this crap piece of trash. My cousin let me borrow it for free. I wish I could burn this CD, and not in the term we in 2005 say we want to “burn” CDs. I want to burn the CD in the literal way, with lots and lots of fire. Snoop Dogg needs to go away……………forever.

Whoa, harsh I thought. I read other reviews, and the stars and reviews were excellent. Basically, all the reviews were glowing except for that one harsh review. Overall, the CD got a 4 and a half star rating.

[Janice Johnson]

Soon, it was 7:21. I logged off the computer and rushed to class. It was 7:24 when I sat down at my seat. My first class was Homeroom. Actually, it's not really a "class" as it is a "check in." We get our names called, answer, and do left over homework for about 15 minutes. Then we go to our "first" block of the day. We have block schedule, which means we only have three classes a day, for two hours each. We also have lunch for 45 minutes. We have block 1, 3, and 5 today, and tomorrow we will have Block 2, 4, 6. I went to block 1, and we had to do Silent Reading for 30 minutes. Silent Reading is mandatory in all six blocks (even though many teachers sometimes skip it) My first block was an English class. We had to proofread another class’s Creative Essays. I almost fainted when I saw how bad my “student’s” essay was. Here is a little “piece” of the student’s essay. You can see why I almost fainted.

April 10, 2005. I went to the bech last weekend wit my hole phamily. We went swimming wit other people. I ain’t never had so much phun for in a long time. We swam for one our and then we eight lunch. It was chicken, and it was rice, and it was soda, and it was chips, and it was pretzels, and it was potato salad. We listened to the raydio and had heard sum good sungs. After we had laid down to dygest the food for a half an our, we went back to swimming. We swam for too more ours. Then we left.

There was more to this student’s essay, but I think I’ve put you in enough torture. I quickly proofread and edited the essay. I turned it in, and Mrs. Hayes looked at me with amazement. “I am surprised you went through this without going off the wall,” she said.

“I did feel like fainting when I saw this essay,” I confessed to her.

“I don’t blame you,” she said and gave me a sympathetic smile. I

I went back to my seat and waited for the other people to finish their assignments, and in the meanwhile, I began to finish my Silent Reading book. I had been reading Silent Night by R.L. Stine. It’s about a rich girl named Reva Dalby, the rich heiress of a department store. Her father, Robert Dalby owned Dalby’s Department Store. On the other hand, Mr. Dalby let his poor niece, Pam, live with her and his daughter. I found it extremely weird that Pam was Reva’s ONLY cousin. I myself have TONS of cousins, and so does everyone else I know. Anyway, the cover is amazing, interesting, and eye catching. Reva looks like she is trapped in a mirror, her mouth and eyes are open wide in horror and shock, and there is snow outside the mirror. Hey, how do you pronounce Reva? Is it pronounced REV like, “Revving up a motorcycle and adding an “A” or is it pronounced “Reeva” like how we pronounce Reba McIntyre? I just decided to read it like the motorcycle pronunciation.

Soon, everyone was done with their assignments. Darn it! Just when I was getting to a really good part. Reva was had just put on her lipstick and started to scream. Makeup shouldn’t make you scream.

I closed the book. Everyone else turned in their assignments. Mrs. Hayes put them on a stack on her desk. I knew that since we had proofread another class’s essays, they would be proofreading our essays. We had done essays last week. I wasn’t nervous because I knew I was great in grammar (spelling is part of grammar)

Mrs. Hayes told us our next assignment would be reading aloud from a play called, “A Midsummer’s Night Dream by Williams Shakespeare. I got to play Demetrius. A beautiful woman named Helena was madly in love with me (Demetrius), and I would shun her. Helena was played by a beautiful girl named Alicia. Alicia is a dark milk-chocolate colored girl (think of a Snickers bar), with beautiful chocolate brown eyes, an oval face, and long brown hair, with a beautiful smile. She’s also tall and slender. Who would “shun” Alicia? She’s a really sweet girl. And what’s wrong with Demetrius? If a beautiful woman was in love with ME, I wouldn’t shun her. Anyway, it was fun playing a guy who would shun a beautiful woman.

After the reading, class was over, and it was time for Block 3. My block 3 is the bane of my day. It’s Math. Do you know what type of Math it is? Algebra. We had to some problems, and my brain just wasn’t working for the problems. I was hitting a wall with the problems. I was so frustrated trying to work on the problems. I HATE feeling stupid. Mr. Smith came up to me and asked if I needed any help. He must have sensed my frustration. I was embarrassed. “No, I don’t need any help!” I snapped. I had a lot pf pride and he was embarrassing me. I am almost an honor student! I thought in my mind. Everyone was staring at me. I began to blush. Mr. Smith looked at me sympathetically. “I’m here if you need any help,” he said, and went back to his seat.

I worked on more frustrating problems, biting my lower lip. I kept hitting walls. I tried doing the integers assignment, but I was having trouble figuring out if two negatives equaled a positive or if a positive and a negative equaled a negative. I was having trouble figuring out what to do when the problem was a multiplication problem. Did we divide or multiply? What if it’s two different signs, like -8*-7? What’s the answer?

I worked on the problems, really frustrating my brain. I began to get a headache. I knew it was time to swallow my pride. I needed help. I got up and slowly walked to Mr. Smith’s desk, with my notebook, pencil, and textbook in my hands. I stood in front of Mr. Smith’s desk, and looking defeated and reluctant, confessed, “Mr. Smith, I need help.”

“Sure. I’m gonna help you,” he said, looking at me eagerly. “Sit down. There is a chair next to his desk for students to sit when they need help with problems. I sat down and told him the problems I was having. He took out a paper and one of his pens. “Darryl, here is how you solve addition problems. He wrote down 8+7. “That’s 15,” he said. (Duh). -8+7=-2, -8+-7=-15. The larger number for addition is the number that will determine the sign of the answer. Subtract when the signs are different.

For subtraction, add the opposite of the problem. For example, 25-5=20. Adding the opposite is 25+ (-5) =20. -8-(-2) would be -8+2. To solve, you would answer the problem -6. The larger number still determines the outcome of the sign. -12+ (-16) =-28. Add when the signs are the same, negative=negative, and pos=pos. Subtract when the signs are different.

For multiplication, 2(-8) =-16, because of the different signs. In this case ALWAYS put a negative sign in front of your answer, no matter what number has the negative sign. For example: (-3) (25) =-75. -5(-6) =30. Same signs =positive.

