Crash! A dove collided against the glass. Snap! Its neck snapped in half. Crack! It broke more bones when it landed on the hard concrete sidewalk. This was the animalistic event that took my eyes off of Question 3a of my English test. Instead of answering the central question about the important thematic elements of Dracula, I opted to view this shocking sight. And by viewing it, I caught Mr. Grincher’s flaming ire.

  “What do you think you are looking at, Calvin Boy?” That nickname was more derogatory than hell. It boiled my blood any time his disgusting voice uttered it. But I did not have the power to fight back. I had to lie.

  “U-um working?”

  My stammer betrayed my nervousness which I was actively fighting. I was hoping that he would be more merciful this time (like Jesus) and let it slide. Boy, I was dead wrong.

  With an accusing finger and such a sharp increase in volume that my ears would have bled if I sat at the front, he yelled, “You are a liar! Get out!!”

  I hesitated. Was this for real? Was he bluffing? Everyone was now looking at me like an expectant audience. Their eyes showed it all-the sooner I was gone, the freer they would be.

  “I said ‘GET OUT’!!! And my name is Mr. Grincher, you retarded nitwit!!”

  The whole journey from leaving my desk to exiting the classroom felt like a daze. It wasn’t real-it was just a dream. However, what was real were those mischievous snickers of Veronica Herschel and her Girl Power Squad. They were insufferable. And they were staunch, strident allies of Mr. Grincher.

  “Calvin.” His voice stopped me dead in my tracks. I could not look at him-he was just that terrifying. “Thank you for providing company to my other dear friend Tyler. He is terribly lonely out there. Also, please close the door when you exit the classroom. Thank you.”

  His faux politeness was the salt in my already festering wounds. With trembling hands, I barely managed to shut the heavy metal door. I turned to see Tyler, the rare nerd without the spectacles and the only bald kid in the universe, scribbling math equations on his desk with a sharpened ruler. Truly, I felt bad for him. He had been kicked out minutes prior for looking at the ceiling. I had wanted to speak some words of comfort to him and possibly even incite him to rebellion but I stopped short of all of that as I knew he would not be happy to see me. You see, I had played some of my nastiest pranks on him, including the barf balloon challenge where I left a barf bag contraption to explode over his head as he opened the locker. I almost got suspended for that but that is a story for another day. It would not be easy for him to forgive me. His hatred would last ten thousand generations. Thus, the only thing to do was to shack myself up in the washroom. There, I would have time to dissipate my anger and focus on a better upcoming event: the Summer Spirit Assembly.

  Stairwells on the last day of school are more crowded than the entire population of China. The downward stampede is ten times as mighty as the force of a wildebeest march and a Tokyo subway rush combined. Me and my three best buddies Jordan, Andy and Ethan were in the middle of this frantically moving mass. We had gotten used to moving fast-if one foot went even a bit limp, trampling was an absolute certainty.

  In fact, we were moving faster than the normal rate as we were all eager to head backstage. The Spirit Assembly was today and our band was part of the lineup. We had worked on our song for over three months and if Mr. Grincher meant the end of our show, that was the end of the world. However, I had not seen Mr. Grincher since the end of detention, which meant our dream was coming to fruition.

  “Mr. Grincher, as a rule of thumb, is usually generous on the last days of school,” Jordan remarked in response to my remark.

  “Or maybe his dementia has finally caught up to him,” Andy giggled.

  “Hey that’s not nice,” reprimanded the only girl in the group. Jordan was always the most moral member of The Gangster Guyz, which happens to be my own gang of friendship and protection at Fischer Public School.

  Loud, obnoxious giggling seemed to emanate from behind us. We turned around. It was the obvious culprits-Veronica and her two most loyal followers-Sheila and Carla. They were wearing their stupid cult uniforms-the pink Fischer Flamingo soccer kits. Veronica was obviously the dominatrix of her Girl Power Squad with her annoyingly long blonde pigtails, a red plastic headband circumferencing her head as if she was a pro athlete, her pink Fischer Flamingos soccer kit, and her royally purple sneakers. Sheila was the second-in-command who was a tad taller than her boss but she swapped the shorts and the socks for pink jeans and her bandana was color-matched with her uniform. The third member, who was the worst by far, Carla, was a dwarf, by all practical aspects. She was also the most feminine of the three with her pink skirt.

