Who's the new guy?
One Thursday early in September, Newton and his brother Maxwell found themselves walking to school in the pouring rain.
“Come on, Newt, keep the pace up. We’ll be late, and I’ll be blaming you when they call Mum to let her know,” said Maxwell as he huddled under his hooded coat and dodged puddles like they were landmines.
“The school is just over half a kilometre away, and we don’t have to be there until nine. It is currently eight forty-five, which means I have to walk fifty-five and a half centimetres per second to arrive perfectly on time. I am currently walking much faster than that, so don’t let me keep you if you are in a rush. I’m perfectly capable of walking to school by myself,” said Newton, who sloshed through several puddles without much notice.
Maxwell rolled his eyes, groaned, and turned on his little brother. “Look, Lizard Boy, I’d love to be able to do that, but what happened last time I let you walk alone?” he asked.
Newton gave his older brother an exasperated look but did not answer.
“You got thrown into a wheelie bin! That’s what happened. And the time before that?”
Now it was Newton’s turn to roll his eyes and groan, but still he did not answer.
“You got beaten to a bloody pulp by Jack Jones and his cronies!”
“I don’t need you to protect me,” said Newton quietly.
“Obviously, you do. And while I might think you are an annoying squit who needs a good punch in the face from time to time, you are still my brother, and no one has the right to beat you up but me.”
The wind gusted, and a large wet leaf whipped Maxwell across the face, making him squint and sputter as he tried to remove the soggy bit of foliage from his cheek.
“I can really feel the love, brother. You’ve just wasted all that time moaning at me that we could have been walking,” replied Newton.
Maxwell turned with a huff and continued onward. As they walked, Maxwell was met with a constant stream of “Hi, Max,” and “Wot’cher, Max,” and “Great goal last week, Max” from the other students making their way to school. But for all the attention they paid Newton, he might as well have been invisible. This was generally preferable, however, to the continuous stream of verbal and physical abuse he would be subject to if his brother wasn’t a few steps ahead of him.
Maxwell was the most popular boy at school. He was seventeen and in his final year, which meant that as of the following September, Newton would lose his protection. This thought didn’t trouble Newton too much. A year was a very long time, and he was sure that, eventually, if he just let them get it out of their systems, they would all get bored and move on to torturing someone else. If all else failed, he would just have to fight back. The steady stream of students grew into a raging river of teenagers as they neared the school. No one bothered to apologise to Newton as they shouldered past, clipped his heels, or stood on his toes.
By the time Newton walked through the glass double doors at the base of Tower A, he was soaked from head to toe and covered in mud from the waist down. Thankfully, he wore a full-length coat, which he removed and stuffed into his locker. The school bell rang just as Newton entered Classroom 13. He walked to the back corner of the room and placed his bag under the table. The table seated three, but everyone refused to sit next to Newton, so every morning he would sit alone as attendance was taken.
“Adams.”
“Here.”
“Aldritch.”
“Here.”
“Alexander.”
“Yup.”
“Avery.”
“Here.”
Newton was shocked to hear the voice coming directly from his right. Avery was sitting at Newton’s table.
“Hi, I’m Jayne Avery. Nice to meet you.”
Newton wasn’t sure how to react. Plenty of new students were nice to him until they eventually bowed to peer pressure and began to ignore him, but this girl was undoubtedly the most attractive person he had ever laid eyes upon.
She had dark red hair and wore bright red lipstick but very little other make-up. Her eyes were dazzlingly blue, and she wore a dress depicting a galaxy. She smiled at Newton, who suddenly realised it had been several seconds and he had yet to utter a single word.
“Erm, hi. I’m Newton Alexander. It’s probably best if you don’t talk to me,” he finally replied.
“Why not?” asked Jayne Avery.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Just take my word for it. Tomorrow, go and sit over there next to Kylie, and if they ask, say you thought I was really weird and annoying,” explained Newton.
“To be honest, you do seem pretty weird. But I like weird,” she replied.
“Don’t say that in front of anyone else...” said Newton, and then rose from his chair and left for his first class, Mathematics.
He trooped up several flights of stairs to the Maths department and waited in a corner. This was one of the more pleasant classes Newton attended. Mathematics classes were assigned by ability. Newton was in “top set,” which meant that the kind of mindless idiots who spent their time tormenting him would spend the next two hours in an adjacent classroom. Still, hardly anyone in his class spoke to him unless they had to.
