When I Grow Up...

[MurderWeasel]

It was the end of the first day of first grade at the Jacques Cartier public elementary school in New York City. All the students were gathered around in a circle, with the teacher, Mrs. Stevenson, leading them in a discussion. Three places to her right sat a young boy with short brown hair, still several shades lighter than its destined final color, and green eyes. His name was Aaron Hughes. He was poking at his shoe while everyone talked, and was, for the most part, ignoring them.

They were playing a "game" where Mrs. Stevenson asked a question and then each of the students answered it. There were twenty students, though, and the question was passed clockwise, so Aaron answered almost dead last. The current question was something about colors. Favorite color, probably.

"Pink," said a little girl. Aaron snorted. Boring. Predictable.

He thought back over the day. First grade wasn't really all that different from kindergarten. He'd run around some in the morning, and tried to get to know some of his classmates, even though he didn't want to, because Mommie had told him to. He'd listened to the teacher, except when she was too boring, and then he'd just stared off into space and pretended to be Gandalf, plotting his escape from Saruman's tower. "Lord of the Rings" was Aaron's favorite book ever. Daddy had read it to him last year, and nothing since had come close to being as good.

Since he hadn't caused problems, his spacing out had been ignored.

Afterwards, the class had had snack. It was goldfish crackers, which were good if a little salty, but always fun to play around with, and juice boxes. He'd gotten apple juice, which was better than orange juice.

Then they had played a horrible, horrible game. It was called "adding". It was the biggest change from kindergarten. Aaron hated adding. It didn't make sense. He could count just fine, but it involved counting without counting, which didn't make any sense. Most of the other kids got it just fine, but not Aaron. He didn't know why. He wasn't stupid; he could already read better than almost everyone in the class. He thought he was smarter than almost everyone in the class, because he could sit still for a long time with fidgeting or picking his nose.

Lunch had come around, and they'd gone outside, and Aaron had wandered off to play with some sticks. He'd made a little castle, and then stomped it to pieces. That was because it had been attacked by a dragon. Nothing survived being attacked by a dragon. He'd done it twice more before lunch ended. All the other little kids left him alone, which was good, because they were all into stupid stuff like sports and army people and none of them knew who Gandalf was, so far as he could tell.

"Purple," said the boy next to Aaron. Realizing it was his turn, he chimed in with "Obsidian," a word Daddy had taught him. He was pretty sure it meant some sort of black, or maybe white, but it didn't really matter; he was just trying to get them to leave him alone to think without being boring like all the other stupid kids. He didn't notice Mrs. Stevenson giving him an odd look. He wouldn't have cared if he had.

After lunch had been story time, which wasn't very fun for Aaron. They read a story about a little girl who stole a finger bone for soup, and then a ghost came after her or something. It was a tiny little book, so thin Aaron could have ripped it in half, probably. It wasn't nearly as big as "Lord of the Rings", not as good, either. The rest of the class seemed so enthralled, so grossed out. The girl had made soup out of a finger bone! A girl next to Aaron had helpfully told him that, as if he was deaf or stupid or something, and he'd replied that it was nothing, orcs ate each other all the time, sometimes still alive, and she hadn't talked to him again.

They'd done some other pointless stuff. Played with blocks. The teacher had told them that, starting a little at a time, they'd be transferring to sitting in desks, and doing more work, and it wouldn't be much like kindergarten at all, and wasn't it so very exciting to be growing up? Aaron didn't really think so; he liked kindergarten, there he could just play around all day and pretend to be Gandalf or sometimes Aragorn, but never Boromir, because he died so quickly. Not Gimli or any of the hobbits, either. Aaron was short enough in real life.

"Aaron?"

The hobbits weren't so interesting. They were just there to...

"Aaron?"

Mrs. Stevenson was talking to him again. Had the circle gone around again already? Apparently so.

"Yes Mrs. Steveson?"

She sighed, then asked the question again.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

He smiled. Finally, an interesting question! One he could really talk about. Unfortunately, he probably couldn't be his first choice, he had a vague idea that bodies didn't change that way, but hey, he'd still say it. Maybe she could help him.

"Aaron?"

"I want to be a dragon," he replied with a huge grin, "or if I can't for some reason, I guess a wizard would be okay too."

The class burst out laughing. So did Mrs. Stevenson. They were laughing at him. All of them. Laughing. At him. Even the teacher. Wasn't she supposed to help him? Why was she laughing?

"You have quite the imagination Aaron," she said, then added, "Perhaps we can get something a little more realistic from Johnny."

"I want to be a fireman! So I can spray Aaron if he casts a spell!" Johnny chirped.

Aaron felt his face going red. People were laughing again. Teacher too. Jerks. Stupid kids. Meanies. Aaron felt his fists clenching. He wanted to smack Johnny a good one, but...

No.

He took a deep breath and opened his fists. No one had noticed anything.

No. You're better than him. He's just stupid and boring and you'd just get in trouble and it isn't worth it.






Besides, he's way bigger than you...




((Aaron's past continued in I </3 NY))