by MK Schiller
Chapter 7
Present day
She didn’t come to class, but her essays appeared in my mailbox. The one on The Raven was a train wreck and gave me no clues whether she was my Lenore or just that damn raven tapping at my door. Did she throw the assignment? Her paper on Moby Dick and the Hardy novel was much more detailed, but provided no real insights. I wondered if her absence was due to the exam scheduled for today. Did she think I might recognize her slanted handwriting on the essay questions?
It was a stretch to think in those terms, but it didn’t stop my eyes from glancing at her empty seat or the closed doorway of the classroom. About an hour into the two-hour class, a loud knock cut through the quiet.
I sighed in disappointment as I opened the door to find Roy Adkins and three other boys I’d nicknamed the Asshole Alliance. I stepped out of the classroom and closed the door behind me. If they thought I was going to invite them in, they were sadly mistaken.
“Mr. Adkins, I’m afraid I’m busy right now proctoring an exam. I believe you boys received an invitation to attend. Is this your idea of fashionably late?”
His lip twitched into a tight grimace. “We’re sorry Professor…err…Mr.…”
“Cal, just Cal,” I said, not hiding my irritation.
“We just ran late.” He made a move to come into the classroom, but I blocked the door. Their arrogant sense of entitlement pissed me off, and I was already in a bad mood.
“You are over an hour late. Y’all don’t have enough time to take the exam, and I don’t have the inclination to let you.”
He stood back, a slight sneer forming on his pimply face. The Asshole Alliance had no respect for me, my class, or their own education. I’d worked hard on my elocution. It was necessary for my profession, especially living this far north, but occasionally my Texas shined through. Funny, women found the accent charming and sexy, while guys thought it signaled stupidity. These boys were no exception, often responding with snickers and eye rolls when I let a Texasism slip through my lecture.
“It wasn’t our fault,” Roy explained, acting as the group’s spokesperson.
“Sounds like a great story. You should write a book about it. I’m sure it’ll be a hit.”
“Let us explain,” Roy said.
Curious, I closed the door and stepped out into the hallway. I glanced at my watch. “I’ll give you sixty seconds starts now.”
“We were on our way, but this old lady was broken-down on the side of the road. We stopped to help her. Her car battery died. She had an old car so it took us a while to jump it, but luckily I took mechanics in high school, and all of us know cars.”
“Guess chivalry is not dead.” I give them a slight wave. “Good-bye.”
“Are you honestly punishing us for being good Samaritans?”
Did they think I believed it took them an hour to jump a car? Or that I missed the stench of stale beer on their breaths and the red-rimmed eyes they sported?
“So y’all drive together?” I asked, emphasizing y’all.
“Yes, yes we do,” he replied with hope. The other boys all nodded and murmured agreement.
“And were you able to help her? The elderly woman?”
“Yes, we were. She’s safe and back on the road. Can we make up the test?”
“Mr. Adkins, the syllabus, and I know you’re very familiar with the document, specifically states there are no make-up exams in my class.”
“Can’t you make an exception for an extenuating circumstance like this? I mean, what would you done? Left her on the side of the road?”
“Perhaps called a tow service and explained I had to get to school for an important test?”
“She was scared,” he said.
I made a move to open the classroom door, but his voice stopped me with one last plea.
“I need this class. I can’t fail another, or my parents are going to cut me off.”
“Is that supposed to appeal to me on some level, Mr. Adkins?”
“No, but what we did should be.”
I regarded them for a moment, almost grateful for their little intrusion to distract me from all the crazy going on in my head. “I’ll think about it. Come back after class, and I’ll give you my answer.”
They all nodded, thanking me profusely. Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.
My class all shuffled out once the exam finished, and the four of them strutted in, not hiding their wide smirks. Hell, they didn’t even hide the fact they sat in the hallway studying like fiends while the exam took place.
Roy stood by my desk. “So, can we take the exam?”
“You realize it would be unfair to the rest of the class who came on time.”
“Yes, but we took the moral high road, knowing it might bite us.” The moral high road? He was laying it on thick. “If you don’t let us take the exam, you’ll be supporting the lack of compassion plaguing our society.” If only he worked this hard on his papers.
“Well, Mr. Adkins, I would never want to contribute to the moral degradation of our society. Tell you what, I’ll allow y’all to take the exam.”
They all beamed wide smiles of relief, turning to each other with silent glee as if they had crossed home plate without the benefit of running the other bases. In true ump fashion, I geared up to call them out.
“Just one condition.”
“What condition?” he asked.
“I want you to take a pretest. If you pass it, I’ll give you the real exam.”
“A pretest?” one of the others questioned. Roy held up his hand, gesturing his buddy to shut up.
“It’s only one question. I don’t even expect a complete sentence. Do we have a deal?”
“Deal,” Roy said. “Thank you, sir.”
“I’m a fair man. After all, I have a mother, and if she were stranded on the side of the road, I should hope some fine young men such as yourselves would step in.”
They went to take their usual seats. “I need you to spread out. Each of you take a seat in one of the four corners.” After some awkward shuffling, they complied.
