Fifth Grade Freak 2

Fifth grade was an awkward time for everybody. That was the year all the boys had to have a chat with Coach Denney while all the girls had to have their own chat with Mrs Gregory, the counselor. After that, all the fifth graders began looking at each other a little differently. So, obviously, I didn't need to do anything on my own to make myself feel more awkward or out of place. At this time, I didn't have any special skills or talents that stood out to anyone. If my parents had any ideas of a lifestyle like that of Dina Lohan, then by my 5th grade year, it was obvious they should give up hope on me and focus on my little brother. So, when I found a skill I was great at, I did all I could to be the best in my field: the field of gerbil catching. Our class had 2 gerbils as class pets, a tan one named Brownie and a black one named Blackie. (Reference previous posts regarding the lack of creativity of my class in both nicknames and pet names). Every now and then (read: all the time) Brownie and Blackie would somehow manage to McGuyver themselves out of their posh gerbil palaces and roam the classroom, free to eat whatever and poop wherever. Because my friend, Angela, and I rode the same bus to school, we always arrived together to wait for the bell. Lining up to wait for the bell to ring was alot like a first recess. While we couldn't play on the playground, we did get to socialize which is what recess was all about anyways. We'd stand outside waiting from 7:30 until 8 talking about how cute Jonathan Taylor Thomas was the night before on "Home Improvement" or how I had gotten my mom to sew a huge sunflower on my flip up denim hat to match Blossom's. One morning, it was freezing outside and there wasn't much to talk about, so Angela and I were glad when Mrs Norris came outside to ask us to catch the runaway gerbils. Mrs Norris left Angela and I to our hunt while she sipped her morning coffee in the teacher's lounge. I decided the best thing to do before beginning was to secure the parameter. I shoved my scarf under the bottom of the door to insure no escape for these rats who didn't appreciate the palacial home full of tunnels a class of fifth graders had provided for them. Brownie was an easy catch. That gerbil was fat and not as stealthy as Blackie. I suspected Blackie to be the one who figured out all those McGuyver moves to free the two. It was obvious that Blackie had stolen a sharpened pencil from beside their home and hid it under their cedar chip carpet. Then, using the sharp pencil, one of Brownie's whiskers, and those crafty little paws, Blackie manuevered an escape. Angela and I were sure to wear our gloves while searching for Blackie because he was a biter, and it gave us a tough edge like Dog the Bounty Hunter. Angela spotted Blackie scurrying across the floor in front of a bookcase. After trying to catch him by blocking him off, we decided to lure out Blackie with food. I was sure it wouldn't work. This wasn't your everyday gerbil we were dealing with. This one was smart. I was considering striking a deal with Blackie to see if he'd take my math test for me in exchange for a little freedom each week. I guess I overestimated the brillance of a hungry gerbil, because he fell for the bait. Once Blackie realized he had been dooped, he high tailed it across the room. I saw him heading my way and dropped to the floor to catch him. My awkwardly long legs and plump torso came crashing down on the cold floor far more quickly than I had anticipated. I look at Angela in confusion because it seemed that Blackie had developed the skill to also fly as he was no longer anywhere to be found. Angela looked stunned. As I stood to try to track down this genius gerbil, I realized I wouldn't have to look far. Blackie had been crushed by my shin. His small, lifeless body laid on the cold, hard floor. I checked my Levi's for any evidence before I urged Angela to leave the gerbil there and come with me to seek help from Mrs Norris. As we walked to halls, I began to get nervous and my palms started to sweat. Was I going to get a demerit for murder? Could I take my $2 lunch money and run to a pet store for a quick replacement? How could I hide the body? How could I get Angela to keep her mouth shut about the whole thing? Mrs Norris came back to class to help us put Blackie in paper towels and in a small box while the rest of the students began to file in. Once roll had been called and lunch orders taken, Mrs Norris made the fateful announcement. The class seemed sad about the loss, but didn't seem to be out for justice. I decided I was overreacting and went about my day as normal. We were to have a funeral for Blackie during third recess. By the time recess after lunch came around, rumors were already circling. Everyone in fifth grade knew Blackie's death wasn't a natural one, and everyone knew I was to blame. During our third recess, the time of the funeral came about. Blackie was set to be buried beside the air conditioning unit just outside our classroom window. As everyone began gathering around the ac unit, I heard others whispering and pointing at me. Not long after, I was asked to leave the memorial service because it wasn't right for me to attend since I had killed Blackie. "Whatever, weirdos," I thought as I walked over to the playground. I don't need those guys. I have friends in other classes and these people were not ones I wanted to go into middle school being associated with anyways. I mean, remember John talks to a beanie baby. How did he and Rattail Cliff think they could throw such big rocks from their psycho and unstylish glass houses?!