Tale 1: War of the Protector

Chapter 1

Rain pattered gently down the window. 

“Next, class, we will be discussing the reasoning behind King Lear’s insanity, and why Shakespeare incorporates insanity into his three big tragedies…” 

I rested my chin in my hand, but decided that was only making me fall asleep faster. I concentrated on the pitter patter of the rain, thinking it was inconstant and concentrating on it would keep my brain awake. 

My head bobbed once… twice…

Listening to the rain was not working.

I shifted around in my seat, hoping some movement would wake me up. No good. 

“… and here we get into Lady Macbeth in act five of Macbeth…” 

I rubbed my temples. I stretched a bit. I ran my hands up and down my face, trying to get the blood flowing. I was fine for the next ten seconds, and then my eyelids started drooping again.

A sharp poke to my shoulder had me jump a foot into the air. I glanced around, seeing that I had earned some attention from the bored faces all around the room. My eyes landed on Ryan, sitting a few seats to the right and behind me. His shoulders were shaking with laughter as he pointed to the paper airplane that had situated itself on the floor after attacking my shoulder. 

I rolled my eyes at him and glanced to the front of the room to see that Mr. Evans hadn’t noticed a thing. Quickly, I bent out of my seat and snatched up the little paper plane. 

Facing the front again, I unfolded the plane and smoothed it out over my notebook. 

Hey Lily, don’t fall asleep! Accompanying Ryan’s little message was a drawing of a big round face with big glasses, a bald head, and steam coming out of his ears, with an arrow and the label Mr. Evans. The best part, though, was the one eyebrow that stretched way up his face.

I had to suppress the urge to burst out laughing. Glancing up at the man who was the muse of the drawing, I had to admit Mr. Evans did look really funny when he was mad. Only one eyebrow would come up, probably too far to even be human. That was the reason he was never taken seriously when he was angry. 

I folded up the paper and tucked it away into my binder, but the more I thought about it the funnier it became. All I could see when Mr. Evans turned around was that eyebrow, twitching as he talked. 

It was starting to hurt, holding in the laughter. A smile was breaking through, and I had to turn my face down so I wouldn’t get caught. I pulled Ryan’s note from my binder and wrote under his drawing. Great, now I can’t stop thinking about it. I sketched my own version of Mr. Evans’ eyebrow and folded the paper back into a plane before throwing it at Ryan’s head. 

I whipped back around in my seat before Mr. Evans could turn around. I didn’t hear paper hit the floor, so I knew Ryan had caught it. Stupid football player reflexes. 

A few minutes later the paper airplane was sent my way, jabbing the back of my head. I plucked it off the floor, unfolded it, and read Woke you up, didn’t I? I could just see his smirk behind the words. 

On the same piece of paper I scrawled You give yourself too much credit. Sadly, though, I was smiling while writing that, and I realized my mistake when Mr. Evans’ quick steps came down my row of desks. 

“Mind telling us what is so funny, Miss Emerson?” 

I looked up at those big glasses and that raised eyebrow, and I would have laughed if it weren’t for my embarrassment at just getting caught. “Uhm… urm…”

Mr. Evans calmly took the note from my desk and took a few long seconds to read it over. It was some of the most painful seconds of my life... well my life then.

Finally he handed me the note back, a professional poker face set as he said, “Detention, Miss Emerson.” Calmly, he folded his hands behind his back and walked to his desk at the front of the room to write up my detention slip.

Internally I groaned. Mom isn’t going to like getting a phone call about this… My breathing slowed as I realized my slip. I pursed my lips at my automatic thought. It had been four years since my mother had stopped caring, yet some part of my brain still held onto the memories of when she did care. 

I held onto my desk, trying desperately to think about everything else, anything else but that. I struggled against the memories, fighting to keep myself in the present. 

And just like that I was back to normal, accepting the detention slip with flourish. And it was like nothing had ever happened.