"I wish I could always feel like this" Chris said. Chris was Collin's best-friend since age seven. The boys were in their open field. They found it a day they were biking and it became theirs. In the field they had Chris' uncle, Dan, build a tree house for them out there. The tree house wasn't sturdy enough for the two now grown boys. It was meant for children. No matter how young they felt.
"High?" Collin replied. The two were smoking cocaine. It was one of their first times too. He wanted to know the buzz, the freedom of it all. They promised each other only once, but for Collin this was his third time. He could never keep his promises, which resulted him into being an absolute liar. He hated liars and hypocrites, and he was both.
He just never realized it.
"No, infinite" Chris smiled. The drug had a different effect than it did on Collin. Chris had a burning dance on the inside of his skin. It felt like the Icy-Hot he put on after every football game. His heart had a slow rhythmic beat that lifted his spirit. He was sitting on a cloud rising. It felt like a thin layer between heaven and earth. It was indescribable. He forgot about his test he should be studying for on Tuesday. He forgot about the guilt for inhaling the drug. All that mattered was the feeling right here and right now.
Slam
The textbook hit the ground making a thud. The shock woke him up. Everyone's eyes were laid on him, and everybody"s snickering was directed at him too. Drool was on his homework, smudging his writing. He didn't think it could become anymore un-legible, he was proven wrong.
"I asked you a question, Mr. Jarvis."
"Can you repeat it please?" He still hadn't learned the teacher's name. Whoops he thought, even though he could actually care less.
"Collin, what was the Trail of Tears?" The teacher smirked thinking the boy was caught. That lesson was a chapter ahead nobody knew the answer except for well...
"The route taken during the enforced removal in 1838 of the Cherokee Indians from Georgia to Oklahoma, a thousand-mile death march on which the Cherokee were allowed to bring little if any food or shelter, and on which at least 4,000 Cherokee died." He said without skipping a beat. Collin loved history, he loved knowing how things were different in the eyes of others. How technology evolved. He made different stories about the villages and everything that could go wrong. Things did go wrong too, but the future still remained bright. Not everybodys sadly.
Mr. Caluchio had to blink twice, regain his composer, and swallow down his pride to say "That's right, see me after class."
Collin shrugged and sat through the rest of the lesson Mr. Caluchio was teaching. He knew it all. No body knew that he knew it, because not once did he answer a question that was being asked around the room. He didn't need to be known as a 'Know-it-all' or the 'Teacher's pet' especially after that stunt.
The bell rung, Collin gathered his homework and just sat in his seat. His teacher walked over and sat in front of him. Mr. Caluchio was young, not fresh out of college young, but like a 28 year old young. He had brown hair, stubble on his chin, and gray eyes. He had a deep voice too, it just made his job more accurate to him. If that even makes sense.
"How?"
"I've read this entire textbook already and the next addition," he paused "can I go now?"
"No, and why didn't you say anything? You could be placed into a higher level course, it would appeal more to colleges" Both knew this. Collin just never did anything about it because, he won't be able to go to college anyway.
