This is a true story. Names have been changed and details have been blurred due to poor memory. Please enjoy.
Coming home from school after the first semester at college left me in a nostalgic mood. Visiting old friends, spending time with the dog, and going for walks along the beach have been ways to fill my time. I looked back at my time at high school, a decent time if not below average. Going a full four years through Catholic private school took a toll on me mentally, spiritually, and behaviorally. I fell into a group of students that can be labeled as punks. The thrill of doing stupid acts remains a glorious feeling to this day for me. My relatively dull days of college made me think of a moment in time that remains to be a pivotal point in my times in high school, and needed a proper reflection.
It was junior year of high school, a period of maturation. The time students got their acts together, yet ours’ kept falling apart. I remember it like it was yesterday. The homeroom remained civilized, with students moaning about quizzes and assignments from the last night, and there was the far left corner of the room. I sat in my seat ten minutes early, as everyday went. Dom was the first to come in. He brought a faded brown bag with him. I asked him what was in the bag. A full lunch just sitting in the hallway, just begging to be picked up, sat upon Dom’s desk. He went through the objects in the bag to find the usual suspects: tin foil covered sandwich, granola bar, bag of chips. One by one, the gang came in and just sat to see what was in the mystery bag. Everything was out, except for one last item. Dom pulled it out slowly.
He held it up: a fresh apple. Things would’ve been fine, until Marv came in.
The build of a football player, the spiked hair cut of a middle schooler, and the face of Bob Saget, Marv was the definition of a character. He stood as tall as most boys on the school’s basketball team. Under his belt sat a mid-ninety grade point average and a secretive gambling ring led by his love of sports and need of money. He was the most reclusive out of the group of friends, as many weekends would find him either at home watching games very closely, or digging holes in a relative's yard in the grand state of Delaware.
Marv gazed at the apple with a light bulb lit up in the back of his head. His great idea of what to do with the edible apple: throw it at the chalkboard. Simple enough, but keep in mind that Marv has a decent throwing arm. Dom passed Marv the apple, not knowing the events that would soon be occurring after the second bell rang.
The morning procedure was well underway. Students spent roughly twenty minutes staring at the board, which would deliver information. We started with a prayer video: a music video normally provided by Chris Tomlin, but today it could’ve been Matt Maher or a Steven Curtis Chapman, but that really wasn’t what I was focused on that morning. Mr. Peters (commonly referred to as, Mr. Potato Head, for the uncanny resemblance) stood walking along aisles, making sure students wouldn’t miss the riveting “I Lift My Hands." Time slipped and slipped away as the song’s bridge began. A blessing from God arrived, as a knock landed right at the front door and before we knew it, Mr. Peters was out of the room.
A collective gaze remained on Marv, it was time. You could see the sly doubt in the corner of his face, contemplating the task at hand. This internal struggle lasted two seconds. A light grin was succeeded by his left arm in the air. The apple escaped the giant's hand and made its way toward the other side of the room. All eyes locked on the graceful flight of this ferocious fruit. The apple made contact with the hard chalkboard. You could probably hear the two meet from next door, as a loud bang struck the chalkboard, and the apple fell from the height bruised and bled on the carpet.
Mr. Peters came back to his room to find a beaten apple on the floor. He walked up the row closest to the chalkboard, stared aggravatingly at the apple, and looked subtly at Dom. He then accused Dom of the act. Dom had good proof it wasn’t him, busting out facts such as the damage to the apple and height of the impact. They debated for a duration of time, talking over the prayer and gathering the students attention. Marv sat across the room, cowering in his seat. I don’t know what motivated him, it could’ve been the fear of his father, the guilt of seeing Dom berated, or the attention received for throwing the apple. He raised his arm slowly and painfully and said in an utterly dumbfounded tone in his voice: “I did it."
Mr. Peters got Marv up as the two headed to the Dean’s office. Pure fear filled Marv’s face as he got up and went to what seemed to him as death row. Halfway down the hallway, Marv stopped him and told him he didn’t have to do this. Mr. Peters, as nice of a man as he was smart, took the time to explain to Marv that if he lets him go, it will encourage other students to have the same behavior. Marv sat down in the office, as Mr. Peters explained to the Dean the situation, to which the Dean only asked Mr. Peters if this was true, as the Dean could not believe it.
Marv received a couple of demerits, nothing detrimental. Life went on and the shadow of the accident followed Marv all throughout the rest of high school. This stood as the peak of Marv’s antics until a few weeks later, when he threw a random lock down nearly the entire crowded hallway. This time, Mr. Peters would not hear of Marv’s pleas, and the Dean was able to finally believe what he had heard.
I know what you’re thinking: what did I have to do with that story? I sat near Dom, and nearly cried of laughter. Through the heated debate and Marv’s confession, I found myself in a state of hard laughter. It remains one of the biggest laughs I have ever had, and I am someone who barely laughs that hard. I look back on this incident and I still get a chuckle; I even found myself chuckling writing this. I hope that one day everyone gets to laugh as hard as I did that day. Thank you for reading this piece of writing and have a good day.
