Tolerance Chapter 4

“Hey idiot, get up!” Gaz angrily yelled, shaking her brother awake. “I can’t get to school if you are drooling over my book bag!”

Dib absentmindedly waved her off. “Leave me alone, its still summer…”

Gaz smirked. “Think again, and check your calendar. Today is the first day of school.”

Dibs eyes flew open. “What?”

Gaz spoke slowly, like she was speaking to a child. “Today is the first day of school. Now get off my stuff!” Gaz promptly kicked Dib in the ribs and retrieved her things.

Dib wobbled to his feet and looked at the time. “Oh man, oh man! I only have ten minutes to get ready!”

Gaz plucked her house key from the bowl. “You have five minutes. You take the middle skool’s bus now.”

Dib nearly had a heart attack. Without saying a word, he dashed up the stairs, grabbed his book bag that had been prepared the week before and quickly checked himself in the mirror. Dib immediately froze once he caught sight of his refection. On his cheek were three long cuts that could easily be mistaken as knife marks. Who knew Zim had claws?

Taking another second to angst over his horrible appearance for his first day of school, Dib bolted out the back door, not bothering to lock it. “I can’t be late! I just can’t be late!” Dib yelled at himself, jumping a fence.

To Dibs horror, the middle school bus was already driving away. He ran faster then he ever ran before. The kids on the bus peered out the back window, taunting him.

“Just a few more inches…” Dib reached out his hand, about to scrap his fingertips against the emergency door handle. “I…”

The bus abruptly stops, causing Dib to crash into the bus door and be thrown to the pavement.

Dib felt himself hit his head on the ground and rolled on his side in pain. He heard the bus screech to a stop and the bus driver yelling. Exhausted from the lack of sleep, Dib had trouble getting up. He pressed his hands on the ground and pushed himself into a sitting position.

The bus driver ran out the bus and helped Dib up. “Are you crazy son? You could have gotten killed!” His voice was heavy with the scent of tobacco, making Dib feel uneasy.

“I’m fine. Just let me on the bus.” Dib snapped, hating the streak of bad luck he seemed to be going though. Dib mentally cursed at God, even though his father repeatedly told him there was no such thing.

The bus ride to school was strangely silent. Dib could feel the stares burning holes in the back of his head. He couldn’t tell though if it was because he crashed into the bus, or the cuts on his face were more noticeable then he at first thought.

When Dib finally did reach the middle school, he suddenly became very impressed with the large size of it all. It took him forever to tear though the lines to get his schedule.

Every so often, he would come across a familiar face. But instead of receiving a polite greeting or even a degrading remark about his own sanity, his former peers had a totally different reaction.

First, a gasp from a girl, most probably from the claw marks. Then there were two guys whispering about his height. Dib hadn’t grown much over the summer. Lastly, just before the bell, a rude remark about himself and Zim. Dib grumbled to himself. Maybe stalking Zim with a pair of handcuffs wasn’t such a bright idea.

Dib sat himself in a desk right next to the window. It will prove as useful for a quick escape rote incase of an embarrassing moment or an insanely boring lecture.

The teacher began roll call.

“Dib?”

“Here.”

“Tamie?”

“Here I am!”

“Mary Sue?”

“Present!”

“Doma?”

“Huh? Oh, here.”

“Zim?”

“HERE!”

Dib jerked back in his desk from surprise. The teacher cleaned out his ear. “Listen,” He started. “This is roll call, you don’t yell unless it PE or if your teacher is some old bat like Mrs. Bitters.”

Some random kid jumped on his desk. “I heard she died!”

“Liar!” Yelled another kid. “She is teaching preschoolers”

“No way! I heard she was eaten by Chicken Foot!”

“Chicken Foot is human moron!”

“I know, what’s your point?”

“…Yikes.”

During this ruckus, he turned around to catch a glimpse of Zim. He was sitting in the back, safely tucked in a corner next to the atlas’s and globes. By chance, Zim sifted his stare to Dib, and immediately growled.

Dib quickly turned around. “Yep.” He said to himself. “He’s still mad.”

It was a miracles Dib lived at all during that class. Zim kept throwing rubber band balls, with little staple spikes all over them. If it weren’t for the teacher, they would have never had stopped hitting Dib. Sadly, Zim threw them so quickly; the teacher kept sending the wrong student to the office.

Dib figured Zim only stopped throwing them because he ran out.

Dib left the class with little holes punched into his coat and back. As big as Dibs head was, Zim seemed to keep missing his mark.

But as painful as that class was, Dib couldn’t really blame Zim. He still hated him more so then Donald Trump did to Rosey Ol Donald, but at least he knew when he was wrong.

Dib felt it was best to make an apology of sorts to Zim that day. Maybe at lunch.