The Syndrome Playlist

I sit down at the back of the room. Ever since I got glasses, I’ve been taking the back row. Much less likely to be called on, with the potential for a good nap. Especially considering it’s physics, second period, and the teacher seems like a newbie. I mean he’s got a bowtie and everything. Not really expecting much concern on that front. Snooze time central, here I come!

All the other kids are chitchatting in what seems to be a clique free zone. I’ve noticed that here. There don’t appear to be any borders between cheerleaders and nerds, hippies and jocks, technoheads and rockers. As far as I can tell, there doesn’t even seem to be a general hatred for the freshmen. It’s like a bad episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents. Everyone here is on good terms.

Is this place built over an Indian burial ground? No way this is natural.

The bell rings and class begins. Teach gets up and walks to front of the classroom. He seems really excited.

“Alright, class, let’s get started, shall we?” I’m somewhat taken aback by the British accent. “Now, we are in physics, for those of you in the wrong class.” He pauses, but no one gets up to leave. “Perfect! Now, I am Doctor Whooves, and rather than waste time going over the rules and regulations of being a good student, I am just going to jump straight into lecture. Good? Good. Fantastic! Well, let’s get started. So! Physics. Physics, ay? Phyyyyysics. Physics! Physics. Physics, physics, physics, physics. I hope you’re getting all this down. There is nothing quite like physics. It is the very fabric of reality! Everything can be explained by the field of physics.”

A student raises their hand. Mr. – sorry - Dr. Whooves nods at the student, who asks, “But what about last semest…”

The door slams open. Everyone turns to look as in walks a girl who is one hell of a personality. It’s not just the rainbow hair, or the athlete’s body, this chick screams self-confidence. Like, I don’t even know who in the hell this is, but I’m pretty sure I lost. Not sure what game we’re playing, but it’s over.

This girl’s prismatic hair actually looks natural. It’s messy, but in that way that you can’t really tell whether or not it’s intentional or she just got up in the morning and said “Looks good” and moved on. Her eyes are rose colored and her smile just screams “Come at me, bro.”

Oh God, you’re currently 0-2, Alex. If you get the chance, don’t f this up.

Mr. - sorry - Dr. Whooves seems completely unfazed by the interruption. “Ah, Miss Rainbow Dash, a pleasure for another semester! Please come in. You’re lucky, I have barely started!”

She nods. “Thanks, Doc. I’ll take my seat in the back.”

I quickly do a peripheral. The only seats available are… both next to me! Hell yes! Oh thank you whoever’s listening! Help me not screw this up!

She takes the seat to my left, putting her in the back corner farthest from the door. Her backpack hits the floor and her feet go up onto the desk. Mr. – sorry – Dr. Whooves doesn’t seem to care or notice and simply moves on.

“Right! Where were we? What is this, chemistry? Physics! Ah, right, much more interesting. Physics. Physics! Physics, physics, physics!”

“Hey.”

“Now, some of you may not believe this, but physics is the very fabric of reality. Did I already say that? I already said that. Sorry, I just get so excited.”

“Hey, you.”

I look over. Rainbow-Brite’s staring at me.

“Yeah, you,” she says. She blows a strand of green hair out of her face. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Not really, other than I haven’t seen you on campus before. So are you new or what?”

Don’t f this up, Alex. Don’t you do it. “Yeah,” I respond, “I’m new.”

Her eyes narrow. I swallow reflexively. Man, she’s really giving me the visual pat down, except not as steamy as that sounds, more like a TSA half-hearted ass pat. It’s the most action I’ve gotten… ever. Don’t think about action, don’t think about action, don’t think about action…

Seemingly satisfied, she grins. “I’m Rainbow Dash.”

“Wait, for real?”

She frowns at that. “What is that supposed to mean? ”

Oh shi… Come on, bring it back around. Don’t f this up. “In all honesty, I wasn’t that far off with Rainbow Brite.”

“Who’s Rainbow Brite?”

“It was an animated kids show from the eighties. No relation other than your, uh, rainbow hair.” I laugh nervously. Her gaze narrows again. Alright, time for the Alex Mets signature five-lane change. “I’m Alex. You come here often?”

Smooth. Asshat.

Rainbow Dash actually laughs at that. I breathe an internal sigh of relief and smile back.

“Aw man, if you’re new, Pinkie’s gonna have a blast.”

Oh God, am I going to get hazed? Last time I got hazed, my kindergarten class no-scoped me in the head with a basketball while my pants were down. Good times.

Wait, Pinkie?

“Just guessing here,” I say, “but would this ‘Pinkie’ have blue eyes and pink hair that goes fwoof?” I rapidly move my hands away from my scalp to try and describe this chick’s hair. Doesn’t hurt to be specific.

“Not sure what ‘fwoof’ is, but yeah, that sounds like Pinkie Pie. If you two’ve already met, she’s probably already getting…”

“Miss Dash?”

We both turn to Mr. – sorry - Dr. Whooves, who is waiting expectantly. “Is it something important that you two are discussing?” he asks.

“Nothing fancy, Doc. Can wait ‘til after. Carry on.”

“Thank you.” He readjusts his bowtie and continues on. “Now, like I was saying, Newton was a phenomenal bloke. Quite quiet, and just a bit antisocial, but let me tell you, he was…”

Rainbow Dash leans back and closes her eyes. “Wake me up if he sets someone on fire again.”

I turn back to the teacher. This guy has actually set fire to someone? Maybe I won’t be taking naps in this class. Last thing I need is death by science.