Any observer would have also noticed that the thrift store clothes of the occupant were neatly folded and stacked by color and type. The short sleeve shirts were stacked together. Sweatshirts were organized on the top shelf in the closet and jeans were folded and stacked perfectly inside one of the drawers.
A tiny desk was tucked into a corner of the room. The space occupied by the desk, the bed, and the chest of drawers left only a patch of carpet showing. It would have been just enough room for a small child to lie down and make a snow angel. It was a small room.
On the desk was a neat pile of books. One was a monster manual from the Dungeons and Dragons game. Another was a book titled The History of Ancient Weapons. On top if the pile was a black book three times as thick as the rest. In gold filigree writing the cover read, Shakespeare’s Sonnets, a Complete Collection.
Nestled against the wall at the back of the desk was a stack of compact discs from various classical composers. Bach was there, along with Beethoven, Mozart, and Tchaikovsky. There was a set of battered headphones plugged into a scratched up compact disc player that had been wrapped in duct tape to keep the battery plate in position.
An alarm clock buzzed and the blinking ‘six o’clock’ pulsed with the annoying sound. A form stirred in the patchwork quilt on the bed and a big hand reached out and slammed on the end table, frantically searching for the blaring clock. It missed once before finding the snooze button, silencing the piercing sound.
Ely awoke with difficulty, unable to completely shake the grogginess that threatened to pull him back into bed. But he slowly managed to slide out of his blankets and sit up on the edge of his bed. He rubbed his eyes, scratching the top of his head. One eye was still puffy and blue, but his lip was almost healed with only the remnant of a small cut remaining. A few other minor scrapes and bruises were apparent on his freckly face. He took a couple of deep breaths, looked around the room through sad, tired eyes, and then slowly sat up, moving more like an old man than the adolescent he was. His mind and his body wanted nothing more than to retreat back into the blissful sanctuary of sleep.
Ely put on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and some ragged sneakers and moved out into the living room. Before he exited his room he grabbed the backpack lying on the floor by his bed, slung it over his shoulder, and walked into the kitchen.
The kitchen was empty, as it always was at this time in the morning. Usually his mother, Mary Carson, was working at the local grocery market. She typically worked the late night shift and didn’t get home until seven in the morning, and would go straight to bed. Sometimes she would even stay longer if she had a chance to pick up a few more hours at work. Ely sighed as he scanned the mess in the kitchen, knowing the source of it as he glanced into the living room. There he saw his father, Bill Carson, sleeping in the recliner, his mouth slightly open, snoring loudly.
Bill was a big man, around six foot five inches and he weighed close to three hundred pounds, most of the bulk stored in his belly, sustained by large quantities of beer each night. A tank top that had once been white managed to cover only about three quarters of his bulging abdomen. The table next to his chair, and the carpet around the recliner, were littered with empty beer bottles.
Drunk again, Ely thought to himself. He felt bad for his mother. She had to come home to such a messy kitchen…again. He knew the situation all too well. She would clean up, and he would yell at her for whatever reason. Then she would make him some breakfast while he sat on his ass and watched television, getting drunk again. He had been out of work for nearly two months now. Bill was a mechanic who couldn’t seem to hold down a job anywhere. In fact they had moved to Key Peninsula because he had managed to find a job working at a local gas station. But after just two weeks of work he was fired for drinking on the job.
Ely glared at his passed out father with unmasked disgust before turning for the door. He knew there would be no food to eat for breakfast as his father would’ve eaten whatever dinner had been prepared last night, and he didn’t have time to make anything, even if there was something to cook. Maybe he could get breakfast at school. He wouldn’t have enough money but he could fill out the paper work for free and reduced lunch. He had a lot of experience at that. He had done it many times, in all the schools he had attended. His family primarily lived off his mom’s salary alone, and what she earned as a grocery store clerk was pretty minimal. But it would take time to fill out the paper works, so he knew he would go hungry this morning, but that too was nothing unusual. It was just another day in the life of Ely.
He was just about to leave when he noticed a note on the kitchen table. Under it was two dollars. The note was from his mother, “Ely, I’m working a double shift so I won’t be home when you get up. Sorry I could not be here to make you breakfast. I hope you have a good first day at school. Here are a couple bucks for lunch. I love you, honey, Mom.” Ely smiled and tucked the money in his pocket before exiting the trailer, the thin metal door slamming shut behind him.
A long line of bright yellow busses were lined up in front of the school as kids flowed out of them by the hundreds. Ely stepped out of his bus to join the ranks of his new classmates. Standing taller than most, he stopped and looked around. More than a few of the students took notice of this big newcomer, but none made any effort to acknowledge him. Bright eyed teenagers milled about in their new school clothes and stylish shoes with their cool backpacks slung casually over one shoulder. Ely sighed in frustration as he looked down at his worn pants, dirty sneakers, and old, outdated backpack. He tried to keep his clothes clean, but even laundry detergent can’t make thread-bare clothes and holes disappear.
