Chapter Description: Brandon makes some temporary friends at his new school.
The first month of school is always pretty easy, because teachers focus more on starting things up, so it’s pretty simple. Coming in October is like eating just the cupcake without the frosting. Basically, I came and had to get right to work.
It was as if I was absent for a month, because I had a lot of makeup work to do.
It was weird to have my old teachers. They kept asking me if I had an older brother, and I always said no.
It was sort of nice being the king of the school, though. There were only two grades in the entire school, so it was like a little family. The kids here were much nicer then the freshmen. They really liked me, and it made me wish I could stay here.
Somewhere in the first week, a stalky boy with dark hair walked up to me.
"My name’s Sam." he said. "You are?"
"I’m Brandon. I’m sort of new here."
"Well, Brandon, you seem like a cool guy, want to hang out some time?"
I was hesitant to take this offer, because I knew making friends would only make me really sad later on when I had to leave, but I said yes anyway.
Sam turned out to be a really cool person. His dad owned a motorbike company, and his whole back yard was motorized bikes, scooters, even lawn mowers. We rode those around a lot, and for a little while, I forgot I wasn’t really thirteen.
Sam was also a huge prankster, so we sort of became the class clowns. Whenever a teacher turned their back, one of us would make a cat noise, and then look away. This was really, funny, especially on the older teachers. We sat on opposite sides of the room, so when he looked at one of us, the other would make the noise.
I spent those next few weeks pretty happy. For the first time, I wasn’t sarcastic and sullen. I even talked to my parents a bit.
As the weeks went by, I noticed myself getting significantly smaller than Sam. I was now only 5’ 2", losing two more inches. Nobody tried to fight me or anything though, because I never gave them a reason to. Yep, things were really turning out.
However, as the days went by, that doctor’s visit grew ever closer. I knew that when I went, I would be sent down to 7th grade, because I knew for sure I was only about 12 now, physically. Not mentally, though. I was struggling but succeeding at keeping strong and not letting myself forget who I was. I realized though, that my old self sometimes slipped my mind when I was enjoying myself.
For example, the other day, somebody at the supermarket asked how old I was, and I told them I was Thirteen. I quickly corrected myself and said almost sixteen, which the lady laughed at. Every day since then, I have been writing on the wall in marker the same sentence over and over.
’I AM SIXTEEN YEARS OLD’
Even though I was still really fifteen, (Although my maturity level and stature suggested otherwise) It was easier to remember. I told myself to stop being so happy with where I was so I would remember who I really was. I wasn’t one of these kids, I was a junior in high school.
Halloween finally came around, and I went trick-or-treating with Sam, but I couldn’t really enjoy it. This was my last day with him before I was sent to the other wing of the school.
We hit a lot of houses, and I ate way too many candy bars. I got really hopped up on sugar, and we ran around having a beer-bottle sword fight for a few hours. Then we fell asleep on the couch, watching south park.
The next day was Saturday, and I was dreading going to the doctor. I was even more depressed when I saw Mrs. Figg there.
She saw me, now the same height as her, and grinned.
My parents left the room, and Mrs. Figg started asking me questions.
"How’s your new life going?" she asked. I was determined not to let her win.
"Just fine, Bitch. Fucking Fabulous." for some reason, I just sounded more like a kid blatantly trying to use swear words than someone being tough.
"I see we still have a vocabulary." she said. "That will be gone soon enough. How old are you?"
"Twelve!" I said loudly, so that everyone could hear. Then I corrected myself. "Fifteen. Right? Yah, I’m fifteen."
"I see. Do you watch pornography?" she smiled.
"Uhh... Yah, I watch it. All the time." I struggled to remember what porn was. I knew it had to do with sex, but I wasn’t completely sure.
"Really? Your barely in 7th grade, and you watch that stuff?"
"I’m not talking to you anymore," I said, remembering she was the reason I was here. It disturbed me I didn’t know some of the adult stuff I thought I did.
I got up, and walked out, and my parents were escorted in. I didn’t see what they were talking about in there.
"He’s not adjusting as quickly as I had hoped." said Mrs. Figg. "Still very rebellious."
"What should we do?" asked Ken.
"You need to start treating him like his age. Treat him like he’s twelve. That will help, but it still won’t make him forget everything by the time he’s nine."
"Then what should we do?" Sally asked.
"I think we may need to send him back further. I would say to 4 or 5." she smiled a bit.
"That young? Are you sure?"
"Yep." she said, "Or he will just be miserable as a nine year old, still conscious of who he is. Also, you shouldn’t tell him until at least February, it will only make him more rebellious."
"Ok..... If that’s what you think." said Ken.
In fact, Mrs, Figg had never planned to have him stop at fourth grade. She wanted to test her procedure all the way to almost toddler stage, to get the full effect. And Brandon was the perfect test subject.