My Teacher is History

Chapter 6 - Having a Bite

Kelli met me in front of the school. We weren’t technically allowed to leave campus for lunch. Only the juniors and seniors could do that. But who needed to leave campus when you had food trucks? Supposedly, every day a different set of food trucks came to our school. I guess they took turns rotating throughout the week. Today we had burgers, Mexican food, and a dessert truck. Okay, this was going to get expensive, but I had to splurge at least for the first day. Unlike most people, when I get frazzled, I get hungry. I wondered if I would weigh two hundred pounds before this year was over. I picked a burger on sourdough with grilled mushrooms and swiss. Kelli had frozen yogurt from the dessert truck, and we sat at a picnic table in the courtyard.  

“So, what happened?” I asked. Kelli was usually pretty good at getting the gossip.

“Well, like I said,” she began, “some guy on my Twitter said someone got killed or stabbed or something. Or they stabbed themselves. I don’t know, that’s all I heard. You know, it’s really got me jumpy. What kind of thing is that to happen on the first day of school?”

There was a fire-rescue truck parked in front of the school, but no one was being taken away or anything. There were only two police cars. I decided that no one had died. There would be way more commotion for something like that.

“So, what do you think it has to do with Mr. Harris?” I asked.

Kelli looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I saw him talking to the police.”

“Oh, I didn’t see that. Maybe it was one of his students.”

“Maybe he killed one of his students!” I said.

“That’s ridiculous, Amber. You need to come in for a landing.” Kelli was being the voice of reason for once. “You’ve been all awkward since this morning. So what if the guy rides a motorcycle and looks a little strange. You need to leave that man alone.”

I realized that I had really gone off the rails. I guess I had let all the stories from my sister Marnie and her friends get to me. I used to get so upset when people at my old school would judge people based on their looks, and there I was doing the same exact thing. I felt a little embarrassed that I had let my imagination run wild, and I actually felt a little disappointed that I wasn’t going to meet Mr. Harris until the next day. Then I had an idea.

“Maybe I can go meet him when I have study hall,” I said, half to myself.

Kelli looked at me like I had lost my mind. “Now you’re overcompensating. Just let it be, Amber,” she said. “You’ll see him tomorrow. You’re gonna give the guy a complex or something if you don’t start acting normal.”

Again, I knew she was right, but I couldn’t help scheming about how to get out of study hall and over to his classroom. I felt like I wanted to meet him just to show that I wasn’t afraid.

Art history class was great. The art teacher was this real hippy lady with a long flowing flowery dress and a scarf wrapped around her head. She had some examples of famous art pieces hanging all around the room. I recognized Van Gogh, Picasso, Warhol, Michelangelo, Dali, and the guy who looks like he just splatters his paint all over. She talked about how art has influenced her life and even had a few paintings of her own hanging up. She painted portraits, and I recognized some of the teachers I had seen this morning. That was nice that they sat as models for her.

Gym class was a blur. We talked about team sports. Ugh. The first sport was going to be volleyball, so I gravitated toward my friends when we were choosing up teams. Kelli, Ray, Cathy, Steven and Juli were all in my class and on my team. I saw Hoodie over on the bleachers. None of us had changed into our gym clothes since it was the first day, and I wondered if he would wear his hoodie when we did start dressing out. I thought we should try to get him on our team, but I was a little put off by his shyness. I didn’t quite feel right just going up to him. Maybe tomorrow when we were all practicing I would break the ice, I thought.

Study hall is an interesting idea. I guess these days it comes from the fact that there are too many students in the school and not enough teachers, so they have to add another period. My study hall was last period, and I knew I would be abusing that sooner or later. Might as well be today, I thought. I checked in to the library, put my backpack down, and started to set up my work area. I didn’t really have any homework or anything yet, so that consisted of taking out a pad and paper, my sketchbook, and some pencils. There were computers here for the students to use, but I hadn’t yet decided whether to bring my laptop to school or not.

I just started sketching. I drew an antique looking desk with several books on top. There was a feather pen and an ink bottle on the desk. The book in the center was open and there were words written in a strange-looking language on the page. It looked like someone had been writing in the book and suddenly stopped. I wasn’t sure where the ideas for my sketches were coming from, but they were giving me practice with angles, lighting, and shading. As I sketched, I looked up from time to time. Students were coming and going as they pleased. Two older girls left and came back with sodas from the vending machines. One boy left and I didn’t see him again. At least fifteen minutes went by, and I figured he had just gone home. It didn’t seem like study hall was monitored very closely. I could see the librarian sitting in her office typing something. The aide I had signed in with was eating a sandwich. I decided to make it look like I was going out for a minute and left all my things spread out on the table. I headed for the side entrance of the library which opened out into the main hall of the school.

The hall to the history department was right there to my left. It didn’t seem so dark now. The flickering light behind the heavy double doors had apparently been fixed. I pushed the door on the left open and walked bravely down the hall. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I passed a couple of open classrooms and could see all the students and teachers going about their business. No one even glanced up at me, so I stopped worrying about being caught skipping. I got to the door that said “J. Harris - History” and raised my hand to knock. The door was slightly open and I could hear voices. They were whispering but one sounded upset and one sounded angry. It sounded like a man and a woman or girl. The man’s voice sounded really mad.

What on earth were you thinking? Do you want to ruin everything?

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to! The girl was whimpering and probably crying.

You need to keep that to yourself. Can you imagine what would happen if anyone here found out about us? It would be over. Do you hear me? Over!

I know, I know! I promise, nothing like that will ever happen again!

It had better not. We don’t want any more bloodshed like the last time!

I gasped when he said this. And I think they might have heard me because they both stopped talking at once. I could feel the blood drain from my face. I heard footsteps approaching. There was nowhere to hide either. I just tried to play it off and stepped quickly to the water fountain across the hall. I took a few sips and the door to the classroom opened slowly. A girl came out. She was a little older, maybe a junior. She had dark eyeliner, black hair, and wore black mesh fingerless gloves. The eyeliner had been running down her cheeks and she was obviously crying. I gave her a little smile as I walked by and I thought she believed my water fountain trick. Behind her there was a shadowy figure. He was tall, dark, and looked angry. I could tell he knew I had heard them talking. It seemed like his eyes were glowing with fire as he glared at me. I quickly looked away and walked back down the hall to the double doors.

I returned to the library and slumped down in my chair. My heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to explode in my chest. I wasn’t going to stick around until the end of the school day, so I packed my bag and went back out into the main hallway. No one was around to see me walk out the front doors and off campus, heading to the safety of my own home.