Ninth Grade Blues

by Bruce Ingram

  Chapter Four: Mia

  I feel a lot of pressure about school starting today, but I'm confident I can handle it. I made an Λ in every subject every year in middle school. The pressure comes from my parents; their parents were immigrants, and Mama and Poppa never let me forget that or our Hispanic heritage. They say I have to make an Λ in every subject to prove that we belong here. That I have to be valedictorian. That I have to get a scholarship. I know that I belong here, that we belong here, and I don't feel that I have to be the top student in my class...just one of the best ones. I have faith in myself, that I will get a scholarship

  My grandparents were illegals, but both my parents were born here. Poppa works on a construction crew and Mama is a nurse at the hospital. Poppa has a part-time job there on weekends that Mama found out about and he applied and got it. I really admire my mama and want to be like her. She worked her way through nursing school, and now has this really neat job and she says the doctor is really great to work for. She and the doctor work with little kids.

  We've moved a lot over the years, but now we live in the best place we've ever had. It's got a really nice backyard where Mama and I can have a flower garden and raise vegetables and have chickens. Mama knows everything about plants and she's teaching me. We grow tomatoes, squash, beans, gourds...all kinds of neat stuff. Mama has the prettiest flower garden in the neighborhood!

  I don't know exactly what I want to do with my life. Mama and Poppa want me to be a teacher, and I could see me doing that. Mama likes being a nurse so much, maybe I could be a doctor. That would take a lot of money and a lot of years, but I could do it. I really think I could. I like science, I like English and history and art and health, everything except gym.

  Poppa already has told me that I can't date this year. He said he'll have to wait and see if I can go out my sophomore year. He said there were some nice Hispanic guys at the middle school, and those boys will be at the high school this year. That I should look them over. I could see myself going for a Hispanic boy, but I could also see going out with a white boy or a black one and there will be some Asian boys at school, too, like there were in middle school. I think a lot about the type of boy I want to marry, and I want him to be nice and treat me right and make me feel safe. And I want us both to have nice jobs and get really situated in a nice house and a nice community before we start having kids.

  Poppa and Mama are very religious, and we go to mass every Sunday, and sometimes during the week. I think we go too much. I know it's important, but I always have so much school work to do and chores around the house and yard that sometime I feel stressed and I don't have time to do everything. I'm not sure I'd have time to date this year anyway.

  Poppa and Mama want me to get a part-time job next year, maybe working no more than two evenings after school...nothing that would interfere with my schooling or grades. I could save that money for college. They said they could pick me up after school let out, that I could get some of my school work done while I was waiting for them to get there with our car. Then one of them could come pick me up from work after it was over, and I could eat after I got home. I think all that could work. My parents are really good about making things work out.

  I watch how they go about deciding things. Poppa acts like he is in charge, but I notice that he usually never makes a final decision until Mama tells him what she thinks. And lots of times, it seems like she is the one making the final decision. I want my husband and me to be partners, and I told Mama that one time. She smiled and nodded. Mama and I talk all the time. A lot of my girl talk is with Mama. We talk almost every night after we put Isabella and Emma to bed. They're six and eight. I want to be the type of mother to my kids that Mama is to my sisters and me.

  I talk a lot with camila and Hannah, too. We've been best friends since my family moved here part way through sixth grade. We've already checked our schedules and we're in some classes together. We're all in first period English 9 Honors and in second period French. It would be a joke if I took Spanish. I guess English is my favorite class. I like to read novels and plays, some poetry if it's about love and feelings. I like to write, but not that boring type writing that we have to do for the state tests. I like to write about how I feel about stories and life and the world. What stories mean or something that I can give my opinion on. I can hardly wait for the day to begin.

