by Sean Cullen
“What’s with her?” Dmitri asked.
“I should apologize,” Brendan said, starting after her. He stopped. “But I’m not going to. She was kind of mean, too.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Harold offered. He was her lab partner and they shared a desk in the next class. “I’ll soften her up.” Harold shook his head and lumbered after her.
Brendan and Dmitri started walking. “Why was she so down on me liking Marina? I mean, sure, I haven’t got a chance but a guy can dream, can’t he?”
Dmitri shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe Kim has a crash on you. Have you ever thought of that?”
“The word is crush, not crash.” Brendan often had to correct Dmitri’s English. Brendan frowned. “And no, I don’t think that’s it. It’s something else…” He felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Dmitri looking up at him. Dmitri had a gentleness about him that came from always being too small to rely on brute force. His family had immigrated from Poland and they were not very well off. He was an outsider in more ways than one. Brendan had gravitated to the smaller boy for that reason. Dmitri’d had to learn English on his arrival and so had had a hard time making friends. He and Brendan had hit it off almost immediately when they had been assigned seats beside each other in homeroom. Nerd magnetism, Brendan called it. Dmitri was a whiz at math and science, which was a good thing since Brendan was practically useless at both. Brendan helped him with the language, concentrating on the slang words that the other kids used in the halls.
Dmitri smiled, more of a lopsided smirk. “There are worse things to be brave about than a pretty girl.”
Brendan grinned. “Thanks, D. I don’t know why I bother. She thinks I’m a joke. If she thinks about me at all.”
The bell rang to announce the start of class.
“Uh-oh,” Brendan gasped.
The two boys took off at a dead run. Mr. Bowley was a tyrannical old man. They called him Bowelly Bowley but never to his face. Mr. Bowley was a stickler when it came to punctuality. He would stand with his pocket watch in his hand and if you arrived even a second late, he would close the door in your face and point you toward the office to get a late slip.
When they arrived at the door, miraculously it was still open. Not believing their luck, the two boys hurried into the room, taking the assigned workbench that they shared at the back of the room. Brendan checked to see if Kim was still angry. She sat at the front of the room beside Harold. She had her back turned to him. She was looking at the front of the class and though he couldn’t see her face, he could sense by her rigid posture that she was angry.
Brendan followed her gaze and was surprised to see that Mr. Bowley was not there in his customary place at the front of the class glaring at the students. The chemistry teacher, in his pristine white lab coat and polished spectacles, never missed a day of school. He was never sick, never late, and never absent. The students were all certain he was an android programmed by the Board of Education to torture young minds. 26
Today, however, Mr. Bowley was nowhere to be seen. Instead, another man leaned casually against the desk. Dressed in a well-tailored sleek grey suit with a pale green silk vest, the man was tall and thin. His face was… there was no other word but perfect-high cheekbones, a long powerful nose, and expressive grey eyes. He smiled at the class.
“I’m sure you are all wondering where our dear Mr. Bowley has got to. I am happy to say he is perfectly healthy, safe, and sound. Better than sound, truth be told. Mr. Bowley has won the lottery. Understandably, he has decided to take a little time off to absorb his good fortune.”
A buzz of whispering erupted from the students. Everybody was busy consulting with their neighbours. Everybody but Kim. She crossed her arms and glared at the man as he raised his hands for quiet. The man seemed to sense her disapproval and, as he turned his head slightly to meet her gaze, he winked. Brendan found the gesture so odd, almost as if they knew each other. He would have to ask her after class. if she was talking to him. At last the buzz subsided. The man spoke again in his beautifully modulated voice.
“Until he returns, I am your substitute teacher. My name is Mr. Greenleaf. I think we shall get along very well indeed.”
^18 Murderball (also known as Dodgeball): Before becoming the modern pastime enjoyed (or dreaded) by students the world over, Murderball was devised as a means of executing criminals in seventeenth- century Germany. Murderers were sentenced to be pelted with rubber balls until they were dead. However, the murderers became very adept at dodging the balls and so the modern sport of Murderball was born.