For division, (-50) divided by (-2) =25. Same signs=positive. -20 divided by 5=-4. Different signs=negative signs.

He asked me if I understood everything he was talking about. I had! I told him so, and he said, “I am going to give you two problems from each category and I want to see if you answer them correctly. “Okay,” I agreed.

He took out another paper and wrote down these problems: 1. -8+-6, 2. -8+6, 3. -10 - -5, 4. -10 -5, 5. -6*7, 6. -6*-7, 7. 9 divided by -3, 8. -9 divided by -3.

I followed the guidance he gave me on the paper, and for number one I answered -14. For 2, I answered -2. For 3, I answered -15. For 4, I answered -5. For 6, I answered 42. For 7, I answered -3. For 8, I answered, 3. I turned in the assignment. He quickly checked it and said, “You did good. You answered the questions correctly. I think you’re ready to do these problems on your own, Darryl.”

“Thank you for the compliment, and thanks for your help. I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I added.

“You’re welcome, and I understand why you snapped at me. You’re a smart kid, and for a teacher to ask if you need help is embarrassing. I know about the straight A’s you get in all your other classes.”

I looked at him in surprise. “How did you know that?”

“We teachers have our own little “chats.” It’s kind of a teacher alliance. We discuss students with each other. And we talk about you sometimes. About how bright and dedicated you are.

“Oh,” I said, feeling shy.

[Janice Johnson]

I went back to my desk. I opened up my math book and textbook and worked on the problems. I wasn’t hitting walls anymore, because I had help now. I just followed the “Guidance” paper, and I knew I did fine. I wasn’t frustrated anymore, and my headache was long gone. I felt great! We had lunch break in the middle of the second block (this one), and I went to the cafeteria and stood in the line. Hooray! They were serving Pizza Hut! That’s my favorite pizza company! I was served a HUGE slice! My goodness, that pizza almost covered the whole tray! I loved it! For sides, I got corn and chocolate pudding. For a drink, I had a red milk carton (whole milk). I went to the third row of tables. Actually, each “row” has smaller tables which are all separated. I saw Sean and Julian. (Mario didn’t share our lunch period). I sat next to them.

“Don’t you guys love pizza day? I asked them. “Don’t you guys love these big slices?”

“These “slices” are so big they actually look like the lunch lady gave us the whole box instead of just one slice each,” Sean said wryly. He had a wry smile on his face.

“Yeah, I love it,” I answered Sean. “How about you?” I asked Julian.

Julian answered, “I love fatty, greasy foods. So I am loving these humongous pizzas.” He smiled.

A girl named Andie came up to us and said, “This pizza is disgusting. How can you guys actually enjoy all this fat and grease the pizza has in it?”

“Because we’re guys,” I answered. “You girls pick at salads and frown at tasty foods like hamburgers and fried chicken. We guys don’t know the meaning of the word “diet”. You girls worship that word.

“You are a sexist person!” Andie said angrily.

“How is that being sexist?” I asked.

“It just is,” Andie said frowning.

“Then why’d you pick the pizza?”

“I didn’t want to hurt the lunch lady’s feelings. I’m throwing this pizza away,” Andie said decisively.

“You’re going to throw away good food?” I asked her, upset.

“Yeah. I don’t want to gain any more weight,” she said, patting her slim stomach. She could actually use more pounds, I thought.

Out loud I said, “Why don’t you blot out all the excess grease with a napkin and then eat the pizza? You would still save calories and fat,” I suggested.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” she said, brightening up a little. “I’ll do that.” She went to the next row. I carefully watched her. She blotted the grease from the pizza and ate it (the pizza). I hate seeing people throw away good food. I always eat MY food, down to the last crumb. I ate my own humongous pizza. I love pizza. That’s one my favorite foods. I ate the corn, then ate the chocolate pudding, and then drank my milk. I chatted with Sean and Julian a little more, and then lunch was over.

I walked back to Math class, and finished the math problems. We turned in the assignments, and Mr. Smith asked ME to do a random integers problem on the board. I had already shown him I could do the work, but I guess he wanted to see I f I could do a problem correctly in front of the class. I agreed. I went up to the board.

“Darryl, I want you to do a multiplication problem. Do 8 negative times positive 4.

“I wrote down, “-8*4. “Can I use the guidance paper?” I asked.

“I would really like it if you didn’t,” he said gently. I knew what that meant. No. I had to do this all on my own. I had to remember how I had answered the other questions like this without the guidance paper. I tried to remember how to do the problem.

“Take your time,” Mr. Smith said gently. I did. In one minute, I remembered. The answer will always be negative if the signs are different, but still multiply!

I answered, “-32.”

Mr. Smith said, “Good job, Darryl!” I beamed. I know integers! I know integers! I inwardly gloated.

After class, Mr. Smith stopped me on my way out. “Darryl, maybe you need Remedial Math. Maybe you should be taught in a smaller class,” he suggested gently. “I see you struggling in Math. Maybe Remedial Math would be the best thing for you.”

“I. I…... I started. He was suggesting that I be put in a Learning Disability class! I was one of the brightest students in his class! (Not in Math, though). I was beginning to feel that pride well up in me again, and a little voice told me to tell the pride to shut up and accept help in Math.

“Yes, I WOULD,” I started slowly.

“Why do you say “would” like that?” He asked me perplexed.

“Because I might be leaving the school soon,” I answered.

“Oh? What happened?’

“I was not about to tell Mr. Smith about my crime spree and the ultimatum my mom gave me. I was about to omit that part.

“I might be going to prep school. Saying “boarding school” would sound like a punishment. “Prep school” sounded much nicer.

“Oh? Which one?”

“I don’t know,” I answered.

“You don’t know which prep school you might go to?” he repeated, furrowing his brows.

I know, it did sound ridiculous. “My mom just made me apply for a scholarship to ANY prep school. Do you know if prep schools teach remedial Math?" I asked him.

“They should," Mr. Smith answered. “When I was growing up, they did. In the meanwhile, why don’t you transfer to a Math remedial class? Just have him sign the transfer slip and bring it to the front office? I’ll give you a note to give to your Block 5 teacher to excuse your lateness so that you don’t have an unexcused tardiness.” He wrote me an excuse note and got out a transfer slip. He handed me both. I put the excuse note in my left pocket and the transfer slip in my right pocket and begun to walk to Block 5. Wally, a security guard saw me. “Hey, young man, do you know you’re tardy? Do you have a pass in order to avoid detention?” I pulled out Mr. Smith’s note. Wally looked at it, and told me that was fine. I put the note back in my pocket and rushed to class. I didn’t want any more security guards stopping me.

