by B. C. Harris
“Jasmin, let’s get to class. If we’re late, that will add to our problems.”
“Our problem?” Jasmin lashes out at me. “How can you say this is our problem? This is my problem Drew was my boyfriend. You have no idea what I’m feeling right now.”
I shrug as if to say “you’re right”, but I suspect that what I’m feeling right now dwarfs whatever emotions Jasmin is dealing with.
As we exit the washroom, the hallway is largely vacant. We’re going to be late. The morning announcements begin.
“Come on Jasmin, let’s hurry.”
“I don’t have my math books,” she replies.
I realize that I don’t have mine either.
“Let’s get to class first so we’re not late, and then we can worry about our books. You know how Mr. Ridley embarrasses students when they’re late. Let’s not make this worse than it already is.”
Our math class is on the second floor at the far end of the school. We’re currently on the first floor, a very long walk away from our destination.
I begin to jog. Jasmin follows.
Soon I’m bounding up the stairs like a deer fleeing a hunter. I think I hear Jasmin panting beside me, but then I realize I’m hearing my own frantic breathing. My world is about to collapse.
By the time we reach our math classroom, I’m struggling to breathe. I’m not exactly accustomed to running for anything. Jasmin, with her long legs and her devotion to martial arts training, is much more composed.
Although I should wait to calm down before opening the door, I don’t. As I pull the door open, the morning announcements end.
I look for Drew. When I find him, his face tells me everything I need to know.
“Well, what do we have here?” Mr. Ridley says, his voice already hinting at a pre-attack mode. “Have you two girls been at track practice, or did you both manage to forget what time our class begins?”
Mr. Ridley is short and a stocky. His thick hair is greying. He’s one of our school football coaches and sometimes he treats us like we’re at a football practice.
With Mr. Ridley, it didn’t matter whether you were normally a conscientious student, or whether you were habitually truant. He treated everyone the same. Although he was a good math teacher, it seemed that most days he looked for an opportunity to humiliate someone. Today, I was about to experience his venom.
“Being late is so thoughtless,” Mr. Ridley begins his rant. I’ve heard this speech before. We all have.
“Everyone else is ready for today’s lesson, a lesson that I gave a great deal of thought in preparing so it would help you to be more successful. But success does not come to those who fail to respect procedures. Our class starts at 8:45. Are you aware of this?”
We both nod.
“Did you think you could change that starting time to whatever would be more convenient for you?” Mr. Ridley’s voice is beginning to rise. His face is starting to turn red.
I want to crawl into a corner.
“You both purposely came late to my class even though you knew the correct time you were supposed to be here. You have shown complete disrespect for me and your fellow classmates. Perhaps, it would be better if you were not a part of my class…”
“Please Mr. Ridley.” I’m groveling. “We had a concern. It was an emergency.”
“An emergency? Like you got hit by a car, or something like that?
I realize I have opened a door that I should have left closed. Now we’re going to be expected to explain why we were late. I’m such a lousy liar that I know Mr. Ridley will discover the truth, causing further embarrassment in front of our peers.
“Not exactly like that,” Jasmin jumps into the conversation, her voice a little more assertive than mine.
“Not exactly like that,” Mr. Ridley replies, his voice mocking Jasmin. “Perhaps you had better tell me exactly what it was like. I’m beginning to lose my patience. I’m beginning to think that neither of you deserves to be in this class anymore.”
“Mr. Ridley, it was my fault,” Jasmin begins.
“Ah, the protective hero,” Mr. Ridley replies. “Saving your friend. What an honorable thing to do.”
His sarcasm is soaking the classroom.
“Tell me more…”
“Well, my boyfriend broke up with me this morning,” Jasmin continues.
“Your boyfriend broke up with you. Wait. Just a minute. I think I feel the world stopping.”
There’s a ripple of laughter from some of my classmates, but judging from the reaction of others I think that most of our peers are feeling our humiliation.
“Emily was trying to help me. Being late was not her fault. She’s my best friend. She was trying to help me feel better.”
“Best friend. How touching.”
“My boyfriend is in this class,” Jasmin blurts out, “and Emily knew how difficult it was going to be for me to come to class this morning and face him.” As Jasmin finishes her words, she looks directly at Drew, an action that no one in the class misses, including Mr Ridley.
“Ah, Drew is the heartbreaker, is he?” Mr. Ridley says dryly.
Mr. Ridley takes a step towards me and is now close enough that I can smell his foul coffee-breath.
“Maybe a real friend would make sure her pal is on time for class,” Mr. Ridley barks at me, “instead of feeding her soap opera crisis.”
Suddenly there’s a sharp noise, almost like an explosion.
As I turn in the direction of the noise, I see Drew’s desk go flying through the air, having bounced off the desk of another student.
In a rage, Drew strides to the front of the room and sternly positions himself between Mr. Ridley and myself.
There’s an audible gasp throughout the room.
Mr. Ridley is shocked. He’s speechless.
Mr. Ridley glances from Drew to me, and then from Drew to Jasmin.
No one has to tell me what he’s thinking. It couldn’t be more obvious. Drew is not protecting Jasmin; he’s protecting me. He’s risking his future at our school to save me.
