Another Day at School
The schoolyard of Brassvale Elementary wasn’t much more than a concrete wasteland fenced in by chain-link and lined with a sparse scattering of weeds breaking through the cracks. The playground sat in the far corner, its rusted swing set creaking ominously in the brisk morning wind. A patch of uneven dirt served as the kickball field, its bases worn down to bare patches of earth. Nearby, a tattered basketball net hung from a tilted metal pole, the rim bent out of shape like a crooked tooth. On the far side of the yard, separated by a wide alley, loomed the imposing facade of Stout Middle School, a brick fortress with barred windows and peeling graffiti that read “Blenc Rules.” It cast a long shadow, both literally and metaphorically, over the younger kids.
Jahnny hopped off the school bus and adjusted the straps on his oversized backpack, which hung awkwardly low on his small frame. His sneakers, scuffed and splitting at the seams, crunched over the gravel as he scanned the yard for his friends. Being alone here was a mistake, even for someone like Jahnny who knew how to keep his head down.
Tyrell was easy to spot, leaning against the faded red brick wall near the main doors. His hoodie hood was pulled up, partially shading his mischievous grin, while he tossed a worn rubber ball against the ground in a steady rhythm. Jahnny jogged over, his face lighting up in relief.
“What’s good, Jahnny?” Tyrell greeted, catching the ball one last time and stuffing it into his hoodie pocket.
“Not much,” Jahnny replied, a small grin tugging at his lips. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them warm against the morning chill.
Danny sat nearby on the steps leading to the school entrance, hunched over his trusty notebook. His tongue poked out in concentration as he carefully outlined the cape of his latest superhero sketch. Danny was always drawing—sketches of monsters, superheroes, or elaborate maps of imaginary worlds he dreamed up.
“Hey, Danny,” Jahnny called as he approached. “What’re you working on now?”
Danny looked up, his glasses slipping down his nose. He smiled sheepishly before holding up the notebook. “It’s a new hero. His name’s Time Stopper. He can freeze time, rewind it, or slow it down when he’s fighting bad guys.”
Tyrell scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Man, you gotta come up with a cooler name than that. Time Stopper? Sounds like some lame gadget you’d buy off a TV ad.”
Danny flushed but didn’t lower his notebook. “It’s still a work in progress,” he muttered.
Jahnny crouched next to him, studying the sketch. The hero’s cape was billowing dramatically in an imaginary wind, and lightning bolts framed the figure like an electric aura. “I think it’s cool,” Jahnny said earnestly. “But maybe you could give him a weapon or something. Like, if time’s frozen, he could move super fast and land a hundred punches before anyone blinks.”
Danny’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! That’d be awesome. I could give him, like, a time gauntlet or something.”
“Or call him Quick Clock,” Tyrell teased, snickering. “You know, because he’s quick and clock-y.”
Danny glared at him, though his lips twitched as if he were trying not to laugh. “You’re impossible, Ty.”
The warning bell rang, echoing off the cracked concrete walls of the yard. Kids hurried toward the doors in a swarm of brightly colored jackets and mismatched backpacks. Jahnny stuck close to Tyrell and Danny as they shuffled toward the entrance, passing by the older middle schoolers who loitered on the alley between the two schools.
The middle schoolers didn’t pay much attention to the younger kids unless they felt like it. Jahnny glanced nervously at a group of boys from Stout Middle who were leaning against the fence, passing around a cigarette. Their uniforms were the same as the elementary school’s—navy blue polos and khakis—but they wore theirs like armor, untucked and rumpled, with an air of casual rebellion.
“Yo, that’s gonna be us one day,” Tyrell said, nodding toward the middle schoolers.
“Smoking and skipping class?” Danny asked, wrinkling his nose.
“Nah,” Tyrell replied, smirking. “But, you know, older. Cooler. Maybe we’ll have a gang or something.”
Jahnny stayed quiet, his eyes lingering on the group. One of the boys, taller than the rest, had a jagged scar running across his cheek. He held the cigarette like it was a trophy and laughed loudly at something one of his friends said. The image stuck with Jahnny—not fear, exactly, but an uncomfortable curiosity.
“What’s it like in middle school, you think?” Jahnny finally asked as they reached the steps.
“Probably harder,” Tyrell said. “But we’ll still run this place when we get there.”
“Speak for yourself,” Danny said, stuffing his notebook into his backpack. “I just hope they’ve got better lunch food.”
Tyrell snorted. “Man, you’re such a nerd.”
The boys joined the rush of students filing into the building, their voices blending into the noisy hallway. For now, middle school and its challenges were just a looming shadow. But Jahnny couldn’t help but feel like it was watching, waiting for them to catch up.
