《The Going-Home Club》Neil Velazquez Talks to Mark Rodgers, Unsuccessfully
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Monday, September 16, 20XX
THE FIRST DAY OF PRE-ASSESSMENTS.
(Text size above shrunken 100% for less dramatic effect).
Ah, ah, what a pain. At least it's over now.
From pre-assessments in math to respiration labs in science to the mandatory internship fair to the lunch checkers tournament to meetings to secure world peace—I have so much on my plate ALREADY. And now I have to prepare my strategy tomorrow for round two: my opponent is a nasty one who plays aggressive using the popular Hoffman's center attack. It's so annoying to deal with.
No worries, though, because I have a strategy of my own. Behold! The pace-and-space turtle strat! It's a fail-safe move, until it fails of course.
I just hope there's enough time during lunch to pull it all off. Lunch is an hour, so probably?
As of now, only Mark and I are in the club room. Claire is at cross country practice, probably running for her life, so she's out. Mr. Kafka is doing heavy prep work for the girl's volleyball club, his other (primary) after-school responsibility. Both of them will probably be missing club often, so for now I'll be primarily enjoying Mark's company for the foreseeable future.
And what a future is that. I had a one in three chance of ending up with the "alone with a cute girl in the club room" scenario, and I ended up rolling the macho mixed-martial artist. You get what you get and you don't throw a fit, I suppose. It's at least better than the crazy wild, no-limits teacher (his absurd talent triggers my inferiority complex). Speaking of that guy, what's the point of a club supervisor if he's not gonna be present to supervise us.
It isn't that bad. Mark is actually a pretty cool guy, but I say that as if I knew him well enough before. I really don't, and that's all the more reason to learn more about him. I know he can be fun, in his own, twisted way (see example A). I'm trying harder and harder to convince myself of this with each passing moment.
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Here is a little flow diagram of my attempts at communicating with him, to clearly illustrate my frustration.
Walk down the hall ➯ See Mark Rodgers ➯ Make eye contact ➯ Get ignored ➯ Feel dejected
Walk down the hall ➯ See Mark Rodgers ➯ Make eye contact ➯ Greet him, warmly, as if he were an old friend ➯ Get ignored ➯ Feel dejected
Walk down the hall ➯ See Mark Rodgers ➯ Make eye contact ➯Literally stop him. He can't ignore you ➯ Flash a warm smile ➯ Go for an easy handshake ➯ Get ignored ➯ Feel dejected
Walk down the hall ➯ See Mark Rodgers ➯ Go straight for the handshake. Like gun for it. Run and gun. Hoffman's aggressive center attack, but not checkers, it's IRL, and towards the man's hands. Go bananas. ➯ Get dodged on. Slip and fall like an idiot because the man's got Hall of Fame Ankle Breaker equipped and you got crossed over and featured on "Shaqtin' A Fool" ➯ Feel dejected, literally like the lowest piece of trash. Wonder why does nobody want to be your friend. Whyyyyyy
Walk down the hall ➯ See Mark Rodgers ➯ Walk up the hall and OUTTA THERE
As you can see, there's a little bit of difficulty communicating, just a little. I'm sorry to report that my luck is no better in the club room. Well, it's a little better, I admit. I get the typical "get out of my face" response (plus colorful variations!), so I guess that's better than nothing (where else am I supposed to go, I wonder?). So, I'm at a loss.
Don't get me confuzzled, Mark and I aren't on bad terms by any means. What you see is not an attitude exclusive to me (if that were the case, then I'd feel more than just "dejected"). This is how he treats everyone. He only communicates when required, and nothing more than necessary, with the addition of unnecessary grunts and scoffs. At this point, I'm pretty much used to it, and we do have our good moments. We've had our fair share of friendly bickerings. I hope they were friendly. Even if they weren't, it's all water under the bridge for me now.
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(Plus, I'm platinum satisfied after seeing his content face as he slurped those wheat noodles. Now he can never enjoy another normal cup noodle ever again! Oh wait, he's doing that right now! And three of them!
Go to hell, Maruchan!)
Okay, maybe he's not so fun, but I have to admit there's much more to him than this arrogant facade of his, if it is a facade. Call it a hunch, a strange feeling. He's a pretty crazy guy, and since I'm here, I'm going to figure out this craziness of his.
Yes. That'll be my objective for now.
Things might get pretty hectic. Wish me luck.
Note from future self: You're gonna need it.
EXAMPLE A: Mark beating everybody unexpectedly and suprisingly at the ramen place.
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