The school was definitely in the boonies, surrounded by acres of evergreens, sparsely populated by small homes and modest residential developments. There were a few more affluent homes on the waterfront acreage of the Puget Sound. The school building itself didn’t look like a rural school, however. It had been almost entirely constructed of concrete, perhaps in an attempt to give it a contemporary look, but more likely it was done to save money, and Ely couldn’t help but think that it looked somewhat like a prison, this time a prison in the woods. He smiled to himself as he thought about how fitting that was; after all, every school he had ever attended had been sort of a prison for him. His previous schools weren’t necessarily all bad, but most of his experiences and memories were not so great. The collection of these unpleasant memories had accumulated over the years, forming the thick walls of his own personal prison.
Ely put his head down and followed the stream of students through the main doors. Inside they clustered together in their various groups, formed by grade level, and social standing, chatting excitedly in the commons area as they looked over their schedules and talked about their upcoming classes.
Ely glanced around and saw various tables occupied by teachers who were giving out schedules. The tables were labeled in alphabetical order. Ely quickly found the table labeled A through D. He picked up his schedule from a smiling younger woman with short dark hair and glasses and moved off into a quiet corner to be by himself.
His first class was history. Well that was good, he thought. History was his favorite subject. He loved to read about the past as it helped him forget about the present. He had no problem remembering obscure events, dates, and details, things that most students his age found rather useless or boring. But for Ely it opened a door where he could view humankind over time, and attempt to understand the vagaries of human nature. Why people behave as they do, why some people have such a capacity for good while others can do the most horrible and despicable things, why people act differently in groups than they do as individuals. History provided an endless list of questions. Studying historical events and people had always helped Ely focus on finding the answers to those questions, and for some reason that search minimized his own insignificance and helped him realize that he was not the only nameless pawn on the chess board.
He glanced up from his schedule and noticed that some k
ids were moving off down the halls, probably looking for their lockers. His history class was in room 116 and on the back of the schedule was a map of the school. Well at least this school thought ahead. He had been a new student in a new school before and there was nothing more embarrassing than walking into a room late because you couldn’t find it. He could vividly remember several times where he had done just that. The teacher would stop his or her discussion as the rest of the class stared at the new fat kid. He couldn’t actually hear what some students mumbled to each other, but he could read the looks on many of their faces as he made his way to an empty seat while the teacher resumed his or her class introduction. At least this time that wouldn’t happen to him.
Ely walked down the noisy crowded hallway, turning this way and that, trying to figure out where to go. He studied his class schedule and map, then looked up as he tried to get his bearing among the throngs of students moving through the halls. One of them bumped into him, knocking his pack off his shoulder, but Ely just ignored it, picked his backpack back up, and hesitantly moved on, now realizing that he was on the wrong side of the school. He needed to walk around the circular hall to the C wing located on the opposite side of the clearly labeled library.
The sound of the bell quickly sent kids scattering in different directions. Ely looked anxiously down the hall, then to his left through the library, trying to figure out which direction to go. It looked like he could walk through the library to get to the C wing, but he wasn’t sure if the doors would be locked.
“Can I help you find your class?” he heard a man’s voice next to him.
Ely turned to face a smiling man wearing grey slacks and a blue button up shirt. The man was handsome in an outdoorsy way, maybe thirty years old, with several days of unchecked stubble. His unshaven face was angular and strong and on most people it would have looked unkempt, but on him it somehow looked dignified and tough all at the same time. His dark brown hair was shaved short and that made him look younger than his years.
“Um, yes sir, my schedule says I have Mr. Seljin,” Ely muttered.
“Well, that’s easy,” the man said. “That’s me. I’m heading to class now so why don’t you follow me.”
“Okay,” Ely replied shyly.
Mr. Seljin headed through the library doors and led Ely across the floor. Mr. Seljin noticed Ely looking intently at all the books. “You like books?” he asked.
“Um, yes, a lot, sir.”
“Call me Mr. Seljin, or just Sel, I’m definitely no sir.”
“Um…okay, sir, I’m mean, Mr. Seljin,” Ely stammered quickly.
“We have something in common. I love to read as well. What’s your name?” Mr. Seljin asked as they neared the double doors on the other side of the room.
“Ely.”
“Well it’s nice to meet you, Ely. Are you new around here? I don’t recognize you.”
“Yeah, we moved here from Seattle,” Ely replied as they moved through the doors into another hallway filled with students hurrying to their classes.
Mr. Seljin led Ely across the hall and into another hallway that branched off from the main one. They danced and dodged as they maneuvered their way through the stream of students hustling to class. Most moved aside when they saw Mr. Seljin, smiling at him or calling out a casual “Hey Sel,” before moving down the hall to be swallowed up by the swarm of kids.
As they neared Mr. Seljin’s room, Jeff, the same kid that Ely had met at the convenience store the previous day, emerged from the throng of students and greeted the young teacher.
“Hey Sel, I’m so glad I have you this year,” Jeff said enthusiastically.
“Cool,” Sel replied. “I have you first period?”
“Yeah. So how was your summer?” Jeff asked.