Jahnny slid into his seat near the back of the classroom, scuffed desk wobbling slightly as he set his tattered notebook down. The room was a patchwork of faded, torn posters, outdated maps, and a wall of windows letting in dim light that didn’t quite reach the corners. Mrs. Hartford, their teacher, stood at the chalkboard scribbling today’s math lesson in her unmistakable chicken scratch. Her voice was steady but tired, the kind of tone that said she’d been doing this job for far too long.
Danny was seated two rows over, already doodling in his notebook. Tyrell, who could never sit still for more than five minutes, was leaning back in his chair, tilting it at a precarious angle. He tossed a balled-up scrap of paper at Jahnny, who caught it with one hand and smirked.
Jahnny uncrumpled the note. It was a crude stick-figure drawing of Mrs. Hartford with her hair sticking out like a cactus, yelling at a stick version of Tyrell. Beneath it, Tyrell had scrawled: “5 bucks says I can get her to blow up by lunch.”
Jahnny stifled a laugh, shaking his head. You’ll get detention again he scrawled back and tossed it onto Tyrell’s desk.
Mrs. Hartford turned just in time to catch the exchange. “Mr. Jahnny,” she said sharply, the class going quiet. “If you’re going to pass notes, perhaps you’d like to share with the rest of us.”
Jahnny froze, his cheeks burning. He hated being called out. “Sorry, Mrs. Hartford,” he muttered.
Tyrell, still leaning in his chair, grinned but didn’t say a word.
The morning passed slowly, with Mrs. Hartford going over fractions while Jahnny did his best to keep up. Numbers swam on the page, never quite settling into place. He’d always struggled with math, and today was no different. His pencil scratched hesitantly across the paper as he tried to figure out how to divide 48 by 6.
The other students weren’t much better. A few kids whispered to each other, heads low over their desks. A boy in the front row had fallen asleep, his head resting on his folded arms. Jahnny felt a pang of envy; at least he didn’t have to try and make sense of the numbers.
Tyrell was up to something again. Jahnny could see him out of the corner of his eye, leaning over to talk to Marcus, a big kid who sat a few rows up. Marcus was one of the troublemakers, always cracking jokes and causing disruptions. Tyrell whispered something to him, and Marcus snickered.
Jahnny braced himself. Whatever Tyrell was planning, it wasn’t going to end well.
“Alright, class,” Mrs. Hartford announced as the math lesson came to an end. “Take out your social studies books and turn to page forty-two.”
There was a collective groan from the class as students rustled through their desks. Jahnny reached into his bag and pulled out his battered textbook, its cover barely holding on with duct tape.
“Jahnny,” Tyrell hissed from behind him. Jahnny turned slightly, and Tyrell nodded toward Marcus. Jahnny followed the motion and saw Marcus holding something small and dark in his hand.
“What is that?” Jahnny whispered back.
Tyrell just grinned.
As Mrs. Hartford began reading from the textbook, Marcus suddenly stood and cleared his throat dramatically. The class turned to look at him, and Mrs. Hartford frowned.
“Yes, Marcus? Is there a problem?”
“Not at all, ma’am,” Marcus said with mock politeness. Then, quick as a flash, he lobbed the object toward her desk. It landed with a wet splat.
It was a frog.
The room erupted into chaos. Kids screamed and laughed, some standing on their desks to get a better view. Mrs. Hartford yelped and jumped back, clutching her chest as the frog hopped toward her.
“Who did this?” she shouted, her face red.
Marcus sat down, feigning innocence. “Not me, ma’am.”
Mrs. Hartford’s eyes swept the room before landing on Jahnny, who was still sitting quietly at his desk. “Jahnny!” she snapped. “Was this your doing?”
“What? No!” Jahnny protested, his heart sinking. He looked at Tyrell, but his friend avoided his gaze.
“Detention,” Mrs. Hartford said firmly. “I don’t tolerate this kind of behavior in my classroom.”
Jahnny slumped in his chair, furious but knowing there was no point arguing. He felt the eyes of the class on him, some amused, others pitying. He clenched his fists under the desk, willing himself not to cry.
The rest of the morning dragged on. Jahnny didn’t even bother taking notes during social studies. What was the point? He’d already been branded as the troublemaker, even if he hadn’t done anything. By the time lunch rolled around, his appetite was gone.
When the bell finally rang, Jahnny grabbed his bag and trudged toward the door. Tyrell caught up to him, looking sheepish.
“Yo, sorry, man,” Tyrell said. “I didn’t think she’d pin it on you.”
“Whatever,” Jahnny muttered, not looking at him.
Danny joined them, his notebook tucked under his arm. “What happened?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Jahnny said quickly. “Let’s just go eat.”
The three boys walked toward the cafeteria together, their usual banter muted. Jahnny’s fists stayed clenched in his pockets, anger simmering just beneath the surface.
The bell rang, releasing a flood of students into the streets of Blenc like a broken dam. Jahnny, Tyrell, and Danny walked side by side, backpacks slung low and dragging slightly as they navigated the cracked sidewalks. The late afternoon sun was weak, casting long shadows of chain-link fences and boarded-up buildings. It was the same route they always took, cutting through a stretch of worn-out houses and overgrown lots to avoid the busier main roads.
