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When it’s time for lunch, I make my way to the cafeteria with Evelyn and Ava. We sit down at our usual table and I am once again bombarded. Taking the next five minutes to explain what happened, my friends look at me with intense stares of concentration. After the story is recited, then come the questions. Most of them are common sense, but when Hannah asks if I will die from it, I have a meltdown. The tears are rolling down my face, and I see people from other tables starting to stare.
“Oh, I didn’t mean that! I… I was just, I didn’t think before I said it. I’m so sorry.”
“I know you didn’t mean it, it’s just, never mind.” I say, tears rolling down my face like rain down a pane of glass.
“I’m so sorry, so so sorry.”
Gwen grabs my arm and helps me stand. She walks me to the bathroom so I can wipe off my face. Sitting me down on the wide window ceil, she walks into the stall and gets the roll of toilet paper.
“Aw, Ella, you know she didn’t mean it. Anyways, chances are, in a couple years there will be a cure for this disease. Do you know how many geniuses they have working to find a cure? There’s no reason to cry. You’re living a good life. Your friends love you, and so does your family. Don’t worry honey, it’s gonna be fine!” She says, dragging the moist tissue over my face.
Nodding my head vigorously, I watch her toss the most recent tissue into the trash then grasp me in a hug.
“You know everything’s gonna be just fine, alright? So stop crying and give me a smile.” Tilting my chin up I realize how great it is to have a friend like Gwen. She’s my best friends, but also acts like my mother. She’s always there to slap me back into reality and show me how lucky I really am.
“Thanks.” I sputter
“No problem, what are friends for, after all?”
Chapter 4
When I was seven, I fell into a ditch. I was walking to Gwen’s house after school on a November day. Being that the sun set earlier than normal, I was rushing. My fear of the dark was overwhelming as a child and the concept of being lost outside in a black oblivion petrified me beyond belief. As I was rushing to her house at five o’clock, the street lights winding the cal de sac, began to flicker on. Near a sprint, I lost my balance and somehow hurt my foot, tumbling into a ditch two blocks from my house. I screamed for what seemed like hours, and my throat soon became too raw to try any longer. I attempted pulling myself out of the ditch several times, but that also became impossible to do with a swollen foot. Lying in the ditch, immersed in darkness, I sobbed, waiting for someone to rescue me, hoping my mom would come. People often walked this street, and it seemed just my luck that no one was currently striding down this stretch. Understanding that I wouldn’t be found any time soon, and deciding in my dramatic ways, that I was near my death, I closed my eyes, bracing myself for whatever else life might throw at me. Humming, I tried to distract myself from the fear I was holding, and when I heard friendly voices calling my name, I knew it was my time. It wasn’t until I got an uncomfortable beam of light shinning on my eyelids, that I realized I wasn’t dead. Once the shaft of light was pulled away, and I was beginning to feel hands grip my arms, I started to panic and thrash. Shouts of question where thrown around my head as I tried to break free from my kidnapper. The group seemed to be growing as I heard more voices and it wasn’t until I heard the sweet chime of a dear friend that I recognize I am safe.
“Ella, calm down! It’s just us. We’ve got you now, everything will be fine.”
In those moments of terror that often fill my mind, I remember who saved me and pulled me out of that ditch, crying. She and her mom helped me to my house and informed my mother of what happened. Gwen was the first one I called when I found out I had a broken foot, and she was the first one to sign my cast.
Later, I found out that Gwen was the one who decided to go look for me. She knew there was something wrong. My absence from her house wasn’t often especially when a visit was scheduled. I think about that night daily and I thank the lord that I have a true friend like her. From that day on, I promised myself that I would be the best friend to her I could because she was for me.
“So how was it?!” I anxiously ask after Gwen’s return from her date with Gavin.
“It was… great.” She responds in a mellow tone, a tone she rarely uses.
“Are you sure? I seem more enthused than you do.”
“No, it was fun. I had a good time. It just wasn’t what I expected.”
“What’s not to expect? You went to a movie, probably talked for most of it, and ate popcorn. You, of all people, would expect that, right?” I ask, unsure of her response.
“Well, you got most of it right, but he didn’t really talk. I sat there and asked him tons of questions and all he did was look at me and nod or just smile or something. I don’t think I could even recognize his voice!” She exclaims, obviously trying to contain the concoction of anger and sadness brewing inside.
