When Reason Breaks by Cindy L. Rodriguez Page B

plopped into her assigned seat. Her hair was down, hanging straight. She wore black jeans and high-top Converse sneakers, and an oversize army-green T-shirt tied in a knot in the back. Even stretched as it was, an outlined sketch of Frida Kahlo could be seen on the front.
    â€œOkay class, let’s begin,” Ms. Diaz said after the bell. “I read your first-day reactions last night.”
    Elizabeth had been digging through her bag but stopped to listen to her teacher.
    â€œVery interesting,” Ms. Diaz said.
    What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Elizabeth’s response was genuine. She didn’t draw and write what shedid to provoke her teacher, but it wasn’t typical. And all she gets in return is “Very interesting?”
    Elizabeth was not impressed.
    Maybe she was wrong about Ms. Diaz.
    She pulled a beat-up copy of
Wuthering Heights
from her bag. She slouched in her seat and rested the opened book in the space between her body and the edge of the desk.
    â€œI love seeing the variety of interpretations,” Ms. Diaz continued.
    Unlike yesterday, Elizabeth only half listened. She scanned the room and noted Tommy whispering to Abby about how he grows out his hair in the summer and then shaves it off in the winter during swim season. Abby listened intently while she circled one of his wavy strands around her finger. Tommy grinned and blushed but didn’t pull away.
Stupid seating arrangement
.
    Given their last names, Elizabeth would have been looking at the back of Tommy’s head if they had been seated in normal rows. But, no, Ms. Diaz put them in a double semicircle to “encourage discussion.”
Bad move and good luck keeping our attention
. Even worse, because of this fancy seating arrangement, Elizabeth had a clear shot of Abby and Tommy. Elizabeth finger-combed her hair forward to try to block them from view.
    â€œAs readers, you’ll bring your own experiences to your literary interpretations,” Ms. Diaz continued. “So, each of us can see something different.”
    After several more glances at Tommy and Abby, Elizabethforced her attention elsewhere. Next to her, Emily sat up straight, books and notebooks neatly stacked on her desk. She was mouthing a question to Sarah across the room, using her hands in a form of sign language they seemed to understand. Kevin, who sat behind Sarah, witnessed the exchange and joined in. He made exaggerated, nonsensical signs to imitate the girls, which made Emily and Sarah giggle.
    â€œI’ll pass back what you wrote yesterday,” Ms. Diaz said. “We’ll read the rest of the poem and analyze it a bit. And then for homework, you’ll write a one-page, typed reaction to it, building on what you started yesterday. This will be due the day after tomorrow.”
    Students groaned. Elizabeth agreed. She was not amused.
    â€œThis isn’t a research project,” Ms. Diaz added. “I want a one-page paper, no more, so you shouldn’t need more than two days.”
    â€œWow, Miss,” said Kevin. “You don’t mess around. We have a paper due the first week of school? What about a get-to-know-you activity?”
    Elizabeth laughed along with the rest of the class.
    â€œFirst, please call me Ms. Diaz.” She walked around and distributed the students’ first-day papers, a copy of the Dickinson poem, and the directions for their assignment. “Second, you’re a sophomore in high school. The days of the week-long, get-to-know-each-other, lovey-dovey stuff are over.”
    â€œAw, man,” said Kevin.
    Ms. Diaz placed Emily’s papers on her desk. Elizabeth watched the girl immediately pick them up and read them.She opened her school-issued agenda to write down the assignment.
    Elizabeth glanced at her paper. “See me at the end of class” was written on the top. She smirked, turned the essay over, and returned to her book.
    â€œThird,” Ms. Diaz continued,