Senior Prank (9781620957295) (2 page)

“What can I do for you, Melody?” asked Mr. Potts.

“Somebody put a frog in my backpack and when I pulled out my math book, it jumped out and scared me to death,” said Melody. “That's not right. I'm sure it was someone in this period. You got to find out who did this. It almost gave me a heart attack.”

“We'll work on it tomorrow,” said Mr. Potts. “I understand you're upset, but I can't do anything right now. We'll have to work on it tomorrow. Sorry.”

“I'll bet it was Elvis,” said Melody. “That kid gets away with murder. You got to talk to him Mr. Potts. He thinks he's all that and more.”

“I promise I will tomorrow,” said Mr. Potts. “We'll get it worked out. Now you better get to class.”

With that Mr. Potts locked his room and headed for his track office. At least there he had something to look forward to in the form of a few star athletes. Elvis, Sheen, and Hernandez weren't on the track team and for that reason alone the track team seemed like a safe refuge from the daily hazards and grinds of teaching.

As Mr. Potts, the county teacher of the year 20 years ago, walked toward the locker room, he spied Elvis roaming the halls. Time to retire Mr. Potts thought to himself, speeding up his pace in order to avoid any chaos that might be about to happen.

He unlocked the track office door and entered. He locked the door behind him so he could experience some peace and quiet for a few moments. In the meantime, the rigors, antics and usual happenings of Thomas Jefferson High School went on without him. Things seem to be just waiting for the next Pearl Harbor or atomic bomb.

Jose Hernandez arrived first and took his usual seat on the concrete wall near the school's flagpole. He wasn't fortunate enough to own a car so he had to ride the school bus. It usually dropped him off at the school at 7:10 a.m.

Lamont Sheen was next. He came at 7:13 a.m. after being dropped off by his mother on her way to work. She left everyday at 7:05, and usually Lamont had to bust his hump to catch the ride. He got up at 6:45, showered quickly, grabbed a pop tart or donut and met his mom in the garage. If he wasn't in the car at the precise time, she left him. Then he would have to make a 20 minute walk to school, which usually put him at school around the time of the 7:30 bell to start school.

At 7:15, Elvis strolled up to his usual place near the others. Elvis was lucky enough to own a car, although it was a 12 year-old Jeep seemingly held together by rubber bands and duct tape. He lived the opposite direction of the other two so he could not offer them a ride to school.

Once the trio convened, their discussion usually revolved around the females they noticed. Also, they discussed their schoolwork. On this day, Sheen took the conversation in a different direction.

“What would you guys think if I told you I'm thinking about going out for Potts' track team?” Sheen asked. “I think it might be my ticket to college. Remember I was a pretty fast runner a few years ago.”

“That was three years ago,” said Hernandez. “That means nothing today. Besides you'd have to put up with Potts. That's not worth it.”

“But I gotta do something,” countered Sheen. “After all, we'll be out of this place in less than eight months.”

In the past few weeks, there seemed to be more emphasis around the school for the seniors to start thinking about their futures. College recruiter visits were a daily occurrence. Guidance counselors scheduled meetings with seniors. Fellow seniors constantly talked about college and career choices.

For Jose, there wasn't much to discuss. His parents had emigrated from Mexico a few years before he was born. His family had assimilated well into the American lifestyle, although Spanish was the primary home language. The family diet consisted of a combination of America and Mexican foods. His dad started as a laborer and worked his way up to become a union bricklayer. Mom was a homemaker.

For the past 10 years that profession had provided a comfortable living for his family, which consisted of a younger sister, Maria, who was in middle school. The family never mentioned college. It was assumed Jose would learn the bricklaying profession. In fact his father sometimes took him to work assignments on the weekend, and the cash earned seemed to be a motivating factor for Jose's future. School was just a step in that direction. As long as he got C's both were happy. Extra work and achievement weren't in the student's vocabulary. Fun was.

Sheen came from a working class family that tried to get him to take life more seriously. He was an average student, although he possessed the intelligence to achieve more. However, his older brother, Marcus, now a senior at the University of Houston, stayed on Lamont, but without much success.

Marcus's goal was to be a policeman. He was majoring in criminal justice and had a large majority of his college expenses paid by a program sponsored by the Houston police that recruited blacks and Hispanics for the department.

This decision probably came from their father's military career. Daniel Sheen was a 25 year veteran of the Air Force. He has been a no nonsense type of father but over the last few years has mellowed out and now seemed more interested in golf, gambling and casinos. He works part time at a local golf course so he can play the course for free. Their mother, Maureen, is a secretary in an accounting office. The family seems to all have separate lives, probably the result of their 29 years together.

Marcus always seemed to be on his brother to do better. “Lamont, you have it in you,” he would often say. “You're just lazy. You have to make your own way. Nobody's going to give you anything.”

Lamont knew that there was much truth to Marcus' rants. He realized that his chances of a college scholarship for his academic work were slim and none. Running fast might be his ticket, since as a freshman three years ago he placed third in the county and sixth in the state in the 200 meter run. He was a Potts favorite at that time.

However, as a sophomore, Lamont fell in with the wrong crowd, discovered drinking, drugs, chasing women, and poor attitude. He constantly was in trouble at the school and even worse got tossed from the track team when he missed three preseason workouts. That was the Potts' rule. His grades were C's and D's.

“Lamont, you have a world of talent,” Potts told him at the time. “I'm afraid you're going to be like lots of others that came through this school and waste it. You don't have any want to. You could have been a helluva runner. You refused to do it my way. Listening to others sometimes is the key to success.”

Lamont knew Potts was right and this was his time to correct things. Besides, if he trained, he knew he could become a track star again. If he was good enough it might open doors to colleges and a future. He had no idea what he wanted to be in life, only that he wanted to follow his brother to college. The tales of partying, women and fun convinced him college was for him.