Jasmin’s eyes are wide like saucers as they jump back and forth between Drew and me.
From the middle of the room, an eager voice whispers, “Drew broke up with Jasmin for Emily.”
Another anonymous voice says, “Emily cheated on her best friend. She stole her boyfriend.”
As the whispering continues, I know that Mr. Ridley’s lashing is nothing compared to what I’m about to experience from Jasmin.
Unexpectedly, Mr. Ridley turns away from us. He opens his laptop.
“Let’s get on with today’s lesson,” he announces calmly as though nothing had ever happened.
Drew, Jasmin and I are suspended in disbelief at the front of the room.
My classmates are shocked.
Nonchalantly, Mr. Ridley says to Drew, Jasmin, and me, “Go to your seats.”
How could Mr. Ridley start teaching again as though nothing had happened?
Jasmin is the first of us to move to her desk although on the way she turns and fires a look of daggers at me. I’m crushed.
To make matters worse, Drew escorts me to my desk. There can be no misinterpretation as to how he feels about me.
- 5 -
AN ASSASSINATION
By the end of third period, I’m barely hanging on. Fortunately Drew and Jasmin are not in this class so that has provided a little relief. Drew walked me to my last class even though I made no attempt to talk to him. He must be confused by my cold reaction to him this morning. After all, last night I let him kiss me. Today I want nothing to do with him.
Does anyone realize how upset I am by what has happened? I would like to take all my friends into a room and explain the accident that occurred last night, but no matter how hard I consider what I might say, in the end I know that I can’t explain away the kissing.
“Caligula was the Roman emperor from 37 to 41 AD,” Mr. Kraviak continues his monotonous lecture.
We’ve been learn
ing about the lives of Roman emperors. While they’re all interesting, I think it’s going to be difficult to remember who is who when it comes time for a test on this unit. It certainly isn’t helping me today that I’m distracted by my misunderstanding with Drew. I feel like my life is about to change forever because of one mistake.
“Caligula’s name is really Gaius. At the age of two or three he accompanied his father on a military campaign. The soldiers were amused by this young child dressed in a miniature soldier’s uniform and gave him the nickname Caligula which can be translated from the Latin as ‘little soldier’s boots’. Although Gaius is reported to have disliked this nickname throughout his life, it stuck. Similarly, although the historical records are somewhat scant on the life of Caligula, he established a terrible reputation even though many details of it may or may not be true.”
Established a terrible reputation? That’s what is happening to me. Yesterday, I was a shy studious girl that most other students didn’t even know existed; today, I’m the major focus of school gossip. One stupid mishap and I’ve been branded.
“As a boy, Caligula lived alone with his mother. It’s possible that his father was poisoned although nobody really knows for sure.”
Sort of sounds like my life, I think. Living alone with my mother. Who really knows what happened to my father?
“Banished from the empire, Caligula’s mother and his brother died in prison. Caligula was raised by the Emperor Tiberius. At the age of 78, Tiberius was mysteriously murdered and Caligula became the new Emperor. Scandal followed Caligula throughout his life although his poor reputation may have been caused by writers who didn’t like him, or feared him, and as a result created false rumors.”
False rumors? I wonder if Drew is going to twist the truth of what actually happened last night. Will what he says forever change how others think of me?
My stomach is continually flip-flopping. I know I might be turning a small mistake into something much bigger. My guess is that most of the other girls in the school would tell me to take Drew and run. I’m sure many of them would sacrifice a friend to be with him. That kind of thinking isn’t helping me. For one thing, I wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt Jasmin. For another, I still don’t know how I feel about Drew. Sure, he’s a great kisser. I’ll probably dream about last night for a long time. But no one has to explain to me that just because someone is a great kisser, that doesn’t make that person my soul mate for life.
“In October 37 AD, Caligula fell seriously ill. Although he recovered, he was never the same. He became paranoid of everyone around him and began to execute many of his relatives to prevent them from ever striving to attain his position as Emperor.”
Paranoid? Yes, that’s me right now. I’m not sure that I’m going to go to the cafeteria for lunch after this class. There’s no way I want to be in a room where others are gossiping about me and where there is the potential for Jasmin to unleash more drama.
I’m thinking about going home. My mother won’t question my decision. I rarely miss school. I can call her from the office and then sneak out of the school before anyone knows that I’ve gone. After a day or two, perhaps everyone will have forgotten about what happened. I can invite Jasmin and Drew over to my house and explain to them that this was just an accident; that I really didn’t mean to interfere in their relationship.
“Historians tell us that Caligula eventually became insane, killing for mere amusement and even appointing his horse to be a priest. It is reported that during some games he ordered his guards to throw an entire section of the crowd into the arena to be eaten by the animals because they ran out of criminals to kill.”
Jamie is sitting less than two desks away from me. I’ve done my best throughout the class to avoid any eye contact with him.
Mr. Kraviak is relentless. “On January 24, 41 AD, Caligula was assassinated. Although the details of the attack vary, one of the more accepted reports states that he was addressing an acting troupe of young men when he was attacked. Similar to Julius Caesar he was stabbed by a number of attackers.”
