by Rae Knightly
When Ben suggested Laura wear the ring his real father had given her before he was born, Thomas broke into a wide grin. “Excellent! That’s it, then. It’s settled Mr. and Mrs. Anderson.”
It had seemed pretty straightforward at the time, yet now that he was faced with reality, things suddenly felt a lot more complicated. He would have to watch every word that came out of his mouth. He had no choice. He knew that, although his mother wouldn’t admit it, they had run out of money. The secret services had frozen her accounts so all they had was whatever bills and coins they had on them. They would have to lay low until they could figure out the next step. With that in mind, Ben entered his new school and headed to the administration, though not before looking for a secluded spot behind the school where he settled Tike with a warm blanket and crackers.
The curly-haired school receptionist peered at him as Ben said dutifully, “Hi, I’m a new student. My name is Ben Anderson. I’m in grade seven.”
The woman broke into a smile. “Oh, welcome, Ben! We’ve been expecting you.” She glanced around behind him as if searching for something. “Did you come on your own?”
Ben cleared his throat. “Yes, my mom had to go to work.”
A look of sympathy crossed her face, though it was swiftly replaced by her smile. “Good on you, then, for taking the first step on your own. Now, let’s see, you’ll be in Ms. Amily Evans’ class. That’s in room 103. Let me get the Principal. She will want to take you there herself.”
Ben opened his mouth to protest, but she disappeared into a side corridor, leaving him to wonder for the hundredth time whether he was ready for this.
The school bell rang and a throng of noisy students filled the entrance behind him.
The receptionist appeared several minutes later, followed by a petite woman with black, shoulder-length hair.
“This is Ben Anderson,” the receptionist said, waving a hand at him. “He’s the new student for Ms. Evans’ class that Thomas helped register last week.” She turned to Ben and said, “Ben, this is Mrs. Linda Nguyen, our school Principal.”
The Principal smiled, studying him with small, black eyes behind modern, black-rimmed glasses. “Hello, Ben. Welcome to Lawrence Grassi Middle School. I was looking forward to meeting you. Thomas says you’re a bright student.” She shook his hand firmly, gazing at him with sincerity. Ben immediately felt bad about having lied about who he really was.
“Come on, I’ll take you to your class. You’ll be impatient to meet your new friends.” She led him down corridors covered in lockers which were stacked with winter clothes, chatting amiably about the amenities and after-school activities he could join. He was relieved that she didn’t ask him any questions about his background. He knew that Thomas had covered the details when he had registered Ben.
A handful of late students hurried to their classrooms, greeting the Principal awkwardly as they passed. Mrs. Nguyen stopped in front of room 103. Once Ben had removed his winter clothes, she knocked before entering.
Ben’s heart did a double flip as she ushered him inside. Twenty-four pair of eyes turned to look at him. He fully expected to be greeted by cold stares and sneering whispers.
“Good morning, class,” Mrs. Nguyen said. “This is Ben Anderson. He’ll be joining you as of today. I trust you will make him feel at home.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. She nodded towards the teacher. “I’ll leave you to it, Amily.” She patted Ben lightly on the shoulder, before closing the door behind her.
Ben’s teacher stood up from her desk and headed towards him. She had very short, brown hair and a youthful face. Her slim neck stuck out of a turtleneck sweater of a gray-blue colour. Ben liked her as soon as her mouth widened into a smile.
“Hi, Ben,” she said. “I’m Ms. Amily Evans, your seventh-grade teacher. We’re glad to see a new face around here, aren’t we class?”
A wave of giggles reached Ben, though he found they weren’t of a mocking kind. Some hands waved at him, and he heard a couple of Hi, Bens.
“Let’s find you a seat.” Ms. Evans said, searching the room. Multiple hands shot in the air as several students shouted, “Over here!” One chubby boy in particular waved his hand wildly above his head. There was a free seat next to him by the window, on the opposite side of the classroom.
