Sleuth Lauren

It is yet another first day of school at Fremd in my third year of collecting evidence for my precinct in Chicago, on our suspects, Freshmen, and their committed crimes of social akwardness. As I stride through the halls of the school I peer upon the subjects of my cases, waiting for a new lead. The 5th period bell blares and the misdemeanors begin to unravel.

The first perpetrator, a boy standing 4'9'', is set up as a herd of upperclassmen charge through the wires of hallway. The boy, with white fingertips dug deeply into the binding of his Biology book, lubberly leaps toward the lockers on the side of the hall to safety. With his back to the lockers, his eyes are deer's in fear of being trampled. With deep heaves of his chest, his lungs try to regain control of his breathing as the pack giggles and meanders by. The boy sighs in relief and then looks both ways before returning to his original path, making sure to hug the lockers this time.

The next executor of a social offense is a gangly girl who stands anxiously in the Ala Carte line biting her cerulean colored nails. As the line dwindles down and she becomes the second person in line to be served, her hands reluctantly pull away from her teeth and a smile slowly crawls to her face. This smile, however, abruptly scurries away when an older, mature and well dressed senior cuts her in line. Their eyes meet for a brief millisecond and then the girl's head collapses submissively toward the ground. Her head is glued there and the wait for her warm cookie is extended.

The last prosecution is committed by a boy walking trimphantly, or cockily through the frigid cafeteria with a group of his friends on the Freshman A football team. He is, or tries to be, a mirror of an upperclassman with his nose pointed in the air like a French Poodle. All of a sudden, a foreign foot tangles up with his own and is therefore sent soaring through the air of the cafeteria. Briefly suspended in the air, he becomes a Cardinal in flight, but it isn't his coat that is crimson red. He hits the ground flat with his face and an uproar of laughter and gasps crowd the air around him. Salty sweat rolls down his forehead and cools his smoltering cheeks. He stands up and walks out of the cafeteria, still a Poodle, but one with his tails beneath his legs.

It has been a long day at Fremd High School, as the charges and bookings to the Freshman Vikings have all been distributed. For the Freshman, social akwardness, still seems to be on the rise.