It was August 16, 2015. It was also my first day of middle school. I was now officially a sixth grader. All of my teachers were doing the icebreaker thing where they make you say something about yourself, and then learn more about other people. All the teachers do this. However, one of my teachers made us tell something about ourselves. All teachers do this, but this one was a little different. Instead of just telling one fact about ourselves and get it over with, we had to create some sort of project. Why do we do this? I have no idea. I have to do these projects every single year. There wasn’t one year where I didn’t have this project. A few days after that, we had to present this project to the entire class. After I shared mine, people started discussing something. I knew they were talking about my project, which usually meant that I just embarrassed myself in front of the entire class. I ran back to my seat and sat down, and the next person presented. After some more presentations, the bell rang. While I was packing up my stuff, someone came.
“You like ANIME?”
Oh. So that was what everyone was talking about. I ignored him and went off.
Now, in this same class, we were about to switch seats. I didn’t really hate anyone at this time, so I didn’t really care who I ended up next to. After the teacher finished, I realized that I was sitting across from the kid who commented on my project on the first week of school. Well, I thought, he wasn’t even the only one, and besides, everyone else probably forgot about that project except for me. I decided to just deal with it. I put my backpack and oboe under the desk I was assigned and then waited for everyone else to get their seats assigned. I looked at the other two people in my table group. One I knew from last year in elementary school, and the other I didn’t know. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
The next day, the kid, whose name I remember as Ryan, proved me wrong.
“Why do you have a nuclear launch code inside a suitcase?” he asked, pointing to the oboe. Really? A nuclear launch code? Some people mistook the oboe for a clarinet, a flute, or a saxophone, but a nuclear launch code? This was new. “It’s an oboe.” I said. Somehow, Ryan didn’t understand that.
“Give me the nuclear launch code.”
“It’s not a nuclear launch code. It’s an oboe.”
“Stop lying and give me the suitcase!”
Then the bell rang. This would continue for many days.
One week later, I entered class. Ryan was there, as usual.
“I’m not weird, right?” he asked me.
“You’re weird.” I replied.
This would continue for a few days. Every day, he would ask that question, and I answered the same way.
At some point, I added, “You asked me that yesterday. Be quiet.” Not that telling him that would do anything. Why didn’t the teacher make us switch seats already? We switched seats in one of my other classes. Why not this one? This made me irritated. This continued for about one month. This would have still continued happening if it weren’t for the miracle. We finally switched seats. This would have made my entire day if I didn’t have this period before the end of the day. My wish was finally granted.
One week later, I got a replacement Ryan, plus three other Ryans in three other classes. Having just one Ryan was better than having four. I don’t even know if I should call them replacement Ryans. Ryan isn’t even as bad. I wanted to hit one of them with something. The next day, I did. By “accident.”