Ms. Evans placed a soft hand with long fingers on Ben’s shoulder, where the Principal had patted him reassuringly moments ago as if it was some kind of unspoken gesture of comfort used by the school personnel. “Hm, yes,” she said. “How about you sit next to Max, by the window?”
Ben nodded. He didn't trust using his voice yet. He made his way to his new spot, noticing the wide eyes and shy smiles from the other students on the way.
They’re as nervous as I am!
It was a surprising thought, and he felt a weight lift partially from his shoulders.
They mustn’t get many new students around here…
The realization struck him. He slid into his seat, feeling more relaxed by the minute. The bullying virus clearly hadn’t affected this classroom because he didn’t hear any jeering comments directed at him.
“So, Ben, where are you joining us from?” Ms. Evans asked.
Ben tensed in his seat.
Here we go with the questions.
“Hum, Vancouver.”
“Ah!” Ms. Evans exclaimed knowingly. “I bet it’s not as snowy as it is here yet!”
Ben shook his head, smiling. It would be several weeks–even months–before snow reached the West Coast.
Ms. Evans addressed the class. “It’s not easy changing schools in the middle of the year so I expect everyone to lend a hand if Ben needs it. Let’s show him some Canmore hospitality, all right?”
There were many nods of agreement.
“Ben, we have to get on with the class. Follow as best you can and come and see me during the first break please,” Ms. Evans instructed.
Ben nodded, exhaling silently.
This isn’t too bad, after all.
***
By the time the last hour of class began, Ben felt as though the day had gone by in a blur. A considerable amount of information had been dumped on him, though everyone–teachers and students alike–had reassured him that he could ask questions or come to them for help anytime.
At lunch in the bright, roomy cafeteria, most of his classmates had hovered around him and fought about who would sit next to him. They had bombarded him with questions about his previous school and why he had moved to such a small town in the middle of the school year. Ben had fed them the story he had practiced with Thomas and Laura, though fortunately, they interrupted him so often that he hadn't gotten much of a chance to answer everything properly–which suited him fine.
Now, as he stared at the snowy landscape from his classroom window, he realized it had been strangely comforting to refer to Mesmo as his dad. He had never had the opportunity to call anyone dad before since his own father had passed away in a car crash after his birth. Referring to someone as dad stirred unknown feelings in him, even if the whole story was just pretence.
He blinked as he realized the teacher was already talking.
“…Declaration of Human Rights,” Ms. Evans said, as she finished writing a website on the blackboard.
Ben straightened in his chair. It had been reassuring to find that he wasn’t too far behind in most classes, which seemed to please his chubby neighbour greatly, as the boy regularly peeked at Ben’s notes, whispering with wide eyes, “You’ve seen this already?” and “What did she say?” This material, however, was new to Ben, and he wondered where Ms. Evans was going with it.
She walked over to Ben’s desk with a document in her hand as she spoke. “I’m sure you all consulted the United Nations’ website, which I wrote on the blackboard, like I asked you to.”
Many students scrambled to pull out the same-looking document from their backpacks.
Ms. Evans dropped the stapled pages on Ben’s desk, saying quietly to him
, “This is for civics class. Try and read up on it by next week, would you?”
Ben nodded and stared at the bold title on the first page: UNIVERSAL DECLARATION OF HUMAN RIGHTS. It was eight pages long and was printed off the UNITED NATIONS website. Ben scanned the pages curiously.
Ms. Evans leaned against the corner of her desk, locking her fingers before her. “So…who can refresh our memories and tell us what are the United Nations?”
A girl called Rachel shot her hand up in the air.
Ms. Evans waited for other hands to appear, but since none did, she pointed at the tall girl. Ben had already identified Rachel as the smart one in the class, yet was surprised to find she was not afraid to speak her mind. In his previous school, the bright students tended to avoid raising their hands, for fear of being reprimanded by less studious companions.
The dark-skinned girl answered with a clear voice, “It’s an organization of countries that work together to bring peace to the world.”
