"Um... Mr. Miller! Could you please explain what peroxidases are?" Mr. Henderson inquired.
"They belong to the oxidoreductase enzyme category, sir; their usual function involves catalyzing the reduction of peroxides into water and oxygen."
"Exactly. The overall reaction catalyzed by peroxidases can be expressed as follows..." Mr. Miller continued, starting to write on the whiteboard. I glanced back and locked eyes with Andrea; she rolled her eyes and mouthed, "Such a show-off."
The intercom buzzed, announcing, "Andrea Nicolson, please proceed to the principal's office. Andrea Nicolson, please report to the principal's office." The message coincided with the bell ringing, signaling the end of the class.
This Thursday, classes were set to end early due to the deadline for registering for electives and extracurricular activities, a matter the school took seriously. Considering my choices, the Press Club piqued my interest as it seemed like a delightful pursuit. Upon investigating the club further, it seemed to be a manageable and reasonably undemanding commitment.
With five days in the school week and ten members in the club, each day saw a two-member team responsible for preparing the morning news, which was announced just before classes commenced. "Fun," I thought, as I entered the combination for my locker. I put my bag in, taking out only a pen and a notepad that could fit in my pocket.
I made my way to the notice board hoping they would be taking applications. "Let's see," I remarked, joining several other students by the board.
A sizable poster displayed an upcoming "Clash of Champions" event, showcasing a match between "Arthur Kovalevsky" the 2022 Panat's champion and "Michael Bryant" the defending champion. The event was scheduled for that Friday at the CPHS Football Field.
I was acquainted with Michael; he used to be my next-door neighbor, residing in the house between mine and PJ's. We were classmates at Dexter Elementary, trailing PJ by just a year. Currently a senior, he occupied the exact position I would have been in.
Recalling our walks home, memories resurfaced of a specific day when we visited his house. The basement repurposed into a gym, featured a heavy bag that he would have me hold while he practiced his punches. While we weren't the closest of friends, it provided a better alternative to being alone at home after school.
To the best of my knowledge, he had never emerged victorious in any significant match; he was, for all intents and purposes, a perpetually unsuccessful contender. Had he not faced defeat, I could have potentially competed against him instead of the "Agony."
Bringing myself back to the present, I thought, "It'll be a fun one to watch." He would be a much better fighter now; certainly, he had to be, considering he was now the champion.
I had stood there for a few minutes when the bell rang out again. By now, I was accustomed to the various sounds, each signaling a change in schedule for a different year. A single long buzz indicated a transition for freshmen, two buzzes for sophomores, three for Juniors and so forth. It was two this time.
The hallways started to fill up, I purposely distanced myself from the notice board that caught everyone's attention. There wasn't any information about the press club there anyway. "I mean this isn't the only board in the school" I thought as I admired the crowd now beginning to form by the single notice board. As I made my way back to my locker.
The hallways began to fill up, I intentionally distanced myself from the notice board which seemed to have captured everyone's attention. There wasn't any information about the press club there anyway.
"I mean, this isn't the only notice board in the school," I thought, observing the crowd gathering around the single notice board on the ground floor. I turned around, making my way to the library; I assumed they would have more information there.
"I mean, don't they realize they post the information on the website first?" someone commented, their disgust evident from the tone.
I found myself in a quiet corner of the library, a dead-end near the librarian's office. According to the school's website, I should have come across a brown door.
"Eddie," Andrea called out from behind a partially closed brown door – the very one I had been searching for, unknowingly passing by, engrossed in my phone.
Retracing my steps, I inquired, "Andrea?"
"Yeah, come on in," she replied. "Don't mind the mess," she added, referring to scattered rolled-up pieces of paper on the floor. As she walked past me, she handed a staple gun to someone who had entered just behind me, giving instructions that I didn't bother to listen to.
"Is this…" I started.
"The Press Club? Yeah!" she interrupted, appearing more at ease than earlier, taking a sip from a black water bottle on the desk.
"Kelly's all-powerful press club," she continued, glancing behind me and raising her eyebrows twice to playfully tease a lady who had entered behind me, grabbed something, and was now leaving without allowing me a chance to catch a glimpse of her face.
I turned around, now facing the door.
"What brings you here anyway?" she asked, diverting my attention back to her.
"Extracurriculars," I replied, retrieving my notepad from my back pocket and then clearing several documents from a chair to sit on.
"Well, I'll tell you what, if we do have a club by the end of the day, you're more than welcome to join in Sir." She said taking another sip from the bottle.
I released a deep breath. "Rough day, huh?"
