DR JEKYL & MS HYDE

A boy struggling to pass his high school exams turns to chemistry to make him smarter. He makes an elixir, drinks but has very different results.

chapter 1:

the boardgame operation is a poor substitute for a medical school tutorial

 

“That’s it, I’m sick of being dumb.”

 

The frustrated sixteen-year-old Charles Jekyll bashed both chubby fists on his cleared computer desk.

 

‘This year I’m going to ace school and then one day I will be a Doctor.’

 

Charles Jekyll declared his resolution as this was the final year of High School. Charles always wanted to be a doctor. He was told what subjects to study, how to study, received tutoring but failing miserably.

 

‘I’m going to start putting the extra effort in beginning with…’

 

Charles looked around the cluttered corners of his bedroom until he jumped up and pulled a box from the mess of his opened closet.

 

….this board game of Operation!’

 

This was how Charles as going to spend his Friday after school, tutoring himself with a board game which turned out to be futile.

 

‘Bloody hell, I can’t even win this game!  Oh well, the break did me some good and I’ll ace the quiz in my biology textbook.’

 

Feeling confident, Charles completed the quiz but failed again.

 

‘What!?  Fifty-eight percent!!  That’s not even a pass…I feel retarded.’

 

He slumped into his comfy desk chair, body limp with devastation, unable to move except for pivoting to his right, facing the bedroom window above his bed.  The sun had gone down long ago, it was well into the evening. Orange street lights were shinning onto the leaves of the gum trees that lined the suburban footpath of his family’s front yard.  Charles’s eyes looked down to the right where a coffee table, littered with a Chemistry set,  wedged between the bed and the only part of the double door closet that cold close.

 

‘My chemistry set…maybe I could mix a tonic that would make me smarter…more intelligent.’

 

The thought was enough to give Charles Jekyll a jolt, light bulb of his messy room shinning above his head illuminating his bright idea like in a Warner Brothers cartoon. He jumped up from his chair and shuffled quickly in and out of his room, desk chair still spinning. From the fridge in the kitchen to the chemistry set in his bedroom, Charles started laying out his tools and ingredients on the short, black coffee table.

 

‘Almond milk for intelligence…’

 

Charles had no idea why his parents brought Almond milk, none of them drank it and it always expired.

 

‘…never mind, I’ll buy a replacement.’

 

He poured a portion of almond milk in a flask along with half a cup of coffee.

 

‘The caffeine to stimulate the brain.’

 

Adding other ingredients from his chemistry set, Charles Jekyll swirled the light brown concoction in the glass flask. Holding it up to the light of the battered room, revealing fist sized dents in the wall from years of frustration.  Charles hesitated, staring at the drink that was almost green.

 

“This has to work…”

 

In desperation, he poured the warm drink down his throat, swallowed, staggered backwards falling into his desk hair, dropped the flask on a floor covered in test papers marked with ‘-D’ and passed out.

 

Chapter 2:

By day I’m a school boy, by night I’m a Gothic, Tom-boy, Drag Queen

 

Saturday morning, Charles woke up feeling tired and soar.

 

‘Errrrrr, I feel like I spent yesterday competing in a Sports Carnival.  Why is that?  Wait a minute…’

 

Charles threw off his blanket and saw what he was wearing, Bat Man briefs and a black sports bra.

 

“What the…!?”

 

Charles sat bolt up-right in his bed, staring down at his sudden new look.  He looked around his bedroom to see a scattered trail of clothing leading from his bed.  It consisted of a black tank top with the picture of a roller-skating zombie women, a black leather studded belt, blue denim shorts and a pair of black Vans sneakers.  The trail ended with a skateboard leaning up against his closet door.

 

“…since when did I ride a skateboard?”

 

Charles stood up now, struggling to balance his aching body, staring at the trail of clothing that wasn’t his style.

 

The day proceeded with Charles trying to continue with his normal routine.  He wasted his Saturday trying to catch up on study and Saturday night using his Tonic as a side project and so he kept a video diary.

Ignoring his previous experience, Charles mixed the tonic, writing down in a journal the ingredients with the digital camera on a small tripod atop of his desk filming him writing and mixing the ingredients.  Rolling in his desk chair backwards and forwards from his computer desk to the coffee table of his bedroom.  Charles mixed the tonic in a chemistry beaker, drank the ingredients making sure the camera would capture it and then again, passed out in his desk chair, falling sideways to the right, conveniently landing on his bed but out of view of the camera.

 

It happened again, Charles would wake up the next morning to again find Goth Girl clothing strewn across the floor of his bedroom.  He’d check the camera but couldn’t see anything.  Charles decided ignore his mysterious black outs.  Time went by with black outs and Charles finding Goth Girl clothing in his room, eventually it was hanging in his wardrobe.  He would go through the clothing often thinking.

 

‘This clothing isn’t even my size!  Whoever this girl is, she is way slimmer than me.’

