SIXTH GRADE SUPERSTAR Chapters 2 and 3

What happens next.

Wow, the reaction to the first chapter of SIXTH GRADE SUPERSTAR was incredible. So many of you reached out to tell me how much you enjoyed it, thank you for that. Let’s see what happens next to Ty Bogart, shall we? When last we left him, he decided that he needed a COMPLETE AND UTTER MAKEOVER before he started Middle School.

And

Here

We

Go

CHAPTER TWO

I made a beeline for my older sister Grace’s teen magazines.  I scoured every issue of WHOLESOME HUNK and MYSTERIOUS BUT SAFE and drew what I considered the coolest look, from glasses to sneakers.

 

My parents were fully on board.  They did nix the idea of walking around school with a boom box, which I protested to no avail.  My Mom took me to the epicenter of cool, Bradlees Discount Department store, and we picked out the hippest clothes there.  That hoodie with a surfing gorilla on it?  Throw it in the cart. I had never surfed but I was willing to try, and I certainly supported a gorilla’s right to do the same. 

That shirt that had nothing but a giant purple pocket on the front?  Yes, let’s get that, it’s making a real statement (“I can hold stuff in an unexpected place now”). 

The night before sixth grade began, I had what I thought was my greatest idea yet.

I should style my hair.   

I had the same hairstyle for years.  Actually, I guess using the word “style” isn’t the way to go, as I never did anything with it.  I just let my hair do what it wanted to do, and what it wanted to do was stick straight up.   Here is my fifth grade school picture (please ignore the shirt, I forgot it was picture day):

It was time to change things up.  I spent the night sketching out possible new hairdos.

Now, even then, I knew some of these were unrealistic.  My parents wouldn’t let me shave my head.  I could not grow super long hair in 8 hours. Barring any incredible overnight hormone activation I could not grow facial hair.  And, thinking back, the “Medusa,” while certainly a hairstyle that would make a statement, was (a) impossible due to a lack of snakes growing out of my scalp, (b) not good for my reputation as I’d immediately be dubbed “the kid who could probably turn you to stone.” 

That next morning, I checked out the haircare products in the house.  As it was the mid ‘80s, my mom, dad, and sister Grace had all sorts of mousse, hair spray, gel, you name it. 

I saw Mom’s curling iron, plugged in and warming up for her hair.  My mom was a whiz with that thing.  A true artist.  I suggested she use THAT on me to give me a new look.  She seemed suspect at first, and suggested that we try the curling iron out on the weekend in case it didn’t go as well as I had pictured in my head.  But I explained that the time was now, I had to hit the ground running.  With a deep sigh, Mom clamped her curling iron around my dirty blond cement locks.  It made a sizzling sound, like bacon.  The smell, however, was nothing like bacon.  It was…well, there’s a reason they don’t make colognes called “Burning Hair.”  The resulting new hairdo was a part right down the middle.  Mom tried to figure out which styling product would best hold my new look in place.  I made the executive decision that she use literally every kind of haircare product at her disposal.  At this point, Mom was down for whatever I wanted.  What followed could only be described as a Tasmanian Devilesque tornado of spraying and dolloping.

My hair started to tingle, which made sense, as hundreds of ingredients were working together for the first time.  Some were probably fighting for ultimate styling supremacy.   Mom noticed one strand out of place and before my hair settled into its new, everlasting position, she clamped the curling iron down one last time.  I felt a jolt of pain as the end of the curling iron accidentally pressed against my forehead.  My mother had burned me.  No matter, she had a few seconds left before the styling supergroup settled.  Mom quickly combed the heart curls over the newly forming bright red blotch.  She attacked my hair with another month’s worth of spray.   Grace came in to use some hairspray (little did she know it was all gone), took one look at me and was aghast.  She almost recoiled.  What did she know about being young and cool anyway, I thought, she hasn’t been in middle school for a full three years.  She went to high school with all her boring friends with their boring old people hair.   My Dad had already left for work, so I couldn’t get his opinion, but it was fine.

I  was not at all worried.  Because when I looked in the mirror, what I saw staring back at me, was a completely new person, with an incredibly cool, incredibly durable new hairdo.

Grace pointed out that in the front, the two parts met in a heart shape.  I thought that was good, because it would subliminally make the other sixth graders think of love.

My Mom asked me if I was ready for school.

I nodded, confidently.  “Heck yes I am.”

I was wrong.  I was so, so wrong.

