The Plus Side of Negative Thinking

Chapter Six

Jeisson was convinced - TMSA was not real. He was trapped in some alternate reality or some simulation that he would, fingers crossed, wake from at any moment.

Nothing was normal here. They had check-in at night, at 10:00pm. Adam, the RA, would do a roll call to make sure everyone was present and accounted for, and they weren't allowed to leave the wing after that. Remington was in bed directly following that, and then his alarm went off at 5:30 in the morning.

Jeisson wasn't a very good sleeper, and once Remington's alarm had woken him up, he ended up just laying in bed, awake and mad about it, until his own alarm went off at 8. Remington had just been quietly studying that whole time. 

Jeisson's first class was gym. That, at least, was an easy classroom to find. It was right after the entrance to the school. None of the Mathletes were in class with him. The teacher, Dr. Diaz, was a jovial-looking man, small and fit with a big smile on his face. They were apparently supposed to be studying basketball. Jeisson assumed this meant they would play.

But no, at least, not at first. Dr. Diaz spent the first forty minutes of class teaching about the physics of dribbling, and the correct techniques. It was all theoretical. No balls were actually dribbled. Until the end of the class, when they finally actually went out onto gym floor and attempted to apply the principles.

Jeisson did not consider himself an athlete. He was strong and lean, and for the most part, fairly capable. But he had never played a sport. His dribbling was fine. But compared to most of the other kids, he was a pro. Dr. Diaz told him he should try out for the basketball team. Jeisson declined.

The rest of the classrooms, Jeisson soon discovered, were all located in a specific part of the school. None of them had windows. Nor did they have desks, but just tables that sat five or six students.

By the time Jeisson made it to lunch, he had witnessed a student correct a teacher's mistakes (and get rewarded for it) and another teacher lecture for an hour about aristocratic wealth and inequality in 1750's Sweden (which wouldn't have been so strange if it wasn't his English teacher). The cafeteria was filled with students working. It was much different from the atmosphere of yesterday's dinner. 

Jeisson hated every minute of it. Halfway through lunch he went outside for some air. He caught another student coming in as he was leaving. He was short and walked with a bouncing gait, like an exaggerated tip toeing. He was wearing a white polo shirt tucked into khaki pants and had "nerd" written all over him. But then again, so did half the other students. Perhaps this was the most popular kid in school. Who was to say?

"Hey, Kid," Jeisson called out to him. 

He turned to look around him, as if Jeisson  might be talking to someone else. "Me?"

"Yeah, you."

"My name is David Grunberg."

"Great, listen, Grunberg, where's the football field?"

"TMSA doesn't have a football field. Or a football team," Grunberg said, his voice patronizing. 

"Well where do kids go around here to like, make-out or smoke or something?"

"There's no smoking at TMSA!" Grunberg said, suddenly disgusted. "Are you smoking? Are you a smoker?"

Jeisson let out a sigh. "Never mind, Grunberg. Carry on."

"Hey, smoking is against the rules," Grunberg shouted after him as Jeisson walked away.

Jeisson ignored him. He wandered the grounds and found the tennis courts, of which there were many, and all in pristine condition. He walked further and made it to the baseball field, which was in a much more sorry state. Seeing the dugouts made him smile as he thought of Kelly. He made his way into the nearest one, dug a cigarette out of the smashed pack at the bottom of his backpack, and lit up.