Diary of a Shrimpy Kid

Chapter 4: Oh How the Tides Have Tabled

Principal Mcsuckerbits dismissed Chad from his office as soon as his parents hung up the phone. Though relieved to be leaving the tense atmosphere of the principal's office, Chad felt a gnawing anxiety in his abdomen. What would his parents say to him when he got home? How long would the inevitable lecture last? He sighed, heaved his backpack over his carapace, and crawled off towards his last class of the day: Oceanic History.

He sat down in the back of this class, same as he had done earlier in Home Ec, and began unpacking his new notebook and pens. He didn't bother looking up as other students began filing into the small classroom, he was thoroughly over the day and knew Goldie didn't have the same class schedule so it wouldn't matter anyways which human, or rude marlin, would walk in.

A girl giggled as she sat down in the desk next to him, "No way! It's you!"

Chad's eyes rotated to see who had recognized him and soon he too was doing some recognizing, "Oh, hi again, Shellby."

He suddenly felt deeply embarrassed and wondered if she had heard about the tussle he had found himself in at lunch. He still wasn't sure if she had or not, but either way it seemed she didn't care because she didn't move from her chosen seat next to him.

"History is my favorite subject," she whispered to him as class started. She left him no room to respond to this, her attention firmly focused on the teacher as soon as he walked into the room. Chad was somewhat shocked that a human could be so invested in matters of oceanic history. He had never before met anyone else with such passion, not even, he reflected in disbelief, back at his aquatic hell of a high school.

The teacher of this class didn't waste time introducing himself as the others had, diving straight into the material he was obviously deeply passionate about. He pointed to maps of the ocean floor, he explained diagrams of fish, both big and small, and spent at least twenty minutes of the period discussing the differences in shelter between underwater rocks and the typical coral.

"Now, as you have learned today, oceanic history is an exciting and dynamic subject that I expect you will take very seriously," the teacher, who Chad now knew was Mr. Starboard, said as he walked to stand beside Chad's desk. "As you have also learned, we have many marine exchange students in this class, such as this young Stomatopoda as scientists would call him. What is your preferred name though, mantis shrimp?"

Chad quietly introduced himself, heavily conscious of everyone's eyes tearing into him, seemingly accusingly. He heard a few students who had been there at lunch snicker and whisper.

Mr. Starboard was offended, "My classroom will be no place for bullying, especially when it comes to such a fine, bright specimen as Chad here, who most certainly knows more about oceanic history than you lot."

To prove his point, Mr. Starboard began quizzing Chad on all sorts of oceanic history facts, and Chad knew each and every answer. He knew where baby barnacles came from, he knew which fish are typically elected heads of state, he knew which tides had been involved in starting the First Reef War, and why the Sea Cucumber Treaty of 1918 led to the Second Reef War. Mr. Starboard beamed with pride and Chad thought he saw a similar look in Shellby's eyes before she turned her shy smile to the ground. Chad liked Mr. Starboard; it was encouraging to have someone on his side for once. He was determined to make him proud of him the rest of the semester. Mr. Starboard dismissed the class.

"I can't wait for tomorrow's lesson," Shellby said as she and Chad walked from the classroom.

"Me neither," Chad agreed, "I feel I'm somewhat of an expert, really."

Shellby smiled, "I can't wait to learn from you then, Chad, what you did back there was definitely impressive."

He smiled back, holding her gaze in his for a lingering, shellfish moment. He wanted to make her proud too if he could, both in class and, if he was being honest, in life, but that felt too cheesy even for a hopeless romantic like him. She finally looked away, put her delicate yet strong hands into her coat pocket and said goodbye. For the second time that day, Chad watched Shellby walk away.

When he returned to his tide pool on the Delaware Shore line, he tried to swim in silently to avoid the lecture waiting for him. Of course, this mission proved futile.

"Where do you think you're going?" Said his father, his huge clam shells tightly pursed together with disappointment. Chad's mother was next to his father, her smaller clam shells in a similar expression.

Chad slinked towards them, his head down, "He was bullying me in the lunchroom, and my friend, it was-"

"That's no excuse," his father boomed, "We brought you to Harbored High for a new start. I would have expected you wouldn't make a scene here after the last incident!" All three in the pool were quiet. None of them needed a reminder of what had happened in the last incident.

His dad sighed, "I can see you didn't mean it to go this way, though."

His mother chimed in, "And we're proud you showed a bully his place today and protected your new friends."

"But remember self control and be mindful of your reputation," they spoke in unison. He hated when they did that. Chad nodded despite the inward cringe.

"Yes ma'am, yes sir." He left them sitting on the living room coral and went to his room.

He understood why they had moved, of course he did, yet he still felt a bit resentful about it all. Why was it always his fault? Why was he always the one who needed self control? Why did he have to leave? He punched his pillow, sending it flying out of the top of the tide pool. He watched it complete its vertical arc then slumped against his wall, his head down on his dactyl clubs.

Why? Why? The word ricocheted around his mind until it touched another memory of the incident and he heard a woman, older than him, speaking: Why did you do it? He thought about her and what she said. What he never said to her back then was the truth. The truth that he knew yet nobody believed. The truth. The truth was he didn't do it. This truth, so apparent to him, had been nearly impossible to convince the other fish accusing him of. He sometimes doubted if his own parents really believed him, noticing them flinch when he reached for dishes in the kitchen, or picked up his laundry, or even passed them the remote. Somehow, though this should have hurt more than anything else, he realized sitting on the floor of his room, that he felt nothing. Nothing...nothing...

He didn't kill that crab.