This next section is the first major turning point in the story. It happens quite early on, and is the first of many twists and turns.
Get ready. Once you are prepared, click on the comments button.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
The First Turning Point.
Whatever conceptions you've had of the story up till thus far, go over to a garbage bin, grab those conceptions out of your head, and throw them in. Whatever genre you think this story is from what you've seen already, be completely prepared to ditch that thought and adapt to the genre that this story really is.
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I swallowed my pride, and walked up to the front of the room. I shoved my hands into the ice water, holding back a grimace. Damn it, this stuff is cold! How in the world is it possible that after sticking his hands in this stuff, Kenny’s eyes still had that glazed-over expression?
I pulled my hands out of the water after the required amount of time. Mr. Samson made the bubbles in my hand. I swallowed hard and braced myself for the ensuing pain.
What happened next was my first clue that something wasn’t right today. The only problem was that I didn’t know that something was weird either until quite a bit later.
I knew from Kenny’s example that the fire would only flare up for a second, and then go away… or at least I thought it would. I prepared for the heat, and watched Mr. Samson bring the lighter closer.
Mr. Samson lit the bubbles. But something wasn’t right. Whereas Kenny’s fire came and went, after about five seconds, my fire was still going. The ice water that was protecting my hands had already evaporated… but I didn’t feel a thing. Mr. Samson was frantically reaching for the bucket of ice water, but all I could do was sit and stare. My hands were on fire, and I didn’t feel a thing – no heat, no pain, nothing. What was going on, I didn’t know, and I didn’t get a chance to find out, because Mr. Samson dumped the entire bucket of ice water on my hands, extinguishing the blaze.
Mr. Samson looked at my face, looked at Kenny, looked at his equipment, the puddle on the floor, and then finally rested on my hands. We were both thoroughly confused: My hands had been engulfed in flames for a good five to ten seconds, but there were no indications that there ever was a fire… no burns, no blisters, no peeling, nothing. There wasn’t even any residual heat on my hands.
“Okay class, I think we’re going to stop that demonstration right here so that what happened just there doesn’t happen again…” Mr. Samson trailed off. He was obviously lost in thought, and still staring at my hands. I was speechless, but Kenny was laughing his head off at me. I just had a horrifying experience, and all that asshole could do was laugh? For the first time in a long while, I was truly angry.
I grabbed the bucket and a prism that happened to be lying around, and started moving closer to Kenny. I was so mad that I could hardly see straight, as if there was a red haze clouding my vision. All I could see was Kenny, and all I could think of was paying him back.
Mr. Samson yelled out “Jason, don’t!” and put me in a headlock. He took the bucket and prism out my hands, put them back on the table, and sat Kenny and me on opposite sides of the classroom.
Kenny took off his jacket, and hung it out the window that was near his desk. He then proceeded to taunt me for the rest of the class with a lighter that he always carried around with him. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t calm myself down then, and I’m generally a very calm, rational person.
Forty minutes later, class was over. I immediately grabbed my stuff and went to my next class. Whatever had just happened, I really, really wanted to forget it.
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