One by one, teachers welcomed their students, and slowly the heaving mass of hormones and body spray thinned. Newton got his toes stepped on several times in the commotion and ignored muttered nasty comments. Dave Beecham, one of his oldest foes, kicked Newton’s right leg out from under him as he walked by. Newton hit the floor bottom first and glared at Dave, who was looking back over his shoulder as he walked towards a classroom door. He pulled a menacing face at Newton and then slammed face-first into the door, which had swung shut a moment earlier. Newton heard the laughter of the kids inside and smiled as he got back to his feet and brushed down his trousers.
Dave Beecham’s face had turned red from a combination of anger and embarrassment. He punched the wall and attempted to open the door, but he couldn’t. He twisted the handle and slammed his shoulder into the door, but it didn’t budge. He kicked the door in anger, and then the teacher appeared on the other side.
“What are you doing, Beecham?” she asked.
“The door won’t open!” shouted Dave Beecham.
The teacher reached out and opened the door.
“It seems to be working fine to me, Mister Beecham. I think you need to take a trip to see the Head. You can’t go around kicking doors for no reason,” she said.
The door to Newton’s classroom swung open, and Mrs Kennedy’s smiling visage greeted them. They filed into the classroom in silence while Dave Beecham tried to talk his way out of a trip to see Mrs Shale, the Headmistress.
“I swear, it wouldn’t open, Miss,” he said in a pleading tone.
During the morning break, Newton strolled out of Tower B and headed for the music department, where his next lesson would take place. As Music wasn’t a core subject, this was another class in which Newton generally didn’t have to deal with bullies and was a large part of why he chose it. He headed straight for the rehearsal rooms and entered one with an upright piano inside.
He started playing an old Ray Charles song and tried to lose himself in the music, but the muffled sound of a badly played bass drum kept him out of the groove. The tempo and rhythm changed constantly, making it impossible for him to keep time himself. He stood up and left the room, searching for the source of the noise. Several doors down, he peered into the tiny window and saw a headphone-wearing Dave Beecham wailing away at a drum kit like Animal from The Muppets. Judging by the look on his face, the smile, and closed eyes, Dave thought he was killing it.
Newton watched and listened for a few seconds, trying to figure out what song the idiot was attempting to play along with, but it sounded more like a chimpanzee banging pots and pans than anything else. Probably Oasis, he thought. Dave banged his way through what seemed to be the climax of the song and then stopped suddenly.
“What the—?” he said, and then ducked down to look at something.
Newton walked back to the rehearsal room with the piano and sat down. The sound of Dave Beecham stomping past the door, heading for the teacher’s office distracted him momentarily. Newton was about to enter the final chorus of the song when he heard footsteps coming; a muffled voice was shouting.
“I told you if you broke one more skin, you would be banned from using the drum kit. My year ten class are recording a group piece today, and we need that drum kit!” shouted Mr Jenkins.
“But what else am I supposed to do at break time? I’m banned from going outside,” said Dave.
They stopped just outside the door, and Newton ducked down so they wouldn’t spot him through the small window.
“You should have thought about that before ruining my drum skins. Hell, you should have thought about that before you started beating lunch money out of the other students,” said Mr Jenkins.
“I’ll tell Mum...” said Dave in a menacing tone.
“Go ahead and tell her. The way she lets you get away with whatever you want is half the reason I divorced her. When you’re at home, you can do whatever you please, but when you are in my department, you will do as you are told or you will not be welcome,” said Mr Jenkins.
“I hate you,” said Dave.
“That’s a shame, because I love you. That’s why I have to punish you, since it seems your mother won’t.”
“Mum is nice to me because she loves me. That’s what love is.”
“No, son, when you love someone, you try to make them better people, not enable their worst instincts. Hopefully, someday you’ll understand that.”
Dave stormed off, and Newton slid back onto the piano stool and pretended to be engrossed in the stack of sheet music in front of him. The door opened behind him.
“You all set for class?” asked Mr Jenkins.
“I think so,” said Newton.
“Let me hear it, then.”
Newton played the opening few bars of “Georgia on My Mind,” and then Mr Jenkins joined in, singing the first verse. They were partway through the second chorus when Mr Jenkins tapped him on the shoulder. Newton stopped playing and turned to face his teacher.
“It has to be a student singing on the recording. I’ve heard you in here; you’re pretty good. How’s about it?”
Newton just shook his head in response.
“Oh, come on. You’re better than any of the other boys,” said Mr Jenkins, but Newton continued to shake his head.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with what kids like my wayward son would say, is it?”
Newton looked up at his teacher and just said, “I just don’t want to draw any more attention to myself than I already do simply by existing.”
Mr Jenkins seemed to accept Newton’s answer and didn’t push the issue any further.
“Class starts in five minutes,” he said, and left the room.