Ms. Evans smiled at her. “That’s about right, Rachel. The United Nations is an international organization that promotes peace and co-operation throughout the world. Does anyone know where the headquarters are located?”
Someone shouted, “New York!”
“Right again,” Ms. Evans said. “The United Nations was created in 1945, after the Second World War, to try and avoid such a terrible conflict from ever happening again. Now, what I wanted to talk about today is one of the most important documents that was signed at the United Nations by almost all the countries in the world.” She waved the document at them.
“It is called the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. It contains thirty articles, which apply to all human beings. Since I’m sure you’ve all read the articles like I asked you to, maybe we could help Ben here by sharing some of them with him?”
Some students fidgeted nervously in their seats, while others glanced at the pages hurriedly. Rachel’s hand shot in the air again.
“Yes, Rachel?”
“The thirty articles talk about how people’s rights must be protected. Like the right to freedom or the right to life,” Rachel explained proudly.
Ms. Evans agreed. “Yes. Each and every one of us has fundamental rights that must be protected at all costs. We take for granted that we can go to school, go home to our families, travel freely to other countries or feel safe in the presence of the law. Yet you should not take these rights for granted. Many generations passed and many conflicts occurred before these rights were finally written down. Now, let’s talk about these thirty articles. What types of rights do you think need protection?”
Some hands went in the air.
“The right to vote?” a girl called Kimberly said from the front row.
“Very good.” Ms. Evans approved. “We all have the right to elect people that we would like to represent us in our government. Did you know that women weren’t allowed to vote until the 1920’s? And that there are still countries where women are not allowed to vote?”
“Children aren’t allowed to vote!” a boy called Tyler noted. Everyone laughed.
“Hold on a second!” Ms. Evans smiled. “That is actually an excellent point, Tyler. Do you think children should be allowed to vote?”
“Sure!” He grinned. More laughter.
“Then why do you think they are not allowed to vote?” Ms. Evans asked.
Tyler shrugged.
Rachel had her hand up and answered before Ms. Evans had time to pick her. “Because you have to be eighteen to vote. You have to be a responsible adult.”
Ms. Evans agreed. “That’s right. This is an interesting topic which we will talk about later. But let’s get back to our fundamental rights. What types of things do you take for granted, but would be afraid of losing?”
Only Rachel’s hand was in the air. Most other students pouted at the document on their desk.
“My family?” someone ventured.
Ms. Evans agreed. “Yes, we all have the fundamental right to form a family and to live with our parents, brothers and sisters, husband or wife. No one may threaten our family. No one has the right to impose marriage on you, either. There must be mutual consent: both must agree to marry.”
Ben saw Tyler make a vomiting gesture. His friend Wes sniggered beside him.
“What else?” Ms. Evans asked.
There were hesitant faces, so Ms. Evans said, “What about the right to life and freedom that Rachel mentioned earlier? Let’s read Article 1 of the Declaration. ‘All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights.’ Or listen to this one. ‘No-one shall be held a slave or tortured.’ It took thousands of activists and hundreds of years to abolish slavery and protect freedom. The freedom to move around, to think freely, to choose your religion, to travel to another country without being afraid of imprisonment…” All eyes were fixated on their teacher.
“Here’s another one related to freedom. ‘No one shall be subjected to arbitrary arrest, detention or exile,’ and, ‘Everyone charged with a penal offence has the right to be presumed innocent until proved guilty.’ I want you to think about this for a minute. Do you have any idea what this means?”
The students hung onto the teacher’s every word.
“It means no one can be arrested and put into jail without proof of wrong-doing. The police need to find concrete proof that you did something very evil before they can arrest you. Unfortunately, there are countries where the opposite happens: first you are arrested and, while you are in jail, you must provide proof that you are innocent! In other words, you are presumed guilty until proved innocent! Can you imagine how scary that is? How can you defend yourself for something you didn’t do, if you are already in prison?