^19 Technically speaking, Murderball is not played the world over. Cultures where Murderball is not played have developed their own equivalents. All of them involve weaker, nerdy children being pelted, whipped, or beaten by bullies with handy objects. In the jungles of Borneo, children play Murdervine. In Afghanistan, it’s Murderrock. In Turkey, it’s Murderkebab. In France, it’s Murdercrepe, and so on.
^20 Sadist: A person who enjoys inflicting pain. See also: Mathematics Teacher.
^21 Masochist: A person who enjoys having pain inflicted upon them. Good jobs for masochists include hammertester, rodeo clown, and crash-test dummy.
^22 Feral is a word that refers to an animal that once lived in a domesticated state but has returned to the wild. Housecats become feral, recovering their hunting insincts when returned to the wild. Same with dogs. I once had a tame snail who ran away and turned wild. When I found him, I knew he’d gone feral. His behaviour was the same but there was a dangerous glint in his eye.
^23 Indeed, Murderball has been outlawed in a number of countries around the world. The United Nations has tried to institute a universal ban on the sport but the Russians have used their veto to block the motion. Many believe the powerful Ball Manufacturers Association of Kamchatka to be behind the veto.
^24 Lycopene is an enzyme found in tomatoes that is proven to lower the risk of heart disease. I drink seven cups of ketchup daily. I have a healthy heart. I also have a bright red stain around my mouth. But it’s worth it.
^25 A metronome is a device used to help musicians keep a proper tempo while playing music. It is not a very stylish garden dwarf.
^26 Though it sounds far-fetched, recently an android teacher factory was discovered in the former Soviet Union. They were manufacturing android science teachers completely devoid of human feelings. Studies revealed that they were completely indistinguishable from human science teachers.
THE SUBSTITUTE
The class was mildly stunned by the fact that the grim and cheerless Mr. Bowley had won the lottery. It was hard to imagine such a serious and practical person ever wasting money on a ticket in the first place. Still, the girls in the class were delighted by the change in scenery. Mr. Greenleaf was a definite improvement on Mr. Bowley in the looks department. Already, he was the subject of a number of whispered, giggly conversations.
The sight of Mr. Greenleaf standing at the front of the classroom had sent a weird shock through Brendan’s brain. He was overcome by an odd tingling sensation as though a chill breeze had washed over him from an open window. He turned his head and looked out at the late October sun blazing down on the parking lot, igniting the chrome fixtures of the cars and turning each door handle and side-view mirror into a shining star. The world seemed so intensely clear, deeper in detail and richer in colour. What is going on? That ball must have knocked something loose.
Brendan shivered and rubbed his eyes, trying to focus. Ow! He clutched at his chest. He felt an intense, itchy, burning sensation over his heart. Am I having a heart attack? Am I going to be a story in the newspaper? Seemingly healthy boy keels over dead. Then he realized the sensation was on the surface of his skin and not deep in his chest. He pulled down the collar of his T-shirt and saw that the pale scar was red and inflamed. The spiral had been on his chest over his heart ever since… well always. His parents said it was a leftover from the time when, as an infant, he had pulled on the tablecloth and spilled
some hot tea on himself. A fluke accident that had left the curious scar. It had never given him any trouble before.
He felt something jab into his ribs.
“You okay?” Dmitri whispered. The smaller boy was looking at Brendan with concern. “You look a little… funny.”
Brendan faked a smile and shrugged. “Yeah. Just after-effects from a ball in the face, I guess.” He let his collar cover the mark and tried to concentrate. He looked up and saw Kim staring at him. He smiled weakly and waved but she didn’t look happy. He’d seen her angry before but this was something else. She seemed downright hostile toward Greenleaf, but he didn’t seem to notice. Either that or he was just ignoring her.
“Chemistry!” Mr. Greenleaf’s clear, musical voice savoured the word. “What exactly is it?”
Belinda Tindal’s hand shot up. She was a sallow-faced girl with pigtails and enormous braces who could always be counted on to nerd out at the slightest opportunity. Brendan could sympathize. His braces were a pain but hers were of the variety that drew comparisons to antique car bumpers or the cowcatchers on the front of old steam trains. Belinda had also been cursed with every blight that an adolescent girl could suffer: crooked teeth, a spray of pimples across her cheeks, and poor eyesight, just like Brendan, but he had to admit that they all seemed so much worse on her. Still, her disadvantages didn’t seem to deter her from calling attention to herself by being intelligent. Any self-respecting teen would have clammed up and laid low. Brendan had learned that lesson early and well after a painful wedgie from Chester and his pals.