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CHAPTER THREE

Compared to elementary school, O’Thomas Middle School was gigantic.  It was two whole floors, and now instead of sitting at the same desk all day, I’d be commuting to six different classrooms for six different classes.   There were sixth graders incoming from three different elementary schools, so I didn’t know two-thirds of the kids in my grade.  When I arrived at my first period class, I realized I really didn’t know anybody, save for Bowen Tu, who lived a street over.  Bowen rarely showed emotion, and any of my previous attempts to talk to him had been met with a long, uninterested stare. 

Eventually followed by a one-word answer.

“How was your summer?” I asked, taking the seat next to him.  He stood there like a photograph for what seemed like two minutes before declaring it “Fair.”   

I stayed with the same kids for most of the day.  I hadn’t really interacted with any of them yet.  In fact, everyone kept to themselves for the first half of the day.  Around fourth period science class, things began to change.   Our teacher was talking to someone in the hallway, and some kids took the opportunity to sniff each other out.   Awkward introductory conversations began to pop up all around the room.  I kept to myself, drawing in my notebook, as I often do. 

I think, deep down, I was hoping someone new would glance over and be astonished at my raw talent.  Best case scenario: word would quickly spread that the kids were in fact going to school with a future comic book legend.  Girls would ask if I could draw them.  Jocks would ask me to teach them how to draw after school.  By the end of the school day, the Editor-in-Chief of the school newspaper would get on his knees and beg me to grace his comics page with my creations. Again, this was best case scenario.  Not all of these events would take place.  But maybe one or two.  

This did not happen.  I was roundly ignored, except for Bowen Tu.  I noticed him subtly craning his neck to get a good look.   And even more shocking, his expression began to change!  It went from normal resting Bowen face to one of extreme interest.   

Basically, it went from this:

To this:

“You like it?” I asked.

He thought about it for what seemed like a month and then he said “Very much.”

Wow.  My art had prompted a two-word response from Bowen!  And to my even greater surprise, the floodgates had opened.  Bowen kept talking.  He started linking five, six, even SEVEN words at a time.  He, like me, read comic books.  I excitedly told him about Fantasy Zone, the new comic store that had opened in the Red Bank Mini-Mall.   The mere idea of a store that existed simply to sell comic books was something new in 1986, and it practically made Bowen’s head explode.  Which he expressed with a slight raise of one eyebrow, followed by the monotone proclamation “That is interesting.”

As we talked, a skinny rod of a kid to my left leaned in and stared.   When I glanced over at him, he asked my name.   

“Ty Bogart,” I said, hoping he wanted to be friends.

The kid smiled at me.  But it wasn’t friendly.  His mouth was wide and it was horrendous.  It was using every spare tooth in New Jersey.  It was the kind of grin only seen on the faces of super villains or kaiju.  The Grinch would take one look at this kid’s expression and deem it “too much.”

This was Craig Stone.  Spoiler Warning: the hole in his chest is supposed to represent his lack of soul.  I won’t draw that part again, I realize how disturbing it is.

“Ty Bogart,” he said, every word coated in grease, “did you curl your hair?”  

I’m sure not everyone in the entire school stopped talking at this point, but it sure felt like it.  A that moment, every pair of eyes on the world were on me.

“No,” I said, “I just, heh, I just combed it.”

“It’s curled.” The girl in front of me said.  “You used a curling iron.”  

I could feel the beads of sweat begin to form on my forehead.

A few kids came over to get a closer look at my hair.  Why wasn’t the teacher starting class?    Craig beckoned a few other kids to look.   I had to put out this fire, and fast.

“This is Ty Bogart.  He curls his hair,” Craig said, laughing.

“I get why you think that,” I said, moving my hand up my forehead to wipe away the sweat. “I’ve been told it looks like that.  But my hair just kinda naturally curls in the front-"

Everyone recoiled before I could finish the sentence.  I had no idea why at first, but then a girl took out a pocket mirror and showed me.  Wiping forehead sweat upwards into my hair, usually a good move, had actually propped my hair up high, and the spray/gel/mousse combo had kept it there.  My hair had shifted, and now hovered above my head like a wave that would never crash.   And it revealed the big red curling iron shaped welt.  

Craig chortled so hard he almost fell out of his chair.  To be honest, everyone except Bowen chuckled. 

Craig Stone was fully embracing the moment.  He had started a true movement, he had gotten everyone to laugh with him, and at me.  And just like that, the Chicklet-toothed shark had smelled blood in the water. 

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And that’s the next two chapters of SIXTH GRADE SUPERSTAR. What a cliffhanger, right? Here’s a link to the NEXT TWO CHAPTERS!