  Chapter Five: Luke

  Crap, this is worse than I thought it would be—much worse. Ms. Hawk has arranged all the desks in a circle so that we can "interact with each other" and her. And everyone can see each other when we discuss things. I don't want to discuss things. I don't want people making fun of my opinions. I never raise my hand in class. I always try to sit in the last seat of the last row, the desk that is nearest to the window at the back of the room. The only break that I got was that when I came into the room, there was a seat empty next to Allen. He's my best friend. His dad takes us fishing at least once, maybe twice every spring. My dad says he's too busy to take me.

  I don't want to interact with anybody except Allen. All I want is to be able to look out the window and dream about going fishing or being out in the woods wandering up into the mountains and seeing stuff or being anywhere except here or working with Dad. Crap, crap, crap.

  Class starts out just awful. Ms. Hawk, I can't stand her already, says that she wants everybody to introduce themselves and tell something about them. And what they want to be when they finish school. This makes me so nervous that I can't think, and I don't listen to anything anybody else is saying. So I can't copy what someone else has said when it's my turn. Then all of a sudden she's asking me what my name is and I mumble it out and start to say something sarcastic like my goal in life is to learn what is the youngest age somebody can be to drop out of school. But just when I'm about to say that, I get worried that that is the type of smart remark that's going to get me sent to the assistant principal's office in the first five minutes of the first day of school. The secretary will call home. Dad will answer and get mad because he's been taken away from his cars, and I'll get punished when I get home. So I stutter out that I don't know yet and freeze up. I think Ms. Hawk can tell that I'm humiliated, so she hurries on to Allen.

  Then I get mad at myself. I'm not stupid. I like to read, but not those dumb school stories and poems. Every day in middle school after I gulped down my lunch, I'd get a pass to the library and go read the sports section of the newspaper and the fishing and hunting magazines, then go online and read some more stuff about the outdoors and sports. Every time I come across a new word, I look it up or figure out what it means. Then I use those new words in my stories. I hope I can get a pass here to the library every day.

  Ms. Hawk passes out the literature books, and I'm thankful that we're not going to do those stupid grammar worksheets first thing. I know how to use commas, I know how to write. That's the one thing I am good at. She says we're going to study the 1930s the first thing and read the short story, "A Christmas Memory," about a boy growing up then. Then read a book called To Kill a Mockingbird and everybody will present PowerPoints on historical stuff from the decade. Why can't we read a book like To Kill a Deer or to To Catch a Bass? And that PowerPoint crap has got to mean that I'm going to have to stand up in front of the room and tell stuff to the whole class. Oh crap.

  To my big surprise, the short story is interesting from the start. I'm absolutely shocked. It's about this country boy growing up in this shack with his girl cousin who is very old and has mental issues. And they go out into the woods and creeks and do things with their dog. I can see myself in the boy. Ms. Hawk starts out doing all the reading, then says everybody is going to read two or three paragraphs. And she calls on me first...no, no, no, no, please no.

  Maybe she thinks I'm too stupid to be in honors English because the way I answered the what are you going to do with your life question and is going to weed me out of the class early. She's going to send me with a folded, stapled note to guidance, I know what that me
ans. I've been sent down a level in math classes. So I take a deep breath, get my nerves together, and read three paragraphs. I don't make a single mistake and don't mispronounce a single word. I'll show her I belong here. Then she asks what the word dilapidated means and can anyone tell from the context and what does the word context mean. I figure that I don't need to raise my hand because I'm the one that's been reading, so I say that context means figuring out what a word means from the way it's used in a sentence and that dilapidated means old and worn out like the shack those people are living in. It's the first time I've ever answered in school without the teacher calling on me.

  Ms. Hawk then tells me next time to raise my hand before speaking and then she smiles at me, actually smiles, not in a laughing, making fun of way of smiling, but smiling because I gave the right answers. And then she says great answers and moves on to the next person to read. So in the first ten minutes of the first class of the first day, I've kept my temper under control so that I wasn't sent to the assistant principal and showed the teacher I wasn't stupid so I wasn't sent to guidance for a schedule change. Is this what having a good day in school means...not being sent to two places you didn't want to go?

