Second Draft Chapter 6

It’s funny how memory works. There are certain days when almost every detail of every moment sticks out sharply in my mind. And then there are large spaces in my memory that are just gray.

I don’t remember much about that whole winter. Little bits and pieces of it stick out, but most days run into the each other until the whole thing is one big blur.

The next day I remember clearly wasn’t until the spring. The weather was just beginning to turn nice again after a long dark winter.　　I was still 15 then, almost 16. David, who was a few months older than me, had already turned 16 over the winter.

The first class of the morning was “Fenestram”. David hadn’t finished his lesson, and was racing to memorize the passage before class. When I tried to talk to him, he looked at me with disgust, like he usually does in the morning. “Jon, give me 5 minutes will you? I’ve got to study this.” He glanced down at his homework, and then he looked up at me again. “Why aren’t your books out? Have you memorized this thing yet?”

“I went over it a couple times last night. Don’t worry, I’ve got this whole thing figured out. The trick is just not to get called on first, then listen carefully as other people do their recitation. You can pick it up as you go along.”

“But what if you get called on first?”

I shook my head dismissively. “I’m not going to get called on first. Look, we both know Varro is going to volunteer first…” both of us briefly looked over at Varro. He had his books closed and was already testing himself by silently mouthing the words, “…and then probably Christopher.” David’s head looked over towards Christopher, who had his books spread open across his desk and a worried, panicked look upon his face. “Okay, maybe not Christopher, but someone else will volunteer. It will work out. I think I only need to hear it two or three times and then I’ve got it.”

“Well, then at least give me 5 minutes of silence if you’re not going to study,” David pleaded. “Talk to Simon.”

But Simon had over heard David’s comment, so when I turned to face him he was already holding his palm out in my direction. He didn’t even look up from his books. “Don’t even think about it Jon,” he said. “I need to study this too.”

With neither David nor Simon willing to engage me in conversation, I gave up and reached into my bag to retrieve my own books. I looked over at David’s desk to remind myself what page the passage was on, and began reviewing the passage. I had already read over it a couple times the night before. I was nowhere close to memorizing it yet, but as I re-read it I could at least feel the familiar rhythm of the words. I had no idea what they meant. My Fenestram was so bad that it might just as well have been ancient Caletian for all it meant to me. But today was simply a recital. The meaning didn’t matter.

I had just barely time to read the passage through once before the teacher walked in. David and Simon promptly stood up. I tried to finish reading the sentence I was on, and then did likewise.

“Attention!” the teacher called out sharply, checking to make sure we were all standing. “Bow!” We bowed. “Alright, let’s begin.” Everyone sat down at once and for a moment the room was filled with the sound of chairs scrapping the floor.

The teacher glanced briefly at his watch, then announced, “Alright, put away your books. We’re going to get started promptly today.” He opened his grading book. “Would anyone like to volunteer to go first, or shall we just go in order today?” At first no one raised their hand, and I panicked briefly. Perhaps my plan was going to fall apart after all.

Then, after a moment’s delay, Varro’s hand shot up. Good old Varro. You could always count on Varro. The teacher acknowledged him without surprise, and Varro stood up and began his recital. His voice was steady and clear, and I could easily pick out his words.

I tried to test myself alongside Varro by thinking of the next word before he said it. I did pretty well at first but I soon found myself day dreaming and unable to focus.

If there was any problem with Varro’s recital, it was that it was too steady and clear. It had a lulling effect, and after a while it became difficult to focus in on.

It wasn’t just the fact that he drained the words of emotion. We all did that. After all this was a 10th grade classroom, not the theatrical actor’s guild. As long as the words were in the right order no one cared what they sounded like.

No, the problem with Varro’s speech was not the lack of emotion, but the constant steadiness. Some people raced through the recitation confidently. Others squeaked it out in a high, nervous voice. Some spoke in starts and stutters. Some started out slow, then picked up speed along the way. Others started out fast, and then in the middle started to stumble. But Varro’s voice was always steady and calm. It was flavored neither with nervousness nor with confidence. His speed was neither fast nor slow. Even at the ending, where most people picked up speed and rattled off the last paragraph, his voice didn’t change.

I think even the teacher sometimes had trouble concentrating on what Varro was saying. Not that it really mattered. Varro had the full marks before he even opened his mouth. The teacher didn’t even need to listen. Varro was that dependable. I once encouraged him to do a whole recitation in Fabulaese, our native language, instead of Fenestram, the language we were supposed to be studying, just to see if the teacher would notice. Varro refused of course. He would never have done anything to mess with his grades.

“Excellent as always Varro, thank you very much,” the teacher said, marking down what I’m sure were the full marks for Varro. “Next!”

LJ raised his hand. The teacher’s face briefly registered surprise, and then with a movement of his hand beckoned LJ to stand. “Alright Lucius, let’s hear it.”