“You see how important this document is? It protects all human beings from suffering unjustly. So let’s see, what else should we be protected from?” She paused, but since no one spoke, she added, “What would you like to be protected from? What makes you afraid?”
Some students started chatting.
“War,” one of them said.
“Losing my house.”
“Starvation.”
“Not being allowed to go to school.” That was Rachel, of course.
“Monsters under my bed," Wes muttered.
Everyone burst out laughing.
“I hate spiders,” Kimberly, who was playing with her long ponytail and munching on a piece of chewing-gum, told her two friends. Her comment carried over the laughter, triggering more guffaws and babbling, and suddenly the tenseness in the classroom evaporated.
Ben glanced at the teacher, thinking she would be upset at having lost the students’ attention. Instead, Ms. Evans watched with a small smile as conversation erupted through the room. Kimberly, Alice and Joelle were three tight-knit girlfriends who Ben took to be the reasonably well-behaved lot. They spent most of their time chatting about their impeccable braids and ponytails, trendy clothing and lightly visible make-up. He had already gathered that they were not usually amused by the two boys, Wes and Tyler’s, comments, which they apparently thought were childish and annoying.
Ms. Evans clapped her hands. “Ok, kids! It sounds like we’re going to have to create a new Declaration. The Lawrence Grassi Declaration of Human Rights.” She wrote on the blackboard. ARTICLE 31. NO ONE SHALL BE SUBJECTED TO THE FEAR OF LIVING WITH A MONSTER UNDER THEIR BED.
Giggles.
Ms. Evans turned around. “So, who’s next?”
Ben grinned. Max had told him over lunch that Ms. Evans was the favourite teacher in the school. He understood why and admired her ability to veer the babbling back to the subject at hand.
“No one shall be subjected to the fear of snakes,” someone said.
“Very good.” Ms. Evans smiled.
Ben’s neighbour ventured, “No one shall be subjected to thunder and lightning.”
“Everyone has the right to sleep in on Sundays,” Tyler shouted gleefully, triggering hoots of laughter.
A voice broke throug
h the noise. “No one shall be subject to the fear of abandonment.”
The laughter died down, and everyone turned to see who had spoken.
Ben spotted a girl wearing black clothes and a black beanie hat sitting, motionless, with her arms crossed before her. Her eyes were hidden behind black bangs that reached down to her chin in such a way that it was hard to tell what she actually looked like. He hadn’t noticed her before.
“Kimi? Were you sharing your article with us?” Ms. Evans asked.
A silence fell over the classroom.
The girl repeated, “No one shall be subject to the fear of abandonment.”
Wes snorted at the heaviness of the comment.
Ms. Evans ignored the rude reaction. “That’s pretty deep, Kimi,” she spoke to the girl. “We often think fear comes from live or inert things around us-like spiders or lightning-but in fact, the worst and strongest fears come from immaterial things, including from our own minds. You’ll notice that most of the articles of the Declaration are immaterial, such as freedom and life. Good one, Kimi.”
Ben continued to stare curiously at the girl.
“What about you, Ben? Would you like to share an article for our Lawrence Grassi Declaration with us? What would you like to be protected from? What is your worst fear?”
Ben’s heart dropped like a stone. He turned around slowly to face the front of the classroom, fully aware that he had suddenly become the center of attention. A million thoughts flashed before his eyes.
Burning objects falling from the sky. Twisted Eyes. Poison coursing through his blood…
“Uh…” was all he could utter. He sweated profusely.
A handful of seconds passed, yet they felt like an eternity. Mocking smiles were creeping onto some faces.
Come up with something, you idiot!
“No one shall be subject to panic attacks,” he blurted.
Scattered laughter.
He kept his hands under his desk to avoid anyone seeing them tremble.
“All right,” Ms. Evans smiled acceptingly. “Speaking in front of a room full of unknown faces would trigger a bit of panic, I’d say! It sounds like you know what you’re talking about!”
