God and Girl–Chapter 9

God and Girl is my first novel, written in 2015. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

Monday morning was a monsoon. Mom dropped me off at school and my second shower was much faster than my first one earlier this morning. As we were leaving home Mom had offered me my raincoat and an umbrella but cool me, ninth grader me, budding adult me, refused.

I headed to the left down the long hallway towards the gym to pick up all my textbooks. This is somewhat of a tradition here at Boaz High. The worst part of it is to be here by 7:00 a.m.  I’m not sure when it got started but the teachers work all weekend to set this up. Tables are arranged alphabetically in a semicircle around the basketball court with mounds of books behind each table. The students find their table and pick up all their books. Lucky for me I had not refused to bring an empty backpack to hold all my books.

I packed them in tightly and left to find my locker. It was on first floor–all lockers on first floor are for ninth and tenth graders. Lockers on the second floor are for eleventh and twelfth graders. Classrooms follow this schema also. After finding my locker I unloaded all my books except my Biology textbook for first period.  Dr. Ayers here I come. As I walked down the hall to my classroom I couldn’t help but wonder if Ellen would be in my Biology class.

I didn’t have to wonder very long. When I walked in, she was standing with Ryan and Lisa at the back of the classroom. I laid my books and notepad on a desk and walked back to them taking in the sight as much as possible without being totally conspicuous. Ellen wore perfect-fitting jeans and an elegant, black silk blouse not too tight but tight enough to reveal her mature bust line. And, pink Reiker’s shoes. I couldn’t believe we both had on the exact color and brand of shoes.

“Hey Ruthie,” Ryan said giving me the stare down as though he was warning me or telling me to tread carefully with what you say.

“Hi to you Ryan, and to all.” I said.

“Look at the blackboard.” Lisa said.

I did, and it said, “Select a team-mate to work with on projects. This obviously needs to be someone you can work with in a productive way.”

“Ryan and I are now steady friends, like boyfriend and girlfriend, and, well obviously, we are now Biology class team-mates.” Lisa said.

“We were hoping you and Ellen would agree to be team-mates. What do you think?” Ryan asked me.

“Fine by me.” I said looking at Ellen. “Is that okay with you?” I asked, looking at Ellen.

“Of course, I’d love to be your team-mate. I just wanted to make sure you were okay spending time together working on Biology work, especially since you haven’t known me for very long.  I was afraid I might have scared you the other night sitting by the fire.” Ellen said.

“I think I know you well enough.” I said to Ellen, looking deep into her eyes. “I wasn’t scared at all, still not.”

“Okay everyone, it’s time to begin, please take a seat.” Dr. Ayers said with a strong and confident voice.

There were thirty students in class. After introducing herself, Dr.

Ayers made sure everyone had a Syllabus.

“Biology is a very difficult course, but a very enjoyable course if you allow it to be. I have high expectations for each of you. I ask you to take seriously my requirement—you can see all of them in the syllabus— to invest a solid hour per day outside class studying. It is imperative that you keep up. If you feel you are falling behind, please see me immediately.” She said.

“You should have a team-mate by now if you read what’s written on the blackboard behind me. If not, before you leave today, please make sure you and one other student here in this classroom agree to work together as team-mates. The purpose of teams is two-fold, although we could think of many other sound reasons. First, each student will have someone to help keep them motivated to work at a high level. Second, each student will have someone to discuss the issues with. This will help each student see that they don’t have a lock on all the good ideas, that there is another side to the issue, that their own ideas may be elementary or even wrong, and that it is important to be able to openly discuss things without fearing embarrassment or ignorance.” Dr. Ayers said.

“You will notice in your Syllabus that we will be using Blackboard, the electronic version that is. Many of you may be unfamiliar with Blackboard. I have provided detailed instructions on how to set-up your account and how to sign in—see your Syllabus. Briefly, Blackboard is like Facebook, but for the classroom.  In Blackboard, you will post your written assignments, you will ask me questions, you will take certain exams, and you will engage in discussions with your other classmates just like you will here in our physical classroom. Please follow the instructions carefully, including those dealing with teams and submitting team-work through Blackboard.

I was beginning to panic but Dr. Ayers continued, “Let’s close out today’s class with an assignment. You should have completed your reading assignment for today in Why Evolution is True, the book supplement that you were given when you registered last Monday or Tuesday. I suspect that most of you are not quite ready to fully discuss the Introduction or Chapter One. So, I’m giving you a team assignment. Each team is to write an essay, not to exceed two-thousand words, on what evolution is and why it should be taught in public schools. Please post your essays to Blackboard no later than this Friday at midnight. Again, I am delighted to be your Biology teacher and look forward to knowing each one of you. I hope you have a nice day.” Dr. Ayers said.

I made it through my other morning classes, English, Algebra I, and World History. Lunch was a circus. Two years ago, the City School Board built a new lunchroom. The cafeteria is big, so big I think it could hold the entire school, all one-thousand students, at once. I bought a salad and a bottle of water and didn’t attempt to find a friend or two to eat with. I thought of Ellen but knew she wouldn’t be here. When leaving Biology class this morning I overheard her mom, aka Dr. Ayers, tell her that she would see her at lunch and that it would be a surprise. From that overheard conversation, I assumed they would be eating in the Biology classroom or in Dr. Ayers office in the faculty suite on second floor. I finally decided to eat alone at an empty table next to a large group of teachers. I guess no other students wanted to sit here. I didn’t really blame them, but I just wanted to be alone.