“Belinda!” Mr. Greenleaf smiled and indicated with a graceful flick of his hand that Belinda should speak.
“You know my name?” Belinda said, confused. In the three months she had been coming to chemistry, Mr. Bowley had never remembered her name. He’d called her Betty, Betina, Barbara but never Belinda.
“Of course.” Mr. Greenleaf smiled gently. “I make it a point to learn every one of my students’ names. Chemistry is…?”
Belinda flushed in the face of the concentrated power of the substitute’s smile. She rose from her seat and fiddled with her heavy black-rimmed glasses for a second then announced, “Chemistry is the science that deals with the composition and properties of substances and various elementary forms of matter.” Belinda said this with the utmost gravity. Eyes were rolled throughout the classroom.
Mr. Greenleaf nodded gravely in response. “Yes. Absolutely. That is a very good textbook definition of what chemistry is. Thank you, Belinda.” Belinda sat down, blushing furiously. “A little bit dry, though, don’t you think? What does chemistry mean to us?”
Chester could always be counted on to make a smartass comment. “It means total boredom!” This aroused a few snorts of laughter from Chester’s cronies. Chester always had an audience to confirm his brilliance in the form of a gang of oafish boys who’d grown large seemingly overnight. Chester grinned and cracked his knuckles loudly, eliciting another round of laughter.
“Chester.” Mr. Greenleaf’s voice cut through the laughter like a knife. His grey eyes latched onto the large boy’s and held them. “There are no boring subjects, only boring people.” 27 He grinned and showed perfect white teeth. Though he was smiling, Mr. Greenleaf did not seem particularly amused. Something terrible and predatory in the smile made Brendan hope the substitute teacher never smiled that way at him. Indeed, even the thick-skinned Chester managed to realize he was in dangerous waters. Brendan’s nemesis visibly shrank back into his seat. Brendan couldn’t help feeling slightly gleeful. He turned to see if he could catch Kim’s eye but she was still focused on the teacher. The expression on her face was fierce. If she was a cat, she’d be hissing right now!
After what seemed like an age, Mr. Greenleaf barked a sharp laugh. “Ha. Boring indeed.” The threat in his face was gone, replaced with an amused smirk. “Chemistry may seem boring on the surface, but that is only because you are looking at the surface.” He picked up a piece of white chalk and tossed it in the air. He caught the chalk, closing his hand over it completely. “Chemistry allows us to change the nature of things and make them”-he opened his hand to reveal that the chalk had changed colour from white to pink-”different.” The class gawped in silence.
He closed his hand again, opened it, and the chalk was blue. Again, Mr. Greenleaf closed his long fingers over the chalk. “We can unlock the secrets of matter and transform it into something altogether new and wonderful.” He opened his hand to reveal a hummingbird, sitting calmly in his palm. The hummingbird rose from Mr. Greenleaf’s hand and hovered for a few seconds, the hum of its tiny wings thrumming in the sudden hush of the room. Then it flitted once in a circle around the teacher’s head as if in salute and flashed out the open window into the sunshine. The class gasped and broke out into spontaneous applause, cheering and hooting.
Brendan sat with his mouth open. He was at the back of the class and therefore farthest from Mr. Greenleaf when he executed the amazing transformation. Brendan looked at Dmitri and saw that the smaller boy was smiling involuntarily and clapping his hands along with the rest.
“That was completely awesome!” Dmitri said brightly.
“Totally awesome,” Brendan corrected in a whisper. “No one says completely awesome.”
“Totally awesome, then,” Dmitri corrected himself with a sigh.
Brendan wasn’t so sure. He thought what he’d seen was kind of spooky and disturbing. He looked over at Kim and saw that she also was not impressed.
He turned back to the front of the class to find that Mr. Greenleaf was staring right at him. The teacher raised a dark, elegant eyebrow and smiled in a lopsided, knowing way as if he sensed Brendan’s discomfort. Brendan’s stomach turned over. His hand rose involuntarily to his chest. The itch over his heart seemed to intensify. Brendan felt a wave of dizziness sweep over him.