LJ was very good at Fenestram. The passage wasn’t memorized as perfectly as Varro, but LJ had a way of making the words sing when he spoke. He stumbled here and there on the wording, but because his voice imitated the Fenestram accent so perfectly he sounded like a native Fenestram when he spoke. At least that’s what we all thought anyway. Not that any of us had at that time much exposure to what a native speaker of Fenestram sounded like. This was years before my trip to Fenestra.

LJ finished his recitation and the teacher marked down what I’m sure must have been the full marks or close to it. I realized that two recitations had gone past, and yet I was no closer to memorizing the passage. Varro’s had been so boring that I couldn’t concentrate, and LJ’s had been so fluent I had gotten distracted. The number of volunteers was never more than 3 or 4 students and then the teacher would have to start calling on people and I would be vulnerable. I resolved to myself that no matter what I would focus in on the next recitation.

Christopher volunteered to go 3rd. He gave a decent presentation; started off strong, got nervous and stuttered through the middle, but then finished on a strong note. I tried to silently recite the passage alongside Christopher as he spoke, and felt like I was getting the hang of it.

No one volunteered for the 4th time. The teacher asked one more time for volunteers, and hearing none, he barked out, “Okay then, Rosa, let’s start with you.”

Rosa was the most beautiful girl in school and she knew it. She regarded everyone, including the teacher, as somehow below her. When she rose to speak she had a resentful look on her face as if being called on to do this was somehow beneath her dignity. She rattled it off well enough, but even when the teacher thanked her and told her she could sit down she still flashed angry eyes at him.

Rosa’s power seemed to work even on the teacher. I don’t think that he ever called on her first again after that day.

“Next,” the teacher called out, “Icarus”. Icarus flew to his feet. This was back in the days before Icarus had started cutting his hair short. In those days his hair was scattered all over his head. His blond hair had a way of growing into curls when it got longer, almost like a girl. That may have been why he decided to start cutting it short when he grew older. At the moment however, the hair fell across his forehead, curving up at the ends, and every once and a while a curl would fall down in front of his eyes and his hand would sweep it back into place again.

The teacher walked up and down the room while Icarus gave his speech. Icarus was a classic example of someone who started off strong, and then floundered in the middle. So I was surprised that he reached the middle and still seemed to be doing fairly well. Because I had been trying to concentrate on this passage, I had been keeping my eyes focused down on my desk. But now I looked over at Icarus and I noticed something interesting. He was cheating.

He had a piece of paper taped to the back of the chair in front of him. His timing was quite good. As the teacher walked through the room, whenever the teacher was looking away, Icarus glanced down at the chair. When the teacher was looking at Icarus, Icarus kept his eyes fixed straight ahead and stumbled through his speech.

Alas, this plan had one fatal flaw in it. I think the teacher began noticing that there was a remarkable difference in quality between when he was looking at Icarus and when he wasn’t. Whatever word Icarus was struggling on, he seemed remarkably to recover it when the teacher turned his back.

Suddenly the teacher whirled around without warning and caught Icarus looking at the chair in front of him. “Icarus, you’re cheating!”

Icarus’s face went pale. “Me sir? No sir. Why would you think that sir?” His panicky denials only confirmed his guilt.

The teacher marched over to where Icarus was standing. Matthew, who was actually sitting in the guilty seat, leapt up and got out of the way once he saw what the teacher was heading for. The teacher roughly over turned the seat, saw the paper, ripped it off, and then held it in front of Icarus’s face. Icarus swallowed, and then spoke in a nervous tone. “What’s that sir?”

“You know what it is,” answered the teacher impatiently.

The curls fell in front of Icarus’s eyes again, and he brushed them up with his hand. “Sir?”

“You were using this to cheat with.”

“That?”

And now for the first time the teacher looked what was written on the paper. It was not what he expected to see. Instead of being a transcription of the passage, it was a string of random numbers. The teacher was silenced for a minute. His mouth opened and closed in anger, yet he could not think of anything to say. Finally he sputtered out, “This is a code.”

“I wouldn’t know sir,” Icarus responded. “I didn’t write it.” With that remark Icarus brought to attention the fact that the paper was not in his handwriting.

The teacher again looked at the paper and realized that indeed it was not in Icarus’s handwriting. As the teacher in charge of marking our translations, he knew very well what Icarus’s handwriting usually looks like. He began to sputter even more. “You got someone else to write it for you.” The teacher turned on Matthew, who was still standing at attention besides his desk. “Do you know anything about this?”

“No I don’t sir.”

“What do you mean? It was on your seat. One of you two put it here.”