Our school has mandatory lockout. After the final bell for each class is rung, the teachers MUST lock their classroom doors. It’s so students can’t "sneak in” to class late. They have to knock on the doors in order to be let in. I knocked on Mrs. Cox’s Science door. She opened the door. “My,my, my. Who do we have here? It’s Darryl, come to join us on his own sweet time. I hope Darryl has an acceptable excuse for being late.”

“I do,” I said. I handed her the Mr. Smith’s next. She accepted it.

“This will do,” she said.

I sat down at my desk. My “Science” class was actually Biology. In Biology, we had to read about the life of plants. We read about chlorophyll and photosynthesis. Then we had to grow our own plants. Mrs. Cox gave us seeds, and we each walked over to empty plant cups that were filled with soil, and she told us to put the seeds in the soil and water them. I did. All of us did.

Mrs. Cox told us to sing to our plants. We all looked at her like she was crazy. Sing to the plants?

“Plants love songs. Sing to them,” she insisted. “They will grow.”

I sang, “It’s Peanut Butter and Jelly time! Peanut Butter and Jelly time! Where he at, I don’t know! Where he at, I don‘t know! It’s Peanut Butter and Jelly time!” Then I sang, “To the window to the wall, to the sweat run down my balls, to all these bitches crawl, to all skeet skeet mother****er!”

“Darryl! That’s not what I meant by “singing” to the plants. And what you are “singing” is Hip-Hop! And please, no more profanity,” Mrs. Cox admonished.

“I am sorry, Mrs. Cox,” I apologized. I won’t do it again,” I promised.

“Please choose another song, something a lot more soothing,” she said softer.

I sang, “Treated me kind, sweet destiny.” (That’s the first lyric of Vision of Love by Mariah Carey.) Then I skipped a whole lot of the song and sang, “I had a vision of love, and it was all that you’ve given to me.” Then I jumped all over the song. I sang, “Straight through the nights, so faithfully, knowing that the one that I needed would find me eventually. I had a vision of love, and it was all that you turned out to be.” Then I sang more of Vision of Love, and Mrs. Cox was satisfied.

“That’s much better, Darryl,” she said with a small smile. “Everybody else, sing to your plants." The majority of the class sang either pop songs, like Christina Aguilera songs and NSYNC songs, or R&B like Usher and Keith Sweat songs, but someone sang a folk type of song, “What’s Going On” by 4 Non Blondes!

After class was over, I went to my car and drove home. My mom was home. She had been off for two days. Yesterday had been her first day off.

“Hi, Darryl,” she said, smiling at me. "How was your day?”

“It was fine,” I answered. “But I am about to transfer into a Math remedial class.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! She said. “You’ll get the help you need!” She excitedly wrapped her arms around me. I tried to seem as happy as she was, but I wasn’t. I didn’t want to go to remedial Math too much. It’s still and LD class.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Math Remedial falls under the category of ‘Special education.’ You know, Learning Disability?” I answered her.

“But you will be getting help." She pointed out again.

“Yeah, but I won’t learn much. I might be going to boarding school soon, remember?”

“Yeah,” she said slowly.

I gave her the transfer slip. I had until Thursday to get it signed. I would get it signed the next day, on Wednesday.

She looked at it for a few seconds, and then gave it back to me. “When do the results of the test come back?” She asked me.

“They should come back one week after I took them, so I would say next Monday,” I replied.

“Good,” she said.

[Janice Johnson]

I went to my room to do my homework. I had Homework from my English Class. I didn’t have any Math homework since today was my last day in Mr. Smith’s class.

Homework was proofreading a letter from a handout Mrs. Hayes had given us. This is the handout.

April 15, 2005. We went too a fre muzik consert in a park. Wee where so exited to cee acks like Kristina Agulera, Richard Marks, Sierra, and Rik Springfield. We ate potato calad, korn on the kob, and pissa. Then we played frisbe after the consert. We went home it was like 11:00, or 12:00, or 1:00. It was a grate nite.

I fixed the mistakes, and then I put my homework in my backpack. I washed and dried my mother’s and my laundry, folded them, and put them away. Then I cleaned my room. I swept and dusted, fixed up my dresser, and made my bed. I would have gone on the computer and surfed the net, but both computers were at the computer repair shop. I usually have a computer in my room and there is another computer in our family room. I watched my “White Chicks” DVD. I love that movie! Shawn and Marlon Wayans go undercover as rich and spoiled heiresses Brit and Tiff. It’s really funny! You’ve gotta see it. After the movie, I switched from DVD player to “DirecTV” and changed the channel to The Simpsons. I turned on my DVR and pressed record so I could go take a shower. After showering, I finished watching the Simpsons. I pressed “Stop” and turned off the DVR. I watched some more TV, and then listened to some songs on the radio, and ate dinner. After dinner, I watched some more TV, and then went to bed. You see how boring my life is when I’m not doing crime? I’m boring myself as I write this.

When I woke up, it was the same routine as I had done yesterday to get ready for school. At school, I arrived at 7:23, so I went straight to Homeroom. After Homeroom, I went to Block 2. In Block 2, during Silent Reading, I continued reading Silent Night. I found out why Reva had screamed. She had screamed because someone had put a needle in her lipstick! There was blood running from her lips, and she quickly wiped her lips. When she told Mitch, one of her dad’s young employees what had happened, Mitch told her, “That’s because no one likes you, Reva.” I thought that was rude of Mitch!

I read some more, and then Silent Reading was over. The Block I was in was reading. I LOVE this subject. We read a story about a boy who finds a genie lamp. It was called, “The Best Day of Your Life!” In it, the boy finds the genie, and the genie says he will grant him a wish. The boy wishes for the next day to be the best day if his life. The next day, he has a great day. He gets an A in class, gets smug, the girl he likes talks to him and he acts like a big peacock, strutting around her, looking cool, and he does great in basketball. When he goes home at night, the genie still says that tomorrow will be the best day of his life.

