The Color of Darkness COMPLETE NOVEL

Roots

July rolled into August, which ushered in September, and with it, the new school year. High school was a battleground in Dale, fought between those whose parents had money and those whose parents had very little. Nova and I fell in the latter category and Rick in the former, but that never stopped us from remaining close friends.

When we registered for classes in August, Rick and I did what we had done freshman year and signed up for basically all of the same classes. Nova refused to join us, saying that she wasn't going to ruin her "academic experience" just so she could hang out with us more. Rick and I shrugged it off and signed up for all of the same math, science, history, and P.E. classes. The exception was English. I signed up for Honors Analysis of Literature while he opted for Basics of Composition. English was my best subject and even Rick couldn't persuade me to take those classes at the basic level.

A smaller school like Dale High School, even though it shared attendance with the town next door, only really had a couple teachers for each subject. These teachers also coached the sports teams (Go, Diggers... hooray... or whatever) and ran all the after school clubs. Needless to say, it was hard not to become pretty close with a few of your teachers while spending four years trapped between the ancient, whitewashed cinderblock walls.

I tried my best to avoid my teachers and keep my head low. I was a decent student, A's and B's with some consistent C's in math. My interest in English, though externally subdued, caught the eye of Mr. Elbright immediately. He was the senior head of the English department and taught most of the upper level classes.

Elbright, to put it simply, was an enigma. He wore the same dusty, square-toe cowboy boots every day, favored jeans over slacks, and was never seen at school without a tie. He grew up on a farm in Montana, listened to indie/folk rock in class, and spoke with the slightest of southern twangs. He was wicked smart, too: rumor had it that he had finished at Yale with honors in some kind of corporate law degree. No one had ever bothered to ask how he ended up teaching high school English two lefts past the middle of nowhere, and he never bothered to tell anyone.

As a teacher, he was an untamable bundle of internal energy bursting at the seams. He challenged everyone to think hard, work hard, and to never make the same mistake twice. Elbright wrangled abstract ideas into manageable concepts and worked even the toughest of literature into something everyone could understand. All the kids motivated enough to pass his classes loved him. I liked him too, but I had one problem with him: he liked me too.

"Andy!" He smiled at me as soon as I set foot in his room on the first day of school. "Glad you came around for another year. You must be a glutton for punishment!"

I couldn't help but grin and nod as I took my usual seat in the back row, two seats over from the wall. Kids shuffled in one by one, filling in all the seats except the one to the right of me, which we all knew was going to be filled about two minutes late by a certain Nova Fletcher.

"So!" Elbright rose to his feet from his battered old desk chair and clasped his hands tightly in front of his chest as soon as the bell rang. "Honors Analysis of Literature! Or, as some of my former students liked to call it, Anal Lit!" A few kids chuckled. "Notice how I said 'former students'." He said solemnly, raising an eyebrow. The laughing stopped immediately. It was nearly impossible to tell when he was serious, or just messing with us for his own amusement.

"Silliness aside, I think you guys are in for a fun year. I shouldn't have to remind you guys at this point that, though we will have fun at times, you will work hard in this class. I don't hand out grades like some teachers in the school," he coughed and tapped the wall next to him. Mr. Brody, who taught one classroom over, was known for giving everyone A's just for showing up. "You all will learn a lot this year, I guarantee you that. I think we can skip name games, the twelve of you all know each other, I think." We all looked around; yup, still the same odd mash of nerds and outcasts.