CHAPTER NINE

In High School I was good at English. I could write. I liked writing short stories. And at Poly, junior year, I ended up in an Advanced Placement English class taught by this hard-nosed German born teacher named, Gregor Himler. He was, like, 100 years old. And frankly told the class, “Your comprehension of the English language is primitive. By the end of the semester only one of you will have an A. Not because I’m grading on a curve. But because most of you will not understand what I’m trying to teach you. And that is that.” Right off the bat I was scared of him.

But Xavier, he wasn’t scared of him at all. He actually boldly declared to Mr. Himler that he, Xavier, was the one kid in the class who was going to get that A. And not by doing the work. But by writing the most undeniable piece of literature the world would ever see.

Xavier ended up dropping out of high school half way through the semester. So I never got to see if he was bluffing, just raging against the machine or if he really intended on writing something undeniable.

One day in class, while he was still in the class, I saw him reading a comic book. But not a regular comic book. It was Gaiman’s, Sandman. The one based around, Midsummer Night’s Dream. I’d heard about that comic book and how it actually received a legitimate literary award. I couldn’t find it anywhere. And, Xavier was reading it in AP English while, Mr. Himler was lecturing about, Night.

For some reason, after class, I don’t know what it was, maybe this genetic desire to know all things comic book, I walked up to him. He was sitting under his locker in one of the hallways where no one goes because of the stench from the boys bathroom.

He noticed me standing there. For ten minutes. Smiling. Like a maniac. “Hey, you’re name is, Corn, right?” he asked scratching his head.

“Yeah!” I exclaim excited. “You know me?”

“I know you’re cousin, Apple.” he says. “She said you like video games.”

“I do!” I said happily.

“You got the new Gamestation gaming console?” he asked.

“Do I got it? do I got it, you ask?” I said with a confident smile.

“I do ask.” he said. “Do you?”

“YES!” I shouted.

“Nice. You got the new End Of Fantasy II?”

“Do chickens chick?” I attempted humor.

“Yes they do, my friend. Yes they do.”

I smiled. Happy. He knew my world.

“Mind if I see it?” he asked.

“No problem.”

“What you doing right now?” He asked.

“Uh…” I stuttered, not understanding the question. “Going to PE?”

“Naw man.” He drew me in closer, his hand on my shoulder. “You’re parents are at work, right?”

“Uh…yeah…” I stammered.

“You got keys to your house, right?” He smiled devilishly.

“Uh…”

“C’mon. It’ll be fun. I really got to see what the Chickenbot races look like.”

Oh man, I thought to myself. I didn’t want to get in trouble.

“You won’t get in trouble.” He said, reading my mind. ”Trust me. I know these neighborhood streets like the back of my hand. I know what time the truant officers ride through. Don’t worry about it, Corn. I got you covered.”

Oh man, I thought. What was I getting myself into?

We didn’t get in trouble, though. We made it to my house. It felt like an adventure! I felt like Odysseus trying to find his way home! And we did! We made it! To my house!

And we played End of Fantasy until it was time to go back to school. Five hours. Just video games, soda, and noodles. It was fun.

Before we went back to school, Xavier asked me, “Say, Corn. You like Shakespeare?”

“Yes.” I replied.

He reached into his backpack and pulled out the Midsummer Nights Dream Sandman comic book. “I’ll let you borrow this, if you let me borrow End Of Fantasy.”

“Oh man…” I said, conflicted.

“C’mon. I’ll bring it back to you in a week.” He said. “This book, this book here will change your life.”

“…Alright…” As soon as the words left my mouth, I thought I would never see that game again.

We traded game for comic book.

And, Xavier never went back to school. Except to being back my game. He told me to keep the comic book. So I did. 

At the end of the semester, I was the only one to get an A in Mr. Himler’s class.

And I still write to this day.

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