“You know Mrs. Hartford’s probably writing you up for that frog thing,” Danny said, still clutching his notebook like a lifeline.
Jahnny rolled his eyes. “What else is new? She’s always blaming me for something.”
“Man, it’s ’cause she knows you don’t got backup,” Tyrell said, spinning a rock down the sidewalk with the tip of his shoe. “She’d never try that with Marcus. His mom would come up there screamin’.”
Jahnny sighed. “Yeah, well, my mom’s got enough to deal with. She’s not about to come marching into school over some dumb frog.”
They turned the corner onto Vine Street, where a broken swing set tilted awkwardly in the front yard of an abandoned house. A pair of stray dogs rummaged through a trash pile nearby, growling at each other over scraps. The boys walked in silence for a moment, their footsteps crunching on bits of gravel.
“Y’all ever notice how middle school kids think they’re hot stuff?” Danny said suddenly, breaking the quiet.
“Yeah,” Tyrell replied. “But they ain’t. Just bigger losers than us.”
Jahnny smirked. “Those middle school guys ain’t cool. They just act tough ‘cause they’re bigger.”
“Still, they don’t get in trouble for frogs,” Tyrell added.
The group chuckled, but their light mood didn’t last. As they cut through a small lot with rusted-out cars and weeds as tall as Jahnny, a group of older kids leaned against the fence at the far end. Jahnny recognized a few of them—troublemakers from school who loved making other kids’ lives miserable.
“Yo, ain’t that the white boy whose sister’s a hoe?” one of them called out, grinning maliciously. It was Darren, an eighth-grader with a reputation for bullying anyone who looked at him the wrong way.
Jahnny froze. The insult hit hard, not just because it was aimed at Clara, but because he couldn’t do anything about it. Clara’s choices weren’t his to defend, but they cast a shadow he couldn’t escape.
Tyrell and Danny shifted uneasily, avoiding eye contact with the older kids. Jahnny, however, squared his shoulders.
“Say that again,” Jahnny said, his voice low and steady.
Darren stepped forward, towering over Jahnny. “You heard me, little man. Heard she’s got a boyfriend twice her age. What, your family too broke for dudes her own grade?”
Jahnny’s fists balled up, his cheeks flushing red. He knew he was outmatched, but his pride wouldn’t let him walk away. “Shut your mouth,” he said through gritted teeth.
Darren laughed, the sound cold and cruel. “Or what? You gonna do something?”
Without thinking, Jahnny swung at Darren. His fist connected with the older boy’s chest, but it was like punching a car. Darren barely flinched before shoving Jahnny to the ground.
“Man, you’re dumber than you look,” Darren sneered. He grabbed Jahnny’s shirt, pulling him up slightly before throwing him back down into the dirt.
“Leave him alone!” Tyrell shouted, but he didn’t step forward. The fear in his voice was clear.
Jahnny scrambled to his feet, but another boy tripped him, sending him sprawling again. This time, Darren and his crew laughed harder, their taunts echoing in Jahnny’s ears. Blood trickled from a scrape on his elbow, staining his sleeve.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Darren said, stepping back. “Maybe next time, keep your white ass and your hoe sister in check.”
The group walked off, still laughing, as Jahnny slowly sat up. His head pounded, and his pride was in shreds, but he refused to let them see him cry.
“You alright, man?” Tyrell asked, finally coming closer.
“I’m fine,” Jahnny muttered, brushing dirt off his pants. His voice was tight, anger bubbling just beneath the surface.
Danny helped him to his feet. “They’re jerks, dude. Don’t let ’em get to you.”
“I said I’m fine,” Jahnny snapped, wincing as he stretched his scraped arm. He didn’t mean to lash out at his friends, but the humiliation stung too much to hold back.
The rest of the walk home was quieter than usual. Tyrell and Danny kept their distance, sensing Jahnny’s foul mood, but they didn’t abandon him. As they approached Jahnny’s apartment building, Danny tried to lighten the mood.
“You know,” he said, “when I get older, I’m gonna be rich. Like, own-my-own-video-game-store rich.”
“Yeah?” Tyrell said. “You gonna let us play for free?”
“Hell nah! But maybe I’ll give you a discount.”
Jahnny smirked despite himself. “A discount? Gee, thanks, Danny.”
The tension eased slightly as they joked about their future dreams, making fun of each other’s plans. By the time they reached Jahnny’s building, some of the weight from earlier had lifted.
“See you tomorrow,” Danny said as they parted ways. Tyrell gave Jahnny a small fist bump followed by a quick handshake and another fistbump before following Danny down the street.
Jahnny watched them leave before heading inside. The familiar smell of cabbage and baby powder greeted him, along with the sound of Betsy’s soft coos, the only sound that really seemed to ease him.