Boiling Ice

"David," his mother called to him. "Why don't you give that wrench a break? Aren't you tired?" "No, Ma. I swear I would've had this thing running just a minute ago, but I dropped my light when you came in," said Dave. "Well, just don't blame me when you're falling asleep in class. You need some rest, and that car isn't going anywhere; not by the looks of it."

Dave inherited the car after his father, Albert, passed away due to a heart attack. Albert always said he would have the car fixed for his son before he graduated, but he never found the time to do it himself. Now Dave spends most of his time in the garage, trying to finish what his father had started years ago.

"Dave! Come on sweetheart. Just give it a break. You've got to go to school in the morning, and you can't afford to let your grades slip any more than they already have." "I'll be fine. Just give me 30 more minutes, okay?" "Fine, but if you fall asleep again it'll be your fault."

The next morning, Dave woke up late without even realizing it. He felt well rested and began to get ready for school, which he used to love, but lately, it has felt like a temporary prison to him. As he opened the door, he noticed something. It was way too bright to be morning still. Dave closed the door back, and began to contemplate whether or not he should even try to go to school, already being late. He looked at the clock and saw that he hadn't missed much school, but he tried to convince himself not to go because he would have to ride his bike. He stood at the kitchen table as poured a bowl of dry cereal without milk. As he started to sit down, he stopped, and ate his cereal while standing up.

The seat that he was about to sit in was where his father used to sit, and he felt guilty for almost sitting there. Not only that, but it brought back bad memories that he often tries to push away. Albert was an alcoholic, and would sometimes come home drunk with fresh bruises in addition to a torn shirt. He would always try to be quiet, but not enough. Rebecca, Dave's mother, could always hear him when he came home drunk. She thought it would be best to leave him alone. Even though the sight was not enough to bring tears, it still saddened him.

Dave finally got out the door and began to ride his bike to school. Riding out of the driveway, he looked back at the house. It was yellow, with a few small windows that looked like scratched plastic. The other houses next to it were similar; after all, he lived in a poor neighborhood. As he rode into the next neighborhood, the houses began to look nicer. He would have liked to live in a better house, but he was still fine to at least live in a house at all.

Dave turned his head to the left as he came across the first lane of an intersection, and then to the right as he entered the second lane. He didn't come close to any cars, but he heard the wail of a horn behind him.

Surprised, he turned his head back without stopping, and crashed into a sign. His whole body ejected from the old mountain bike he was mounted on, and he landed hard on the ground. He lost his breath for a time, and was bleeding heavily from his eyebrow. He started to touch it, but lowered his hand to his stomach. It took quite a blow from the handlebar. His stomach was hurting more than anything else, and he had to sit down for a while. No one even asked him if he was alright. They probably thought he was dangerous because of his appearance. After all, he was tall, with a light/medium build, and he wore half-decent clothes with dark colors. They already knew he wasn't from around there.

A few long moments later, he rose, painfully. He made his way to his bike, leaned on it for another moment, and mounted once again. He started to pedal, but his feet jerked violently and he almost fell again. The chain was broken.

2.

"Great! How am I supposed to get around now?" he murmured to himself. He was closer to the school than home, so he walked to school planning to take the school bus home that he had missed that morning. While walking, he started thinking 'why me? What did I do? Haven't I gone through enough lately?'

Finally, he made into the doors of the front office of Connection High School. To his right, was the desk where a large woman sat, staring at him. Dave walked closer so that he could sign in, but as his hand neared the clipboard for the sign-in sheet, the woman pulled it away. She looked Dave for a moment and said, "What is your name young man?" "Dave Johnson," He replied. "Why are you so cut up, coming to school looking like this?" she hissed. "Look, I'm sorry. I had an accident. Now can I please get to class?" The woman sat up a bit and said, "I don't take attitudes from people, especially some student who doesn't have the decency to present himself correctly at school. I take late notes and send people to the dean. Now if you want to go there, his office is down the hall."

"But I haven't done anything." "Tell the dean that," the woman said as she swiftly scribbled the words 'To dean,' as if she had done it hundreds of times before. She placed the note on the counter with disgust. Dave stood there for a moment, wanting to say something back, but trying to hold back from doing so. The woman's eyes began to twitch with anger, and she said, "you need to go... now!" Dave said nothing and picked up the note and walked down the hall to the dean's office. As he walked in, the dean was talking to a teacher. They were laughing about something, but became silent in Dave's presence. The dean gestured his finger out the door, and Dave walked out, taking a seat on the bench nearby.

About 15 minutes later, the teacher walked out with a cup of coffee. Five more minutes passed, but the dean had not invited Dave in the office. Dave thought it was a waste of time sitting there, so he approached the door, but didn't know what to say. The dean looked up from his computer screen and groaned softly, then said, "have a seat sir." Dave sat in a chair before the desk. The dean was typing on his computer for a moment, and asked his name and grade. "Dave Johnson. I am in the 10th grade." The dean looked up his information in the school registry. He scanned the screen from left to right, top and bottom, then said, "you haven't been in this office before. Why now?" Dave tried to think about how to explain what happened when he was trying to sign in at the front desk. Feeling pressured, he said, "I was trying to sign in, but the woman at the desk wouldn't let me, and then she sent me here. The dean sat back in his chair and took a deep breath. "Young man, nobody sent you here but yourself. She may have written the note, but your actions got you into this office- nothing else. I want to make that clear to you. Do you understand?"

Dave was shocked. He didn't feel like he could even tell the dean what happened, so he stayed quiet. The dean took a better look at Dave and examined him, then said, "What happened to you? You're all beat up. Have you been in a fight recently?" "I fell off of my bike," Dave told him. "Are you sure?" the dean questioned him. Dave's patience was running out, and he urgently said "can I just go to class now?" "That can wait," said the dean as he filled out a yellow sheet. The dean handed Dave the yellow sheet and said, "you are to be in ISD today." The yellow sheet was a referral.

3

Dave didn't know where the room was for ISD. He felt too embarrassed to ask someone for directions, so he walked around campus to find it. He stopped to look at the referral that the dean had given him. It was like holding failure on a sheet of paper. He continued to walk when—

'Ring...Ring...Ring' The tardy bell had rung, and he still had no idea where he was going. He walked faster, but still trying to look casual.

A few minutes later, Dave thought about asking for a map of the school, that way he could find it on his own, and nobody would know that he was in detention. He started to go to the front office, but he remembered the large woman who had basically given him the referral in the first place. He stopped and thought for a moment. He wondered if he still had his copy of the school map from the beginning of the school year. It wasn't likely, but he thought