The boy is ecstatic! Even better than this day? He goes to school the next day, and finds out he is doing the same day over again. He realizes that his classmates look resentful of him, something he hadn’t realized before, and the girl he was strutting around looks upset at how he is acting. He wants to stop this day, but he can’t. He begins to feel trapped. He goes home again, and that night, the genie STILL says, ‘Tomorrow will be the best day of your life!” The next day, the same day happens again. He is stuck in the same day and wants it to stop. He is really feeling trapped now. He relieves the day the next day, and just goes through the motions. When he goes home again, he wants to beg the genie to undo the wish, but he can’t say that, since he is repeating the same day again. The story ends with, “Tomorrow will be the best day of your life!”

I really felt sorry for the kid. Imagine being stuck in the same day forever? Well, at least he’ll never die, I thought.

After the reading, we had to answer questions from a short story about a boy who travels into outer space. We finished that in about 30 minutes, and then we watched a short film about the fundamentals of reading. After the film, our teacher, Mr. Simms, told us we had to do a summary on the film for homework, and then class was over. After that, it was Block 4, Government. We talked about George W. Bush. We had a lot of heated discussion about him. I said, “I think George Bush is running America into the ground. Think about it. The tragedy of September 11, 2001 happened while he was the president. I think he needs to be impeached. He’s not doing a really good job.” Another student said, “I actually LIKE George W. Bush. He’s bringing America UP not DOWN.

Another student said, “Well, it happened under HIM. And why hasn’t he caught Osama Bin Laden yet? Bush is wasting time and money with Iraq,” the student who defended Bush said, “Well; it is hard to find a sneaky criminal mastermind rat like Osama.”

“How do we even know Osama did crash the airplanes into the World Trade center buildings and The Pentagon? Where is the proof?” Another student asked.

“The proof is on the news and in the newspapers. Osama was seen on live tape talking about what he did with the airplanes,” I answered him. Was this student living under a rock?

“Well, how do we know that that was Osama and not some imposter?” The same student asked.

He was right. How could we tell that Osama really had confessed to the doings of September 11th? Any Iraqi male could imposter Osama.

I told him he had a valid point. He said, “Than you.” This was sort of a “free day” and we just sat around talking about government in general for a long while. Then it was lunch time.

At lunch, I had chicken legs, mashed potatoes, whole milk, and a fruit cup. As I ate, I thought about the U.S. Government. How DID America stack up against other nations? I knew some countries were envious of us, but I also knew some countries spat on us. Hmm. After lunch, we went back to block 4. We began talking about George W. Bush again.

“Didn’t Jeb Bush throw away votes for Al Gore so that George could win?” One student stated/asked.

“That was just a rumor,” our teacher, Mr. Kelley answered.

“Didn’t Cubans vote for George Bush because they thought that George Bush would help overthrow Castro?” Another student asked.

“And how was Bush going to help overthrow another country’s dictator?” I replied. “I am sure that was just a rumor too.”

“I heard a rumor that George Bush wanted to have mandatory year round school for all schools in the country,” another student said. “Thank god that didn’t happen.”

“If that did happen, I am sure Congress would step in. They have more power than the President, don’t you know? “I replied.

“They do?” Another student replied mystified.

Mr. Kelley said, “Darryl’s right. As a whole, Congress can overrule the President.”

“That’s interesting,” another student replied. A few other students murmured in agreement.

“Can they PLEASE tell George Bush to go away?” One student joked.

Mr. Kelley said, “They can impeach the President if he does something really bad.”

“Like letting airplanes crash into the World trade Center and Pentagon?” The same student retorted, being a smart aleck.

“I guess they didn’t think that warranted an impeachment,” Mr. Kelley replied.

We talked more about the President and government, and then class was over. For homework we had to write a letter to ‘George Bush”, telling him what we thought about September 11th. Actually, Mr. Kelley was going to be “George Bush.”

In Block 6, I had Intro to Computers. In that class, we had to do an assignment on Word. We had to write a Creative Story. My story was about a soldier who comes home to see his one true love, his girlfriend of two years, after being in the Navy for the past 3 months. I was kind of graphic without being sleazy or pornographic with their love scenes. (Basically, it was a LOT of making out and hugging, but nothing more). I hit save and Print and turned it in. Then we had to do some Excel Spreadsheets. After the Excel assignment, we had “free time”. I went to the internet and went on Yahoo.com to watch some music videos. I watched “Fallin” by Alicia Keys, “You Drive Me Crazy” by Britney Spears, “Uh-Huh” by B2K, and “Lucky Star” by Madonna. When I was done watching the videos, there were still 30 minutes left.

I asked for a pass to get the transcript signed. My teacher, Mr. Randall said okay. (I have four male teachers). I went to Mr. Wilkerson’s room and got him to sign it. Then I took the signed paper to the office and they switched my Math class. Then I rushed back to my computer class. There were still 10 minutes left.

I took out my CD player and listened to my Ciara CD again for the remaining time (we are allowed to listen to music quietly if we have free time).

When class was over, I drove home again. I had the same routine again. I don’t want to go into detail.

The next day, I showed up at Mr. Wilkerson’s room. I was amazed that there were only about 10 other students in remedial Math. Mr. Smith’s class had about 28 students. Mr. Wilkerson had me introduce myself to the class. “Hi. I’m Darryl Johnson, a transfer from Mr. Smith’s Math class,” I said, smiling a little nervously.

“Hi, welcome” everyone warmly said. I felt a lot better and began to relax.

Mr. Wilkerson gave me a diagnostic test. At first, I did fine with the basic Math, but once again stuck with the harder ones. Mr. Wilkerson told me I didn’t have to finish all of the test since this was a diagnostic test. I just had to go as far as I knew; I did all of the integers problems, since I could now ace them, since Mr. Smith had taught me how to do them. I left questions that were advanced blank, I turned it in. Mr. Wilkerson checked my test while I tried to get to know the other students. There were three Hispanics, Jason Ales, a Cuban, Pablo Ales (they were not related), a Puerto Rican, Jorge Jimenez, a cuban, and everybody else were Haitians.(About 58% of North Niami High is Haitian. We even have a BIG schoolwide celebration on May 18th for Haitian Flag Day.) There were Patrick Hens, Daphne Walton, Octavia Pierce, Willie Anston, Jim Inns, Richard Andrews, Karen Wilson, and Jean Doors (just because they had American sounding last names didn’t mean they weren’t Haitian). They all seemed really nice.