“I assure you I had nothing to do with it sir,” Icarus said, the confidence creeping back into his voice as he realized he now had the advantage. “But I suppose you’ll probably want me to report to the headmaster anyway.” Icarus had phrased the offer so politely that it took the teacher a while to realize that it was actually a disguised threat. The teacher paused for a moment looking at Icarus, and then a dawning realization came into his eyes. He turned around. “No Icarus, that won’t be necessary,” the teacher said, crumpling up the paper as he walked away. “I’m giving you a zero. You won’t receive any marks for the recitation, and your final grade will suffer accordingly, and…” at this point the teacher turned around to make eye contact with Icarus. “And I’ll be watching you closely in the future.”

Icarus nodded and spoke while sitting. “Yes sir. I understand completely sir.”

Indeed they had both understood each other perfectly. It had been an interesting interaction. The teacher understood that, even though he knew perfectly well Icarus was guilty, the whole case would look a little ridiculous if it came before the head master. The headmaster most likely would have taken his side, but it would look funny and there was job security to think of. It had been a gamble on Icarus’ part, but he had won.

If Icarus had been convicted of cheating, he would probably have been suspended or expelled. So he had actually gotten off pretty easily by simply failing on the recital. And yet by accepting that failing grade with out further protest, Icarus was admitting guilt even as he professed innocence.

This incident, now years ago, sticks out well in my memory because it captures Icarus’s personality in a nutshell. On one hand there was the clever part of him that had schemed the whole thing out. On the other hand it illustrated his insanity. Imagine all the trouble he had gone through. He had created a whole code just for this passage, translated the passage into this code, and then gotten someone else to write it for him. It would have been much easier just to memorize the passage instead. 　And so there were the two sides of Icarus, the genius mixed with the insanity. Although this particular incident was before he became a close friend, in the following years I would experience both sides of Icarus many times.

“Next, Jonathon!” I rose to my feet and began. But as I spoke I realized that I had forgotten most of the passage. During the excitement with Icarus I had allowed it to drop out of my head completely. I stuttered through some words, came to a blank, and only by closing my eyes and hard concentration was I able to remember enough to go on. However, a few lines later, I soon found myself stuck again.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw David. Another person might have had a smug, “See Jon, I told you that you so,” look on his face, but not David. He always wished the best for me. There was nothing but sympathy in his eyes.

And then across the room I saw Christopher trying to get my attention. I looked over at him and saw that he was mouthing the words for me.

The teacher, still pacing the room, had turned around and was facing us now. Christopher abruptly stopped, and I quickly looked away and tried to act like I had just been looking around the room the way people sometimes do when they’re thinking really hard. “Well Jonathon, do you know it or not,” the teacher asked. “If you don’t know it why don’t you just sit down, take your zero marks, and quit wasting everyone’s time.”

“Sir, could I have just a second to think,” I pleaded.

“You’ve already been thinking for a long time,” the teacher replied, but as he said this he turned his head down to look at his grade book, probably getting ready to mark me a zero. My eyes darted over to Christopher, who was already making exaggerated motions with his mouth to show me the words. I started up again.

The teacher, hearing me speak, decided not to give me a zero just yet. He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing, and looked away from his grade book. As he continued to pace the room I was able to complete the recitation with Christopher’s assistance. Whenever the teacher wasn’t looking, Christopher would mouth me more words.

We were sly about it, or at least we thought we were sly about it, but it was a risk. And one that offered absolutely no benefit on the part of Christopher. Had it been anyone else, I might have been touched by the gesture of friendship, but I don’t think Christopher even liked me. He just had a very strong sense of class loyalty. Whenever anyone in the class was in trouble, Christopher thought it was his duty to help them.

You can do better than that Jonathon,” the teacher said as I finished. “I don’t want to hear you flail around like that next time.” He scribbled something in his notebook. I knew the way I had stumbled my way through the piece had cost me the full marks, but I had passed. It seemed like an unnecessary risk to flash Christopher a look of gratitude, so I didn’t. But I felt grateful for his help nonetheless.

The teacher proceeded to call on several more students. Because the passage was long, and the class period was short, he was barely able to get through half the class. In fact before the period was even over the teacher decided to stop the recitations because he had decided to go off on one of his lectures. The second half of the class sighed with relief at another day’s reprieve.

“I want to talk to all of you about something very important,” he said. He pushed his eyeglasses back up to the top of his nose. He had a tall imposing figure. It was imposing even later in my life, but it was especially imposing to look at when I was 14. His suit and tie failed to hide his massive frame. He was bald at the top of his head, but he was tall enough that we couldn’t often see the top of his head. Even his eyeglasses, which should have softened his image, had a way of reflecting the light so that his eyes were obscured and his face seemed always impersonal and cold.

“Recently the etiquette of this class during chapel has been completely unacceptable.” There was a pause in which the teacher looked over us to make sure we were all receiving this news with the appropriate amount of guilt. “When we enter the chapel, we are entering the house of God. We are in the very presence of God himself. And how should we conduct ourselves when we’re in God’s presence? Do we yawn in the face of God? Do we look bored when God is talking to us?” Christopher shook his head “no” in answer to these rhetorical questions. The rest of the class simply remained silent.

