I Can Do YA, Too!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
In the future, The System assigns kids their Careers.

Submitted: July 02, 2015

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Submitted: July 02, 2015

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I always knew I was special

"Fowler," the Counselor calls. "Fowler."

I yawn.

"Fowler," the Counselor continues. "Fowler. Fowler." He looks up from his desk. "Fowler?"

Everyone's looking at me.

"Fowler?"

I point at Glendale in the first row, who has his back turned to me.

"Fowler?" the Counselor asks Glendale. Glendale looks around. "Fowler?" Glendale points at himself. "Fowler."

"I--" Glendale opens his mouth to speak.

"Nevermind," the Counselor sighs.

Glendale searches me out, then raises a disgusted, questioning eyebrow, which I return with a shrug and a smile.

"Okay, class," the Counselor says, picking up sheets of paper. "Today is Career Evaluation Day." He drones on, "Which means you all get to learn, from the results of your standardized testing, what you are assigned to do in life."

I rub at my nose, veiling a, "Lame!"

The Counselor looks up. "What was that?"

The students are looking in my general direction, unsure, so I turn and glare at Merrill next to me.

"Miss, please," the Counselor pleads.

"It wasn't me!" Merrill argues.

"Of course it wasn't," the Counselor remarks. "Now, if you're all quite done, I'll be passing out your results."

He starts from the far right, on the bottom row, and asks every student's name, then hands them their paper. Doesn't bother asking Glendale, also now known as Fowler--me--though. He just drops the paper in front of the kid.

I've successfully confused Glendale--not a difficult task--to the point he's not paying enough attention to the small print name on the upper-left corner of the page.

He just reads aloud: "Arsonist? Mercenary! Revolutionary!!" He stands up out of his desk. "Sir, I don't think--"

The Counselor looks over his shoulder, eying Glendale over the rim of his glasses. "If the shoe fits indeed, young Sir."

I try not to smirk. It's hard, though; watching Glendale hold his head in his hands and despair.

"Psst," I whisper to Thomas next to me, "maybe someone should tell him that if his throws the paper away and never looks at it again, maybe it'll not come true?"

Thomas nods. "Yeah, good idea," and leans forward to whisper the suggestion to Glendale, who eventually receives the message.

Glendale, in disgust, balls the paper up and throws it in the trash, then sighs and lays his head on his desk, probably about to weep or something, I don't care.

I love how The System works.

"You?" the Counselor says as he comes to me.

"Shh," I tell the old man, and stand out of my chair to pluck Glendale's sheet from the small, remaining stack. "Don't say it," I whisper conspiratorially to the man. "I'm like Beetlejuice, and this school is on two strikes already."

The Counselor shakes his head. "Whatever, young man." He glances down at my future career. "Politician? You?" He sighs. "Why am I not surprised."

I grin up at him, and when he's past, I dogear the page, covering the name up that I intended to White-out real soon and forge with my own very soon.

After all the papers are handed out, class lets outs, and I march down the steps, straight to Glendale, patting him on the back, consoling, "Tough luck, buddy." He glares at me, so I give him a thumbs-up and a grin. "I'll be rooting for you."


© Copyright 2018 Jack Motley. All rights reserved.

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