After I got to know everybody, my test was graded. Mr. Wilkerson said I was really good at basic Math and integers, but didn’t know other advanced Math besides integers. I knew that. To make a long story short, he helped me a lot with Advanced Math. I really don’t want to go into detail about Math. I will just say, I understood much more about Math than I had before.

[Janice]

That's very good Janice. I haven't read it all, but I can see that you've put a lot of time and thought into it. Keep up the good work.

[Janice Johnson]

Originally Posted by Janice

That's very good Janice. I haven't read it all, but I can see that you've put a lot of time and thought into it. Keep up the good work.

What is your favorite part of what you've read so far?

[Janice]

Originally Posted by Janice Johnson

What is your favorite part of what you've read so far?

The character has a nice relationship with his mother, who is very caring.

[Janice Johnson]

Part 7

The week went by fast, and some of the following went by fast as well. On Wednesday, Mr. Kurns called me into his office and gave me my test results.

Mr. Johnson, your SAT scores are Verbal, 1700, Written, 1800, Math 1350. Your FCAT Scores are English, Number 4, reading, 4, and your Math was a 3. Your IQ is 120.

I nodded my head slowly, showing that I was being attentive. Those were pretty good scores. My IQ was 120? That’s Superior! I’m a genius! I’m a genius! I inwardly gloated.

I put my test results in my book bag. Mr. Kurns said, “And now here comes the good part. (He smiled at me jokingly, because everything was a “good part”). “You have been accepted at Marshall Johnson Academy School in Jacksonville.”

“I was accepted! I had so many emotions running through me. I was excited, nervous, scared, and exhilarated.

“You will finish this school year as a sophomore, but after this year, you are going to Johnson!” He was giving me a big smile.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Johnson.” He shook my hand warmly.

After that day, I worked very hard in Math. I even got my Math average up to a “B.” I finally got on the Honor Roll! I had just needed Mr. Wilkerson’s help.

I finished Sophomore Year with a 3.98 Grade Point Average. On the last day of school, I said goodbye to a lot of students, faculty, and staff. They knew I had been accepted at Johnson.

Over summer break, I began packing for my new life in Jacksonville. My mom came in while I was packing and said, “You know, Darryl, I’m going to miss you.” She had tears in her eyes.

“I know. I’m gonna miss you too,” I said. She wrapped me up in a big hug. I was going to be leaving on Monday, in two days. I hugged her back and gave her a watery smile.

Two days later, on Monday, June 12th, it was the big Moving Day! My mom had had a big going away for me party yesterday and it was like a big family reunion! (And my three best friends were there too). It was so much fun! We even had a cake that had candles on it and mom told me to make a wish (I wished for good luck in Johnson, just so you know). It was just like having a birthday party! I obeyed mom and gave mom the first slice. Who else could I give it to besides my mom? No one! There was music and lively conversation. Everybody wished me good luck. The atmosphere was very festive.

Today, mom gathered Julian, Sean, Mario, my cousin Tasha, and me in her Ford SUV. Dad picked up some of my other family members in his Ford Expedition. Mom put my luggage in her trunk. We drove to The Miami International Airport. At the Airport, everybody came out of either an SUV or an Expedition. My luggage was checked, I gave my ticket, and my ID was checked. Mom asked everyone to pray for me and we stood in a line and prayed for my well-being and for me to be blessed. We gave thanks that I was going to Jacksonville and asked for protection while on the journey to Jacksonville/Johnson and for protection wheel I was at Johnson/Jacksonville. After praying, everybody hugged me. Mom and dad gave me a LOT of spending money, and as my plane was called, I was overcome with emotion. I began to cry. Sean, Mario, and Julian were hugged me, Tasha gave me a kiss on the cheek, and mom hugged me after my friends did. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and told me she loved me. Dad playfully rubbed my head, looked at me with proud eyes, and told me he loved me. (I pushed the “begrudger” thought in the back of my mind). Then mom gave me one last hug and said she loved me too. Everybody said, “Goodbye for now, Darryl.” I began to walk backwards towards my gate. I blew them all kisses and mouthed, “I love you all,” and waved goodbye. They waved goodbye back.

I soon boarded the plane. The plane was a big American Airlines 747 Jet. I had a window seat, and I put my carry on luggage on the top rack compartment. I was shocked when I saw who my partner was. The boy looked just like my partner from the Ride Of Doom dream! I did a shocked double take. Actually, he looked a LOT like that boy! If I didn’t know any better, I would say that WAS him! I kept staring at him. He noticed me staring.

”Um, hi,” he said, sounding a little upset. I knew what lied in his greeting. Why the hell is he staring at me like that?

“I’m sorry. You look just like someone I’ve seen before, “I said simply. I was not about to tell him I saw someone who looked exactly like him in my dreams. That would freak him out. Imagine me saying, “Hi! I’ve seen you in my dreams!” And imagine him saying, “Airline Security! Get me away from this loony bin!”

“I’m Darryl,” I said amicably.

“I’m Johnny,” he said softly. Johnny was a fair-skinned boy with chestnut brown short wavy hair. He looked to be 115 pounds and about 5’6.

“So, how old are you?” I asked him.

“I’m 13. How old are you?” He asked back.

“I’m 16,” I answered him.

“I’m going to Tallahassee,” Johnny told me. “I’m going to see my grandma,” he said smiling.

“I’m going to Jacksonville to go to Marshall Johnson,” I said.

“What’s a Marshall Johnson?” Johnny asked me, furrowing his brow.

“It’s a prep school,” I answered him.

“Oh, cool,” Johnny said. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I smiled at him. “So, are you going to spend your summer with grandma?” I asked him.

“Yeah. She’s the coolest grandma ever! She’s totally awesome!” Johnny said, his whole face beaming.

“I see you love Grandma a lot, I said wryly, giving him a little smile.

“Yeah.”

The “Seatbelts” signal went on and we buckled our seatbelts. Then the plane took off. The turbulence was like a loud whooshing in my ears. I wished I had brought some gum to chew.

After takeoff, the plane flew smoothly. Johnny was an amicable kid (meaning he talked a LOT), but he was an entertaining kid.

“So, Darryl, what kind of video games to you play?” Johnny asked me.

“I play Mario Brothers,” I answered him.

“I like to play Sonic,” he answered, but MB is cool too.”

“Is Sonic that blue thing that looks like a porcupine?” I asked.

