In The Orbit (Part I)

10. Harold

My acceptance letter pops into my inbox just as I turn on the tv. I read the letter at the same time as the lady on tv announces that I was the third kid accepted in the satellite program.

My parents come in and hug me as they listen to the lady.

"I knew you would make it in," my dad says, his eyes shining.

"Nice job, Har-bear," my mom laughs. "But you have to get to school."

I wait at the metro stop for ten minutes. I see Berg wandering around by himself. He is the worst of the people who pick on me. I wait for him to notice me, glancing at him every five seconds.

Either he doesn't notice me, or he doesn't want to pick on me right now. His friends aren't around, so I guess that might be it. I look around the little metro platform for anyone else I know. The elevator door opens and my neighbor Georgia steps out. She has nice hair, blondish and tumbling out of those mesh headbands that have been popular lately.

The metro arrives and I step on. Berg gets on at a different part. Georgia nods to me and gets on after me. She then hustles over to her friends and they all whisper and look at me and do their girly gossipy giggly thing.

I stand by myself and look out of the window. I can't wait to get out of here. But then again, I have spent enough time in the Russian Habler chats to know what is out there. They have no idea that I am a soon-to-be 16 year old American boy when I'm on that site. Whatever. Point is, I am scared. Excited but scared.

When I get off the metro and walk the two blocks to school, I notice that the usual crowd of bullies are not at their post on top of the cement sign in front of the dentist's office on the way to the school.

Walking to my locker, nobody yells the common names; Fatsy, Chubbs, Geek, Teacher's Pet, etc. across the hall to me. I see Khan and Berg leaning against the door to the janitor's office chatting up some girls. Both are wearing sports jerseys and business-y ties. Must be a game today. Neither of them look at me.

The announcements come on as soon as the bell rings. We say the pledge, and they announce birthdays and what clubs and sports are going on after school. Then there is a special announcement. It's about me.

"We have some fabulous news to share with you all today. One of our students, Harold Rolder, has been accepted into the US+SC Satellite Youth Program. Special shout-out to you Harold! Nice job, and congratulations! Have a great day everyone! Go Wildkats!"

Everyone swivels their heads and looks at me. The few who didn't watch the news this morning stare, open-mouthed. I can tell exactly what they are thinking.

Harold Rolder? Him? How?

I bet it's because he's smart.

But he's such a loser!

He has no other capabilities!

Yeah. Thanks for that boost of self-esteem, guys.

The teacher is a 60-something year old guy with those weird glasses that shade when the sun or any other light is too bright. The LEDs in our school are a weird color and his glasses are constantly dark. Anyway, he starts to clap. He claps alone for a minute or so and then a few nice people clap with him to be polite.

It is too long before the awkward moment is over and teacher clears his throat.

"Ahem. Ahhhgchemmmm. Harold, do you have something to say?"

Oh no. He wants me to make a speech. No. Anything but that.

"Uh, not really," I mutter.

Teach cocks his head. "Are you sure?"

I nod and someone snickers. I just can't win. I make a whole speech and get made fun of or I don't and I get made fun of.

Most of my other classes are better. The teachers congratulate me and ask me how I feel about it or whatever. At lunch I go to Ms. Oakley's room, as usual. She gives me a muffin and beams.

"Thanks for helping me with the application and all," I tell her, and her smile gets bigger.

"You're very welcome! This is great! I can't believe it!"

I smile at her and take a bite of the muffin. I love Ms. Oakley. Like a second mom, of course, not like anything weird.

"I'd say this is a cause for a celebration! No tutoring today," she says as she picks up her phone. She orders a pizza, and settles down in her comfy teacher chair. I pull up her comfier tutoring chair. She tutors a lot of people who struggle with math. Or in my case excel at it. The tutees sit in this chair during their math hours while the aids teach the few kids who don't speak English.

We eat pizza and we talk about it, in much more detail I could ever go into with my parents. Too soon, the hour is over and I have to go to gym.

My gym shirt smells and I know it does. I don't need Berg to point that out. He does anyway, of course. His friend Khan stomps on his toe and Berg yells.

"OY! FOOTBALL THIS EVENING, KHAN! YOU IDIOT!"

"Sorry," Khan mutters and I wonder what the toe stomp was for.

Coach comes out of his office and screams, "OUTSIDE! NOW! TWO LAPS!!"

Berg whines about the game tonight and Coach exempts him. I want to punch something. I get lapped by two people. Whatever. I have better things to worry about than a stupid gym class.