Over the summer he went to a local all comers' track meet and stunned everyone by winning the 200 meter run in a time faster than his freshman time. He knew that if he got serious he could win, or at least place high, in the state meet.

Elvis McGraw was an enigma. Seems nobody could figure him out. His interests were wide and open. School to him was the great socialization process. He was the ultimate slacker, skating by with C's, although his state and standardized test scores put him in the top 20 per-cent of his class.

His mother, Gladys, worshipped the boy. She was always the biggest Elvis Pressley fan ever, and there was little doubt what her son's name would be. Her husband, Vernon McGraw, died when Elvis was eight from stomach cancer, and as a result, Gladys threw all her attention at her son. Some say she even spoiled him. She worked as a secretary at a local oldies radio station.

From a young age, her Elvis became the real Elvis. She dressed him like The King, styled his hair like the crooner, and constantly provided him with Elvis facts and figures. She took him to Graceland about every three years, and even took him to Tupelo, Mississippi, to see the real Elvis' birthplace. It was a little one room shack, but meant so much to her. Gladys didn't have much money but she scrimped and saved, and provided Elvis with whatever he needed.

Her Elvis had mastered the guitar and even played in a local rock band. He was popular at such appearances, much due to his resemblance to the real Elvis. However, he wasn't interested in a serious female relationship, instead just bouncing from girl to girl. Unlike his fellow teenagers, he wasn't much for video games or sports, instead choosing to practice his guitar and study music. Obviously, he envisioned a career in music. He avoided drugs and drinking, instead getting his kicks with practical jokes. His nickname, which only a few people called him, was Elvy.

What was amazing was that when Elvis wanted to be he could be the smartest student in the class. Sometimes, his essays were of top college level. Once he made a bet with the girl with the highest grade point average in the class that he could get a higher score on a math test. Each got 100 per-cent, ending in a tie, with the next highest grade an 88. He just didn't see much need for most of the subjects he was taking.

Elvis was the top school prankster. In the past few years, the school had experienced many quality pranks, most thought to be the work of Elvis, but without proof The King skated by any discipline. Among the pranks he received credit for were putting deer scent spray in lockers, rolling 200 marbles down the steps during a change of classes, putting chocolate pudding in the drop slot of vending machines, delivering pizzas to classes, calling teachers during classes posing as administrators, and switching the plugs on keyboards in the computer room so that keyboards typed on the monitors of their neighbors instead of their own.

Together the trio of Jose, Lamont and Elvis were viewed by the school administration as trouble waiting to happen. If there was a prank or mischief in the school, it was thought the threesome was somehow involved. Many times they were suspected of being the culprits, but a lack of evidence kept them from blame.

In the previous school year, three incidents in particular frosted the administrators. First, someone apparently got a hold of the voting box for the Homecoming Queen and stuffed the ballot box with votes for the school's most flamboyant gay male student. The Queen became the King.

The second incident was someone inserted glue in all the keyholes of the doors for the school classrooms. Keys wouldn't work. The school had to change many of the locks. Detectives were called in for this act of vandalism, but nobody was found guilty of the act. Even a reward of $1,000 by the local police failed to generate a guilty party.

Third was the day that the teachers all showed up for school and found photos on their doors. It wasn't just any photo; it was photos of well endowed naked people with the head of the particular teacher on top. Some teachers were offended; others laughed it off, but all wanted to see Elvis and his boys punished for the deed. No charges could ever be brought. The trio seemed to always create suspicious minds.

“I don't know about college, futures, and the track team,” Elvis said, breaking the silence between the stares for some the hotter women in the school. “But I do know we got to do something for our senior prank that folks will talk about for years. Give it some thought fellows, and let's plan something. I wanna kill it. ”

Just then the bell rang, chasing each of the trio into their first period. Usually during this period, things were quiet, primarily because each student had a boring class that usually allowed them to catch a few winks. By the end of the period students were starting to awaken and become more active. The bell signified the end of the period and time for the school announcements.

After the pledge of allegiance and a moment of silence, the announcements began. There were the usual notifications of club and sport sign ups, deadlines and school procedures, then came a special announcement.

“Good morning students and faculty, this is Mr. Winston, your principal,” Winston said over the PA system. “Today I have a special announcement. Our school has been nominated for a special award for an All American School. This is an award that goes to only 20 schools in the state. Forty schools are nominated. This means that the governor and the judging panel will be visiting us in the next two months. Congratulations to all and let's do our best to win this award.”

Earl Winston has been the principal of Thomas Jefferson for 22 years. He had worked his way up from being a math teacher. He spent 10 years as an assistant principal at two urban schools, leaving them for the less chaotic life of this suburban school.

He claimed the students kept him young.

Thomas Jefferson has an enrollment of 2600 students grades nine thru 12. Graduation rates are about 70 per-cent, most of the dropouts were the Hispanic students that had trouble with the English language. Like any school, the high school has its cliques. These include jocks, brainiacs, preppies, thugs, slackers, gothics, rednecks, and mostly ordinary average kids. It contained a mixture of races and nationalities with 60 per-cent white with the rest made up of Hispanics, Blacks, and Asians. The Asians comprised only about five per-cent of the student body, but dominated the test scores and grades, and created few disciplinary problems in the school.

Winston was the eternal optimist. He constantly preached the school could be better. He pushed his faculty to keep students interested and stressed state testing.

Even though the school had more students from the lower social-economic level enrolled each year, he still maintained that the school could be a top notch school. It has been an “A” school for the past five years.

Overall, the students and faculty liked Winston. He was personable, fair, and unflappable. He seemed to never get upset with students. One year he woke up to find 25 for sale signs in his yard. His answer was, “Apparently someone wants me to sell this place.” He never has.