The classroom atmosphere was terrible, and the teaching method was lackluster. The couple sitting behind Song Ya were already making out, while the white male teacher at the front continued reading Dickinson's poems as if nothing were happening. The bell rang, and without a second glance, he grabbed his bag and left, not even bothering to linger.
"Ugh..."
Song Ya let out a long sigh. His English grades were already bad, and his "Chinese soul" didn't help much. Reading wasn't a problem, but writing and speaking were his weak spots. Unfortunately, the teacher wasn't much help. Of course, it wasn't that he didn't want to, but that he was too afraid to do anything about it.
Since the teacher wouldn't teach well, Song Ya knew he couldn't afford to slack off. He had researched this thoroughly: no matter what, English, with its high credit weight, was essential for graduation. No matter the conditions, he had to push through. "After lunch, I'll head to the library to borrow some books and study at home. Ugh, I still have to play that damn basketball after school. What does a time-traveling genius lack the most? Time!"
He lingered in his seat for a bit, and once most of the students had left, he stood up and headed for the cafeteria. He had come up with a plan to deal with bullying: lay low, be a 'nobody.' Hmm… later, he'd need to talk to the overly eager math teacher to ask her to stop drawing attention to him.
Trying his best to minimize his presence, he slowly entered the school cafeteria, which was the most orderly place in the school. The vice principal stood at the entrance, supervising the queue. The gym teacher patrolled inside, and security guards were posted at all exits. The lunch ladies were ready for action, and posters featuring a smiling old Black man adorned the walls, with a large headline: "27 years! The Victory of Being Late!"
Under the old man's "watchful smile," Song Ya quickly devoured a hamburger with meat, mashed potatoes, white sauce mixed with boiled broccoli and carrots, and a large cup of soda. He then discreetly tossed his tray into the recycling bin, avoiding the teacher's gaze. American high schools let out early, so lunch breaks were short. He hurried to the library, borrowed a collection of Franklin D. Roosevelt's speeches, then rushed to the teacher's office. There, he politely expressed his desire to keep a low profile to his math teacher.
The math teacher was an elegant Black woman, and ever since Song Ya's math grades had improved, she had become more and more fond of him. Smiling, she said, "Here's a suggestion: If you can pass my ninth-grade foundation course exam, I'll move you to the advanced math class. How about it?"
"Advanced class?" Song Ya was stunned.
"Advanced class!"
Through her patient explanation, Song Ya learned that American high schools offered advanced or honors courses in addition to the regular ones each year. These courses were much harder and came with additional credits.
"Okay, I'll do my best!" Hearing there were credits involved, Song Ya became enthusiastic. Exams were nothing; he could handle those!
Excited, he bid farewell to his math teacher, only to bump into the music teacher at the door.
This white middle-aged woman with neatly cut short hair was not as easygoing. While Song Ya struggled with academics, this school was strong in the arts and sports, with the orchestra and choir under the music teacher's supervision being well known. As such, her demands were very strict. "Alexander, right? Last week, your trumpet had several major mistakes during rehearsal!"
Song Ya immediately wilted. There was always a trade-off. This body had decent music and athletic talent, especially in music, where he was the lead trumpeter in the school orchestra. Unfortunately, ever since Song Ya had traveled into this body, his math grades had improved, but his sense of rhythm and coordination had gone downhill.
"I'll do better next time…"
"I'm afraid there won't be a next time!" The music teacher cut him off sharply. "The public performance is approaching. I can't take risks. Next rehearsal, you won't play the trumpet—go lift weights instead!"
"Lift what?"
"Triangle iron!"
"Alright…" Song Ya wiped his sweat. "I can still earn credits for lifting… weights, right?"
"Only if you don't mess up again!"
"Okay… okay…"
As long as he kept his credits, a little setback wasn't a big deal. Song Ya attended the afternoon classes diligently and met up with Tony outside the classroom at 3:00 PM, as scheduled. The two of them then got into Tony's best friend, 'Silencer's' Toyota 86—also known as the Eagle sports wagon.
"What's up?"
Once they were in the backseat, Song Ya noticed that both Tony and Silencer weren't in the best of moods.
'Silencer' started the car, glanced back, and made a throat-cutting gesture toward Song Ya.
The backseat was cluttered with dirty jerseys, pads, and two footballs.
"What's going on? Did you guys get…" Song Ya finally understood what 'Silencer's' gesture meant.
'Silencer' nodded, and Song Ya noticed the faint glimmer of tears in his eyes…
Tony and 'Silencer' were both key members of the school's football team. Tony was a defender, and 'Silencer' was a running back in the offense group. Song Ya had even watched their practice match last week.
In American high schools and colleges, football players were considered untouchable, especially quarterbacks or star players. If they got kicked off the team, it was a huge blow to them. But, considering Tony and 'Silencer' were both in twelfth grade, nearing graduation, and with a new generation of players coming in…
"Let's not talk about this. Why do people call you APLUS?"
Before Song Ya could think of anything comforting to say, Tony wiped his face and changed the topic.
"Uh…"
Tony must have heard it from someone in the class. "It's nothing. I just got an A+ on the last math exam, so…"
Before he could finish, the two in the front seat twisted their faces, and the usually silent 'Silencer' turned around and shouted, "A+?! YOU?!"
"What… what's wrong?" Song Ya felt a little guilty.
"Hahahaha!" Both of them burst out laughing.
"There's nothing funny about this."
"This is hilarious, APLUS, hahahaha…" Tony laughed so hard that he nearly fell over, "This is really funny."
Whatever the case, this little episode lightened the mood, and the three of them laughed and joked. 'Silencer' turned on the car radio, and along with Tony, they started moving to the beat of the rap music playing.
"Do they already have chanting in this era…" Song Ya couldn't help but mutter in his mind.