The rest of the school day was uneventful, and Newton found himself walking home alone, as usual. He had deliberately taken his time packing up his bag so that he could avoid the bulk of traffic, and hopefully the abuse, that erupted forth from the school at the final bell. He crossed the road and headed along the cycle path. He could hear voices ahead and took a deep breath to prepare himself.
He walked along, pretending not to notice Dave Beecham and his friends, who were sitting on a bench smoking.
“Look, it’s Lizard Boy,” said one of the boys.
“How you doing, loser?” asked Dave, but Newton just continued to walk with his eyes on the ground.
“Hey, I’m talking to you, Lizard Boy,” said Dave, getting to his feet.
Newton continued walking until someone shoved him.
That’s it, thought Newton. I don’t have to put up with this.
Newton stopped and looked at Dave Beecham.
“I know you had a bad day, slamming headfirst into a door and then your dad kicking you out of the music rooms because you suck so bad at the drums, but there’s no reason to take that out on me,” said Newton.
“How’d you know about the drum kit?” asked Dave in confusion.
“You could hear that god-awful racket from the moon,” said Newton, which made one of the boys laugh.
Dave glared at the boy, who looked sheepish and took a few steps backwards.
“You’re very brave for someone who’s outnumbered six to one,” said Dave.
“You’d need a lot more than that to make this a fair fight,” muttered Newton under his breath.
“What did you say?” asked Dave.
“Can’t you beat up little old me all by yourself?” said Newton in a mocking tone. He squared up to Dave Beecham, who was several inches taller than he was. Dave pulled back his arm to throw a punch, but another hand came out of nowhere and grabbed it. Dave spun around and took a single punch to the face before he ran away, bleeding from his nose.
“Anyone else that fancies themselves the Big Man?” asked Maxwell.
The boys either ignored him or shook their heads without making eye contact.
“The next time I hear that someone threw a punch at my brother, that person is going to get more than a bloody nose. Make sure to tell your friends,” he continued.
The boys stood up and followed in the direction Dave had made his escape.
“I was handling that myself,” said Newton.
“I saw. I’ll give you credit, you’re growing some big cojones, but Dave would cream you in a heartbeat,” said Maxwell.
Newton rolled his eyes and reluctantly said, “Thanks for the assist, bro.”
“Like I told you. No one gets to beat up my little brother,” said Maxwell.
“Except you...” finished Newton.
“Come on, let’s get home,” said Maxwell, and he put his arm around Newton’s shoulder and they walked home together.
The following morning proceeded much as the previous one. Maxwell moaned at Newton for being slow, and was greeted by his many friends and admirers, and Newton arrived at Classroom 13 just as the bell rang. He walked to his table and sat down, then turned to his right to see if Jayne Avery had followed his suggestion about sitting with Kylie, but was astonished to find her sitting next to him once again. She was looking directly at him, smiling.
“Hi,” she said.
Much as the day before, Newton, struck by how pretty she was, took a few moments to respond.
“I thought we discussed this yesterday. You don’t want to be seen associating with me,” Newton said.
Jayne looked at him with something that resembled pity.
“I asked around about you, and from what I can tell, most of the reason why everyone hates you is because of one group of kids in seventh year. Everyone else just goes along with it because that’s what idiots do. Personally, I would rather have no friends than be friends with idiots. So how about you be my friend instead? You’re certainly not an idiot from what I’ve been told,” she replied.
“You barely know anything about me,” said Newton.
“But what I do know, I like. And the only way to find out if I like the rest of you is to be friends with you,” said Jayne.
Newton hadn’t had a friend for a very long time. He wasn’t sure that he wanted one either, but Jayne seemed to have made her mind up that she was going to be his friend, and he decided resistance was pointless. It might even be nice to have someone to talk to other than himself. She seemed intelligent, independent-minded, and witty. He liked that.
“OK, then,” he said. “We can be friends, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Your life is going to be miserable,” he finished.
Jayne’s smile widened. “Misery loves company, and now you’ve got some.”
Newton and Jayne left Classroom 13 and went to their first lesson of the day. They chatted about their interests as they walked, which turned out to be very similar. They made a final left into the Science department and joined the back of the line with their classmates. Several minutes passed without any sign of their teacher opening the laboratory door. The students were just beginning to get impatient when a man with bright red hair and extremely weird clothing strode into the corridor and exclaimed,
“Good morning! Brilliant to see you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, quite the adventure ahead today! Follow me!”
And he strode right into the laboratory.
“Who’s the new guy?” asked a brown-haired boy called Terry as the class followed their new teacher.
Newton took his usual seat at the back of the room and pulled out his science textbook. Jayne sat down next to him and attempted a smile that was more of a wince.