  Jordan was also into this pink vein but in a very different way as compared with these nasty girls. For one, she was modest. Her intricate pink hijab was wrapped so tightly around her head and neck that it looked more like a babushka scarf than anything Islamic. The modesty extended to the rest of her skin-pink sleeves racing from the jersey to the wrists and same-colored leggings sandwiched between her pink soccer socks and her jersey shorts. In addition, the surrealism was very noticeable-her jersey was tucked into her shorts with a brown leather belt that snaked around the entire circumference. For another, she was smart. Her large, circular pink glasses made her look more awkward than normal so that she could never reach such heights of pride (unlike me). For a third, she embodied the faith. The thin pink silver Cross around her neck she lived for. I, on the other hand, was content to enjoy my church and the friends I had there but man, I hated the rules. Some of them were good but too many were extremely overbearing and restrictive. That’s my personal opinion so if you want to fight me, let’s find an asphalt pavement and duke it out.

  Going off on a tangent here, the Fischer Flamingo soccer jerseys are weird as heck. There’s the usual number (for Jordan, it’s 10) at the front-and-center, the soccer crest (the flamingo at the watering hole) on the right chest, and the square checkmark on the left chest (not a copy of Nike by the way). But there’s also the Star-Spangled Banner, which is framed on both of the sleeves. Our school really prides itself on Americanism, which I don’t mind at all.

  “You deserve that zero, idiot.” Veronica’s voice was full of venomous evil.

  “No you deserve that zero for your evil bullying,” I shot back with equal venom.

  “Aren’t you a loser in everything?” Her eyebrows were dancing like jiggling skeletons. Man, if I had a pair of scissors with me, I’d snip them off that instant. Public humiliation. But I couldn’t as Veronica was Mr. Grincher’s beloved pet-fighting back would land me into more hot water with that old man. I had to self-advertise as a form of defense.

  “I’m better than you at English.”

  “Prove it.” She was so confident that I was bluffing. Boy, she was so wrong.

  In a flash, my essay on A Midsummer’s Night’s Dream was out. There was a clear, large red A+ on the right hand corner.

  “Here.” I handed it to her. “Your proof.”

  With her chin held pretentiously high, she read it as if she was Mr. Grincher himself.

  “I don’t think that A+ was genuine,” she responded in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “So you’re saying that I’m cheating?!” The fury was rising within my lungs like magma. At any point, I could explode.

  “Could be.” Her smirk-it was so killable. “I could tell Mr. Grincher-.”

  “Go ahead! I’d like to see you try!”

  By now, I wanted to swing my fist squarely into her evil, Jezebelic face. But before I could, she had already turned her back to me and began strutting down the remaining steps of the stairs. Then, she paused and turned to me, grinning triumphantly.

  “Oh wait, I don’t need to tell Mr. Grincher that you’re a cheater. You’re already in big trouble so all I’ve got to do is to wait and see.”

  “What?” I asked, completely dumbfounded. Was she playing with me again?

  “This may be surprising for you but you’re off the Spirit Assembly. That’ll allow you to enjoy your detention.”

  “What?” Shockwaves surged through my body. “What did you just do?!”

  “I’m the Student Council President. I get to do whatever I want.”

  “You’re bluffing.” But I knew the truth: she was not playing this time.

  “As I said, you just wait and see.” She looked up. “Oh just in time.”

  I followed what she was seeing. It was Mr. Grincher-he was gripping the metal turquoise railing tightly as his narrow, beady, hawk-like eyes scanned the crowd very carefully. I prayed against all hope that his eyes would get the best of him and miss my shape. Alas, I was always doomed to fail around him. His usual eyeball gleam flashed as he found his target: a blue Hawaiian t-shirt dotted with palm trees.

  And with that, he cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed “STOPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!”

  Automatically, everyone froze. Silence swung into the air like the falling action of a guillotine.

