-Beep! Beep! - the alarm rudely awakened me, as it does every morning.
-Shut up! - I said angrily as if I were talking to a real person, not an electronic device. I proceeded to mute it for 10 more minutes, then 10 more, until my mother entered my room. She turned the light on which blinded me like I was a vampire.
-Get up. The bus is outside.
Great. Now I had just enough time to put on a hoodie and take my bag with me. No breakfast. No brushing my teeth. "I brushed them like, Wednesday night anyway. It's fine." - I thought to myself. I had gotten used to this routine and so had my mother, which is why she no longer screamed like before, rather she just opened the door and turned the light on. Quite cruel.
I ran to the bus and got to school, reluctantly, of course. As I was expecting, my archnemesis was right there waiting for me in the classroom when I arrived - Mrs. Scribeson. Her preffered methods of torture were works of literature, grammar and the study of language. She prepared something special for this "special occasion" - and yes, this is what she called every day of the week. She said waking up in the morning was a "gift" and that we should be thankful. Me and my 16 years of experience on this earth couldn't agree less. She was always painfully optimistic, which I found repulsive.
This special suprise was a poem, of course. Or rather, a collection of poems. Dreadful.
-Open your books on page 75, titled "Canzionere - Scattered Rhymes". David, please read us the introduction. - said the smiling teacher.
-Il Canzionere is a collection of poems written by Italian poet Francis Petrarch. They were written in the 14th century and there are 366 of them. They are dedicated to Petrarch's love Laura, who he allegedly met on the 6th of April, 1327...
-Jesus Christ, what a loser! - I turned to my classmate Rickie. He was always down for a good joke or mocking.
-Shhh! - Mrs. Scribeson silenced me immediately, but I did see Rickie's look of approval in the corner of my eye.
Well, it turns out that my mockery had come back to haunt me, as I experienced that day exactly what the pasta-eating poet had experienced 700 years ago in Avignon.
A knock on the door.
-Come in! - said our teacher.
My Laura entered the classroom elegantly, marching confidently and not dragging her feet, unlike many of the girls her age. Or did she? Everything is poetic and perfect when you're in love. Maybe she did do it exactly like every other girl. She probably did, I was just being romantic.
-Hi. Excuse us for running late. There was a bit of a traffic jam on the way. We're not used to the town yet. - her father told the teacher.
His bald head stood towering over her. She was quite short and had long, somewhat wavy blonde hair. It looked like she had robbed her dad of all his hair and put it on her very pale head. It almost touched her knees and it was obviously not brushed this morning.
-It's fine. Take a seat. - as she said this her father left and she sat down.
-Say hi to our new student, children. This is Laura and she will be with us for a couple of months for due to personal reasons. - Mrs. Scribeson announced.
The "personal reasons" were later revealed to be a housefire which had destroyed her home. She was now living with her grandma in our little town until the renovation was over. Her hometown is a 5-hour drive from here, so she swithced schools temporarily. I hoped that renovation would last as long as possible.
-Laura, we were just talking about you! Can you believe it? - she said with a massive grin on her aged face. Everyone laughed, including me, even though the joke was terrible. My grades were at her mercy.
-Ok, enough fooling around. Laura, please join us by opening page 75.
After class I decided to talk to her and went to the hallway. You see, just as Hercules needed to complete the 12 labours to prove himself, so does every teenager in order to impress his peers. Apart from irresponsible tobacco and alcohol use, one of these labours is getting a girlfriend. I decided it was the right time to attempt it. I kept convincing myself I had a plan and that everything would be easy. I did not, in fact, have a plan.
-Hi - I said.
-Hi - she replied.
Now what? I had never gotten this far with any girl.
-So, you're like, new here? - I expressed myself masterfully.
-Yeah, I am. I'm gonna be here for a couple of months.
-We should totally get to know each other better. Like, meet after school. - I placed the bait.
And right as she was about to express her love to me and propose marriage, I did something incredibly stupid. Florian Colson, or Fat Ferb, as we called him (he had an... unathletic build, to say the least) was passing by and I stretched my leg to get him to trip over. He did.
