• when fate gave her a beginning

8.6K 229 43
                                    

· c h a n g e

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

· c h a n g e

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

"When we are no longer able

to change a situation,

we are challenged

to change ourselves."

- Victor Frankl

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

· w h e n s h e f e l l

" . . . and conditions between the Israelis and the Palestinians only got worse after the Palestinians launched an endless Jihad on their neighbors." Mr. Claussen stated, in a voice that completely raised the definition of the word monotone. His hands were clasped nervously behind his back, thumb and forefinger interlocked as he paced the length of the room. Every time he pronounced a syllable he swung back on his heel and took another step - and each time he took a step, the leather on his apparently new Oxfords squeaked repetitively, like someone jogging down a rickety staircase.

But, despite the most annoying noise, and the alarming consistency - his painfully elongated statement made everyone's eyes drop another half a centimeter more, and fall into a deeper glaze. Well everyone, except two people. The first was Joey Hawkins, whose head was laid down on his desk, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was snoring loudly, his upper lip curling so high with each exhale that it touched the bottom of his nose. And the second happened to be Faith Johnson, who was, an almost perfect honor-roll earning student and conveniently in line to be Valedictorian. So - naturally if you like to stereotype, it was only common sense to assume that she found the Isreali/Palestinian Crisis terribly interesting.

This time, you stereotypers are right.

Faith leans forward as much as her seat will allow, straining against the baby blue fabric of her Yale tee-shirt. In the light of the classroom her shirt appeared to be brand new, but upon closer inspection, you could indeed see that it had been washed one too many times. Faith was smiling that sort of dreamy thin-lipped smile you get when something is utterly fascinating. In this case, it was the most boring lecture the senior class at Oakley High School has yet to experience.

Mr. Claussen opens his frog-like lips again, before reaching back with one hand to smooth his long-gone-out-of-fashion mullet, fingers tapering over the out of place, greasy strands. He pauses in mid-stride and starts to continue his sentence when the phone rings. The tune happens to be that of a cheesy version of 'Jingle Bells,' and at that moment it is so absurd and unexpected, that even Joey with his chainsaw snores, jerks his neck up in surprise, pretending he was awake the whole time. Mr. Claussen picks up the phone, "hello?"

A pause ensues, and Mr. Claussen looks around the room once, his black eyes hovering over a particular student, "yes she's here."

Mr. Claussen shifts his weight uncomfortably, and mumbles something under his breath, pulling the phone closer to his mouth, as if he somehow wished he could lower his voice, but didn't know how. At this point in time he had captured the attention of all his students, a feat he has never before accomplished in all his thirty years of teaching. Faith's shoulders tense up, and she holds her breath out of anticipation.

Saving FaithWhere stories live. Discover now