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Parker (standard:non fiction, 1681 words)
Author: SciFi FanAdded: May 12 2006Views/Reads: 1962/1348Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Canadian Accent, Open Fly, and Animal Crackers

The time is 12:07 in the afternoon, and I'm slouched in my seat in
public speaking class, practically drooling with boredom.  It's mock 
trial time.  I think I'm supposed to be a witness, not sure though. Too 
bored.  I turn to my friend Tyler, who has his head down on the desk 
next to mine.  His eyes are closed.  His breathing's steady.  Yep, he's 

I glance half-heartedly across the room, in search of something
interesting to look at.  There's Parker.  Wow.  He's not sleeping.  His 
blonde hair has that fluffy, Einstein look to it.  He's sitting 
awkwardly on the edge of his chair, his back perfectly straight.  His 
head is in his hands, and he's gazing around the room like an owl on 
the prowl.  Parker. 

He was teased and made fun of at his previous lunch table.  I remember
when he came up to me on the second day of public speaking class and 
asked if he could sit at my lunch table to escape the trauma.  He 
seemed harmless enough.  I was only human.  I told him yes.  After all, 
there was room for him at my table, and I felt bad for him. That was 
the start.  Show Parker a little attention, and he sticks to you like 
glue.  I suppose it was because no girl had ever actually spoken to him 
without telling him to back off, bucko.  I quickly found that he was 
also in my Spanish class during the block after public speaking.  I was 
going to be with Parker for lunch, Spanish, and public speaking.  That 
was more than half the day.  Great. 

It started out okay.  At lunch, my friends and I were faced with a few
odd comments from Parker.  One day I happened to bring a muffin to 
lunch.  He blurted out something along the lines of “A muffin!”  It 
wasn't anything particularly annoying or bad.  It was just a little odd 
how he said it, a little loud.  People two tables away from us were 
turning their heads to look at my muffin.  That “Parker moment” wasn't 
so terrible.  I've just never seen someone scream the word muffin 

Public speaking wasn't so bad at first either.  A few times I'd be
chatting with Tyler and turn around to find Parker's face two inches 
from mine.  Again, not so terrible, just a little weird.  More than 
once I was tempted to offer him a TicTac to get my point across. 
Sometimes when I talked to Tyler, Parker would sudden blurt out “Yeah!” 
from across the room in response to whatever I was saying.  I never 
said anything to him about moments like that, just turned and looked at 
him for a second with a freaked out look on my face.  I hoped he'd get 
the message.  I didn't appreciate someone listening in on what I 
thought were private conversations, but I was doing my best not to be 
mean to a person who clearly lacked social skills. 

For a while Parker picked up a Canadian accent.  Every time I'd have to
work with him in Spanish, he'd say, “Let's get started, eh?”  After 
lunch:  “We should take up the trash, eh?”  During public speaking:  “I 
sounded good up there, eh?”  This stage really got to me, for whatever 
reason.  Luckily, he dropped the Canadian accent when he started 
speaking French instead. 

Parker got worse once we made our first speeches in that class.  They
were informative speeches, and Parker had selected the topic of Pearl 
Harbor.  His speech was, well, in one word, passionate.  He practically 
screamed the events of Pearl Harbor to the somewhat scared class. 
Awkwardness at Parker's speech quickly turned laughter, though, when 
one girl observed that Parker's fly was flapping in the wind.  The news 
spread infectiously around the room.  Soon the whole class was about to 
burst with laughter.  Poor Parker.    He did his whole first speech 
with his fly open.  He found out the reason for everyone's smirking 
faces not long after his speech was over.  He was scarred for life. 
Ever since, he's checked on his fly at least six times in one block, a 
not very attractive habit. 

After that, he clung to anyone who showed him the least bit of kindness.
He started following me around at the beginning of track practice. One 
day he grabbed me as I was headed into the trainer's room and asked if 
he could talk with me privately.  I complied, awkwardly, and he quietly 
told me about his secret crush.  It was a girl named Amber. She was a 
very nice girl, but one who had a deep-seated hatred toward Parker.  
Apparently, she had been forced to sit next to him for an entire 
semester during her freshman year and had lost all patience with him.  

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