The Syndrome Playlist

“So, will you join?!”

I close my locker and try not to grimace. Very nice girls, but, Jesus, they are really hounding me. “When do you guys meet?” I ask while turning around.

The three look at each other at a brief moment. “Uh,” Apple Bloom whispers, “We’re not really official, if you catch my drift.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Let me get this straight. You’re not an actual club?”

They shake their heads.

“No official meeting times?”

Shake shake shake.

“And is it fair to assume that you are the only members?”

A nod from Sweetie Belle, a kick of the ground from Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo refuses to make eye contact. They’re so adorable. Reminds me of when I was a freshman.

“Alright, it sounds to me like there aren’t a lot of commitments to be made here on my end. I’m in.”

The CMC immediately perk up, giving me wide sparkling eyes. Before I know what’s going on, all three are hugging me, jumping up and down, and cheering at the same time. I look around awkwardly, not sure what to do. Fortunately, I’m getting only looks of amusement from the other students in the hall. Kinda expecting some looks of judgment.

Sweetie Belle begins squealing. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Alex!”

“Woohoo!” yells Scootaloo.

Apple Bloom lets go of me and turns around to face the hallway. “Canterlot Movie Club, assemble!”

All three straighten up and get into a line. Jeez, they’ve got a whole bit planned and everything for a club that doesn’t technically exist.

“We are the Canterlot Movie Club!” says Scootaloo.

“We are a club for movies at Canterlot High,” Apple Bloom states.

Sweetie Belle starts stammering, “And-and-and we, um… Yeah! What they said!”

“CANTERLOT MOVIE CLUB YAY!” they scream while pounding their fist to their chest and extending it out.

No one else really notices what’s going on. Is this that common of an occurrence? Sweetie Belle looks up at me with puppy dog eyes. It takes me a moment to connect the dots. I sigh. Well, I did agree to be a part of their “club.” I put my chest with a fist and thrust it outwards, making sure to keep it at an angle that doesn’t imply bad stuff.

“Yeah, Canterlot Movie Club. Alright, I got to get going. I think I’ve got calculus next.”

Scootaloo flinches. “Ouch. Do you hate yourself?”

I chuckle. “I mean, yeah, but that’s not why I’m taking calculus.”

“Well, we’ll see ya later, Alex!” Apple Bloom says. “I’m sure we’ll see ya at the party!”

Before I can ask about the party, the three of them dash of, singing some pop song that I can’t put my finger on. Sounds kinda like Lady Gaga.

I’m the last person to class. Great. Fortunately class hasn’t started or else that would’ve been awkward. And I’ve had enough awkward moments today. I quietly take the only available seat. Next to me are a girl with white bangs and a killer pair of glasses, and a guy with a blue poinytail and a real hippie vibe going on. I mean, he’s even got a shirt with the Earth on it.

“What’s up, brotha?” I say, sitting down.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?” he replies in a kinda drawn out way, similar to what stoners sound like. And I’ve known a few. I breathe in through my nose, but no trademark weed smell. Huh. Maybe he’s having an off day.

The teacher stands up and walks toward the whiteboard. She’s got tan skin, blonde hair, and what looks like an eternal prissy woman.

After clearing her throat, she states, “Bonjour. Bienvenue au français quatre. Je m’appelle Madmoiselle Harshwhinny.”

She keeps talking, but it goes way over my head. I lean over to Captain Planet and ask, “Hey, what in God’s name did she say?” He just glances over with a confused expression. I sigh before turning to Goggles Girl. “Hey, what’s she saying?”

In a thick, what is that? German accent which stuns me a bit, she replies, “This is French four. What did you not understand?”

Oh. Oh! Damn it! “French? This is supposed to be calculus!” I mutter, mainly to myself, but apparently it was loud enough to attract everyone’s attention. Great. I grab my bag and walk out of the room, holding my hand to my face to avoid eye contact with everyone.

Room 54? Damn it, I’m looking for room 154! Figuring that’s at the other end of the school, I book it. If I was last in class in French, then I’m sure as hell not going to be on time to calculus. I start kicking myself for making such a dumb error. Mentally kicking myself, that is. The last thing I need is to trip onto my face.

I get pretty close to my destination and start counting the rooms. 150. 151. 152. Janitor’s closet. 153. Here we go.

Immediately upon reaching 154, I bust in and yell, “What year is it?!”

Everyone stops and looks at me. There’s at least a good minute of me staring at them, wondering if anyone got the joke, and them staring at me, wondering what kind of nutjob I am.

For your information, I’m a hazelnut-job.

The teacher looks pretty pissed. “Alex Mets, I presume,” she says crossly.

“Does my reputation precede me?” I ask tentatively.

“No, you’re just the only student I don’t know.”

I stand up straight and let go of the door. “Ah. Is this calculus?”

Before who I’m hoping is Miss Cheerilee can respond, the door violently slams behind me.

The teacher sighs. “Take a seat, Alex. Have Twilight catch you up to speed.”

Uh, which one’s Twilight? A quick glance says it’s the girl next to the only empty seat. I walk over, red-faced and out of breath, and sit down.

Looking over at the girl with really purple hair in a kinda messy bun, I exhale, “Twilight, right? Give me a second. God, I’m out of shape.”

“You don’t look that bad,” she says. “What are you, 160 pounds?”

I stick out my bottom lip. “163.”

“Well, if I remember the Body Mass Index correctly, that is well within the normal body weight for a guy as tall as you.”

Smiling, I reply, “Thanks. I think. So, what’d I miss?”

Taking time to adjust her glasses to see the board, Twilight says, “Oh, we’re just going over review. Trigonometry and algebra. Easy stuff like that.”

“Right. Easy. So, what is trigonometry?”

The look of horror I get in response puts me into a giggle fit. “Twilight, I’m kidding. How would I get into calculus not knowing trigonometry?”

She sighs in relief. I smile at her before looking away to bite my fist. This class is going to be a rough ride.

Turning back to face the board, I ask, “What grade are you, Twilight?”

“Oh! I’m a senior.”

“Me too! That makes me feel a little bit…”

“But I already know everything. The school just doesn’t offer anything higher and I’ve got to keep my mind sharp!”

“…better.” Well, crap. There goes a few more confidence points. Let’s check the score, oh! That’s right. The scoreboard broke. “Hey,” I ask, “would you be willing to tutor me? I’m not exactly math saavy.”

“Uh, I, uh, sure.” Twilight seems to be getting flustered. Ah, awkward nerd girl. Sweet. If I do some sort of social faux pas, she won’t even think twice. She’ll just think it’s normal.

I mean, I hope. I’ve been known to make a complete ass of myself in front of a non-sentient statue.

I give Twilight a reassuring nod, quietly mentioning, “I’ll grab your number after class.”

Her cheeks redden, but Twilight nods in affirmation before turning back to the board.

Going down to grab a pencil and notebook, I realize that’s not my backpack.

“God damn it.”