  “Calvin Boy, please come up!”

  I was scared witless. My worst nightmare was coming true.

  “Sir-Sir, for what?” I stammered awkwardly, trying to feign ignorance. And then he snapped.

  “Stop calling me sir! My name is Mr. Grincher! MR. GRINCHER!!! And don’t give me that ‘for what’ NONSENSE! I’m tired OF IT!!!”

  His echoes died in the downstairs hallway as the dread silence resumed. Everyone was nervously waiting for his lungs to cataclysmically burst again. And then it did.

  “What are you waiting for, Calvin Boy?! GET UP HERE!!!”

  I hesitated, for the longest time in my life. I told you that being robbed of the Spirit Assembly would be the apocalypse for me so going to prison with my most hated teacher was not just swallowing unforeseen circumstances, it was literal death.

  My friends, fortunately, saw things a lot more optimistically. “It will be okay.” Jordan patted me on the back. “It is the last day of school.”

  “Don’t worry,” Andy whispered hoarsely. “We’ll have a backup plan ready.” Veronica and her Girl Power Squad, on the other hand, were clapping like a bunch of crazed K-pop fans. Her mischievous, cruel smile told it all: “Have fun in detention, buddy.”

  With my loyal Gangster Guyz’ support, I began moving my feet. But the whole experience was surreal. I could not feel my legs. I was more numb than a paraplegic. The white stairway seemed to swirl in multi-shades of green. My thoughts were nonexistent. My head was now an empty cave.

  As I exited the stairway, I heard Mr. Grincher’s back-to-business speech. Like a lightbulb, he was calm and serene again. “Okay you all can resume going to the assembly. Sorry for the interruption. Go on.”

  At his reassurance, the human escalator resumed moving at its usual rapid pace. I was left carrying my legs of iron to Mr. Grincher’s Alcatraz-Room 300.

  I had to repeat the climb up the metal ladder to the trapdoor. Yes, Mr. Grincher’s classroom is in what used to be the mechanical room. Which is why it is so dark inside. And which is why it is so claustrophobic. There is one window but it is so small that it brings no comfort to us students -it only adds to the prison-like quality.

  A boy in a football varsity jacket was waiting beside the trapdoor. I knew who he was-it was Veronica’s boyfriend Billy. I hated him the most (out of all the male species) but my hatred for him was still a tad bit lower than that for Veronica. There were three other students in the detention room, including Tyler, who was content on being an obedient cuck.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Mr. Grincher pointed his bony finger at my seat.

  “Sit down.” A piece of lined paper appeared on my desk. “As punishment for cheating during an important exam, not only will you get no marks on it-.”

  “That isn’t fair! I did no-.” (SLAM!) The boom of that palm was enough to make me go deaf and break every single bone in my body. That was how terrifying Mr. Grincher was.

  “SHUT YOUR MOUTH CALVIN BOY!!!! You have no right to be talking in the presence of me when I did not give you PERMISSION!!!! Understand???!!!”

  “Yes Mr. Grincher.” Now I was cucking to 11.

  “As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me and tried to speak over me, not only will you get no marks on the exam but you will not have the opportunity to perform at the Summer Spirit Assembly. And you will not be able to go home until you finish writing ‘I apologize profusely that I cheated and blatantly and willfully disobeyed Mr. Grincher’s orders during an important exam’ 1820 times. In capital letters. And in cursive. And fill in all of the lines. If you do not follow my rules to the maximum, you may as well stay here tomorrow, miss the whole summer, or maybe turn old in a year. It is your choice so be wise! I will leave you now to go watch that wonderful Summer Spirit Assembly.”

  The last three words of his long-winding speech were extremely snarky. He truly was an evil bastard.

  As he headed for the trapdoor, he stopped to heap praise on his other pet. “Billy, you are doing a great and wonderful job. Keep up the good work.” He then began climbing down the trapdoor but even then, he could not resist the urge to threaten me. “Do not get complacent thinking that I am not here. I am everywhere and I am watching you!! Wait a minute, I forgot something.” Out of his coat pocket, he flashed a wad of cash, which he gave to Billy. “Thank you for volunteering to watch my prisoners and here is your advance. The full reward will come when I come back.” Billy grinned like a kid who was tasting ice cream for the first time.

