Love & Monsters

&&&&&&

The words are melting. They're leaking down onto the floor and falling in piles of indecipherable black ink. The clock laughs, in on the conspiracy. Five minutes left until class is over, it says. You'll fail the exam. You haven't written a single answer.

I can't. The questions won't show themselves. They're hiding. 

The silence of the classroom hangs above the soft scratching of pencils and the occasional whispered insult from the voice in my head. I blink hard, but the test won't come into focus. The paper lies drenched, all splotches and spots. 

Answer one question, just one damn question! But it's no use. The words are one dark puddle of ink. I survey the room's concentrated faces. At the door, peeking through the class's window, is Nex. He grins, like he totally didn't ditch me yesterday. 

"Eyes on your own paper, please." Mrs. Stanton says. I startle. 

When I look back, Nex is gone.

T minus five minutes.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Zero. 

Failure.

Everyone hands in their papers as they file out of the room, sighs of relief and chatter of less mundane. I wait for class to empty before approaching Mrs. Stanton. She's in her fifties, and despite the strands of gray hair and lines in her face, she's still very beautiful. A massive heartbreaker still lives beneath those wrinkles. She's always reading some classic book or another in class. I remember once, I picked one up out of curiosity and found an erotica romance novel in its place. She'd switched out the covers. She's been my favorite teacher ever since. 

"Mrs. Stanton?" She looks up and sees the blank test in my hands. She frowns. "I'm having some trouble..." but how do I finish? Trouble reading? Trouble concentrating? Trouble making my brain work when I'm going through withdrawals? "Would you be able to deliver the test questions to me orally?" 

If I were anyone else, I know Mrs. Stanton's eyes would squint in suspicion. But I always raise my hand when there's a question I can answer. I turn homework in on time with no excuses. I express interest in the books we read in class. 

"Would you like to come in during break?" She asks. 

"I can take it now. If you don't mind, that is." 

Her eyes glance at the clock, who is still laughing at me. "You've only got ten minutes before next period starts."

"I can do it."

She raises an eyebrow. "Alright then." I hand her my test and she begins. "'Assess symbolism and its usage in one of the novels on the list for this semester.' Feel free to take a second to think-"

"In Mysterious Skin by Scott Heim, jewels are a recurring symbol." I say. "Heim uses descriptions such as 'sapphire arteries' to describe lakes, 'crushed rubies' to portray blood, and 'a jewel surfacing out of a black lake' when referring to the moon in the night sky. Heim also makes constant reference to diamonds, which is significantly connected to the coach of the Little League baseball team who sexually abuses children. Heim uses jewels - something considered expensive, rare, pure and sought for - as a stark contrast to the horrific lives affected by the molestation in the novel. He ultimately asserts that despite stolen innocence and tainted purity, a jewel remains valuable. A diamond in the dirt is still a diamond. No matter how-"

Mrs. Stanton puts her hand up. "You can go." She says. 

"But there's four questions left."

"Yes, and you can answer them." She nods towards the door.