Ms. Campbell.
She looked up. "Hi, Azazel," she said. "What's up?"
"You've got a new student," I said. "Jason Wodden."
Ms. Campbell looked at him. "The kid who beat up Eric Nelson?"
God. Had everybody heard about this?
Ms. Campbell leaned forward conspiratorially. "Nice going," she whispered. She straightened back up and went back to her papers. "Of course," she said, "if you tell anyone I said that, I will deny it."
Ms. Campbell was cool.
"So, I guess I need to get you a textbook and a syllabus," she said to Jason. "You can sit—"
"Actually," I said. "I was hoping I could move my seat for today."
"Really?" said Ms. Campbell. "You and Toby—trouble in paradise?"
I didn't say anything.
"Sure, it's fine," she said. "Any open seat then. Both of you."
Toby turned around in his seat and saw me. I looked away, ushering Jason and I to some desks in the back of the room that I knew no one sat in. Jason and I sat down.
Ms. Campbell's classroom was long and thin. The desks faced a whiteboard, but there were only three long rows. Toby and I usually sat in the front. There were several sets of seats between Toby and me now. Purposefully, I didn't look at him.
Ms. Campbell dropped off a textbook and syllabus at Jason's desk. Jason began flipping through it. It was Perrine's Literature: Structure, Sound, and Sense. I busied myself with beginning our journal prompt, which we had to do each day in class. As I got out my notebook, I pointed it out on the board to Jason. "We have to write a paragraph about whatever the question is every day," I told him.
Jason nodded.
Today's question was, "What is the purpose of rules?" Ms. Campbell always asked weird things.
"Azazel," said Jason.
"Yeah?" I said.
"Toby's staring at us," he said.
"I don't care," I said. I didn't have anything to say to Toby. I was still mad at him.
"I think maybe you should talk to him," said Jason.
"No way."
"It's just...you sitting with me like this... He might think..." Jason trailed off again.
His trailing off was maddening!
"He might think what?" I demanded.
Jason shook his head. "Nothing. Never mind."
"No! Tell me."
But the tardy bell rang, and Ms. Campbell said, "Okay, guys, get to work on your journals. No talking."
English class went by pretty quickly, as it usually did. There were some avid conversations going on from other students in the class, about the short story we'd read, "A Rose for Emily." I didn't join in. I usually didn't. I just liked to listen to what everyone else said. I watched Jason soak it all in. He hadn't read the story, but I could tell if he had, he'd throw in his two cents.
Second block was the one class Jason and I didn't have together. He had Biology.
Toby and I had French. Mrs. Zimmerman, the French teacher, would not let me change seats, so I had to sit next to Toby.
I settled into my seat, sulking, and vowing not to speak to him.
"Azazel," said Toby, "we have to talk."
We most certainly did not. In fact, we weren't going to talk if I had anything to say about it. I buried my face in my French book and tried to ignore him.
"Listen, I'm sorry," he said. "I was rude to you for no reason at the party."
Damned right he was. But just because he was correctly describing his behavior didn't mean I was going to forgive him. He'd really hurt my feelings. He'd mocked me. In front of everyone. In that second, I'd had this flash that maybe Toby really saw me as ridiculous.
"Please look at me," he said.
I didn't.
Thankfully, class started right about then, and I had other things to pay attention to besides Toby.
After French, Jason rejoined us for history. That was my dad's class. It was weird having my dad for a teacher, but it was either do that or not take Honors History, which just wasn't an option. My dad didn't have a seating chart in his classroom. My dad didn't actually have rules in his classroom. He solved problems by classroom quorums, where we all sat in a circle
She looked up. "Hi, Azazel," she said. "What's up?"
"You've got a new student," I said. "Jason Wodden."
Ms. Campbell looked at him. "The kid who beat up Eric Nelson?"
God. Had everybody heard about this?
Ms. Campbell leaned forward conspiratorially. "Nice going," she whispered. She straightened back up and went back to her papers. "Of course," she said, "if you tell anyone I said that, I will deny it."
Ms. Campbell was cool.
"So, I guess I need to get you a textbook and a syllabus," she said to Jason. "You can sit—"
"Actually," I said. "I was hoping I could move my seat for today."
"Really?" said Ms. Campbell. "You and Toby—trouble in paradise?"
I didn't say anything.
"Sure, it's fine," she said. "Any open seat then. Both of you."
Toby turned around in his seat and saw me. I looked away, ushering Jason and I to some desks in the back of the room that I knew no one sat in. Jason and I sat down.
Ms. Campbell's classroom was long and thin. The desks faced a whiteboard, but there were only three long rows. Toby and I usually sat in the front. There were several sets of seats between Toby and me now. Purposefully, I didn't look at him.
Ms. Campbell dropped off a textbook and syllabus at Jason's desk. Jason began flipping through it. It was Perrine's Literature: Structure, Sound, and Sense. I busied myself with beginning our journal prompt, which we had to do each day in class. As I got out my notebook, I pointed it out on the board to Jason. "We have to write a paragraph about whatever the question is every day," I told him.
Jason nodded.
Today's question was, "What is the purpose of rules?" Ms. Campbell always asked weird things.
"Azazel," said Jason.
"Yeah?" I said.
"Toby's staring at us," he said.
"I don't care," I said. I didn't have anything to say to Toby. I was still mad at him.
"I think maybe you should talk to him," said Jason.
"No way."
"It's just...you sitting with me like this... He might think..." Jason trailed off again.
His trailing off was maddening!
"He might think what?" I demanded.
Jason shook his head. "Nothing. Never mind."
"No! Tell me."
But the tardy bell rang, and Ms. Campbell said, "Okay, guys, get to work on your journals. No talking."
English class went by pretty quickly, as it usually did. There were some avid conversations going on from other students in the class, about the short story we'd read, "A Rose for Emily." I didn't join in. I usually didn't. I just liked to listen to what everyone else said. I watched Jason soak it all in. He hadn't read the story, but I could tell if he had, he'd throw in his two cents.
Second block was the one class Jason and I didn't have together. He had Biology.
Toby and I had French. Mrs. Zimmerman, the French teacher, would not let me change seats, so I had to sit next to Toby.
I settled into my seat, sulking, and vowing not to speak to him.
"Azazel," said Toby, "we have to talk."
We most certainly did not. In fact, we weren't going to talk if I had anything to say about it. I buried my face in my French book and tried to ignore him.
"Listen, I'm sorry," he said. "I was rude to you for no reason at the party."
Damned right he was. But just because he was correctly describing his behavior didn't mean I was going to forgive him. He'd really hurt my feelings. He'd mocked me. In front of everyone. In that second, I'd had this flash that maybe Toby really saw me as ridiculous.
"Please look at me," he said.
I didn't.
Thankfully, class started right about then, and I had other things to pay attention to besides Toby.
After French, Jason rejoined us for history. That was my dad's class. It was weird having my dad for a teacher, but it was either do that or not take Honors History, which just wasn't an option. My dad didn't have a seating chart in his classroom. My dad didn't actually have rules in his classroom. He solved problems by classroom quorums, where we all sat in a circle
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