Mercifully, the door to the classroom burst open to reveal Ms. Abernathy, the vice-principal of RD Academy. Her green flannel trouser-suit was practically bristling with indignation. Her perma-frown 28 was on full blast.
“What is going on in here?” Ms. Abernathy demanded. All noise ceased immediately, sucked into the black hole 29 of Ms. Abernathy’s disapproval. The children stopped clapping and lay their hands on their desks. Some sat on their hands just to make sure they wouldn’t be incriminated. Others looked as though they would like to make their hands disappear altogether-anything to avoid detention under the baleful 30 glare of Ms. Abernathy.
It never paid to incur the wrath of Ms. Abernathy. She was the second in command to Principal Singh who was a very jolly, easygoing sort of person. Ms. Abernathy handled all discipline. If a student crossed the line, that student ended up in her office and could suffer anything from writing lines, to extra assignments, to weeks of detention, or could even be expelled.
Her line of sight now rested squarely on the students of grade nine chemistry.
“I said… what is going on in here!”
“Uh…” Belinda started.
“UH is not a word, Miss Tindal! Write that out one thousand times! Have it on my desk tomorrow morning.”
Belinda gulped and fell silent. The rest of the class stared at their desktops and tried to find a way to exist without breathing.
“My dear Ms. Abernathy.” The warm tone of Mr. Greenleaf could not be more different from the harshness of the vice-principal’s voice. “I’m so glad you could come and look in on us.” He glided gracefully between the desks and placed his hand on Ms. Abernathy’s elbow. The VP’s face took on a blank, puzzled expression. “I’m so delighted to meet you!” Mr. Greenleaf added pleasantly. Ms. Abernathy looked down at the elegant hand of Mr. Greenleaf, pale on the green flannel of her suit jacket and then she looked up into those grey eyes. That look was her undoing.
She locked eyes with Mr. Greenleaf and he smiled a warm, lovely smile. Something happened then that no one in the class had ever seen before. Ms. Abernathy’s perma-frown seemed to waver and then melt away
altogether. The corners of her mouth, so conditioned to dip downward, quivered, convulsed, and then, bit by torturous bit, turned upward. Ms. Abernathy, to the shock of the entire class, was smiling.
“Oh. I uh… oh.” Ms. Abernathy blushed and practically giggled.
“I’m sorry if the children were being noisy, but I must take responsibility for the hubbub.”
“You?” Ms. Abernathy said, bewildered.
“I’m afraid so. They were so excited by the ideas we were discussing that…” Mr. Greenleaf’s eyes swept the room and he continued, “they just couldn’t contain themselves.”
Ms. Abernathy seemed completely stymied by this idea, but another smile from Mr. Greenleaf seemed to stun her into acceptance. “Oh, I see. Well. I guess some enthusiasm for learning is a good thing.”
“Indeed, my dear Ms. Abernathy, indeed. Well put!” Mr. Greenleaf guided her to the door. “Well, this visit has been a treat. I’m sure you have many things to do.”
“Yes. Yes, of course, Mr. Greenleaf. Many things to do.”
“Don’t let us keep you,” he said and let her drift out the door. “One last thing. Miss Tindal needn’t do those lines at all, need she?”
Ms. Abernathy turned in the doorway and a hint of her old rancour flared in her eyes, but before it could take root, Mr. Greenleaf fixed her with another of his glacier-melting smiles and she stammered, grinning, “Of-of course not!”
“Fine! See you in the staff room for lunch then? Maybe we could have a cup of tea together?”
“Yes, that would be-” Her response was cut off when Mr. Greenleaf shut the door firmly. For a second or two she stood framed in the window of the door looking mildly confused. At last, she turned and wandered away with a look of pure mystification on her face.
Mr. Greenleaf turned to find the entire class staring at him with undisguised awe. He grinned and sketched a comical bow then glided smoothly back to the front of the class. “Chemistry is a wonderful discipline. Chemistry is in everything. It allows us to manipulate the very essence of the universe. All things are connected, and the study of these connections is what human beings call science. Shall we get down to business?” Mr. Greenleaf picked up the chemistry textbook from his desk and began leafing through it.