“Take out a blank sheet of paper. I will give you the question orally, but you must write the answer down. I don’t have the answer myself.”
“Then how will you know if we got it right?” Roy asks.
“You’ll see.” I can’t even hide my smirk. “A few rules first. If anyone blurts it out, you are all disqualified. If anyone fails the pretest, none of you can take my exam.”
“Seems unfair,” Roy whined.
“You’ll find life to be unfair, Mr. Adkins. After all, I should be reaching home about now, watching the play-by-play of the Cowboys game on ESPN, but instead, I’m here with y’all. Do we all agree to the terms?”
They all nodded.
“Good, ready for your question, gentlemen?” I asked, crossing my arms and leaning against my desk.
“Shoot,” Roy said, not hiding his smirk.
Batter up, boys. I’m about to throw you a curve ball.
“What was the make and model of her car?”
Stunned silence greeted me.
“What?” Roy asked.
“The lady you helped.”
“We…we don’t remember,” Roy said.
Funny how Roy knew all of them didn’t remember.
Strike One.
“In the hallway, you told me you were all good with cars. Surely, you’d remember, especially a vehicle you worked on for over an hour.”
“It was an older car. One they don’t make anymore,” Roy stammered. I had to hand it to him. He was quick on his feet, but my mind could run faster than his any day.
“I see. How about a color? Do y’all remember the color?”
“What if it was multicolored?” the kid in the back asked. I smiled, amused by his reasoning. If it was multi-colored, then multiple answers would be correct.
“I haven’t seen too many elderly women drive rainbow-colored cruisers. Then again, I wasn’t there.” I gestured to a
ll of them. “Y’all were. So, write down each and every color.”
The one with the glasses raises his hand, “It was—"
“Not out loud. On your paper.”
Pens were poised in mid-air, followed by aggravated sighs of frustration.
Strike Two.
“Care to venture a guess, gentlemen? I’m not a mathematician by any means, but I’d estimate the odds of guessing the same color are rare. I’d wager your chances are about the same as batting a thousand, don’t you think?”
Roy crumbled his paper, not hiding his animosity at being called out. His grades sucked. Missing this exam resulted in an auto-fail for him.
I cleared my throat, gathering my materials. “I hope you all learned a valuable lesson today.”
“What? Not to lie?” Roy asked, the pretense of politeness gone from his voice.
“I was thinking more along the lines of…don’t be late to my class,” I said through clenched teeth.
Strike Three. You’re out.
They all stood, no doubt doubly pissed they had just spent the last hour cramming for a test they would never take for a class they would have to retake. I didn’t tell them the lesson I was really trying to teach them. They might not remember Wolfe, Homer, or Poe after my class, but they sure as hell would remember this: Southern is not synonymous with stupid.
Chapter 8
Excerpt from Raven Girl
Age 14
I was on a total high from my awesome day, and it was just going to get better. There was a bonfire tonight at the beach with promises of girls in bikinis and guys throwing around a football. I only wished Sylvie would come. She never came to anything. I decided to go find her before I left. I hadn’t talked to her all day. As I expected, she sat on our dock, her feet dangling off the edge with my old fishing pole in her hand. I’d let her have it last year when I got a new one.
I sat next to her on the dock and I opened the soda I’d brought. Setting it between us, I checked her basket. No fish yet. and set it in between us. She picked it up and took a sip right away.
She must have run out of white powder. Her face was natural. She wore a yellow dress today with white flowers on it. Her hair was loose, which was rare. The wind picked up and it snapped strands across her face. She smelled of fresh honey.
“Hey, girl.” It was my usual greeting.
“Hiya, Tex.” I wasn’t sure when she’d started calling me Tex, but it had stuck. Truthfully, I liked it.
“Catch anything?”
“Nope, not yet.” We sat for a while, staring at the water still casting a reflection of the hot Texas sun overhead. It acted as a mirror, and I loved that because it allowed me to look at her reflection without making it obvious. She turned and smiled brightly at me. “Congratulations on making the football team. I hear they’re going to start you. It’s a big deal for a freshman, isn’t it?”
Shooting her a smile too cocky for my own good, I nodded. Pride was a sin, and I was guilty as hell. “No freshman has ever been starting quarterback in the history of Prairie football.”
“Wow. Well, it’s good you’re not conceited or anything,” she said, bumping my shoulder.
“Just stating a fact. Do you wanna go to the bonfire tonight?” I asked, bumping her right back.
She looked away from me to a point on the horizon. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t. Besides, you’ll be too busy with the circle of girls who flock around you to pay any attention to me.” She didn’t say it like she was jealous, which kind of pissed me off even more. Most of the time, talking to her was as easy as breathing, but other times it was as tricky as digging out rusty nails with my teeth.
“I promise to hang out with you all night if you go.”
“I don’t want to,” she said sharply, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You just did.”
I rolled my eyes. “Seriously.”
“Spill it. I don’t have all day.”
“Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer.