  “Thank you Mr. Grincher for the $20!”

  “Keep a good eye on them! Remember that!”

  BOOM! He was finally gone. But his enforcer wasn’t. In fact, he was larping as a mini Grincher. He strode to Mr. Grincher’s desk in his boss’ prideful way. He sat down in the seat of authority, the black swivel chair. The only differences were that his walk was more casual, he lacked manners as he put his white Jordan 5s on the desk, and he lacked the anger of his dear leader-amusement plastered his face as he looked down on us detention prisoners. I had to scribble down those backbreaking punishment lines while enduring the internal mockery of Fischer Foxes quarterback Billy Rodgers. I could not do anything to him-he was a big guy after all. But what I could do was glare at him with such an intensity that it would only be reserved for Nazi collaborators. And perhaps dream of ways of beating him to a [bleeping] crisp.

  I only managed to get 10 words written in thirty minutes as I was so preoccupied in lasering Billy with my hatred while he love-texted Veronica. Suddenly, the lights all went out and everything was plunged into near total darkness. It wasn’t scary for me as I knew something like that would be coming.

  But it was scary and shocking for Billy who turned on his IPhone 5 flashlight and began yelling “Who’s there? Show yourself!” He was met by a wall of silence. Man, seeing him becoming a scaredy-cat was one of the best moments of my life. “You stay there,” he ordered me, with a nervous tinge to his voice. “Or I’ll beat your ass.”

  “Yessir,” I said in a faux-obedient, mocking tone. As he approached the trapdoor, he failed to notice the clown figure that had climbed out of the desk beside me and was now looming behind him. And when he did turn around, it was too late. The evil jester that stared at him with a fiendish, murderous grin caused him to scream shrilly like a little girl and to fall down the trapdoor. Because he was buff and big, he survived the fall. But he was running away, calling for his boys for backup.

  In the mechanical room, the lights were back on and Andy had unmasked himself.

  “That was plagiarism,” I teased. “You weren’t supposed to copy my Pennywise costume from last year when I scared Mrs. Critkin.”

  “How the hell am I supposed to know?” he shot back in fierce rebuttal. “Besides, I love clowns too. You aren’t my [bleeping] dictator.”

  “Yes I am. Then why would you be rescuing me?” “Cause I have to work for you.”

  “So you’re saying you hate me?”

  “Duh.” We locked eyes and engaged in a staring contest. For a second, it looked as if we were going to beat the crap out of each other. Then, Andy chuckled obnoxiously and after that, my laughs fell through like a waterfall.

  “Nice trolling,” I complimented. “Now let’s get the BS out of the way and get to the Spirit Assembly before Mr. Grincher catches us.”

  While Andy made a detour to change in the first-floor washroom, me, Jordan, and Ethan headed for the auditorium. On the way, we were nearly spotted and caught by Mr. Grincher if it was not for Jordan’s fast observation.

  “Quick,” she whispered. “Hide.” The lockers were beside us. And three of them were missing locks. So we got inside and shut the doors. Mr. Grincher was walking in his usual authoritarian manner. Then, he stopped, right where we were hiding. He looked at us. His icy gaze was freezing me once again. It looked as if we would be denied luck twice. A kid wearing a red baseball cap passed by him. He turned his attention to that kid.

  “YOU!!” The kid stopped dead in his tracks. “Come over here!” The kid obediently took seven steps backwards. “Give me your hat.” The kid dutifully obeyed. The red hat was now Mr. Grincher’s. “Head upstairs to my classroom and wait for me.” He pointed at the staircase. The kid went upstairs without question. A cuck worse than Tyler.

