Chicago,1990

Chapter 2: APLUS

As a decent time traveler, in the past couple of weeks, Song Ya has taken a level-headed look at where he’s starting from. The verdict… kinda sucks, to be honest.

First off, money’s tight. Welfare only covers the bare minimum. Aunt Susie’s side hustle, babysitting for the neighbors, doesn’t do much for our big family budget. Don’t even dream about a time traveler’s startup cash. Right now, I’ve got just three quarters in my pocket, and that’s only for emergencies, like if I need to make a call from a payphone.

The other siblings are in pretty much the same boat, and it’s easy to tell from our clothes. Tony and I are rocking mostly church and charity handouts. Tony’s got this dark coat on, probably a ex-factory uniform, and it’s getting pretty threadbare at the cuffs and elbows. My black fluffy jacket is a vet’s hand-me-down, still with the “U.S.A.F 1969” tag — it’s definitely seen some action.

The girls, Connie and Emily, definitely have it better. Aunt Susie makes sure they don’t end up in clothes that are too worn out. But hey, with the 80s style hangover and the love for bright colors in the African-American community, the end result isn’t exactly a fashion statement. Then again, that’s just me, the time traveler, talking.

Sure, being broke sucks, but the real deal here is safety. The South Side of Chicago is pretty notorious for its crappy security. It’s like a perfect storm of poverty, guns, gangs, and feuds, and it’s only getting worse. The kind of gun violence that would shake up China is just part of the norm here. It’s sad, but we hear about innocent people getting hit by stray bullets from gang fights pretty often.

Apart from the shootings, smaller-scale crimes like theft and robbery are just part of the everyday scene.

“Hey, Tony!”

Fortunately, it’s a close-knit community. A kid with a baseball cap on gives Tony a shout, “You’re kicking it with Little Larry now?”

“Hey there.”

Tony waves Emily onto the school bus that’s just pulled up and gives the kid in the baseball cap a smile and a fist bump. “Let’s catch up over there.” He walks off, making sure to give Song Ya and Connie some space, heading towards the far end of the bus station.

The dude in the baseball cap seems like someone Song Ya’s seen before. Everyone calls him ‘ET’, probably 'cause his big, sticking-out eyes look just like that alien from the huge '80s movie. But catch a peek of that colorful headband under the cap, and you know ‘ET’, who’s only a couple of years older than Song Ya, is the real deal around here. In the South Side, you don’t just throw on a headband like that for fun.

Tony’s got a wide network, and the middle school bus pulls up soon enough. He’s chilling with ‘ET’ and the guys at the back, laughing and talking away. Connie’s with her crew of girls from the same grade, hanging out and catching up.

“Hey, good morning, APLUS!”

Song Ya’s bunch of ninth graders are right up front. He takes his seat and immediately gets a shout-out, then everyone around him bursts into laughter.

“Morning, folks…”

Song Ya smiles back a bit reluctantly and then leans into his seat, closing his eyes like he’s catching some z’s.

Poverty and safety are tough nuts to crack at the moment, but the real issue staring us in the face is “school bullying.”

Here’s the deal: Alexander Song was kind of a middle-of-the-road student before. But ever since Song Ya stepped into his shoes ten days ago, he nailed a math test with a perfect score, no sweat.

Normally, it wouldn’t be a big deal, but in today’s America, we’re not there yet with the whole political correctness thing. So, the math teacher was all excited, announced his ‘A+’ score in front of everyone, gave him a big thumbs-up, and used him as a great example to get the others to step up their game.

And that’s when things got tricky…

In his past life, Song Ya was your typical easy-going Chinese guy, from a pretty good family, doing alright in school. Right after uni, his folks had a house all set up for him, and after a few years of coding, he’d scraped together enough for a car, ready to find missus right. Life was a breeze. But now, getting thrown into this mess, he’s really struggling to keep his head above water.

And back in China, getting a perfect score isn’t exactly a ticket to getting picked on or left out, right? Never mind getting called silly names like ‘100 Points’. The real downer is, sure, his math grades are through the roof, but his grades in gym and art? They’re tanking. Whether that’s a good trade-off in the American high school credit system is anyone’s guess.

“Is the secret sauce of a time traveler actually the natural knack of us Chinese folks? If that’s the deal, maybe I’ll just let go of the PE and art credits and double down on math and the sciences. Gotta keep up with English and social studies too, though…”

“Even with all that, I’m looking at finishing my credits a year or so early. Which means I’m still stuck here for another three years. Yay…”

Daydreaming about his future, Song Ya didn’t even realize the school bus had pulled up.

“Alex, stick around after school, alright? I’ve got something to tell you,” Tony said as they were splitting up.

“What’s up?” Song Ya asked. Tony huddled closer, whispering in his ear, “It’s about Little Larry.”

“More basketball, huh?” Song Ya’s excitement fizzled out. “Can I bail on this one?”

Ever since the whole time-travel thing, his new body lost all its athletic skills. Basketball for him is a nightmare. This is the real deal street ball in the hood, nothing like the laid-back shooting he used to do in gym class back in the day.

“C’mon, no deals and no funny business!” Tony’s mood shifted in a heartbeat. As he was about to go, he added in a nicer tone, “Just do it to help me out, man.”

“Okay, you’re in charge.” Song Ya was left with no choice.

Pushing through the noisy crowd, he got to the classroom and saw his chair had been chucked in the corner. “Kids…” Too tired to make a fuss, he just picked it up, gave it a quick wipe, and set it back. And just like that, another day at an American high school began.