The teacher slammed his hand suddenly on the podium, making a large booming sound. It gave us all quite a jolt. At the same time he abruptly changed his speaking style to shouting. “Sleeping in chapel is unacceptable,” he yelled out. We were all still startled form this sudden outburst, and so the room remained deathly silent as the teacher’s eyes rested on all the offenders, Sophia, Julius, Clodius, Matthew, and myself. I squirmed, slightly uncomfortable under the fierce gaze, but there was a certain safety in numbers on this offense.

“Studying during chapel is unacceptable,” continued the teacher, leveling a look solely at poor Varro. He had dropped his voice slightly on this second point, but then he continued and with the next remark his voice rose back up to its previous volume. “And talking in chapel will absolutely not be tolerated.” This time the teacher’s eyes focused solely on me.

I made an effort not to give in so easily. To blatantly stare back defiantly would have been pure folly and likely get me sent to the headmaster’s office again. But I determined I could try to look back for perhaps three or four seconds before I gave in and looked submissively downward.

In the end I only made it for two seconds. When he saw I was returning his gaze, the teacher started walking towards me. I immediately conceded and looked down apologetically. The teacher than stopped coming, and the disaster was averted. It was a solid loss on my part, but I thought it was important to at least have made the attempt.

I didn’t mind chapel so much. I hated church, but that was different. Church took what would otherwise have been a free day, made you get up early, made you dress in funny clothes, and made you sit through two hours of the most boring dribble imaginable, and all for no apparent reason.

But with chapel, it was time that was taken out of the school day. Maybe if there had been no chapel, we would all have finished school an hour earlier. I don’t know. But I viewed it as their time, not mine. It was time when I could just switch off my brain and not think. Maybe even sleep if I could get away with it. Or, if I had homework that was due for the next class, I could try and get it done. Again, assuming I could get away with it.

But what I could never understand is why they were so strict with this “no talking” rule. If I had been talking loudly or disturbing the people around me, that would have been one thing. But if I just whispered to the person next to me, then the teacher, who had seen, not heard the transgression, would come marching across the room, pull me out of my seat, and send me to the head master’s office. Why did it matter? If they wanted to listen to this garbage, I didn’t mind. But why did they have to force me to listen to it in total silence? And besides, aside from the two seconds it took me to make a comment to a friend, I still heard most of the sermon. And even if I didn’t, it was still the same old sermon anyway. It was always the same sermon.

The teacher continued. “When we enter God’s house, we show respect for God. We don’t wear our hats inside God’s house. We don’t sleep inside God’s house. And I don’t want you talking inside God’s house.” He looked at me again as if to reinforce his previous victory. This time I kept my head down.

“I’ve been meeting with the other teachers, and we are all going to be watching you very closely over the next few weeks. Anyone who does not respect God’s house will be dealt with promptly.” The teacher, who been hunched over his podium, now straightened himself to indicate he was finished. “Now, I want you to all walk silently into the chapel. Any talking along the way, or in the chapel itself, will be immediately dealt with.” I didn’t even need to look up to know he was looking at me again.

We stood and silently filed out of the room. I debated making some comment to David about how stupid this all was, but then I thought he probably wouldn’t appreciate me getting him into trouble. So we all filed silently into the chapel.

The chapel was a separate building, but on the same grounds as the school. It had much of the grandeur of a church, while managing at the same time to maintain a lot of the boringness of a school. There were stain-glassed windows, but also ordered and numbered pews where we each had an assigned seat.

True to his word, the teacher had determined to keep a close eye on us that day. He stood next to our class and kept his eyes roaming for any offenders. The other teachers were just as vigilant with their classes. This was indeed a coordinated effort. So we sat silently in our seats while the rest of the classes filed in.

At last all the classes had entered, and an old man ascended the speaker’s platform. The old man was a familiar face. He was the school chaplain. Occasionally there were guest speakers at chapel, but most days it was the school chaplain. He looked old and frail as he ascended the speaker’s platform, but he always became animated and energetic once he started to speak.

He lifted his hands up toward the ceiling like he did everyday. “Praise God!” he said.

“Praise God!” we all repeated. The teachers kept a close eye to make sure everyone said the words.

The chaplain began. “I’m glad to see all of your young beautiful faces today. You have so much youth and energy. There’s a real vibrancy in this room. I hope you can hold onto that.

“But at the same time my heart is heavy because your generation faces so much temptation. The devil is trying very hard to snatch you up with all the tricks he knows. Every possible temptation has been laid out for you. And many of you young people will blindly fall into them. So you must be careful.

“Many of you already use foul or dirty language. Your mouth is an instrument of God. Do not profane it by using coarse language. Rather, always let your mouths say things that will glorify God and offend no one. God created your mouths to sing his praises, not to use the coarse, dirty language of the streets. I am always deeply saddened when I hear students use language that belongs in the gutter.