  We each breathed a huge mental sigh of relief as Mr. Grincher disappeared into the male washroom. Quickly, we got out and made our tiptoed way backstage. Our equipment (my acoustic guitar, my looping pedal, Jordan’s electric guitar and looping pedal, Andy’s double keyboard, and Ethan’s drumsticks) were arrayed in a respectable position on the black linoleum floor. We picked them up and got ready. The Gangster Guyz was ready to play. I peeked through the red curtains. Frank, the only black kid in the school and who always dressed as if he was from the 1920s, was singing You Make Me Feel So Young, a classic by Frank Sinatra. I am not much of a jazz fan but listening to that reminded me of the emotional effect that Jordan had upon me. I also noticed that Billy and his boys were hurriedly, frantically, and angrily searching for me and my gang. Too bad they underestimated my cleverness.

  Then I remembered something. Andy was not with us. Damn, was he ambushed? As that worry creeped into my mind, I felt my heart sink to the ocean floor.

  “Guys, have you seen Andy?” I asked in extreme anxiety.

  “Isn’t he changing?” asked Jordan.

  “Yes but not this long.”

  “He does have a jester costume to take off.”

  “Doesn’t explain the delay. I’m afraid he’s in big trouble with Billy and his gang.”

  “Um,” started Ethan. He was pointing behind me. I turned around and there was Andy Lee, the fat Korean kid whose extremely short and thin black hair made his head look like an egg, whose shirt was traditionally used for sleeping, whose green cargo shorts made him look like a military dude, and whose Air Forces were definitely fake.

  “Andy!” I was joyous and I hugged him in that way.

  I think my embrace was too long for he replied with, “Bro, this is gay af. Some personal space please?”

  “My bad. What happened?”

  “Oh I was changing and then Billy’s Gang showed up. I had to leave the jester suit in the stall as a distraction while I crawled through all seven stalls to get out.”

  “Did they see you?”

  “Nope. But they knew that I had escaped and they were frickin mad. Billy especially was raging like crazy. ‘You fatass, I’ll skin you alive! I’ll skin you alive!’

  “Pretty sure he skinned himself when he got laid with Veronica.” We laughed.

  “Guys,” interrupted the arts rep Bella (who was totally loyal to our cause). “Your band is up.”

  And so we ran out on stage as the announcers shouted “Please welcome The Gangster Guyz!”

  As soon as everyone saw us, mayhem ensued. While the non-popular, non-Grincher kids (i.e. the male nerds, the geeks, and the non-football jocks) cheered us loudly, Veronica and Billy’s combined gang was having an extreme rage fit.

  “Turn them off! Turn them off! Turn them off! Boo! Boo! Boooo!!” Billy and his right-hand man Tyrone tried to scale the stage but were blocked by a wall of audience members who had gotten up to dance with us.

  He shook his fist at us, mouthing, “I’ll mess you up [beeping] badly. All of you!”

  Veronica and her girls began to throw pencils, erasers, and notebooks on stage. We deftly dodged much of the projectiles although Andy was hit in the head by a binder. Fortunately, he was unfazed and he responded by chucking it so violently that it hit Carla right in the head and knocked her out. Mr. Grincher, who had just returned from his washroom break, froze as he witnessed the whole sight. Then as quickly as his emotions changed, his face began to pulse with rage boils. He angrily exited the auditorium and burst into the control booth.

  ……..

  Bella rose from her desk, surprised at such an unlikely intrusion.

  “Mr. Grincher? May I help you-.”

  “Shut this whole thing down!”

  His yell shook her to a speechless halt. She had no defense. Thankfully, the vice president of the student council came to her aid.

  “I’m really sorry Mr. Grincher but we cannot stop the show,” he spoke with much more clarity but still with a lot of uncertainty. “These are school rules.”

  “I DO NOT CARE ABOUT SCHOOL RULES!!!! STOP THE SHOW RIGHT NOW!!!!!”

  This time, nobody moved. Mr. Grincher had effectively neutered all protest.

  “I guess I have to do it then,” he muttered. “You useless creatures.”

  He marched over to the kill switch lever titled “Theatre Power Switch” and Zoom! Instantly, the entire auditorium plunged into total darkness.