"You don't even know," she replied, massaging her forehead and then abruptly stopping. "What about boxing?"
"It's an all-girls team," I replied quickly, having anticipated the question.
"Oh please, all girls…" she started, rolling her eyes, "I mean, that didn't stop you from getting schmacked up by Mikaela last week," she continued, biting her lower lip and playfully mimicking a left-hook right-hook combo from her seat, accidentally knocking over the water bottle.
Our eyes met, I shook my head, and she burst into laughter.
"Of course, " I said managing a smile, as I leaned to pick the bottle.
"So, here's the gist" she announced out of nowhere.
"Kelly wrote a bit of an expose on the school's finances last semester, particularly concerning the disparity in funding between the all-girls boxing team and the football team. All boys" she added with a nod to suggest the obvious nature of the latter. "Mrs. Garcia did not like that at all, hence the special attention. Now, she has our finances in a tight grasp, and as evident, without funds, we can't operate the press, can we?" she concluded, giving a kick to a rolled-up piece of paper. "Frustrating." She added letting out a deep sigh.
"That's, a lot," I said, not entirely sure what to do. "…Kelly is?"
"President, Press, and Student Body. Soon to be Ex-Captain of the Boxing team as well now too, what with Mikaela smacking guys around and all," she added with a smirk.
"Let it go… Andy!" I teased. "So, she's a senior then?" I asked.
"Junior." She replied, taking another sip from the bottle.
"Well, you're a freshman, how did you manage to get elected VP?"
"Sophomore," she corrected. "Not the best with chemistry, hence our shared experience in Mr. Henderson's class. Plus, you get appointed VP here" she added shaking the bottle which was now empty.
She stood up and handed me a form, "You can return this tomorrow if you're still interested."
The door swung open, but no one had entered yet. However, a distinct sweet scent filled the air, unmistakably that of the Vaseline girl. She strolled in, stopping to wave, with a hint of elegance in her voice as she greeted, "Oh, hello."
She dropped a folder on the desk and extended her hand for a handshake. "Kelly," she said introducing herself, "I believe we've met once before, under less… graceful circumstances." She continued. "Edward? Is it?"
"Yes, Edward Miller," I replied, standing to accept the handshake. For a moment, it felt as if my hand had passed through hers, but I soon realized it was simply due to how unbelievably soft her hands were—surprising for anyone, let alone an alleged boxer.
A smile gradually formed on her face as she looked directly at me. I released her hands gently, realizing I had held on for too long. She then turned to Andrea, who was completely absorbed in the folder she had brought in.
"Let's talk after school, Andrea," she said, turning around to walk away, her long, flowing red hair echoing the turn. She waved, softly whispering goodbye as she exited through the door.
I was thinking, what was I thinking about? There was a ticking sound. Andrea was striking her pen against the table, "Hello?"
I shook my head as if to clear my thoughts, "Yeah?"
"Pass the stapler" pointing at the stapler on the other side of the desk beyond her reach.
"What are you doing Friday night?" she asked. passing me a pen and motioning for me to fill out the registration form.
"Uhm, nothing?" I replied straightening out the form on the desk.
"Daydreaming maybe," she said her hands propping up her head on the desk. "I mean for a boxer your focus is just terrible."
"What do you know about my focus?" I asked flicking her nose with the pen.
She stared at me in awe, nodding... "Wow, Eddie you..."
The intercom beeped, "Andrea Nicolson please report to the principal's office..."
"Bruh,..." Andrea exclaimed, the fatigue evident in her voice. She lowered her head between her arms onto the desk, her tidy ponytail supported, while the loose ends of her hair cascaded over her head like a fountain's flowing water.
"So Friday, let's see..." she said raising her head and assuming a more serious demeanor. "The sophomores are unavailable so that leaves just Kelly..." she said completely focused on her phone.
"....and you I guess. You'll have to do," she said collecting the form I had just completed.
"Welcome to the press club Eddie Miller,..." she said as she stood up gathering a few things, some of which went into her bag.
With the pull of a cord, she opened the window blinds, exposing a clear view of the football field. It was my first real look at the field, I had seen impressive pictures but they hadn't done justice to the real thing, it was pristine. A few people were setting up various things for the upcoming event. Andrea took a quick look and pulled the cord again closing the window blinds.
She handed me the box she was holding onto, it was a small box with the school's logo on the top. It had written on the top "CPHS Press." It was almost identical to the packet I had received from James and Mikaela.
"Welcome, to the club." she repeated, "First order of business, commentary duty tomorrow evening with Kelly. Break a leg" she said as she picked up her bag.
"After you," she urged now positioned by the door, keys in hand.