“But the wrong doing does not stop there. Indeed what wicked times we live in. The filth of evil is everywhere. The books sold in the public markets, and the plays performed in the public square, all contain messages contrary to the will of God. How often have I stood here and told you not to see those plays that corrupt your soul? How often have I told you not to read those books with their messages of Godlessness? And yet I know that young people, sometimes students from this school, read those books, watch those plays, and learn not the righteous morals of God, but the foul morals of this wicked world.

“And most seriously, indeed it is with a aching heart that I even mention it, some young people profane their very bodies with the act of sex. How awful it is to disgrace your bodies, the bodies that God made for you, in such an awful way. There is no greater sin that you can commit than to pollute your bodies in such a way.

“I know this is a wicked time we live in. I know the plays you watch and books you read seek to glorify the act of sex. But it is despicable in the eyes of God. Remember your bodies belong to God. And your hearts belong to God. Your mind belongs to God. Your all belongs to God.

“So honor God not just with your bodies, but with your hearts and your minds as well. Purge your mind of all evil and impure thought, and think only thoughts that glorify God. Some of you young people sitting here before me have thought impure thoughts. You’ve allowed your mind, which should be a sanctuary for God, to become corrupted with lustful thoughts. And with these impure thoughts, you make it impossible for God to come into your hearts because God cannot co-exist with such filth.

“Some of you have even disgraced your bodies with the sin of masturbation. And what a horrible sin it is. To defile both your mind and your body at the same time, you’ve sinned just as greatly as those who have committed the sin of sex.

“Such is the wickedness of the world we now live in. But I am here today to offer you words of hope. I am here to save you from the wickedness that surrounds you. Even in today’s evil world, it is still possible to live a life of Godly virtue.

“I tell you there is nothing greater than a union blessed by God. When a man and a woman love each other, and when they do not give into carnal temptations, but resist until they are married, how blessed that union will be. Truly there can be no happier marriage than a man and a wife who unite only after their marriage vows.

“And if you keep your minds and hearts holy, if you banish all impure thoughts from your mind and if you invite God’s spirit to live inside you, than that spirit will radiate out, and all will see how blessed you are.

“But I also have a message for the sinners here among you. You will not be able to enter the Kingdom of God. You must make a choice today which road you will take, whether it is the path that leads to God, or the path that leads to destruction.”

His voiced crescendoed to its loudest oratorical peak. Because he had the habit of ending his sermons on a high note like that, the organist took her cue and began playing soft holy chords in the background. We instinctively bowed our heads. The chaplain raised his hands for the benediction. “God bless you and keep you from sin,” he said. “And may God bless the Duke help him to serve our country.”

“May God bless the Duke,” we all repeated.
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The next class we had was PE. After the teachers made sure we returned to our classrooms in absolute silence, we took our PE clothes and headed into the changing rooms.

As soon as the door closed behind us, I hit the wall with the side of my hand. “Damn it, I’m sick of all these rules,” I said to David.

David sat on the bench, undoing the shoelaces of one shoe. “Those chapel rules have always been there Jon,” he said. “They’re just making a big deal about them right now. In a couple weeks, a month maybe, they’ll have forgotten about this and they’ll be on some different kick.” David looked up from his shoes. “In fact Jon, the only reason they’re making such a big deal about it right now is because some people, such as yourself, have been trying to get away with as much as possible.”

“I’m not hurting anyone by sleeping in chapel,” I said angrily. “If people want to listen to that crap, fine, but I don’t see why I have to stay awake.”

David shrugged. “Well, tell it to them Jon.

Simon echoed him. “We’re all with you Jon, but what can you do about it? Dave’s right. This will all blow over in a couple weeks.” The two of them were always so practical; they were ignoring the fact that a real injustice was being done.

“It’s just ridiculous. The whole thing is ridiculous. Why do they care if I sleep or not? It’s the same damn chapel every time anyway.”

As always, David flinched slightly whenever I swore about chapel. I think he half expected to see a lightening bolt come out of the sky and smite me one of these times.

Christopher had also overheard my comment. “You better watch what you say Jon,” he said sharply. “Remember God hears everything.”

I opened my mouth to yell at Christopher, but it was LJ who spoke up in my defense. “It is always the same chapel, isn’t it? The range of things they feel comfortable talking about is surprisingly limited.”

That was LJ. He always had to sound like a book whenever he spoke. And if there was on thing I couldn’t stand, it was pretension. “What the hell does that mean?” I yelled out.

I had spoken loudly, and there was laughter from the rest of the room. It was not a pleasant sort of laughter, but that ugly sort of laughter perhaps common to a boy’s locker room; the kind of laughter that indicates someone has just been put in their place. I was immediately sorry I had said it. LJ wasn’t very popular at school, and I had just provided an excuse for them to mock him more.