-Oh my god! - she screamed.
The fall resembled a mini-Nagasaki, even more so because his other nickname was "Fat Man", like the bomb. The "Fat Man" broke his knee and I got detention. That didn't bother me as much as Laura's look. Her stare hit me like a truck.
-Why in the world would you do that? - said Laura.
I just stared. To be honest, I had no idea. I thought it would impress her, I guess? It still hurts my brain to think about it. I was used to being a jerk to everyone and it just seemed natural to me.
-You, young man, are coming with me. - said the principal. I hated that old man with a passion.
-Jerk! - said someone from the crowd on the hallway as I was leaving to the principal's office. It could have even been Laura, I didn't hear well.
Detention gave me a lot of time to think about my actions. Well, guess what? I decided that from now on, Faulty Frank is a changed man! No longer will I be the school jerk, a pessimist, a blockhead, an ignoramus. I will change for the better. Today is the day everything changes! The day I met Laura, the love of my life. My muse, who inspires me. I etched the date onto my desk with a pair of scissors.
My first course of action was to do a random act of kindness. I went for a walk and reached the local supermarket. Our town is a dirty and small one, and as such must have a local buffoon. I think it's some sort of law in this country. He stood there like always, begging for change. We called him Edison.
-Come on kid, give me something, every bit helps. - he said this like we didn't all know he never spends the money on food. He gambles away everything you give him.
-I ain't got any money. - that was a lie, but with good intentions, so it doesn't count.
-I know you're loaded, boy. I'll dance for you, and you pay me, how about that?
I didn't agree at all, but he started dancing anyway. He does this every time. His dance moves looked nothing like a dance. It looked like he was being electrocuted, hence the nickname - Edison.
-I can give you my sandwich. - I said. I know he doesn't eat a lot. He just gambles it away, which is how he ended up being homeless.
-And what would I need that for? Scram kid, beat it! Out of my sight! - he yelled. I decided to get going.
I arrived home soon after, spent the day trying to be nice to my parents, yet they just kept getting on my nerves. We had an argument and I stormed into my room. After I had calmed down I decided to sleep. I laid defeated in my bed - a total failure. I couldn't force myself to be nice when people were so difficult. Everyone was so annoying and mean, even when you're nice. But it's better to be evil anyway, because bad things usually happen to the innocent. It's much safer.
I fell asleep with my headphones on, like always when stressed. This was it. I had given up.
I slowly drifted into a deep sleep. Soon enough, I was levitating above the sky, in the clouds. My headphones weren't on me anymore.
-What... what is this place? Where am I? Why am I floating? Have I reached Nirvana... while listening to Nirvana?
-Frank, Frank! - a faint voice was calling me.
-Who are you? Are you... the Buddha? - I said as a long-haired, bearded blonde man with wings approached me.
-I'm Kurt Cobain. - he said.
-No, you're not.
-Yes, I am.
-I thought you were long gone! What are you doing here?
-I was sent here to help you. You made a promise and you must keep it. It's very important you listen to what I say.
-Understood.
-I will now fly us around the globe and teach you something. Come with me.
We flew over the town and all its lights were like glitter. It was a tremendous sight.
-Here we are. - said the musician-
-Now what?
-Tell me what you see. Tell me everything, what does it look like, what does it sound like, what does it smell like?
-It smells like teen spirit.
-Be serious for a moment.
-Ok, I see... I see the supermarket parking lot! We're still in town!
-Go on.
-Wait, weren't you taking us around the globe? This is a 2-minute walk from my house.
-We're on a bit of a budget. Not important.
-Ok. Well... there's the beggar, Edison... No! There's two! Him, and another him!
-Yes, exactly. They are his feelings. We will call his other self Tesla.
I was getting tired of all the name symbolism in the last few days.
-You see, Edison is yelling and screaming. He's angry. But what is Tesla doing? He's crying in the corner, alone. Really, he's mean to you because he can't deal with the fact that he's homeless. Deep down, he's just sad. He needs you to be kind to him, to ease the pain. He was never a bad person.