She stared at me for a moment as if she didn’t comprehend what I was saying. “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said, and you’ve said some pretty dumb stuff. Why would I be embarrassed? You’re the most popular boy in school.”
“Then why do you act like we’re strangers? I wave to you in the halls, and you just look away. I know we didn’t hang out in junior high, but we’re in high school now.”
I was embarrassed to admit it, but some part of me hadn’t wanted to associate with Sylvie in school before. I thought she ignored me to protect my rep because she cared about me. And I’d let her because I was an asshole. I didn’t care about that now. Her company was worth any risk to my social standing. But despite my efforts to engage her in conversation or introduce her to my friends, she remained a loner.
In our school, loner meant looser. I didn’t want either for her. If the other kids knew her as I did, they would see how cool she was.
“I’m just in learning mode at school.”
I let out the cynical laugh that was becoming commonplace between us. “I’m calling your bullshit, Cranston. By the way, where the hell do you eat lunch? I look for you in the lunchroom every day and you’re never there.”
“Mrs. Peters lets me eat in the art room.”
“Why would you want to eat by yourself? You should be eating with me.”
She pulled her line in, frowning at her choice of bait. “I can sketch when I’m in there. I’m getting pretty good at it.”
This was news to me. Every time I had her figured out, she threw me for a loop. “Can I see your sketches?”
“No,” she said, starting to put our lures back into the tackle box. It was my equipment, but I kept it in her garage since I rarely went fishing without her anymore. Besides, she liked to go by herself at times.
“Why not?”
“It’s all locked up in the art room anyway,” she said, holding up a dismissive hand.
I leaned back on my elbows. “Well, maybe I’ll take art as an elective, and then you’ll have no choice.”
She shot me a warning look. “Don’t you dare, Cal.”
“Who’s going to stop me?”
“Me,” she said, cutting me with that warning look of hers.
It made me laugh. I shoved her away easily. “Will you at least come to my games?”
“Why would you want me there?”
I thought about it for a second, not sure why it meant so much to me, but it did. “For luck,” I finally said.
“I’m not very lucky.”
“It’s okay. I’m a great quarterback. I only need a little luck anyway.”
She smiled, shaking her head. “Conceited much?”
“Naw, I got you to keep me humble. Besides, I’m not so great.”
“Why would you say that?”
“If I was, then you wouldn’t act like I didn’t exist when other people are around. I’m not gonna lie. That shit hurts, Sylvie.”
She placed her small hand on my chest. “Stop fronting, Tex. All the girls swoon over you like you’re the second coming of Justin Timberlake or something.”
I almost choked on my soda. “I’ll take the ‘or something.’”
She put away her fishing pole. “Caleb James Tanner, you’re so busy trying to hook a compliment, even the piggy perch aren’t biting anymore.”
I nudged my knee against hers. “Maybe I need better bait to get what I want.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
I clasped her hand and pulled her toward me. I curled my legs around hers and spun us so I laid on top of her. She stared up at me with surprise, but not fear or distaste. I pressed my lips into hers with such force she squeaked beneath me. I almost got up. But she ran her fingers through my hair, urging me closer. Her lips were softer than I remembered…and I’d spent many hours imagining them. My hands trailed through her s
ilky hair while I took my sweet time concentrating on her luscious mouth.
Finally, she nudged me away. I moved off her and lay on my back next to her, taking her hand in mine. I was panting harder than when I ran laps on the bleacher steps.
“Wow,” she said, also breathless.
“Yeah,” I replied, incapable of forming any additional syllables.
“You were right.”
“About what?” I asked, caressing her hand with mine.
“It was worth the wait. Even if you did take your sweet time.”
“My sweet time?”
“You said the next time we kissed you’d be the one to initiate. That was over two years ago.”
“Well, look who’s been counting,” I said, running my finger down her cheek. Yeah, I fucking nailed that kiss.
“Cal, don’t kiss me again.”
“What? Are you smoking crack, girl? You just told me you liked it.”
She sat up on her elbow, peering down at me. “I did, but next time, I won’t be able to stop you…so don’t, ’kay?”
I sighed in frustration, banging my head on the dock and releasing her hand. “Girls are so fucking weird.”
She looked over my shoulder toward the woods. “Did you hear something?”
Yeah, Sylvie, that’s what it sounds like when all the blood in a man’s body rushes south at seventy miles an hour until it slams on the brakes when it reaches his groin. “What?”
“It’s cars. Lots of them. And it’s coming from the direction of our houses.”
She was right. The whirling sounds grew louder and mingled together. I looked through the dense opening and could just make out the lights of a police cruiser. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
“Let’s check it out,” I said, standing up. A sudden queasy feeling lodged in the pit of my stomach. I grabbed the tackle box. She took the fishing pole. I reached for her hand as we sprinted through the woods.
The tightness in my chest increased the closer we got. By the time I opened the door, I felt like my body had been through a vice grip. My dad’s best friend, Deputy Sheriff, Kent Smalley, stood inside the living room of my house embracing my mother, while Theresa Callor, another officer, was hugging Mandy.
