You Cannot Escape It

Jeremy’s shoes were made of fabric, so even though he tried hard to avoid the melted snow on the way to school, water still seeped through. School was an escape from home and home was an escape from school. Home was a mess. Jerry’s Mom didn’t have the energy to keep up, and she had even less energy to keep after the kids to keep up. So it was a free for all of dirty dishes, piles of clothes everywhere but in the closet, and papers, magazines and books strewn across surfaces unknown. They would have gotten used to it, settled in good if it weren’t for the occasional knock on the door that threatened to reveal their dirty secret, and the mice that reminded them they really needed to do better.

So school was a welcome respite. Jerry was the star of the football team, very popular with the ladies, and extremely intelligent. Jerry thought he was smarter than all of his peers and most of his teachers, so he was always up for a debate. As the teachers became more and more frustrated trying to get back on task, they would always give in, give up or just plain give out; Mr. Sanders went on leave never to return. It was rumored he had a stroke. Whenever a teacher was at their wits end the class would erupt, “Jeeerrrryy!” high fiving each other all around.

He did genuinely believe he was smarter than everyone else, but he also felt they were just plain stupid; dull. He was a big fish in a small pond and he welcomed the bell’s release at the end of each day. Today the school had a stench worse than usual. It always smelled bad to Jerry – stale people, stale air, and stale lessons. But today, the air almost made him angry. When he got to Mrs. Renner's class, he challenged her on her 1^st statement and wouldn’t let up until she left out the room in tears; in gym he clotheslined a kid for no reason; and at lunch he threw his whole tray of food away right after punching in his free lunch number. “This food’s disgusting. Ew, I can’t take the smell of this place!” he lashed out to anyone within earshot. No one disciplined Jerry because he was the star of the only thing the small town had going for it.

The last bell rang and Jerry was looking forward to fresh air, and walking the new girl, Lisa, home.  Jerry allowed his feet to get wet and watched the white gusts of air as he exhaled in and out. The smell was almost gone. They talked about where she was from and whether or not she liked Ohio. Jerry’s hoodie proved thin and the cold air became less welcomed. He shoved his hands down in his jean pockets and felt something furry. The texture reminded him of something. He turned to Lisa and apologized, “My bad, I just remembered something. I have to go.” Jerry took off. He ran the whole 2 ½ miles home with the stench, the dead mouse, and the shock of humility still in his pants.