One of the more accepted reports? I wonder. Who actually decided which report to accept? This event happened more than two-thousand years ago. What if the person who wrote about the event was an enemy of Caligula? Or, what if the person who wrote about what happened was a good friend of Caligula? Wouldn’t either of these situations affect what was written?
Last week, Mr. Kraviak told us that ancient historians were often writing about some of the events a generation or two after they happened. I know that the truth of what happens between people can get twisted within a day, never mind fifty or even a few hundred years. If history was often passed down by word of mouth before it was written, is it possible that in many instances that history is simply fiction? Even when a trusted authority, whatever that means, is actually at a historical event, how do we know that this person didn’t alter what he wrote? What if much of ancient history is nothing more than gossip? Or creative fantasy?
“The history of Caligula is problematic because the bulk of what is known about him comes from the writers Suetonius and Cassius Dio who wrote about him long after his death. Suetonius wrote his history of Caligula 80 years after his assassination while it was 180 years after Caligula’s death before Cassius Dio wrote about him.”
One-hundred and eighty years? Couldn’t possibly be any firsthand witnesses to be interviewed for that story, I think.
As the bell rings, I beat the rush to the door.
My heart drops to my feet as I exit the room. Drew and Jasmin are standing against the lockers opposite my ancient history class. Neither of them look very happy.
I pause, not knowing whether I should walk past them and leave this potentially awkward conversation for another time, or whether this is the moment to present the truth.
Unfortunately, I delay my choice a few seconds too long as Jasmin leaps at me. I feel like the assassination is beginning.
“How could you possibly kiss my boyfriend?” Jasmin cries out in rage.
I can’t find any words to respond to her.
“You were my best friend,” Jasmin continues to lash out at me.
I notice she uses the past tense.
A crowd is beginning to gather around us.
Suddenly, completely unexpected, Jasmin grabs me by my sweater and begins to shake me.
Taken aback by her unprovoked attack, I try to push her arms away. Jasmin loses her balance and falls backwards to the floor just as Ms. Cathbert, the vice-principal, arrives.
In slow motion, I see the shock on Jasmin’s face as she struggles to get back to her feet. There’s a look of complete surprise on Drew’s face. Gossip is rampant among the other students who have gathered around us.
Ms. Cathbert is furious. Her eyes become slits, framed by her short blonde hair. Her thin lips are quivering.
My life is over.
Perhaps it would have been better if Jasmin had stabbed me with a knife. At least I wouldn’t still be standing here humiliated beyond belief. Caesar and Caligula never had to explain to anyone why they were attacked. They went out in a blaze of glory. I know I have a lot of explaining to do, and none of it is going to be very pleasant.
- 6 -
SUSPENSION
The first problem I’ve ever been involved in at school and I get suspended. How incredibly unfair is that?
I think of all the times I sat through my classes attempting to quietly and respectfully do my work while some other students were rude to the teachers and annoying to those of us who wanted to learn. I think how these constant troublemakers were never suspended from school for anything they did.
“Zero tolerance,” Ms. Cathbert, our vice-principal had said. “Our school has a policy of zero tolerance. Any physical action against another student results in an automatic three day suspension, no matter who you are.”
The reality is that she didn’t know who I was. I had never met her before, and she certainly made no effort to t
alk to any of my teachers to learn more about me. Zero tolerance. Zero fairness. Zero democracy. If this is a reflection of the minds that run our schools, it’s no wonder that boring teachers like Mr. Kraviak continue to have jobs. It’s no wonder that some students are out-of-control.
I had spontaneously reacted to someone who was angrily grabbing my sweater. Jasmin was assaulting me. Besides, if Ms. Cathbert had taken a few minutes to discover the truth of what had happened, she would have found out that I never actually pushed Jasmin to the floor. I had simply tried to protect myself. Jasmin lost her balance due to her anger. I didn’t cause her to fall. She fell all by herself.
For the next three days, I’m sentenced to a sort of house arrest under the supervision of my mother who is not very happy with what happened.
And the most unfair aspect of this? Nothing happened to Jasmin. The vice-principal made no attempt to discover Jasmin’s role in the incident. She saw me, or at least she thought she saw me, push Jasmin to the hallway floor. For the next three days, I will be sitting here at home feeling like justice doesn’t exist, while Jasmin who was the cause of the whole incident will still be attending school.
If Ms. Cathbert had made any attempt to learn more about us, she would have quickly learned that I was no match for Jasmin. Jasmin has a black belt in karate; I have a black belt in being timid.
Perhaps, I’m partly to blame, not because I tried to keep Jasmin from hurting me, but because I failed to stand up for myself with Ms. Cathbert. After all, I could have assertively told her what actually happened even if she wasn’t ready to listen. I made the mistake of keeping quiet. I assumed the vice-principal would uncover all the details of the encounter before taking action. How wrong could I be?
If nothing else, I’ve learned that I need to defend myself when I’m falsely accused of something I didn’t do. In such a situation, silence is not golden: it’s dumb.
While I was in Ms. Cathbert’s office, she telephoned my mother and explained that I was being suspended because I had assaulted another student.
