Chicago,1990

Chapter 3: Credits

Man, the classroom was a mess, and the teaching was just going through the motions. The couple behind Song Ya was practically making out, but the white dude teaching just kept droning on with Dickinson’s poems. The second that bell rang, he was outta there like a shot.

“Whoosh…”

Dude, Song Ya just let out this big ol’ sigh of frustration. English was already a struggle for this body, and his Chinese self wasn’t helping much. Reading? Not too bad. But writing and speaking? Those were tough. And the teacher? Not exactly Mr. Reliable. But you know, can’t really fault the guy. It’s not like he didn’t want to keep things under control; he just didn’t have the balls to.

Song Ya’s not letting the teacher’s half-assed teaching slide. He’s done his research and knows English is a big deal for credits. No excuses, he’s gonna make it work. “Gonna grab some books from the library after lunch and hit the books at home. Ugh, and then there’s still that dumb basketball game after school. What’s the one thing a time-traveling brainiac really needs? More time, dude!”

Song Ya took his sweet time leaving his seat, waiting for the room to clear out a bit before heading to lunch. He’s got a plan to deal with the bullying - become a ‘background character.’ Yeah… Gotta have a chat with that super helpful math teacher too, tell him to cool it with the spotlight!

Doing his best to fly under the radar, Song Ya shuffled along with everyone else into the school cafeteria, making sure not to rush or lag behind. This place had the tightest discipline in the whole school. The assistant principal was there at the door, making sure everyone lined up properly; PE teachers were patrolling; security guys were at all the exits; the lunch ladies were all set; and there were posters of this older black guy all around, with this big line under them: “27 years! A win that was a long time coming!”

With the old guy’s “smiling eyes” on him, Song Ya gobbled up his burger with meat, a glob of mashed potatoes, some boiled broccoli and carrots in creamy sauce, and a huge cup of fizzy pop. Then, he dodged the teacher’s glance and launched his tray into the recycling bin. Since schools here wrap up early, the lunch break isn’t too long. He zoomed to the library, picked up a book of speeches by Franklin D. Roosevelt, and hightailed it to the teacher’s office, where he nicely asked his math teacher to keep things chill.

The math teacher, a classy older black woman, had become quite fond of Song Ya ever since his math grades shot up. Grinning, she pitched an idea: “What do you say to a little challenge? If you ace the test for my ninth-grade math class, I’ll get you into the advanced math group. How does that sound?”

“Advanced class?” Song Ya was a bit stunned.

“Advanced class!”

The teacher went on to explain in a nice and easy way that, apart from the regular yearly courses, there were these advanced classes, or honor courses, for kids who were up for a bigger challenge. These classes were way tougher and came with extra credit points.

“Sure thing, I’ll give it all I’ve got!” Hearing about the extra credits got Song Ya all excited. Exams? That’s my jam!

All pumped up, he said goodbye to his math teacher and whoosh, bang! Right into the music teacher at the door.

The white, middle-aged lady with the sleek bob cut wasn’t the easiest to chat with. The school mightexcel in arts and sports, but the music teacher’s orchestra and choir were pretty impressive, and she had some pretty high standards. “Alexander, right? Your trumpet was a bit off during last week’s practice, huh?”

Song Ya’s energy just dropped. You win some, you lose some, right? The body was pretty good at music and sports, especially music, being a star trumpet player in the school orchestra and all. But since the whole time travel thing, well, math grades went up, but the music and coordination? Not so much.

“I’ll do better next time, for sure…”

He was trying to buy some time, but “No more chances!” the music teacher stopped him in his tracks. “We’ve got a big show coming up, and I can’t risk it. You’re off trumpet duty for the next practice. How about you hit the gym instead?”

“What do you mean, ‘lift’?”

“Triangle!”

“Alright…” Song Ya wiped the sweat from his brow. “Lifting… that also gets credits, right?”

“If you make another mistake, it won’t!”

“O… okay…”

As long as the credits are safe, this little hiccup isn’t a big deal. Song Ya wrapped up his afternoon classes with focus and at 3 PM on the dot, he met up with Tony, who was already waiting outside. They climbed into Tony’s pal’s car, known as ‘Muffler’, a Toyota 86… model Eagle RV.

“What’s going on?”

Once in the back, Song Ya could sense something was up with the guys.

‘Muffler’ fired up the car and turned around from the driver’s seat, pointing to something by Song Ya and then did the throat-cutting sign.

The seat next to him was all cluttered up with dirty jerseys, some protective stuff, and two footballs.

“What’s up with this? Did you two get the boot from the team…” Song Ya caught on to what ‘Muffler’s’ hand gesture was hinting at.

‘Muffler’ gave a nod, and Song Ya saw the tears welling up in his eyes… Tony and ‘Muffler’ are both big shots on the school football team.

Tony’s on defense, and ‘Muffler’ is the star running back on offense. I mean, just last week I watched them during their training game.

In the U.S., football players in both high school and college are like campus royalty. Quarterbacks or star players are the big shots, and they’ve got the pick of the litter when it comes to dating. Getting cut from the team is a pretty big deal for them. But hey, Tony and ‘Muffler’ are already seniors, graduation is just around the corner. You know, it’s all about the new guys stepping in and the old ones stepping out…

“Let’s not get into that. So, why do they call you APLUS?”

Song Ya was still trying to figure out what to say to cheer them up when Tony suddenly switched gears by roughly brushing his hand across his face.

“Hmm…”

I guess Tony caught wind of it from your classmates on the football team. “No biggie, I just aced the last math test with an A+,” he said.

But he didn’t get to finish because the two guys up front, who were looking pretty down a second ago, suddenly made these funny faces. ‘Muffler’, the guy known for being as quiet as a mouse, spun around and yelled, “A+?! You?!”

“What’s… what’s so funny?” Song Ya asked, sounding a bit unsure.

“Hahaha!” They both started cracking up.

“Is it really that funny?” “It’s a riot, APLUS, hahaha…”

Tony was laughing so hard he could barely stand straight. “This is too funny.”

So, this little thing kind of cheered everyone up after the mood got a bit heavy. The three of them were just laughing and having a blast. ‘Muffler’ casually switched on the car radio, and him and Tony started dancing to the rap music that was playing.

“I guess there’s chanting even in these times…” Song Ya thought with a bit of a chuckle.