“Sonic is a hedgehog and he is cool. He has super running sneakers. He beats up a bad scientist that so that he can save animals that turn into robots.

“I thought that all Sonic did was run around,” I said, impressed. “He’s a hero.”

“Yeah, he is,” Johnny agreed.

Johnny took out a handheld Gameboy Advance and played Sonic The Hedgehog. Oh my goodness, that Hedgehog could run! Johnny wasn’t lying!

Sonic could zoom straight through “Acts” at a breakneck speed, but that wasn’t recommended, as Sonic had to dodge fireballs, hit robot animals for points (the “robots” turn into birds when hit), and avoid “squishes” (these “squishes” were obstacles that killed Sonic if Sonic didn’t maneuver through them correctly.

Johnny asked me if I would like to play. I said, “Sure.” Johnny handed me the game console. I super-ran through The Marble Zone (not straight through it though. I played the game correctly). At the end of the Marble Zone, I got to meet Dr. Robotnik, a power mad evil scientist. I tried to jump on him, but that wasn’t working, because he wasn’t dying. He put flames on the ground, and I tried once again to kill him by jumping on him, but I fell into the flames and died. I got two more chances, and tried to kill Dr. Robotnik both of those times, but died both times, and then Game Over appeared on the screen. Did “Game Over” mean to start all over from scratch? From Act One? 9Dr. Robotnik is in Act Three). I hoped not. The SEGA Logo appeared and I knew it meant to start over from scratch.

Johnny looked at me and then at the game. “Don’t worry. I have a bag full of new batteries.” He showed me a bag full of about 10 more batteries. “You can play until you get to Jacksonville,” he offered graciously.

Play Sonic until I got to Jacksonville? I repeated in my mind . No thank you.

Out loud I said, “I really don’t feel like playing Sonic anymore. (The game is a trip). You can get 80 rings, and then one robot animal touches you, and you lose them all. Rings are your protection for life. Instead of losing them one by one as each animal touches you, you lose them all. Rings are easy to get, but easy to lose. 100 rings give you an extra life. And it’s near impossible to beat Dr. Robotnik at the end of Act 3.

“Okay,” Johnny said. He turned off the power. Then he kept yakking about video games. After a while, he yakked himself to sleep.

As he slept, I reminisced about Robin. When I was 14, my mother married a man named Robin. My stepfather was abusive to me. He would grab me and shake me violently, and then give me powerful blows to my head. He would pick me up and body slam me onto our wooden floor. He once gave me a black eye. He would act like the perfect stepfather and husband around my mother, hugging me only when she was around and would tell us that he was glad to have me as a stepson. When my mother was not around, evil, maniac,psycho Robin came out and would really lay it on me. I was scared of robin, but I knew my mother loved Robin and called him the man of her dreams, so I suffered in silence.

I would visible tense whenever I was around Robin and would be totally uncomfortable. My mother just thought that I was shy around Robin. Then, one day, Robin gave me a black eye. I put on black sunglasses and went to my room. My mother later came into my room, and I quickly turned away from her, covering the side of my face with my hand.

“Darryl, what’s wrong? Why are you wearing your sunglasses at night? You are not Corey Hart.” She noticed I kept looking away from her. I didn’t want her to see my black eye.

“Look at me,” she demanded softly, but firmly. I turned in her direction. With the sunglasses on, she couldn’t see my black eye.

“Now, take off the sunglasses.”

“Um, I can’t. It’s for a Science experiment,” I lied.

“Science experiment?” She questioned suspiciously.

“Yeah,” I continued to lie.

I knew she didn’t believe me. She knew I was lying.

“What happens in the experiment?” she asked me with narrowed eyes.

“We have to see if the Ozone layer affects us while we are wearing sunglasses.”

“Ozone Layer? Yeah sure,” she replied, unconvinced.

I knew it was a crappy lie, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

She took off my sunglasses. “No!” I screamed in protest. She gasped, very shocked. “What happened to your eye?” She screamed, demandingly.

“I uh. I uh,”……. walked into a door, and it gave me a black eye,” I lied.

“Who did this to you?” You did NOT walk into a door!” She demanded.

“I told you, I walked into a door,” I lied desperately.

“You liar! Someone’s been beating you up!” she screamed, frantically.

“No! No one’s been beating me up!” I lied, even more desperately.

“Robin! Come here! Look at Darryl’s eye! Someone gave him a black eye!” She screamed, sounding really upset.

Robin came in. “Oh my gosh Darryl!” What happened to your eye?” he asked, doing a real good job of pretending to be shocked.

He should have won the Oscar.

I glared at him when mom was not looking.

“Darryl says he walked into a door, but I think someone’s been beating him up,” she said, sounding panicked.

It’s true; I walked into a door, “I insisted, knowing I was really telling a bold-faced lie.

“Stop lying, Darryl! She yelled. “Stop lying! Stop protecting whoever’s hurting you!’ She soon collapsed into tears. It hurt me to see my mother cry, but I couldn’t tell her about precious Robin.

Robin put a comforting arm around her. “I’ll give Darryl some ice and frozen meat to put on the eye,” he said softly.

“Thank you,” she said, still sobbing.

Robin put ice and frozen meat on my eye. He’s a really good actor, I thought as he treated my black eye (that he caused)

[Ireneparalegal]

I am amazed at your writing skills. Do you do a lot of writing?
How much of this is based on real people? Do you write down notes and then write your story?

[Janice Johnson]

Originally Posted by Ireneparalegal

I am amazed at your writing skills. Do you do a lot of writing?
How much of this is based on real people? Do you write down notes and then write your story?

Darryl is based on a character I saw in a shortfilm. But, the "Darryl" I write about is my own thoughts......... To make it clearer, I liked the character I saw in the shortfilm, but I wrote the "Darryl" stories with my own words................ There are LOTS of differences between my Darryl and the original "shortfilm" Darryl.

[Janice Johnson]

After that, Robin and mom left. I wrote a “story” about my abusive stepfather. I wrote, “There was a boy named Larry (Larry is “Darryl” without the “D” and rearranged letters, he had a stepfather named Bob (If Robert can have Bob as a nickname, couldn’t Robin also, because of the “Rob” ), and a mother named Andie (My mother’s name is Sandra, and I decided to say “Andie” because “Sandy” is the nickname for Sandra, and I dropped the “S” to make Andy, then put “Andie” to make it feminine. The names I chose took creative thought. It is common assumption that “Larry” is the nickname for Lawrence, Bob the nickname for Robert, and Andie the nickname for Andrea or Aundrea.