 

Charles’s experiences took a sinister turn when money started disappearing from his bank account.  Being so focused on studying to be a doctor, it meant he didn’t go out much and so saved a vast amount of money.  But random amounts would go missing to stores like Surf, Dive and Ski, Hot Topic and Off Ya’ Tree.  But it got weirder when he woke up Wednesday morning for school to see a pair of roller skates in his room and a pile of roller derby gear along with it.  Checking his bank account on his laptop that morning he noticed over a hundred dollars had gone to joining a roller derby league.

 

“What the…!?”

 

That was the last straw for Charles, but little did he realise his day was about to get worse.  It was the end of the first semester of year ten, the final year of high school and Charles had an appointment with the school career advisor.  Charles put so much effort into his studies that he was expecting a glowing review of his work.

 

Later that day, Charles put the incident with the bank account to the back of his mind.  It was after lunch, and he was spending valuable learning time sitting in the Careers Advisors office.  But that’s okay because he was expecting good news.

The grey, Curley haired advisor walked back into the office, closing the door and plopped onto his desk chair looking at a manila folder of papers.  Charles began to feel anxious, gripping his hands together  and heart pounding in his chest.  The advisor spoke in his booming Scottish accent.

 

“…with these grades you’re going nowhere.”

 

Just with that sentence, Charles Hyde’s world fell apart.  His heart dropped in his chest, a weight came crushing down upon him, pulling his head low.

 

‘But I spent my whole life on this…’

 

He was thinking but all he could mutter like a sad little child was.

 

“…but…I wanna’ be a Doctor.”

 

The advisor wasn’t in the least bit sympathetic, he spent all his career dealing with kids who had unrealistic expectations.

 

But the grey, Curley haired Scot looked down upon this chubby, blonde haired, Steampunk Teenager who turned into a blubbering child within a moment.  Most kids respond with teenage angst but this one didn’t’ and that managed to trigger some amount of sympathy.

 

“I tell ya’ what me laddie.”

 

The advisor only used those terms when he liked someone.  A small spark of hope ignited within Charles as he looked up to see the advisor turn in his desk chair and click away at his mouse while looking at the PC screen.

 

“You still have a chance BUT only if you ace your final English assessment.”

 

That was it, the sudden hope that Charles had was depleted.  His English class was a creative writing one, he didn’t enjoy reading fiction, didn’t like writing stories or poems, wasn’t interested in science fiction, fantasy  or horror and was aware of the irony that he liked Steampunk.  He couldn’t see the relevance of any of it towards his goal of being a Doctor.

 

 

“This is it….I’m going to fail…”

 

He mumbled to himself as he walked away from the advisor’s office mid-sentence.  The old Scot noticed Charles’s devastation but still felt annoyed at his rude departure and blurted out as the kid walked out of his office door.

 

“What?  Oh, you’re finished listening to me now.  Byeeeeeee!”

 

 

Chapter 3:

this is the end, i’m going to fail my lifelong dream

 

Charles spent the evening at home, in his room, devastated and unable to move from his desk chair.  The only light in the room was the desk lamp shinning upon his desk scattered with his English assessment and random papers writing and printed information, anything to help him out.  His digital camera still stood on the right of the desk far away from the calamity of an assessment, the laptop on and pushed far away to the left with Microsoft Word open and ready.  A template for ‘School Revision’ on the screen, curser blinking and ready to be typed.

Turning away from his desk and looking over his right shoulder, Charles could see the Chemistry set on the far right corner of the room, on the little coffee table, wedged between his bed and closet.  Set up and arranged for another tonic.

 

“One…more…..try.”

 

He mumbled to himself in desperation.  Mentally exhausted from four hours of pointless study, Charles Hyde turned on his digital camera and spoke to it, stating everything that has happened and what his final plans were.  Then he got off his desk chair and crawled to the Chemistry set, on his knees as if begging to God to make his tonic work.  He mixed the ingredients, then stood up in front of the digital camera so it would have a good view of his final ‘triumph’, holding the beaker with lime green fluid up and declared his intentions to the universe.

 

“Here’s to one last attempt at success.  Cheers!”

 

Charles Hyde skulled the liquid and then fell into a clump on his desk chair, slowly spinning in view of the digital camera.  He then fell off the chair onto the bed.

 

The next day Charles Jekyll woke up on top of his bed, again fully clothed in Goth Girls clothing.  This time he had black and white striped socks pulled up to his knees, fishnet stockings underneath, dark blue denim shorts, black short sleeved t-shirt with NIN on it, black and white striped ‘arm socks’ and his fingernails were painted black.  He sat bolt upright in his bed.

 

“AGAIN!  What the hell is going on!?”

 

Turning to his left where his desk was, he noticed the laptop open and switched on and next to the vast space of his desk was a neatly stacked pile of papers, next to that the digital camera which was still on and recording.  Looking back at the paper stack he noticed the cover sheet for the Assessment sitting on top.

 

‘My English Assessment!’