Before the laughter died out, Ajax stood up and walked towards the door. As he walked past LJ, he gave him a rough shove. Because LJ was standing directly in front of the bench, he fell backwards over it and landed in half in an open locker, half sprawled out on the floor. There was more laughter now, especially from Ajax Hector and Teucer.

Ajax thought since he was bigger and stronger than everyone, he could just push everyone around. If I had known he would use my comment as an excuse to flex his muscle, I would never have said anything. I moved so I was standing in front of him. My brain searched for something clever to say, but, alas, I can never think of anything clever to say. “Are you looking for a fight?” I asked.

Fortunately for me, Ajax’s wit was no better. He just made a grunt for a reply.

“If you go around pushing people over, you must be looking for a fight,” I said. “Now he’s not going to fight you.” I pointed at LJ. “But if you’re looking for a fight, I’ll give you one.”

Ajax looked me over with his eyes. I knew he was stronger than me, and could probably take me in a fight. He must have reached the same conclusion because he started to grin and was flexing his muscles underneath his shirt.

Although I kept my gaze fixed on Ajax, out of the corners of my eyes I could see Simon and David taking their places beside me. Straight ahead I could see Ajax’s friends, Hector and Teucer, flank him on either side. Hector and Teucer weren’t as strong as Ajax, but I knew David would be absolutely useless in a fight. The advantage was still on their side. But with six people involved, things had escalated now. Any actual fight of this size would be hard to contain, and would undoubtedly result in teachers’ intervention, and probably get us all expelled, and no one wanted that.

“What do you want?” Ajax sneered.

“I want you to stop being such a jackass,” I answered.

“But we’ll settle for an apology,” David added quickly.

Ajax tried to diffuse the situation by pushing me aside as he attempted to walk past. It was a calculated move on his part, the idea being that he would win a symbolic victory by pushing me aside, and he would also be able to continue on his way. It was based on the premise that I would allow myself to be humiliated because I was smart enough not to escalate. But when his big ugly hands touched my chest, I was so angry about being pushed that I didn’t even think. I shoved Ajax back as hard as I could.

He stumbled a few feet back, barely kept his balance, and then came back at me with his fists raised. And before I even knew what was happening, I had been roughly shoved out of the way and there was someone standing between Ajax and me. It was Ares. His eyes gleamed, and his fists stood ready.

I was just as surprised by Ajax at this. Ares was not a close friend of mine, but he seemed drawn to conflict. Whenever there was a fight of any kind, Ares had to involve himself in some way. No one knew what Ares would do. He had an element of unpredictability to him. Even though Ajax was bigger, Ares had a tenacious quality which made most people avoid fights him. And I didn’t doubt he would be crazy enough to start a huge fight.

Ajax immediately backed off. He lowered his hands and walked quietly away. I stood aside to let him pass. We never did get our apology, but we hadn’t seriously expected it either.

Ares quickly slipped away also. I didn’t even thank him. I was grateful he had been on my side, but with Ares one always gets the sense that he is always looking for a fight of any kind, and if I had been the one with my fist raised, Ares might have been pushing Ajax aside to get to me.

Ajax’s friends were following his lead out the door. LJ as well had long ago stood up, dusted himself off, and left. It was soon getting to the point where David, Simon, and I were the only ones left.

David looked at me as if he were unsure whether to smile or frown. He opened his mouth to say something, seemed to think better of it, closed his mouth, looked at the ground, and shook his head, and then looked up at me again. “Well, nice going Jon. Once again you almost got us kicked out of school.” He was trying to be serious but a smile seemed to be tugging at the corners of his mouth.

I responded with a full-blown smile. “Hey, we won, didn’t we?” And I flew out the door before David could argue.
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It was spring and the weather was beginning to warm slightly. It was no longer the frigidly cold weather it had been in the winter. It was warm to the point where it was pleasant to be outside, but we could still be active without getting too hot.

I sprinted out of the locker room and into the sunlight, leaving Simon and David behind me. The sun shone down on my face. I looked around. Ajax was standing with his friends in a closed circle, probably talking about me. I looked around to see if I could see Ares, and if he was planning on re-igniting any more trouble. I couldn’t find him.

Rosa was off in the corner of the field, surrounded by most of the other girls in the class, who were listening to her talk about something. Emma, one of the few girls who wasn’t in Rosa’s circle, came up to me. “Hello Jon,” she said smiling. “Have you seen the schedule? It looks like we’re racing each other today.”

I groaned. “What? Are we doing co-ed racing again today?” During track the races were sometimes co-ed, sometimes separated. Since we had done co-ed races all last week, I was sure we would be doing segregated races this week.

“Don’t you want to race me?” she asked, not with a hurt voice, in a playful voice, as if she were trying to set me up for something.

“I hate racing girls,” I moaned.

