The Dream Trotters

Chapter 23

It was about fifteen minutes later when Finn parked his bike in the school parking lock.  At this time of day, the school was a depressing reminder of his sad life. 

The sun shone fiercely on the brick walls, yet not even a single ray of that sunshine would ever reach the students who were normally inside.  He spent at least seven hours in that building every single day of the week. 

While the snow came flaking down, while the leaves fell violently from the trees, and even when the rain slipped down the classroom windows.  He could be doing so much more with his life.  You never know, he thought.  With all the time I’ve spent in there I could probably have solved cancer.  Ironic, wasn’t it?

Interestingly enough, back at Theo’s house, Phillipa sat in the living room, wishing she could go back to school.  Sure, she hated the social part of it.  All the useless wordage involved with gossip and chatting. 

Even when she went to the hairdressers, she wished the lady would just be quiet and cut her hair!  But school was learning and knowledge, all in a rather bland building.  At this location,   teachers gave their time just to focus on her. 

Finn jumped off his worn bicycle and strode into the school through the grey double doors which constantly yawned open, spitting out students and children.  His feet knew the way, even if he was reluctant to go there- the cafeteria 

Wait, why am I even here? You see, Finn was a regular at detention, it had sort of become a normal part of his schedule.  But he couldn’t remember what he was spending time for.  It took him a few minutes, but he finally got there.  Oh yeah… the “test issue.”  Finn had accidentally bumped a whole stack of Logic exams into the paper shredder. 

But having the general appearance and attitude of a snotty teenager, of course the teacher assumed that he had done it on purpose.  Therefore, he had to come for the next three Saturdays and take every single one of the twenty four tests that he had destroyed.  Oh well.  At least I’ll get better at Logic.  Hopefully. 

Finn groaned as he sat down at the bench of one of the cafeteria lunch tables and it groaned in response.  These benches were old and definitely hold the residue of more than a million lunches.  Definitely appetizing. 

Mr. Carmichael, who was wearing an exceptionally horrible pistachio-colored tie with a purple shirt, passed by Finn and handed him the first of the tests.  Just great, he thought.   After throwing himself a five minute pity party, he finally started the test. 

What do these questions even mean?  How am I supposed to know why a Hasty Generalization is?  Finally, he set pencil to paper and attempted to spill out all the information he knew, pertaining to the subject or not.

Mr. Carmichael smirked at him as he looked up at the Wal-Mart clock, and straightened his bow-tie.  Funny thing was, Mr. Carmichael wasn’t really a sadistic man.  He loved teaching, he had great grandchildren, he even had a few students that he enjoyed teaching. 

But in a public school, loving your enemies got a little hard.  There was always the student who stuck gum on their assignments, refused to pay attention, or talked about him in the halls. 

Of course, he heard them.  Seriously, did they think he was deaf?  Even at his age, their words hurt, no matter whose mouth they came from.  In Mr. Carmichael’s eyes, Finn wasn’t evil, or anything close. But he was guilty of being perfect 

Mr. Carmichael had always been an awkward teenager, the kind who never quite had any friends, acne that you could play connect the dots on, and horrible self-esteem.  So kids like Finn infuriated him. 

In all reality, they too were flawed, but they had an air of confidence that was totally unnatural.  Finn was probably destined to fail his classes, but it didn’t matter.  No matter the number on the test, the boy didn’t seem to care.

In reality, Finn was nervous.  He squirmed on the bench, hoping to find a comfortable spot but realizing it was impossible.  A small bead of sweat gathered on the back of his neck and he rolled his shoulders to get rid of it.  He wasn’t ready for this.  He couldn’t afford to fail.  Being sent back a grade just because of an accident wasn’t fair. 

Thirty-four minutes into detention, Mr. Carmichael fell asleep at his desk, heavy breathing echoing out of his mouth.  The laptop which belonged to him sat on the desk, gleaming enticingly, as if shouting out that it had all the answers-every solution to Finn’s problems. 

But Finn couldn’t.  Cheating was wrong, he knew that much.  As Finn looked around the cafeteria, he got more and more depressed.  The room was walled with slimy white tiles and only a few fading banners. 

About fifteen large lunch tables, enclosed by their soggy benches, crowded the room.  In the corner was the cafeteria window, a space which most students called the “Mouth of Hell”  Even from five tables away, Finn could smell Monday’s lunch, and it wasn’t pleasant. 

In the hot, huge room Finn couldn’t help but follow in his teacher’s footsteps.  His eyelids quickly closed and the pencil slipped out of his hand.  Seconds or even minutes later, he once again found himself in the white room.  The white room from his dreams last night.  But this time, when he went through the first door, there was only one in the next room. 

A single, horrible door with purple, yellow, and lime-green splotches.  Finn cringed, a reaction that anyone would do if they saw a door like that.  Soon, he turned the floral knob and the door creaked open. 

Immediately, Finn was overwhelmed with the smell of paper, an indescribable odor that you can only perceive while reading a brand-new book or when you wake up after falling asleep while studying.  Thousands of papers drifted towards him, capturing him in a whirlwind of white and red.  He caught one and looked at it. 

It was a test, one he remembered well.  In the corner was a ninety-four, accompanied by one of his friend’s name.  Go figure, I always knew he was an undercover genius.  In the middle of a paper tsunami, sat Mr. Carmichael, with the same desk and same computer sitting in front of him.  

The air smelled of books, dust, and tea that had grown cold from sitting on a counter for too long.  Numbers and letters swirled through the air, mixing with the papers, and populating Finn’s attention for a few moments at a time. 

Finn stumbled over a few stack of papers, pencils, and broken math books, but the teacher still mumbled and snored with his head on the desk.  Finn peaked at the computer.  Answers.  To a Logic test, possibly even the one he had been taking a few minutes ago. 

Finn knew he was dreaming, he couldn’t explain the feeling but he just knew it.  And all these answers were probably wrong anyway.  So he glanced. 

Just peaking at the words which displayed themselves across the glared computer screen.  After he was confident he knew all of them, he exited the room, falling right back into his seat.  Ouch.  But no one noticed, Mr. Carmichael just kept on sleeping. 

Finn let out a breath of relief, and quickly wrote all the answers done.  At least being wrong is better than having no answers at all, he thought.  For once in his life, even though he knew he was putting down complete nonsense, he felt confident.

Then he marched up to the teacher, but the finished test down, and left with a smile.  A dream guess is better than nothing!  Finn walked out the doors which were still open and hopped on his desk, smiling all the way back to the factory in the woods.

It was twenty minutes later when Mr. Carmichael woke up.  He was surprised to see an empty room, and a finished test on his desk.  He glanced at the answers just to amuse himself.  Number one, correct.  Number two, correct. 

It went on an on, Finn had gotten a perfect score.  He even got the extra credit correct.  Mr. Carmichael groaned, maybe this kid was charming and a genius.  He marked a one-hundred-percent on the front and went back to sleep.