  The next person starts to read, but I tune him out. I'm in a hurry to find out how the story ends, so I read ahead. The boy has all kinds of issues and gets sent away to a military school-type place like Dad threatens to do to me all the time, but I know he won't because we don't have the money to do that. And the story ends with two kites symbolically flying away into the sky. The story is absolutely great and while I'm still thinking about those symbolic kites, the rest of the class finishes the story and Ms. Hawk tells us we have to write a 300-word paper on what those kites mean. Then she gives out the PowerPoint topics and mine is the Night of the Broken Glass from November in 1938. I can write the paper, no sweat, but the thought of giving that PowerPoint to the class makes my stomach churn up into knots.

  Chapter Six: Elly

  I was going to wear my skinny jeans on the first day back, but then I decide that's a bad choice with my legs the size they are. I can't make up my mind what to wear instead so at 7, I text both Mary and Paige. They're already up and dressed and working on their makeup but they have time to help me. My wearing a skirt or dress is absolutely out, what with the weight I gained over the summer. My other pair of school jeans are a little tight, too, and I don't want anybody to see the outline of my chubby thighs when I sit down. So I decide on a nice long loose-fitting dark brown blouse that Mom and I bought when we went back to school shopping last week, pulled over capris. The dark brown blouse has the benefit of not making my dark brown frizzy hair stand out, too. I look worse than usual this morning.

  When I go early to first period English, I'm surprised to find the chairs in a circle, but I like that...it's different and hopefully fun. Mary and Paige soon come in and sit on both sides of me. I hope Ms. Hawk keeps the seating chart this way all year. I'm really glad that I didn't wear a dress or jeans to class now; nobody's going to be able to see how big my chubby legs are.

  Right before the bell rings, I look around the room and count how many boys and girls there are...fourteen girls and eight boys. Oh great, there are only eight guys, and I'm not likely to be noticed by any of them with all the pretty girls in here. The lack of boys is just like it was in middle school when there were a lot more girls than guys in the honors classes, especially the English and history ones. The math classes were about equally divided. They say guys are better than girls at math. Maybe that's true, but I like math.

  Ms. Hawk asks us to introduce ourselves and when my turn comes I say I think I want to be a grade school teacher, that I think I would like working with little kids. Mary says she wants to go into business for herself and Paige says she wants to be a social worker. I can see that. A lot of the boys' answers are so dumb, do they not have a clue what they are going to do? Grow up! Marcus says he is going to be a pro football player. Oh, right, what are the odds of that. And then his best friend Caleb says that he wants to be an NFL quarterback, which is even dumber to say. I'll give them one thing, they're both super good looking. I hear they're both going to start on the varsity, which is pretty impressive.

  We finally get started and Ms. Hawk starts to read. She is sitting in our circle with her legs crossed and most of the guys are staring at her legs instead of listening to her. She probably shouldn't have worn such a short skirt the first day of school, especially the way we are sitting. I bet she'll figure that out. Then she calls on Luke to read our first story of the year, "A Christmas Memory," and I can tell he's uncomfortable by the way he fidgets when Ms. Hawk calls on him. I've been in the same classes with him all through school, and I bet we haven't said ten words to each other. He's smarter than he thinks he is, and he's kind of cute. His best friend Allen reads next, he's tall, blonde, and good looking. I'd break my tall, dark, and handsome rule for him in a second. But Allen would never ask me out.

  Ms. Hawk calls on me to read, and I try to pronounce every word correctly and with expression. I want to make a good first impression and show her I can be a class leader. I like the story a lot, and I like the PowerPoint assignment that comes next about events in the 1930s. All the topics look interesting: mine is how the Holocaust got started. We've got to write a paper about "A Christmas Memory" due tomorrow and complete the PowerPoint in one week. I can't wait to get started.

  Algebra I is next, and many of the same kids are in that class. That's the only bad thing about being in honors' classes, you're basically with the same kids all day. But I'm also with Mary and Paige most of the day, and we have the same lunch period. Mrs. Haley is the Algebra teacher, and we spend most of the period reviewing what we learned in eighth grade. I like math but it's not exciting like English and history are.