“Well then. I had better introduce myself. I am Professor Alwick Avery. You have all surely met my daughter Jayne already. Ah yes, there she is, right in the back, as per usual. Textbooks away; there will be no need for them. Hopelessly outdated, don’t you know?”
What followed was probably the most fun science lesson Newton or any of his classmates had ever experienced.
It was obvious that few subjects excited Professor Avery more than what he called Natural Philosophy, the traditional name for science. Over the next two hours, he took the students on a whirlwind tour of the entire history of the universe, including the highlights of modern human discoveries. He made little explosions with a dab of one powder colliding with another, showed them a Tesla coil, and covered half the floor in foam by dropping baking soda into vinegar.
Newton was among the best science students in the school. Of all the subjects he studied, it was the one he found most interesting and most natural, but he had never before found true joy in the subject. The way that Professor Avery spoke with such passion and eloquence changed how Newton saw science from that point forward.
The bell signalling the end of class rang, much to the chagrin of most of the students. “Off you go, then. See you all on Friday!” said Professor Avery.
Newton’s classmates bundled out of the room, chatting excitedly about the lesson they had just attended. For many, it was a new experience to leave the science lab feeling happy.
“Jayne, a moment, please?” said Professor Avery.
“I’ll catch up to you, Newton,” said Jayne. Newton shrugged and left the classroom.
“So, what did you think of the lesson?” asked Professor Avery.
“It was pretty good. You’d think that you have been doing this for years,” replied Jayne.
“Two hundred and seventy-nine years, to be exact.”
“Funny.”
“So, the boy you were sat with? Is that...?”
“Newton? Yeah, that’s him.”
“Hmm, I expected him to be shorter.”
“Why?”
“I’m not really sure. I just did.”
“You are so strange.”
“So is he...?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I think so.”
“Good. How are you enjoying school?”
“It’s a bit boring, actually. Then again, after the last two years, boring is a nice change of pace.”
“I’d better let you catch up with Newton. He’s probably waiting just outside the door.”
“I doubt it. He’s not the waiting-around-for-someone-he-just-met type.”
“So young, so blind,” said Professor Avery in a sympathetic tone. “Off you go. Love you,” he finished.
Jayne left the classroom. She was looking at her shoes and so didn’t notice Newton standing just a few feet outside the door, leaning casually against the wall.
“You and your dad have a strange sense of humour.”
Jayne leapt two feet in the air and screamed. “Oh my God, Newton! You scared me half to death!”
“You should pay more attention to your surroundings,” said Newton.
Professor Avery popped his head around the door. “Everything O...” He stopped mid-sentence, noticing Newton, and smiled. “Ah,” he said, and then closed the door with a snap. Newton thought he heard laughter coming from behind the closed door.
“Come on, let’s go,” said Jayne, whose face was scarlet with embarrassment.
At lunchtime, Jayne and Newton sat together at a table in the far corner of the lunchroom. It didn’t take long before Kirsty, a tall black-haired girl who was friends with Kylie, came over and said,
“Hi, Jayne. Your dad is so cool; I loved his lesson. Why don’t you come over and sit with us? You don’t have to sit over here with the Newt.”
“I’m fine here, thanks. Maybe another time,” said Jayne.
“Look, you’re new. Your dad is a cool teacher, and you have a chance to be very popular here. Don’t mess it up,” said Kirsty in a conspiratorial whisper.
“I’d rather sit here and talk with Newton about things your tiny little mind can’t even begin to comprehend than sit with troglodytes like you and Kylie and be one of the cool kids. As I said, I’m fine here, thanks,” said Jayne loudly enough for the entire dining hall to hear.
Kirsty stood stunned for a moment. She wasn’t used to anyone speaking to her so bluntly, and Jayne was sure she was trying to figure out if she should be offended by being called a troglodyte.
“That would be your cue to leave, Kirsty,” said Newton, smiling politely.
Kirsty turned on her heel and stormed back to Kylie’s table. Everyone had their heads turned towards Newton and Jayne, and it was clear that they too couldn’t believe anyone would have the audacity to speak to Kirsty that way.
“Well, there goes your last chance to be one of the cool kids,” said Newton, nodding his head toward the clique of popular kids.
Jayne turned her head just in time to watch Kirsty catch her foot on the strap of a rucksack. Her foot turned over in her high-heeled shoe, and she fell flat on her face.
“Like I said, if being cool means being horrible to people for no good reason, then I’d rather not be. Once we all get out into the real world, those idiots will quickly realise that you were the cool one all along and that they were morons,” she said.
“You know, I’m beginning to like you, Jayne Avery,” said Newton.
“I’ll take that as a rather large compliment,” she replied.