  ………

  We were still playing when the blackout occurred. Tailgates at Midnight (written by me and Jordan) was too good to be stopped abruptly. Not even the jubilant cheers of the Veronicas and Billies could stop us. It was only this that did:

  CALVIN GARCIA!!!!” Mr. Grincher was screaming from the loudspeaker in the control booth. “YOU ARE IN BIG TROUBLE, YOU KNOW THAT, CALVIN BOY????!!!! I TOLD YOU NOT TO ESCAPE AND YOU DIDDDDDD!!!!!!!!! YOU EVIL CHILD!!!!!!!!!! IN RETURN, I WILL MAKE YOUR PUNISHMENT 10X WORSE THAN WHAT YOU ALREADY HAVE!!!!!!!!! 2949 WORDS IN CAPITAL CURSIVE AND YOU CANNOT LEAVE FOR THE ENTIRE WEEKEND!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU DARE DEFY ME, YOU SON OF A WHORE????!!!!!!!!!!” Mr. Grincher’s pets roared again in applause while there were also audible gasps from everyone who was normal and not nasty.

  For me, I was no longer afraid of his yells. I had the command of the stage and whatever he did, he could not stop me. Besides, I had the support of the masses. So I stuck my mouth close to the microphone and stuck up my middle finger for him and his soldiers to see.

  “Screw you!” I could clearly see from a mile away his horrified face as he realized that he could no longer control me anymore. “And stop calling me Calvin Boy!!! I AM CALVIN XIAOMEI GARCIA!!!!”

  Mr. Grincher stamped his foot and shook his lunatic fists in response to my defiance.

  “THAT IS IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I WILL MAKE YOU PAY FOR YOUR DISOBEDIENT EVIL CALVIN BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU WILL STAY WITH ME FOR THE ENTIRE SUMMER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DETENTION-.”

  CRASH! Mr. Grincher was tackled to the ground by a bunch of excitable, flashy, fly, cool kids. Onto the stage rushed a boy in a camo dress shirt. Several other kids brought in a white folding table and a kid in a camo green Bape hoodie set up his DJ kit on it (DJ Frank). Three or four massive buff guys who obviously did not belong to the school (they belonged to their thirties) easily dragged Billy’s boys off the stage. Billy himself tried to slam dunk me with his fists but I was fast and he ended up slamming his head into the piano. Then I kicked his ass off-stage. As if on cue, the power was restored as the stage erupted into a colorful, violently fast light show. Pyrotechnic smoke columns rose out of the stage. Fast, hyper, energetic EDM music blasted from the speakers. The whole audience got up and began screaming in craziness. The camo boy, Mr. Mojo was jumping around the stage with his mic and shouting loud adlibs into it.

  “Ayy Mr. Mojo in da hood!

  Harambe is the king!

  ASHGAD’HA!!!!

  HarambeApe Gang, LET’S GOOOO!!!

  Pull up to the party in a space coupe.

  Mixing up that purp and putting it in a soup.

  Shooting like Kawhi and putting in them hoops.

  In society, there are many, many groups.

  Everybody pull up to the party.

  We are so rich that we shop in Raris.

  Fastest car in the world is called a Bugatti.

  That girl by the wall and she’s my hotty.

  Counting up them bands, make a deal like Gotti.

  Girl kicked me in the back and now it hurts.

  She doesn’t care if she disrespects Kurt.

  All these models are putting in the work.

  Budu Kuna got wrecked and she did the work.

  I like killer ladies.

  The trap is what made me.

  Ginger saved me.

  Budu Kuna can’t see.

  A9 I wanna be.

  Climbing up that tree.

  Yeah we all party!”

  At this point, everyone (even the teachers) rushed onto the stage. It was truly a party.

  “Every single night, we’d be partying in the 6ix.

  We gotta lotta songs and we are so rich.

  Celebrating fame like Money Money Mitch.

  Hop out in the coupe and I do the switch.”

  By this point in the song, the pyrotechnic smoke had transformed into flames, green lasers were pointing everywhere, and confetti was bursting from the roof. A kid in a humongous gorilla suit was clumsily dancing alongside the crazily flapping Mr. Mojo (who was also throwing fake money into the crowd). Andy was improvising crazily on the keyboards. And I was busy whacking the rest of Billy’s Gang with my acoustic guitar and laughing as they went over like a house of cards.