I stared silently.
-Never give up on being nice. You may be tempted to burst, but people's reactions say more about them than about you. Anger is a confession, think about it that way.
-Thank you, Kurt.
I stopped for a moment.
-Is...is it okay if I call you Kurt?
-Yeah, fine by me. Now don't forget what I told you, and go get that girl, kid!
-I sure will, Kurt! Can I... - and he disappeared before I could ask for an autograph.
I was woken up again by my mother and the blinding flare of 25-watt bulbs on the ceiling. I didn't hear the alarm because my headphones were still on, playing music.
I really did change in the following 5 months. I was no longer constantly grumpy, I had no need to prove myself to my "friends" (who were shocked by my sudden change of character), I gave those 2 coins I had in my pocket that day to Edison, and I even smiled sometimes. Yet I still couldn't bring myself to talk to her. To Laura. I felt there was a chance she could forgive me, but I didn't believe in it. I'd rather keep the chances than having them tested and finding out I was right.
Well, we were told she was leaving at the end of the school year. Now I was forced to do something. Our final task in English class was reading aloud our original poetry. Old Frank would never agree to do this. I did.
-Good morning, class. As we said last time, today you will read aloud your poems in front of the class. Anyone dare to go first?
-I will. - said Sylvia, confident as always.
Her curly dark pony tail jumped up and down as she was walking to the front of the classroom.
"Green plains and alleys
of oak and birch. A crow is
waving from its nest."
-Heartwarming, Sylvia. Thank you. - said Mrs. Scribeson and clapped.
Old Frank would probably notice this is an objectively mediocre poem and that crows can't wave, but that's not me anymore. I clapped, too.
-If there are no more volunteers, you're up, Frank. - she declared.
I got up and cleared my throat.
"I used to be blind,
but now I see.
So sorry for your knee!
Ferb forgive me please,
so I may sleep with ease.
And you Laura, too,
yes, both of you.
Make peace with a jerk,
a date might work?"
The class was silent for a moment.
-That's... very sweet of you, Frank. - she concluded.
She started clapping and slowly most of the class did, too. Ferb was a bit confused because he thought I was asking him out on a date. Laura kept a stone-cold face and just clapped along like everybody else.
I waited after class to talk to her.
-So, what do you think? - I asked bluntly.
-It was... kind of sweet. It's too bad today is my last day here. Maybe we'll see each other some time again. - she said and gave me a kiss on the cheek, then left.
I went outside, sat down on the pavement and burst into tears. I knew old Frank would never do this. He would just say "I hate life", get up, spit on a first-grader and go home. He would never be nice. He would never write a poem. He would never cry.
-Hey, kid. - I felt a tap on my shoulder.
It was Edison. He sat down next to me and I waited for him to ask for spare change.
-What happened? Why the long face?
-I haven't got any money, Edison. And I don't want you to dance. Just leave me alone.
We sat in silence for a couple minutes, staring into the sky.
-Do you ever feel like the world hates you, Edison? Do you ever feel like snow in the desert, like a black sheep?
-I beg and collect plastic for a living. No one hates me, not even that. They just ignore me. I'm invisible.
He paused for a second.
-That's even worse. - he added.
-I don't think you're invisible. I see you.
-Thanks, Frank.
I had no idea how he knew my name, but I didn't bother asking.
-Now tell me, is it a girl?
-Yes, Edison, it's a girl.
-Why did I even bother asking, huh? It was obvious, wasn't it? - he laughed - I remember when my life was as good as yours. Not a worry in the whole world apart from love.
I just looked at him not knowing what to say.
-But let me tell you one thing: to appreciate the sweet, you must first taste the bitter. That's the rule of life. And it's pretty sweet in your age. Appreciate that.
-And when will you taste the sweet?
-I will, I will... one day. There's nothing that can make me doubt that. Sooner or later, I will.
Taste the bitter to appreciate the sweet. The words stuck in my head as I sat watching the sun set.