Hello, journal! Welcome back to existence; I’m sorry about losing you under my bed a few years ago. My name is Brady Costen in case you’ve forgotten: world-renowned super spy, expert skydiver, genius in the making, and professional twelve-year-old. You may recognize me from the news. I believe that the official headline was “Local Kid Rescued From Tree After Cat Kicks Away Ladder,” but if you read between the lines, you’ll be able to pick up on how truly larger-than-life I really am.
As you can probably tell from my glowing (and obviously extremely accurate) résumé, me and my friends were the absolute kings of our school last year. Not only were we the oldest, and therefore automatically the coolest, kids at Forestwood Elementary School, I actually had two different teachers who didn’t hide behind their desks the moment I entered their classrooms. Two! You have no idea how long that took to accomplish. Anyway, things were pretty great. My best friend Kevin and I rode our newly-found royalty status all the way through summer, ordering little kids around and setting traps for old Mrs. Hubbard’s cat (I swear I’ll make him pay for that ladder stunt). Life was just about perfect. At least, until this week…
You see, journal, like any rational person accustomed to royalty treatment, I wasn’t too nervous about my first day of middle school. In fact, other than the food, the totalitarian rules, and the general atmosphere of learning, I was almost looking forward to it. I even picked out my outfit the day before. It would have been awesome if my mom hadn’t caught me halfway out the door and told me that going as Batman wasn’t an option. Some parents have so little imagination.
Anyway, Kevin and I rode our bikes together and locked them up on the shiny new bike rack outside Forestwood Middle School. The bike rack, not surprisingly, was shaped like a bunch of little trees (it’s kinda a running theme in our town). Once that was done, we strode through the front doors of the school, strutting like the kings we were. Well, I was strutting. Kevin was sorta skipping. Maybe he had a rock in his shoe.
Something very bizarre happened as we went though. Not a single person noticed us. I mean it! Not one person. Now, I should let you know, I’m used to getting a lot of different responses when I first walk into a room, but I’ve never been ignored like this! I have a repellent to being ignored that my sister calls ‘ignorance,’ whatever that means. Halfway down the hall, after Kevin and I had been repeatedly bumped into and tripped (totally on accident, I’m sure), we realized just why everyone was keeping their heads down. Just as the two of us made it to our lockers, five neanderthals the size of houses burst out of the boys bathroom, their red eyes glowing as they looked for their next target. Unfortunately for me, I was still wearing my Batman mask.
The largest of the neanderthals, a boy who looked as though he should have graduated to high school about three years before, turned his evil, beady eyes on me. “What are you supposed to be?” he asked, his voice as thick as his skull.
I stared back at him, contemplating. Believe it or not, I did actually know beforehand that what I said next was a bad idea, but I also knew I’d probably never have another chance to pull it off again. So, looking up at him with as deep of a voice as I could muster, I replied, “I’m Batman.” I’m sure you can guess how that turned out.
Needless to say, Kevin and I learned pretty quickly that keeping our heads down really wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Also, not surprisingly, none of our classmates from last year came to sit with us during lunch this last week. Kevin claimed that the reason he stuck by me was because he was a “true friend, courageous in all circumstances and faithful to the end,” but I’m pretty sure it was only because the group of trolls had already identified us as co-conspirators. It got so bad that by Thursday when I flung down my backpack on the ground of my dad’s car repair shop, Randy knew instantly that something was wrong.
Have I told you about Randy yet, journal? He’s basically the coolest guy ever to exist in the history of the world. Less than an hour after his high school graduation, he hopped in his beat up jeep, drove into my dad’s repair shop and asked him for a job. My dad said… no. Even so, Randy came back every day until my dad finally agreed to hire him. He tells clients now that it was the best decision he ever made. Ever since then when I stop by after school, I can always count on Randy to grab me a cold Coke from the ice box and ask how I am surviving. Luckily for me, he’s a born listener.
Anyway, back to Thursday.
“It’s so insane,” I told him, pausing just long enough to gulp down a mouthful of fizz. “Here I come into new territory, expecting my monarchy to be respected, only to have it ripped right out from under me! No wonder England still doesn’t like us.”
“Mmm-hmm,” replied Randy, wiping a lock of long greasy hair out of his face as he bent down over the engine of a Ford on life support.
I sighed and took another sip of my Coke. Somehow, even with the bubbling goodness dancing on my tongue, I didn’t feel much better. After a moment, I looked up at the twenty-year-old, my face screwed up in thought.
“Randy, you were in middle school before,” I said, my voice sounding as puzzled as I felt. “How come a bunch of smelly troll wannabes get to reign over the school while us upcoming sixth graders get pushed to the back seat?”
Randy paused in his work and leaned on the hood of the Ford, chewing thoughtfully on a toothpick. “Well,” he said at last, his words slow in coming as he thought each over carefully first, “I guess some people just act out more when there aren’t strict consequences.” As right as he probably was, the thought didn’t encourage me. It wasn’t like I could do anything about it.
That was yesterday. But earlier today, everything changed. As I sat in the cafeteria, watching helplessly as the band of bullies I had affectionately named the Dull Droll Troll club tripped a sixth grade girl as she left the lunch line, a thought suddenly came to me. No, I may not be able to do anything about the school bullies, but one day, when I’m older, I’ll do something even bigger: something that will change society as we know it. I, Brady Costen, am going to become… Dictator of the World!
Photo credit: Sabina Boyer