Through the Break in Her Hair

Chapter 10

God, it was taking forever to get to Friday, and Van forbade me from speaking to Lindsey until then. Not completely, he just didn't want me to use up all of our conversation pieces before then. I'm pretty sure he just didn't trust me not to screw things up. I mean, he could only read minds, not mend fences. So, all I was "allowed" to do was wave or smile at her and respond when she spoke to me, but absolutely nothing else.

If I were honest, which ninety—ok, ok, eighty—percent of the time I was, I'd say that his silence policy wasn't too bad. I didn't have to worry about being awkward, or saying something stupid, or putting my foot in my mouth. Even when Lindsey and I were at our lockers at the same time, a simple, "Hey, how's it going?" worked surprisingly well. That was until Mr.VanHorn decided to intervene.

"John."

My head shot up from my desk and I found myself eye to eye with him. His normally ruddy complexion was clear, accentuating his ice blue eyes. He squinted angrily through his invisi-line glasses. They were perfect for staring kids down and making them feel like wetting their pants. Kids like me.

"Yes, Mr. VanHorn?" I asked apprehensively. He hadn't lasered me like that in a long time, I had forgotten how terrifying he could be.

He tipped his head to the side, narrowing his gaze even more so—if that was possible. "Do you recall a certain assignment I handed you a few weeks ago?" I was grateful that he chose to speak in code, as my surrounding classmates, those who were nosy enough to look up from their own assignments, were now watching us intently.

"Uh, yeah," I cleared my throat and inched closer to him, trying to block Lindsey from view. "What about it?"

Mr.VanHorn placed a chubby hand on my desk, leaning onto it for support. "In order for it to be completed, you have to acclimate yourself with the subject, really get to know it, and allow it to become a part of your social environment. Which my sources tell me, you have not done. Ergo, the subject remains segregated, tucked away on a lonely shelf with not a soul to complete it."

I felt my eyes go wide, my pulse throbbing in my throat. I had to force a sizable lump down my esophagus. "I'll get right on that, Mr.VanHorn," I managed to finally say.

"Of course you will," he nodded, unconvinced.

He erected himself, looming over the entire classroom, and cleared his throat twice. "Class, listen up!" he said in a booming voice. "From now until the end of this semester, you will be working in pairs. This decision has been made to challenge you both mentally, and socially, in order to test your skills and stretch you. For the sake of equality, I will be choosing your partner for you."

The room exploded in groans and protests. Mr.VanHorn had never been this severe before, they didn't quite know how to take it. I would have joined them myself, if I hadn't been the reason behind this change.

"You will comply with these measures or you will fail this semester, and have to take remedial courses over the summer to stay on track to graduate."

That got them to shut up. I'm sure internally they were all plotting his murder, and would probably meet after school to formulate some kind of plan, but for the time being, they were silent. No one, absolutely no one wanted to go summer school. We lived in Northern Michigan for God's sake, when it wasn't below freezing and snowing, we wanted to be outside!

"John and Lindsey, you will be a team. David and Tommy, you will be a team. Derek and Briana, you will be a team."

Several of Briana's friends "ooo"ed at her chosen partner, giggling like middle schoolers. Come on, people, we're in junior high now. I rolled my eyes, disgusted that I was associated with them purely by age. Briana herself had turned a very embarrassed shade of red, ducking her head into her shoulders for protection. Nice try, I thought. You're still not going to get away from him.