Ely hung back, unsure if he should enter the classroom or say hi to Jeff. The dialogue between the two was interesting. Ely hadn’t heard many student- teacher interactions like that before and it intrigued him. Obviously this Mr. Seljin was respected and his behavior with the students around him seemed very casual, almost effortless. Ely was actually looking forward to class, something that he had not experienced in a long time. At least he wasn’t invisible to this teacher. Ely knew that it probably wasn’t fair to assume or imply that all his other teachers didn’t see him. They probably did, and they probably cared, but most of their time was spent trying to teach their subject matter while dealing with the more vocal or unruly students. The quiet ones like Ely easily slipped through the cracks. It isn’t their entire fault; they are given a pretty difficult task. There was no other job that Ely could think of that required someone to teach information to a group of young people, most of whom could care less about it. Combine that task with dealing with the issues of behavior, puberty, a few crazy parents, family problems, and the handful of kids in each class who were so messed up that teachers often spent a disproportionate amount of their time disciplining and counseling rather than actually teaching.
“It was good,” Sel answered. “Went by too fast though. Hey, I want you to meet one of our new students this year. This is Ely.”
“Yeah, we’ve met. What’s up Ely? Your face looks better,” he said, glancing sidelong at Ely.
“Hey, yeah, it was nothing. It’s better now,” Ely said, glancing quickly at Jeff before looking away.
“I noticed you have some bruising, what happened?” Sel asked.
“I tripped and fell,” Ely said, a little too quickly.
“Really?”
“Mmm, huh,” Ely stammered, looking down at the ground.
Mr. Seljin glanced at Ely momentarily as Ely avoided his gaze. “Okay Ely, why don’t you go in and take a seat before the bell rings.”
Ely didn’t say a word as he left the two by the doorway.
“Jeff, do me a favor, would ya? Help him out if you see he needs anything.”
“Oh, come on, Sel, I’m not a baby sitter,” Jeff protested.
“Imagine being in a new school for the first time. People know you. You’re an eighth grader and the captain of the wrestling team. He doesn’t know anyone. Put yourself in his shoes,” Sel said.
“Empathy, right?” Jeff asked.
“That’s right, you remember, good work,” Sel replied.
“I remember you talking about that last year in practice. You said to treat your opponent with respect, whether you win or lose. Treat them how you would want to be treated if you had lost. Put yourself in their shoes. Empathy,” Jeff finished with a flourish.
“That’s right.”
“Okay, I’ll keep an eye on him,” Jeff relented. “Besides, we’re going to need some unlimited wrestlers this year and he definitely looks like he fits that category.”
“That’s what I was thinking. Speaking of, what are you weighing now?”
“A little over one thirty five.”
“That’s good. Only three months away. Plan on making it on the Hall of Fame again?” Sel asked.
“I better. Oh man, I can’t wait for wrestling season,” Jeff said as he clenched his fists excitedly.
“Me too; remember, you have to keep your grades up. How’s your math coming along?”
“Sel, you know I struggle in math,” Jeff replied, his enthusiastic smile all but disappearing.
“I know. That’s why you have to work on it. It’s no different than any skill, perfect practice makes perfect,” Sel said as the final bell rang. “Go have a seat. We’ll talk about this later.”
“All right, Sel,” Jeff said as he walked into the room.
Mr. Seljin waited for a second as he looked in the hall for any stragglers. The hall was empty so he strode toward his door, stopping momentarily to glance at his bulletin board outside his room. On the board was a cut out caricature of a huge muscle-bound wrestler holding up a stack of books. Above the drawing was written, ‘You have to be strong to keep your grades up’. Sel smiled at the picture and then entered his room.
The first half of the day went by quickly f
or Ely. No one talked to him and the monotonous teacher introductions became just a series of incoherent words linked together as he let his mind drift away to the heroes of distant fantasy realms within his books, where the courage in one’s heart and the strength of one’s sword saved the day. He loved fantasy and he read it constantly. It was easy to project himself into one of these worlds, where he was the hero feared by villains, and swooned over by buxom maidens.
Several times throughout the morning, when he didn’t think the teachers were watching, he would read from his book under the desk. Most of the day was just filled with introductions, going over the curriculum, and reading through the syllabus, all of which Ely didn’t think was that important anyway.
The only class where Ely actually listened was Mr. Seljin’s class. He showed a PowerPoint presentation introducing himself so the new students could know him better. Ely thought that was interesting, not just because of the PowerPoint, but because of the concept. Teachers often wanted to develop this ‘relationship’ with their students but they rarely shared anything about themselves. It made sense to Ely. After all, it should be a two way street. How could someone really know or respect a teacher if they knew nothing about him or her?
One thing that really piqued Ely’s interest was the fact that Mr. Seljin had shared with everyone that he was an avid fantasy reader and that he collected fantasy books. That really surprised Ely, as he had never met any adult who read the type of books he liked; nor had he met anyone with the same passion for fantasy. And yet it looked as if this new teacher might have something in common with him. This too was a strange concept, as most of his previous teachers, no matter how hard they had tried, seemed liked aliens from another world. Ely was smart enough to know that he probably wasn’t giving them the benefit of the doubt, as they very well could have had similar backgrounds or even interests, but they seemed so separated from his reality that they were never able to make a connection with him.
The Life of Ely Page 2