 

Alarm bells rang in his head as Charles jumped out of bed to the desk, picking up the stack of papers, neatly and in order was his scribbled notes, old assessment with corrections and finally the assessment.  Charles was meant to create a ‘magazine’ with issues covering all the subjects covered in his ‘English �" Creative Writing’ class.

Charles Hyde was more analytical and scientific minded, or at least he tried to be.  The last thing he was is imaginative, creative, and poetic.  But the Magazine Assessment sat on his desk, complete, covering all topics neatly and colourfully designed.

 

‘This is great but I have no Graphic Design skills and….I don’t remember typing this.’

 

But looking through the Magazine, it was Charles’s work, his choice of words just more improved and creatively put together.  Charles noticed his laptop on with a software program up and running with the same assessment on it.

 

‘Microsoft Publisher?  Never thought about looking for it on here…’

 

Charles Hyde read through the assessment on the screen.  He even laughed out loud at some of it.  But going through it, the assessment was too racy for Charles, too cheeky.

 

‘I can’t submit this, it’s too offensive. I’ll get into trouble.  It’s as if my tonic got me drunk and I just mucked around with this assessment, like I didn’t take it too seriously.’

 

Then it dawned on him again.

 

“I’ve failed.”

 

Charles didn’t’ have time to go through it all again, and he had to submit it at school that day.  Being overwhelmed at the lost chance of his career, Charles Hyde slumped over the space next to his laptop but that’s when he noticed a sticky note that must’ve come loose from the cover of his typed assessment.  Picking it up it had what looked like a Girl’s handwriting.  It read;

 

‘Congratulations, you’ve finished your Assessment. Now, chill out and stop being such a spaz!’ �" Charlene Hyde

 

“What the hell!?”

 

That’s when he realised.

 

‘The camera…!’

 

He quickly turned to his right and fumbled with the digital camera, playing back the recording.  Waiting and going through hours to the previous night, he witnessed himself drinking the tonic, passing out and standing up again as a Goth Girl version of himself.  Hyde was slim, pale, straight, neck length black hair,  She went through Charles’s wardrobe and said aloud.

 

“Ergh!  What’s with this guys clothing?”

 

Ms Hyde disappeared from view for a while then remerged in Gothic attire,  She picked up the assessment, cringed and then started making notes of her own, opening up Microsoft Publisher on the laptop and started typing and clicking away enthusiastically.

 

The school week had come and gone, Charles Hyde felt so anxious until he just felt sadness and despair instead, already knowing he had failed and couldn’t complete his lifelong goal.  The next Monday morning came, judgment day where Charles had his English class and would find the results.

The teacher was handing out the assessment cover sheet with comments and results.  It landed on Charles’s desk with a big, bright red;

 

A+

“What!?”

 

Charles couldn’t believe his eyes.  Looking through the assessment cover all he could see was bright red ticks and positive comments.  The short, brunette haired teacher laughed at his reaction.

 

“Yeah, you did a great job!  I highly enjoyed reading it.  You got all your bases covered but it was fun to read.  I read it out loud to the others in the Teachers’ lounge, we loved it.  Hope you don’t mind?”

 

Charles couldn’t believe it.

 

“Egh, no that’s fine.”

 

That was his last English class and Charles aced it.  A huge smile broke across his face and a weight lifted off his shoulders.  He felt like he was going to float into the air.

 

‘It’s over….it’s finally over.’

 

Charles Hyde made it to the very last day of high school, administration day.  His final visit was to the career’s councillor.  The Scot was both impressed and not impressed at the same time.  Looking at the PC monitor with Charles Hyde’s results.

 

“With these results right now, you could get into university but most students with your grades often end up committing suicide.”

 

Again, Charles’s heart dropped.  This was the very final blow but when Charles thought about it.

 

‘I wasted my youth on trying so hard to achieve very little.  I’m flogging a dead horse.  That’s it, I’ve had it!  I’m going to finish my teenage years just enjoying college and studying what ever the hell interest me.’

 

Funny enough he left the office feeling a greatly relieved.

 

‘You know what, I tried my best, I passed year ten and a lifetime of hell is over.’

 

He thought as he walked away from the chaotic corridors of his High School, finally done with the place and leaving ten years frustration and failure behind but also feeling grateful to this mysterious Goth Girl, Ms Charlene Hyde.

 

Epiloge

 

Charles Hyde’s life had changed for the better, he spent college studying his interest and balanced it with having a social life.  On top of that he got a first Aid certificate and began volunteer work with Saint John’s.  This gave him the idea of being a paramedic which was a more attainable goal compared to being a doctor.  He always regrets his school life and felt bad at how he was never good enough to be a doctor but he was grateful to finally move on in life and achieve his goal.

THE END

Author's Note

Sixteen-year-old boy wants to be a doctor but is so dumb at school he won’t make it. Determined to pass year ten he decides to mess with his chemistry set and create a potion that will make him smarter. He takes it and instead, turns into a sixteen-year-old, abrasive Goth Girl named Ms. Hyde.