In the story, I wrote that Bob used Larry as a punchbag, but Andie had no idea. She didn’t see the fear in Larry’s eyes when Bob was around. She didn’t pay attention to Larry locking his room door when Bob was home. Andie thought everything was A-Ok. Then she found Larry on their driveway one day, bleeding from his mouth and gasping to breathe. She rushed him to the ER, he was treated, and then he told the truth about precious Bob. (I was thinking of the possibility of Robin doing something really fatal to me when I wrote that part.) Andie quickly found out that Bob was beating up Larry when she secretly spied on them. She immediately divorced Bob, and Larry and Andie’s relationship got even stronger.

I quickly put my story in my folder and put it in one of my drawers and went to bed.

When I awoke, my mother was in my room. “Robin told me what he did to you. He confessed that he’s been abusing you for months,” she said, looking at me with pained eyes.

“Yeah. He has been abusing me. He’s the one who gave me the black eye, “I confirmed.

My mother looked at me intently. “I made that up. Robin said he didn’t know where you got that black eye,” she said softly.

“Oh.” I said. I realized I had just spilled the beans.

“I figured Robin had been abusing you,” she said. She told me she had found my story, read it, and found it strange how similar the names sounded to Robin, Darryl, and Sandra. She confronted Robin, he confessed and they got their marriage annulled. I was so happy to be free of him, but sad that mom’s love turned out to be such a jerk. I tried to console her by saying she would find another man, one who was better than Robin, but she said she didn’t need any consoling, but thanked me.

Back to the present. Johnny had woken up and was once again yakking about video games. He yakked for 30 more minutes, and then I said that I was going to sleep. I did for about 30 minutes. When I awoke, the captain was saying that we were passing over Disneyworld in Orlando, Florida! I looked out of the window and looked down at Disneyworld! It was great! I wished Johnny could see it to, but in order for him to see it too, we would have to get permission from the stewardess. I asked the stewardess if we could switch seats, and she agreed. We did, and Johnny’s face lit up as he watched Disneyworld and other Orlando attractions such as Sea World and Universal Studios! After we passed Orlando, we got permission to switch back and Johnny was happy. His whole face beamed! “That was cool!” Johnny said, excited!

“I was glad Johnny was happy, even though I myself missed out. Johnny began to yak about Orlando attractions for another long while, and then we ate lunch. We had bread, butter, baked potatoes, mixed vegetables, pork chops, and apple juice. After lunch, Johnny and I both read Choose Your Own Adventure! (Books where you choose your own outcomes).

The plane arrived in Jacksonville, Florida a couple of hours later. After landing, I got my luggage and said bye to Johnny. “Good luck with Grandma,” I said. “Good luck with Johnson,” he said back. I asked for Johnny’s number (I had received a 1000 Anytime Cell Phone by my mother at the airport in MIA.) Johnny gave it to me. I put it in my pocket, and we both said goodbye. I went into Jacksonville Airport. There were so many people bustling around. It was great. I called for a cab to take me to 12450 S.W. Great Street. That would be my new home. I looked around Jacksonville. It was all new to me, but it was also the same. Jacksonville really didn’t look much different than Miami.

After the cab dropped me off at Johnson, I paid the fare and stood in front of Johnson for the first time. Johnson was a big estate. The main building was a brick building with three stories. I walked into the building.

Inside the building, there was a student tour guide who welcomed me.

“Hey, young man! How are you doing? You are walking in the finest institution in Jacksonville! He said, eagerly with a big smile.

“Hi,” I answered him. Hey Skippy, I thought in my mind. He looked like a “Skippy” to me. Preppy, perky, and eager.

He asked me if I wanted a tour of the school. I said, “Sure,” “Skippy” led me around the school. “Johnson was founded in 1898,” he told me proudly. “It’s been here for 107 years.

I gasped in sheer amazement. “That’s great,” I said impressed. I actually can’t wait to start school here,” I said, smiling eagerly too.

He smiled at me, and said, I agree with you,”

We went to a lecture hall. “Here is where students spend their time to do free stud,” he said. He took me to the dining hall, the gymnasium, the main classes hallways, the dorms, the auditorium, swimming pools, tennis courts, and golf courses. After the tour, he said, “I forgot to properly introduce myself. I’m Max Cartwright. I’m 18 years old and one of the Student Tour Guide s and one of the dorm parents. You probably figured out some of that last part.” He chuckled. He really seemed like a nice person. “What’s your name?” He asked me.

“My name is Darryl Johnson,” I answered.

“You’re a Johnson?” he repeated with raised eyebrows. “You could try to “play” a joke on fellow students and say you are a descendant of Marshall Johnson,” he suggested.

Skippy, I mean Max, must have been smoking something if he believed anybody would fall for me being a descendant of M. Johnson. M. Johnson was White. I was African-American. Anyway, I did like Max. He was very friendly.

Skippy (Max) was a 6 foot, lean guy, with pink skin, and with short blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. He was wearing Johnson’s uniform: Tan pants with a white shirt and tan tweed jacket, with black penny loafers. Each student was provided with 5 outfits.

I thanked Max, said goodbye, and then went to my dorm (Max had given me my dorm key). My dorm was dorm 309 in Alexander Hall. I unlocked the door and stepped inside. I gasped! The dorm looked just like a four-star hotel suite! It was amazing! There were two beds, which I knew meant that I would be having a dorm mate. I put my luggage on the bed and emptied its contents. I began to pack the drawers with my clothes. There was a Zenith TV in the dorm, a Dell Computer with internet access, and a bookshelf with lots of Literature books such as Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell, Pride and Prejudice, and Sense and Sensibility both by Jane Austen.

I had just settled myself on a bed when the dorm opened. I looked to see who would be my new dorm mate.

He walked in, carrying two luggage suitcases. He was tall, about 6’3, lean, and had short brown hair. His skin color was pink. He looked up (he had been looking down at his luggage), and smiled a welcoming smile when he saw me. I saw that he had chocolate-brown eyes.

“Hi,” I’m Dave,” he said, offering me a handshake.

I accepted it and said, “Hi. I’m Darryl.”

[Janice Johnson]

After we shook hands, Dave went to his bed and sat/leaned on it. “So, are you nervous about school?” He asked me.

