The Pearl Inside of Anything

Monday, June 1, 1981

Everyone has a best feature, I'm sure.

Mine is a very effective screen to prevent guys from cheating off me during exams. Because I have the problem of being surrounded by guys in History 9. Wait, that doesn't sound quite right. I have the problem of being surrounded by Guys-Who-Never-Study in History class.

In Mr. Ogilvie's class, we are arranged this way: Darren "Dirt" Erdmann is in the seat behind me and Randy "Bran" Branowski is on my right in the next row. Yammy, my best friend, is way over the other side of the room.

Ogi has us set up this way on purpose. I'm supposed to be a kind of peer tutor to Dirt and Bran when they get stuck. Which is a lot. Mostly this involves me poking Bran with my pen when I see he's fallen asleep. Which is also a lot. Dirt is not much better, except that he's more self-regulated. He tends to wake himself up when he starts to snore.

Where the helping is supposed to stop is during exams. I know that. But there's something about Sleepy and Dopey that makes me kind of sympathetic. Back in the beginning of the year the guys' papers would come back with these nasty looking "F"s on them, and I felt bad. By Christmas, my little half-baked theories of tutoring by psychic proximity had really let them down. Pencil poking was a dismal failure. I was a bad tutor. I felt guilty even sitting near them. So around January I started a little, well, a little of what I like to think of as sharing.

And most of the rest of the year, right up until now, that's what I've done. It's this unspoken thing. Dirt and Bran never ask, and I never acknowledge what they are doing. I just twist my hair into a scrunchie and then they have full view of my paper.

So mostly, I share. It's just finals where I get a little stingey and have to let my hair down.

But today, I'm already ticked at the two of them before class even starts. I know they could've cared less who the Famous Five were. Unless they're the comics ones and even then... This is one of those days I'm going to keep my intellectual property to myself. When Ogi hands me my test, I slide off the scrunchie and flip my hair over. Voila! Curtains come down.

It's kind of dark for working though. A little stuffy, too. And I have to hurry or I get a crick in my neck. So when I'm nearly finished I sit up and look it over and there are lines of notes running up and down the page like snakes and ladders. Ogi won't care, but if I used this technique in Biology Mr. Graham would deduct marks for sloppiness.

The guys are grumbling, but I harden my heart. Besides, we've been almost ten months in this class, hasn't something sunk in with them? They'll be fine, C- fine, but fine all the same.

The grumbling goes on. They shift in their seats, and Bran actually leans towards me. Oh, thank you very much, Mr. Obvious. Ogi looks up sharply from his desk and his eyes narrow suspiciously. "Mr. BraNOWski, I have my EYE on you!" he barks. Bran shrinks down into his seat.

I tidy up my first page a bit. Ogi cracks the silence in the room with "Five minutes!"

I have to hurry, but before I can turn to page two, the shadow of Dirt slowly rises from behind me on the bottom of the paper. I freeze. Should I turn the page, or give him a chance to at least get Question 1?

Ogi decides for me.

"Erdmann! Branowski! Riley! In the hall!"

Dirt and Bran rise slowly to their feet and shuffle out the door. They are used to this. Me? Not so much. Not so, ever. I don't know what to do, actually. Wendy Riley is a good girl. Wendy Riley does not get sent to the hall. I blink back tears and swallow. Could this go on my permanent record?

Ogi steps around his desk, snatches the paper from my shaking hands, and barks straight down at me:

"Miss Riley? That would be IMMEEEEEEEEEEEDIATELY!"