As I finished my salad I felt in my back pocket for my envelope. It was there, thankfully. I felt very hesitant about giving my poem to Ellen, but I revisited my thoughts of what it contained and knew I had no choice. I absolutely knew how I felt about Ellen and knew it was time to be bold and confident in my feelings for her and my growing recognition of who I was becoming.

I walked out of the lunch room and headed to Poetry class.

Ellen was already there when I arrived. I walked in and looked at her.

“I saved you a seat right here. I hope that is okay with you.” Ellen said as soon as I looked at her.

“Wonderful.” I said. As I put my bag under my desk I sat down and turned to Ellen. There was no one else close to us.  There was only a handful of other students in the class at all, and they were all hovered by a book cart in the back of the room. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our time at the fire Saturday night.” I told Ellen.

“Me too. I loved us talking about poetry.” Ellen said looking at me and smiling, not a sheepish grin, but a simple smile with an oddly curling lower lip.  It was a sly little smile.

“I hope you don’t mind me giving you this.” I said, pulling out the envelope from my back pocket.

“That’s not a pink slip in there is it. Already?” Ellen asked.  “You already telling me I’m fired?”

“No silly, it’s a poem I wrote you yesterday after lunch.  I tried taking a nap, but all I could do was think of you and the night before at the fire. So, I got up, went to my desk, and wrote this … for you.” I said. “Please know it is so very uncomfortable and unusual for me to be this bold.”

“Maybe that can be something good for you.  Thanks a lot for the poem.” Ellen said. “I can’t wait to read it.”

“Maybe not read it now? Maybe just wait and read it later?” I asked, fearing embarrassment coming if she opened it up right now and read it.

“Whatever you want, I will move the world to do.” Ellen said.

“Beautiful words from a beautiful mind.” I said.

“Hello, everyone, could I have your attention?” I heard Mr. Johnson say from the front of the room.

“I’m Mr. Johnson. Let’s jump right in. ‘Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.’  That’s a quote from Leonard Cohen.”  Mr. Johnson said.

“Let’s talk about that just a little. Poetry is ‘evidence of life.’ Someone, talk to me about what that means to you. But, before you respond, you must know the first rule of poetry. There are no rules. Therefore, your response here will be right.” He said.

Clark Benson raised his hand and said before Mr. Johnson could acknowledge him, “evidence is something we can see, feel, touch, smell, or hear. They talk a lot about evidence on Law and Order and NCIS and other law shows like that on TV.”

“Good, very good.” Mr. Johnson said. “And as to the second part of our focus phrase, ‘life.’ Who will share a thought about that?”

“Life is more than what we can know or acknowledge with just our senses, life is certainly my breath I exhale onto a mirror or glass. It is the dream I had the night before of climbing the imaginary mountain behind my house to sit closer to the stars. And, life can be my faith that love is real, mysterious, and exhilarating, even though I cannot see it or reach out and touch it like I would an apple or this desk.” Ellen said.

“Also, good.  Also, very good.” Mr. Johnson said. “Right for Clark, right for Ellen. And, thank you to you Clark and to you Ellen for speaking up, for speaking out. Make careful note here, it is imperative that we all hear from each other. This is a relatively small class, only nineteen students, which is also very good. Please do not be inhibited. Let’s support each other, listen to each other, encourage each other. This class can be the most fun class you have. Here, you get to be creative, you get to pursue creativity.  I want each of you to trust me that this class can inspire you to learn more about yourself and the world around you.

Think of this class as play instead of study.”  He continued.

“Please copy down Mr. Cohen’s words that I quoted earlier. They are up here on the blackboard. And, please ponder the second phrase. We didn’t discuss this part but think hard about what you want the ashes in your life to look like, and how big a pile of ashes you want to produce this year.” He said.

“I see we have about thirty more minutes in today’s class. I ask you to spend this time writing a poem. Whatever you write will be a poem, no matter what type writing you do. You can choose anything, just write. This will be just for you. I will not take up this writing. I will only see your writing if you choose to share it with me.” Mr. Johnson continued.

I took out my notepad and strained and struggled to write anything. I couldn’t help but be excited that Ellen still appeared to be interested in getting to know me. Maybe I should have written that.

A new friend is neat,

especially if in a seat,

right next to me,

especially if she is free,

to run with me in flowery fields, fast, hand-in-hand toward silky seals.

I giggled to myself. Here’s my poem. Mr. Johnson said whatever I wrote would be poetry. That seals it. A different seal.

The bell rang, and everyone left, including Mr. Johnson.  Ellen and I both got up from our seats and walked towards the door.

“Do you have a cell phone?” Ellen asked.

“Yes, do you?” I responded.

“Yes, I too am blessed with such an extraordinary device.” Ellen said.

Before we went our separate ways, we exchanged phone numbers.

“I can’t wait to read your poem.” Ellen said.

“I hope I haven’t said something that will either offend you or embarrass you.” I replied.

“I doubt that will be the case.” Ellen said. “See you later.”

“Bye for now.”