And she smiled even more at this. “Just you wait Jon! Here’s one girl that’s going to beat you.” She gave me a friendly shove, and then bounced off. She was always so full of energy. And she probably would beat me. That was why I hated racing girls. If you won against them, there was no glory. It was just expected that you would win. But if you lost, there was all sorts of humiliation. I think all of us guys hated being matched up against girls.

David and Simon joined me on the field. “Who are you racing today?” Simon asked. “Did you look at the schedule?”

I grimaced. “I’m racing Emma for one. I don’t even know about the other races.”

“What!” Simon groaned. “Oh no, don’t tell me we’re doing co-ed races again.”

The PE teacher entered the field. “Attention,” he called out, never breaking his stride. We started to move into our rows, but apparently not fast enough for him because he yelled out “Attention!” a second time. All conversation ceased and we ran into our rows. We formed up in our usually rows, kept our arms straight at our sides, and stood at attention. “Bow,” the teacher commanded. We all obeyed.

The teacher stretched his neck slightly. Like all PE teachers he had a thick neck. In fact his whole body was thick. “We’re doing races again today. I will be taking down your results, and they will be published in the school paper at the end of the month, so do your best.” I rolled my eyes and looked at the sky. Could this possibly be the worst day ever?

“So, let’s get started then. The first race is between Icarus and Emma.” Icarus was at the starting line before Emma even left her place in line. If there was one thing Icarus loved to do, it was run.

The rest of us gathered around the track to watch. Icarus had a lean, skinny body, well suited to running. He never trained at all as far as I knew, but he was still the fastest person in the class. His curls fell in front of his eyes again and he brushed them away in a distracted manner. I could almost see the energy pulsing through his body. He was like a hunting dog standing ready, every muscle straining forward, whining with eagerness, and waiting only for the master’s command to attack.

Emma dug her feet into the ground as she assumed a runner’s stance. Her hands tightened into fists. Icarus’s hands were loose, but moving with a nervous energy. Emma’s face looked determined. She was not going to lose. Icarus’ face was temporarily obscured as the curls fell over his eyes again.

“Go!” the teacher yelled out. Poor Emma never stood a chance. Icarus launched himself off the ground, flew through the air, and was almost halfway done with the race before she even started. Still she made a decent effort, throwing herself forward and pumping her legs and her arms back and forth as fast as she could. She even started to gain back some ground near the end, but by then Icarus was crossing the finish line.

Icarus wasn’t sweating. He wasn’t even breathing hard. He glided back to his row with the same speed at which he had left. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he had just won. Emma, by contrast, walked angrily back to her row. Furthermore she was showing the effort of her exertion. Her face was red, her breathing was hard, and her hair was matted down on her forehead with sweat.

“Next race, Rosa and Sophia.” Sophia and Rosa walked to the starting line. Rosa’s hair, which usually fell loosely around her shoulders, was tied back for PE. Sophia’s hair was short enough that she didn’t have to worry about it.

Both girls were athletic and involved in after school sports. I thought it would be a close race, but once the race actually started, Rosa took the lead and finished first by a comfortable margin.

From Sophia’s easy breathing and calm face, she seemed neither to have exerted herself, nor to be upset at her loss. It was almost as if there was some unspoken understanding between the two that Rosa would win. I doubt Rosa had actually ordered Sophia to lose, but Rosa was unquestionably the leader of that group of girls, and Sophia could have jeopardized her social standing by winning against Rosa.

Perhaps the teacher was thinking the same thing, because he yelled out, “Come on Sophia! You can do better than that!” Sophia simply bowed her head slightly to acknowledge having heard the comment, and then returned to her place in line. “Okay, next Joshua and Hector.” There was some chuckling by Ajax and Teucer, but Hector did not seem pleased by the pairing. Joshua was the butt of a lot of jokes, but he was in better shape than he looked. He might be able to beat Hector, and if he did Ajax and Teucer would never let Hector live it down. That’s probably why Hector pushed Joshua.

Joshua and Hector were lined up at the starting line. The word, “Go” was scarcely out of the teacher’s mouth when Hector turned and shoved Joshua aside before turning to run down the track. The teacher’s face flashed red with furry at seeing this flagrant disregard for the rules. He opened his mouth to yell, but then closed it again upon seeing what happened next.

Hector’s body apparently couldn’t handle doing two things at once. He was pushing Joshua with his hands at the same time his legs were launching into the race. Perhaps he was distracted by the two simultaneous actions, and perhaps pushing against Joshua had thrown him slightly off balance, but the next thing we saw he was tripping over his own feet and falling flat on the ground.

A guy like Hector really makes a crash when he falls to the ground. Plus his hands had been used to push Joshua, and so were still off to his side and not in place to catch his fall the way most people’s hands automatically spring up. He landed flat on his face with a thud. I grimaced slightly to see it. “Serves him right,” I heard the teacher mutter.