  Nothing much happens in World History I third period except the teacher goes over the course outline for the whole semester and ends the teaching part early to talk to some of the football players. But Mary, Paige, and I get to do some serious talking in lunch. We decide to rate all eight of the boys in first period from first to last on who we would like to go out with. Allen comes in first in all of our lists. He and Caleb are the best looking by far. Caleb is more than a little stuck up but he still comes in second in all our lists. Really all of our lists are about the same except I have Luke in third, and Mary and Paige both laugh at that and Mary calls him a ragamuffin for the way he dresses and ranks him last, and Paige agrees. I start to defend my choice, but then I realize they're both probably right. But later I think, you never know...sometimes those quiet, shy boys might surprise you.

  Chapter Seven: Marcus

  Ms. Hawk is one super-hot woman! When she walks across the room in that short skirt, I can see that I'm going to like English just fine. The first thing she asks us to do is tell what we want to do with our lives, and when it's my turn I say play professional football. I can tell she's really impressed because she smiles like she is agreeing with me. My best buddy Caleb goes next, and he says he wants to play QB in the NFL. We've got to be one of the best freshman QB and wide receiver duos in the country. How many schools in the country have two future NFL players starting as freshmen. That's why Caleb and I both think we're going to win state this year.

  Then we start reading this story about some backwoods hillbilly in the dark ages. Just once I'd like to read some stories about black guys playing sports, but that's like impossible I guess. But I have to tell you I spend most of the reading time scoping out the females and admiring Ms. Hawk's legs. There are only two black girls, Jayla and Kylee, and both of them are hotties, but Jayla has already shot me down several times. Kylee might find this to be her lucky year. But I'm an equal opportunity employer, female-wise, so who knows who might get to be on my arm around Homecoming time.

  We finish reading the stupid story and Ms. Hawk assigns us a huge 300-word paper on the symbolism. Doesn't she know I've got practice after school and a big game on Friday. I can tell you what t
he symbolism is...a dumb, hillbilly kid gets sent to reform school because he's a dumb hillbilly kid—end of story. I'll work on my paper Wednesday night; practices don't last as long as they do on Mondays and Tuesdays because we've already put our offense in by then. I like some of the PowerPoint topics. When it's my turn I choose Jesse Owens. I know he stuck it to Hitler in the 1930s, and I want to know more about him.

  Algebra I is next, and it's a snap. I usually make a B in any math classes I take, and I never study and even don't always do all my homework. Math has always come easy to me. World History I is my third period class, and Mr. Foster, our quarterback and receiver coach, is the teacher. I bet Mr. Dell arranged that. Coach Foster stops teaching with about 10 minutes to go. Anyway he calls Caleb and me up to his desk, along with Micah the backup tight end to my brother. Coach Foster says he drew up some really neat plays for Micah and me and the other receivers and tight ends and wants to show them to us. While we're up there, I look up just for a second and spot Kylee watching me. I smile, and she looks away, but I may just have to pay her a visit during lunch one day.

  And that day is today—her lucky day. she's sitting next to Jayla, and I come up to their table and just sit myself down and start talking and turning on the charm. But I don't stay long because I tell them I've got some more people to see. Joshua always says leave the ladies when they're still wanting more, that's what makes them go for you. He really understands women.

  The afternoon classes aren't worth talking about. I keep looking at those plays from Coach Foster and studying over them. Finally, it's time for practice, and Coach Dell gives us a long pep talk before we start. He says this week is when practice really starts and it's crucial that everybody be on the same page before our first game on Friday night. Joshua told me Coach would say something like that. Joshua said crunch time would really start when we played our last two regular season games against Northwood and King, both on the road. Those two teams beat us bad last year, but last year Caleb and I were setting middle school records. Things will be different now—the reinforcements have come!