“A little nervous,” I confessed. Tomorrow would be the first day of school.

“Well, I’m a returning student, and I can tell you, this school is not so bad. You’ll be fine,” Dave said. He gave me a reassuring smile.

“Thanks.” I smiled back at him.

“No problem,” Dave said back to me. I already liked this school. Dave and Skippy were so welcoming. I liked them.

Dave unpacked his suitcases and put away his things into his own drawers. After he was done, he asked me about my life.

“So, how did you get here?”

“I got here on a scholarship,” I answered him.

“How did you get that?”

“My mom wanted me to apply for a scholarship, so she told me to apply for one.”

“Oh. Did you get the scholarship right away?”

“I found out I got it after a little over a week.”

“How did you feel when you got the scholarship?”

Some people would have been put off by Dave’s questions and would have thought that Dave was a nosy busybody. But I liked Dave and didn’t mind. I just laughed and answered, “I felt happy.”

“How do you like Johnson so far?” Dave asked.

“I like it. The tour guide is so nice,” I answered.

“You mean Max?” Dave asked. I nodded. “Yeah, he is really nice. He’s one of the sweetest guys around, “Dave said, looking really sentimental.

I suddenly wondered if the two of them had a thing together.

“Are you and Max……….um?” I didn’t want to ask directly, though.

Dave said, “Oh no. We don’t like each other that way. I just admire his sweet nature.”

“Oh,” I said.

Dave left the dorm. I soon fell asleep. Dave woke me up at 7:20. “Come on, get up! It’s time to get ready for school! Here is your uniform.” He gave me a uniform outfit (they looked like the ones Skippy had on yesterday).

“Thank you Dave” I said, thanking him for the uniforms and for waking me up.

“You’re welcome,” Dave answered me.

I sleepily made my way to the bathroom. (Every dorm had its own bathroom). The bathroom was white with a long counter with a sink in the middle of it. There were two towels, one was blue, and the other one was orange.

“Dave, which towel is yours?” I asked.

“The orange one,” he answered.

Dave came into the bathroom without knocking.

“Dave! I admonished him. “You can’t come in without knocking first! I could have been doing………….things.”

“Sorry,” he said. He left, closing the door. Then he knocked.

“Come in,” I said, laughing.

He opened the door and came in.

“I just wanted to tell you where everything was,” Dave said. “The Crest toothpaste is in the top drawer. That’s yours. The blue unopened toothbrush in the same drawer is yours too. My toothbrush is Complete Care. The pink toothbrush is mine. Those two are in the middle draw.”

“We can’t share toothbrushes?” I cracked.

“I wouldn’t mind sharing my Complete Care with you, but you wouldn’t like to share my toothbrush. I have tons of plaque and tartar build-up,” Dave said, smiling.

I asked Dave to look away as I undressed to take a shower. He did.

I went into the shower and closed the curtain. I told Dave he could look anywhere he wanted to now. The shower was really a shower and not a shower/bathtub. The showerhead had 5 different spa settings. I luxuriously showered. I washed with the Dove Bar that was in the soap dish. The water felt so good, and the soap smelled so good that I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to shower for a LONG time. I was in the shower for at least 30 minutes before Dave said, “Darryl! Class starts at 8:30. Do you know it’s 8:05? You’re gonna be late!”

I finished the shower and rushed out. I quickly wiped, put on my clothes, brushed my teeth, and put on my uniform. I quickly brushed my hair, packed my bookbag, put on lotion, and then put on deodorant.

Dave said, “You’re too late to eat “real” breakfast in the dining hall, so here’s a Nutrigrain Bar.” He handed me an Apple Cinnamon Bar (the green colored wrapper). I gratefully accepted it, ate it, and then Dave and I walked to Marshall Johnson school.

I looked at my schedule. My first class would be Intro to Psychology. Dave and I only had two classes together. We said, “Goodbye.”

I walked into Room 101, in the first building. When I went inside, I saw that the seats looked just like the ones from North Miami Senior High. The seats had wooden tops, with a chair attached to the top. Under the seats, you could put books in a little tray. I sat in the third aisle, third row.

Our professor (here they were professors, in N.M. they had been teachers), was a tall balding man with horn-rimmed glasses, pink skin, and a bit of a gut. His eyes were gray.

I looked at the clock. It was 8:31. Other students began filing in. A boy with close cropped brown hair walked in. Another boy with curly red hair came in. Another boy with stringy black hair came in. Another boy with spiky blond hair walked in. More boys came in. A total of 15 boys (including me) were in this class.

Where are there only boys in this class? Where are the babes? You may be wondering. This is an all-boys school. It’s also a predominantly White school. There are only a handful of Blacks, Hispanics, Asians, and Middle-Eastern students here. And when I say handful, I mean like 5 minority students of each minority.

In my psych class, we read about Jeffrey Dahmer, the guy who raped people (mostly guys), tortured and then killed them, and then ate their (dead) bodies. Eew, eew, eew. Gives a new meaning to the term “Loves to eat.” Nasty! Then we had to talk about how J.D. made us feel.

“It’s disgusting,” I said. I wanted to throw up.

“It’s abominable,” Rick Small said.

“I’m glad he’s dead,” Jorge Lopez said. “We’re rid of a person like that.”

“What was wrong with his mind?” Milton Wakeman asked.

Professor Watson answered, “He obviously had a chemical brain imbalance.”

“I think I’m going to have nightmare for weeks,” Rodney Kelly said, shuddering.

Other students murmured disapproving sayings too. After the class was over, it was time for my Remedial Math. (Even though I had gotten a “B” last year in the final semester, North Miami staff still told Johnson I needed Remedial Math. In Remedial Math, there were 10 students (including me). Our professor was a man who looked about 60 years old, but had a full head of hair. (All of my professors are White, so I don’t have to explain their skin colors). He had blue eyes and was about 5’12.

In Remedial Math, we did basic fractions. I really don’t like Math THAT much, so I really will sum up my first class: You have to do the reciprocal of the fractions you see in order to start working on them. (Reciprocal means flip it around).

After R.M, there was Western Philosophy. We had to talk about Socrates, the Philosopher. I’m thinking, “That’s that Greek guy, right?” In my middle school, Thomas Jefferson, Mr. Wright had discussed Socrates with us, but that was over three years ago. I hadn’t really kept in “touch” with Socrates since then.