“He was probably just shy. I might have been his first date and he just didn’t know what to do. Anyways, not everyone is as capable at talking as you.”
She smiles quickly for me, then gives a disapproving look at her ticket stub and continues.
“He’s nice, and sweet, and seemed to talk at school, but I don’t know if I can have a relationship with someone who doesn’t talk to me. It just seems weird.”
“People change, give him a chance. I think you will be happy if you just wait him out.”
“You know I’m not patient!”
“Well your gonna have to be to make it in this world. Just deal with him for like a week. You can do it, it’s gonna be worth it.”
“Fine, but if it doesn’t work out in a week, then that’s it.”
“Okay, that’s fine. I just have a feeling if you end the relationship now, you’ll regret it the next day.”
Listening to my advice, she promises to deal with Gavin for a while, saying that she’ll break his shy shell in the process. “Miss. Garten,” my English teacher Mr. Cole bellows as he sees my mouth moving at high speeds. “do you always feel the need to talk as soon as I start my lectures? Or does it just happen to be a rare coincidence?”
“I don’t do it intentionally; I just remember all the things I need to tell people when class starts. Once I say them, I always stop talking.”
“You never do stop talking though, that’s the problem! Every day I give you a break, and let you talk hoping that once you finish, you’ll pay attention, but that doesn’t seem to happen does it?” He says, the anger growing in his voice.
“I’m sorry! I’ll try to stop.” My attitude and anger also growing.
“See, that’s the problem! Whenever I ask you to do something it’s not, “I will stop” it’s “I’ll try to stop” that leaves the door open for failure. I’ve warned you many times and now it’s the third. You’ve earned yourself a detention.”
“What?!” I exclaim, about to shout more words of anger, but then refrain after thinking about what the new consequences could be.
“After school tomorrow, plan to see you there.”
I can feel my cheeks begin to flame with furry and the creases between my brows deepen. My first week back and a get a detention. Just the thought of my mom’s face when she gets the call from my school makes me want to storm out of the room. I can picture in my head, the disappointment on her face then the anger that will follow.
“I hope you will learn your lesson.” He blurts over his shoulder while continuing to finish the poem he was writing on the chalk board. “Don’t make this harder on yourself than it has to be.”
Trying to burn a hole in the back of his head with my angry stares, I scribble in my black and white mead journal. I don’t think there is a word to describe the immense hatred that is currently growing in my chest, but once it get’s to the point when I feel like I am going to scream, I decide I need to go to the nurse.
Quickly plunging my hand into the air above my head, I wiggle my fingers to attract even more attention from Mr. Cole.
“What is it now Ella?” He moans while slouching.
“I need to go to the nurse, my head hurts.”
“What?! You haven’t been doing anything all class now you want to leave?”
“Yes.” I put it simply.
He sighs then quickly scribbles on a pass and holds out his hand, “Come on, take it.”
“Thank you.” I chirp while gathering my things and making my way up the thin isle to reach the pink square of paper.
Grasping it, I wave to my class, then leave the room and enter the empty bliss of the hallway.
“Hi Mrs. Harrods! How are you?” I ask, while walking over to her desk to say hello.
“Hey there Ella! What can I help you with?”
“Oh, I don’t really know if you can do anything, but I have a head ache and don’t wanna go back to class.”
“Oh, well you have to go back to class no matter what, but I don’t think your teacher would really mind you just hung out here for a while and see if your headache will get any better.”
Mrs. Harrods has always been one of my favorite people. Her kindness and gentleness is so obvious but it’s not until you get to know her that you see her other side, the side that is hidden in most people. She is really crazy and pretty weird, but makes me laugh so hard that my eyes water.
“So what’s new with you? How’s your daughter doing?” I say once I remember that she is due any day.
“She’s doing well. The anticipation is killing us though; I don’t know how much longer I can wait. I’m so excited to have a grandchild.”
“It’s going to be a girl, right?” I ask
“We are pretty sure, but my sister’s granddaughter was supposed to be a boy, so we don’t know how reliable that system is.” Her smile seemed to be growing larger and larger with each word said about this soon to be child.