Joshua stopped to offer Hector a hand up, and the teacher yelled out, “Don’t worry about him. Finish the race!” Joshua ignored this comment and persisted with helping Hector to his feet. Hector was at first dazed from the fall, but as he recovered himself he quickly shook off Joshua’s help. Losing to Joshua would have been bad enough. Having Joshua help him up in front of the whole class would have been the ultimate humiliation. Hector knocked Joshua’s hand away. “What are you doing? Finish the race!” he yelled. Now back on his feet, he started running again. At this point though it was obvious to everyone that even if he won he still lost. The rest of the race didn’t seem to matter anymore.

Hector had regained his head start because he had started running again while Joshua was still trying to help him. Joshua almost caught up with him near the end, but Hector drew on all his reserve strength for the last dash.

The victory was bitter for Hector, and he returned to his row with his face read and his head hung low. His eyes, to the extent I could see them, were blazing with anger even though the only one he had any right to be angry at was himself.

The teacher had harsh words for both of them. “Hector, you do that again and you can talk to the headmaster about it.” Hector lifted his sullen face for just long enough to nod, and then went back to staring at the ground. “Joshua, don’t you ever ignore me again. When I tell you to finish the race, you finish the race. Don’t worry about Hector. He wouldn’t help you if you fell down.” Joshua nodded. “Okay then, next race. Icarus…”

Icarus again? Maybe the teacher was trying to tire him out. Still, pity the poor guy who had to run against him. “…and Jonathon.” This day just kept getting worse and worse. Here comes my first loss for the school papers.

And what can I say about my race against Icarus? He beat me, of course. I arrived at the starting line and he was already there, looking straight ahead and waiting eagerly for the command. He was so distracted I don’t think he even noticed me or knew whom he was racing against. And when the race started, he finished before I had barely left the starting line. But at least there was no shame in losing to Icarus. Everyone expected it.

And I lost to Emma as well when the time for that race came. It was my second race, Emma’s third. Emma had also had one race against Rosa.

I think the teacher must have intentionally put them together. Emma was outside of Rosa’s group, so she would be one of the few girls who wouldn’t lose to Rosa on purpose. There was a tension between the two of them from the moment they met at the starting line. When the race began they were neck and neck the whole way, now one briefly getting ahead, now the other. Each time one girl would get ahead the other seemed to discover some hidden energy and would burst forward to keep even. Both pushed their bodies as hard as they could. Emma hated to lose and Rosa… Well Rosa never lost.

Rosa made a final burst near the end. Emma ran just as fast to keep up with her. It was hard for any of us to tell who won. The teacher was loath to call it a tie because he was reporting the scores in the school newspaper. He stood for a moment with his lips pursed as if he was about to say something but he couldn’t think of what. He looked at the girls, who were exhausted, and barely standing from their run, and yet still looking back at him expectedly.

“Tie,” he said at last. Both girls protested that they had won, but he just shook his head. “It’s a tie,” he said. “I’m sorry.” Both girls returned angrily to their places.

But by the time Emma’s third race came, her race against me, she appeared to have calmed down. She even smiled at me as we came out to the track. For some reason my mind drifted off, and I suddenly remembered my father telling me over the summer that I should always be kind to Emma, because her family didn’t have a lot of money. It had seemed like an odd thing for him to say, because he usually wasn’t concerned about that sort of thing.

As we took the starting line, I tried to snap my mind back into focus. Right. Emma is a girl. I can’t lose to a girl. Losing to Icarus was one thing, but…

“Go,” the teacher yelled. We raced and Emma beat me. I put up a good show, but she was faster, and she wanted it more. After exhausting herself in her races with Icarus and Rosa, it was amazing she still had the energy, but she did. And she had the energy to be gracious about it afterwards as well. Perhaps after two losses the win had put her in a good mood. But as we walked back to our positions she stuck out her hand for me to shake. With a broad smile she said, “You did good Jon.”

My third and final race was against Ajax. Obviously after the incident in the locker room, things were still a little tense between us, and this race took on added significance. But aside from all that, I also just wanted at least one win. I didn’t want my name in the school newspaper with three losses.

Ajax was actually in the same position. He had been lucky enough not to draw any girls, but unlucky enough to draw a match against Icarus. His second race was against Matthew. Matthew was tall, skinny, and naturally had a runner’s build. Ajax, on the other hand, was sometimes too muscular for his own good.

So there the two of us were, both determined to get at least one win in. Ajax was slightly subtler than Hector. He didn’t shove me with his hands, but he did use his weight to bump into me when the race began. I stumbled a bit, he gained a little ground, but in the end I was just faster than he was. I caught up with him and passed him near the finish line.

I breathed heavily with relief. Not only had I gotten my win, of all the people to run against I had beaten Ajax. Maybe this day wasn’t so bad after all. {Needs a better ending}