Amson, 17, "Spirit Building"

"What the hell?!" I yelled, warranting numerous passing glances.

Baun shielded me from their gazes, continuing to speak as if they weren't there. A party was about the last thing I expected him to say, among other things. Anyways, my house nearly isn't big enough to fit myself, mom, dad, and my older sister. How could we possibly throw one?

"Just think about it, Amson." He insisted. "If you throw a good party, you're bound to get the attention you're looking for."

"I'm not fishing for attention, man." I replied, calming myself down. "I want to make this senior year worth it."

"And what better way to start senior year than an unofficial homecoming party?" Baun said, pulling me from my locker and into the crowd marching through the hall.

Was he even listening to me at this point? I can't throw a party-- it's just impossible to even think people'd show up. My house has two stories with room for only a family and maybe two guests. If we were to shove droves of highschoolers through the door, I don't think the place'd last.

Then, I'd really be dead.

"No, no, no, man." I pleaded. "Mom and Dad'd kill my ass not long before killing you."

"Your parents love me." He boasted. "I remember playing cards with your dad for hours, talking up a storm."

It's miraculous that he'd even gotten dad to speak at all, so I'll give it to him, but no, still no. I can't see a future where I throw a party and it goes well.

"Who would we even invite?" I tried to reason to no avail.

"Whatever class we end up in is a good start." He said. "Then we wait for the word to spread."

"Life's not some movie, Baun. People won't come without a single hook to sink into."

"I think you should just trust me, and everything'll sort itself out." We finally turned at the auditorium. "Anyways, you've got your eighteenth coming up. You'd end up throwing a party no matter what I do."

My eighteenth birthday... He was right. It'd crept up on me without me even noticing. Maybe I really was too fixated on my first day. I loosened up my shoulders as we climbed the stairs of the auditorium, finding a seat and awaiting the welcoming ceremony. When Baun sat down, I sat down with him, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes.

"Yo, Amson!" A woman's voice jolted me out of my relaxation.

"Jesus fucking hell, Tora." I winced. "We're in the middle of the auditorium."

"Sorry, sorry." She said, pressing her hands together like some noble woman.

Sitting directly in front of me was quite possibly the only human being I couldn't stand, Tora Fletchlin, the country tomboy type with ginger hair and freckles. Let me get this straight: I don't hate the girl, but she doesn't know when to shut up or lower her damn voice. I don't think I've ever had a civil conversation with her, and trust me, I've tried.

"Just... please calm down." I sighed, pinching my brow in a struggle to keep myself together.

To be honest with myself, she'd probably be a catch if she wasn't so loud and boyish.

"Don't listen to him, Tora." Another woman called from the opposite side of Baun. "He's just anxious about his first day of sitting in this shitter for four years."

Enter: Nicky, bitch #37 in the Baun bitch database.

"Don't come to her rescue, Nick." I rolled my eyes, placing my feet on the edge of Tora's seat. "The ceremony's about to start any second now."

"I told you to stop calling me that, Amson." She pointed at me with anger behind her eyes. "I still don't understand how you suddenly start caring about school overnight. Shit's the same and has been the same."

I looked to Baun, ignoring her.

"What I don't understand is why you'd waste your breath telling her about it." I tried not to smile as the comment entered my mind. "She's never changed a thought since jiminy cricket crawled out her pussy."

Nicky sparked with anger, reaching across Baun and gripping me by the collar. Sometimes I surprise even myself with the shit-talk I come up with on Nicky specifically, and that one in particular hit closer to home than you'd want to imagine. I looked away, having known I'd won the scuffle, before the mic at the center of the stage peaked, piercing the ears of everyone in the auditorium.

Behind the podium was an older man, wearing a dark-red suit, glasses that he looked through with his nose, and a white shirt underneath; Mr. Lengyel, our principal. I can't help but think he knows nothing about the shithole he's been leading for the past 20 years. Drugs, teenage mothers, and sketchy staff have become a norm in our school, usually leading you into the gutter of the school society, losers in every sense of the word.

The word loser was something reserved for those types, the types that'd ruin their lives before it even started. As such, being a winner was reserved for those who not only graduated but made a name for themselves AND didn't burn out in freshman year of college. It's one of the reason's I want to make the most of my senior year, so I'm proud of what I was able to accomplish during high school before I have to actually put it into practice.

Still, I can't help but pity some of those same losers, though I've seldom talked to them.

Mr. Lengyel fastened his striped, red tie, cleared his throat and began to finally speak, bringing everyone's attention to himself.

"Hello, everyone!" He yelled with a smile. "I'm glad I'm able to see everyone's shining faces, full of potential, as we go into the 295th year of Butcher Cross's service to the youth here in Butch County, Georgia. I hope you're as excited as I am, because we've got a year worth celebrating for those just entering Butcher Cross as well as those who will be leaving us to begin their lives anew through college education."

Baun tapped me on the shoulder, and I leaned my ear to him.

"Hey, look." He whispered. "Man's getting a bit too excited, huh?"

I struggled not to laugh as I saw the bulge in his suit, but it wasn't necessarily in the part it was supposed to be. The abrasion in his suit was unnatural, like a rock was stuffed down his pants, and after a short while, the murmurs of the student body were made apparent, an undertone to his speech as he noticed nothing.

"After my speech, we will hand schedules to everyone, and you will meet in your homeroom, as a new system has been formulated regarding classes. Instead of remaining in one class, we've sectioned the day into multiple classes, allowing us to introduce you to even more loving staff to push you all on into adulthood."

Shit. Soon as we start leaving, they start actually changing shit... Seems like something to get used to, but I can only see how that revelation might put a fork in Baun's plan to throw a party with one class. Chances are we'll remain homeroom buddies, but who's to say on the other courses.

"I'd love to formally welcome you all to another fantastic year at Butcher's Holy Cross High, the longest running school in Georgia."