In mid sentence, the large beep from the school bell interrupts me, signifying the end of the period. Free to go to my next class, I politely excuse myself from the conversation then make my way down the hall, to the math wing. The white tiled walls and floor are overwhelming when first walking down this wing and the always unpleasant feeling of my pupils contracting after being confronted with a new level of light makes a small pain grow behind my temples. My following class seems to amplify the minute pain too. Miss. Barlow was possibly the most obnoxious, and rude women I have ever met. Her class never seems to go by fast enough. She tends to slink into a constant drone about math equations that don’t make any sense. So far this year, she has sent seven people to detention because of their lack of courtesy which consisted of speaking without a raised hand, and forgetting to properly address her. When I first enter her room, she shoots a glance at me as if I have already done something wrong.
“Good morning Miss. Barlow.” I proclaim, trying to get onto her good side. “How are ya!”
Ignoring my question, she proceeds to pass out the papers previously lying on a student’s desk. Turning around and glancing at Gavin, sitting nearby I raise my eyebrows, as if a warning to him of what’s to come.
“We are starting class now, come on, sit down!” She angrily states looking at a few girls talking in the back of the room. “Take out your homework from last night, and pass it up. They will be graded as if they were tests. You will also find that there is your homework assignment from yesterday sitting on your desk; I will be answering any questions regarding that today too.”
Looking at the snail’s pace everyone was moving at she once again exclaims “Sit down!”
No one is scared of her or her power and maybe that’s why her commands never work, everyone stopped caring. Mrs. Harrods and I often get onto the topic of Miss. Barlow and her constant nastiness towards students and co workers. She said that the first few years that Miss. Barlow taught at our school, she was the trail blazer for power abuse. She acted as if she was the principal and has always been power hungry. After applying several times for jobs as principal and other head positions at other districts with no luck she just continued to rule her classroom as if she was in control of everything. Back when I had only heard stories about her through Bryan, I felt badly for her and I knew I would break through her hard shell to exposes a kind, loving women, but after a year of trying to make her crack, I realized that she just has a black heart with no other strings attached.
“ Last night, when I was grading your papers, I saw that most people missed questions six, eight, nine, eleven, seventeen, and twenty. I just go over those.”
“Miss. Barlow, I think you gave me an extra point on this. Can you look at it?” Asks a shy girl named Charlotte asked from the back.
Marching to the back of the room with a deep v in between her brows, she snatches the paper from Charlotte’s grasp and looks over each question. Swiftly placing the paper back down on her desk, she scribbles out the previous grade and quickly punches at numbers on her calculator.
Obviously nervous, Charlotte watches as Miss. Barlow comes back over to her desk and utters “Here.” After placing the paper back down.
Raising her hand once again, Charlotte shakily lifts her paper, looking at it puzzled.
“What is it now Charlotte?!” Miss. Barlow exclaims.
“Well, not to be rude or anything, but why is my grade lower?” she manages to spit out, obviously very nervous about the response she is soon to receive.
“You miss the question, so I changed you grade. Is that simple enough for you?”
Nodding slowly, Charlotte looks like she will shortly cry.
“Don’t most teachers give you the point if they made a mistake? Ya know, it’s kinda a common courtesy thing.” I say, unable to conceal my frustration any longer and ready to take the blow of any punishment coming my way.
With a shocked look on her face, she responds.
“What do you know about common courtesy?! Every day you come into my classroom and disrespect me and my belongings! You obviously are too dense to grasp that concept though, but I bet you’ll understand this. You have ISS for the remainder of the week.”
Walking over to her desk, she advances on filling out the blue form.
“Excuse me?!” I exclaim “I know enough about common courtesy not to talk to people in that way! No one, especially a teacher, should call a kid dense! You can send me to ISS and call my mom, I don’t care, but I just want you to know that the principal will be hearing all about our little talk too.”
Holding the pass out for me to grab, I take it from her hand and strut to the office, confident in my side of the story with hopes that it will get her fired.
“Can I talk to Mr. Newman? It’s regarding a problem with a teacher.”
Rolling her eyes, she grabs the phone from its receiver and begins dialing.
“I have a student here that say’s she need to talk to you. Yeah, I think so. Okay thanks. Yep bye.”
Hanging up the phone, she tells me he can see me now, the points toward his office door and wishes me luck.
“So Miss. Garten, I heard there was a problem.” He says, clearly searching for my view on the situation.
“I would say so! Not to sound like a snitch or anything but I was just sent to ISS for the rest of the week because I was standing up for a fellow classmate that was too scared to talk for herself. In addition she called me dense.”
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