I Forgive, I Don't Forget

Chapter Eight: Wooden Observations, Hidden Motivations?

This chapter is dedicated to my ELA teacher who wanted to read my writing. Hope you like it Mrs. B! 

I was sitting in English staring at the picture projected on the Smart Board in front of me.  It was almost time to go, although this was technically a warm-up.

Somehow I was supposed to come up with a profound paragraph about a picture of a deck. Now, I know what you're thinking-that is if you're a regular person-what's so profound about a deck? 

And that's exactly what I'm thinking right now.

"Mr. Fordson, uh what exactly am I supposed to get out of staring at wood?" I hadn't raised my hand, so I was expecting a smart-alecky comment from him because that was part of his personality.

Instead, he replied to me pleasantly. "Ah, I was waiting for a question such as this," He said this in a manner that I can't quite place, he sounded like he knew something I didn't, which obviously he did,"Students, think about what the wood has gone through to become a part of that deck, think about where it came from." He had announced that to the whole class, we all responded with silence. 

At least I'm not the only one having trouble with this. 

Asher leaned towards me and whispered, "Character. Think about character."

Yet another pointless suggestion. 

My face remained blank. "How's that supposed to help?" I whispered back to him in a slightly sarcastic tone. I know I was being mean but, I was frustrated; I never have trouble with simple assignments as such.

"Think about the word character. It can be used in many different contexts. Connect the two different uses. With the wood and people."

The character of the wood. The character of people. 

It finally hit me after a few minutes of contemplating. (A/N vocabulary word, do I get a cookie?) I frantically scribbled down my thoughts and flipped my journal closed. This is what I had come up with:

Wooden Observations

I look down at the wooden deck, remembering the knots and imperfections in the wood that lie beneath the paint.  Each knot was part of the history of the tree the plank came from. The knots help make the character of the wood.  In the corner I can see a small section of paint chipping, revealing the raw wood beneath it.  In the same way, my—our—imperfections contribute to our character. We can hide ourselves beneath a façade but, our character will show sooner or later.  We can hide our ulterior motives but, eventually those will be revealed too. There is truly no point in hiding it.

Content in what I had written I gathered my things and dropped my journal atop the pile on Mr. Fordson's desk and headed out the door to my next class.

That assignment had gotten me thinking. What did I have to hide? 

I couldn't think of one thing at the moment.

There's nothing in my life I keep secret, at least not intentionally. And then there's the whole thing with Jonas and Asher being stepbrothers. They kept that a secret. And I'm pretty sure it was intentional. Is there anything Sadie was keeping from me? She'd been a little distant a few times this summer.

Just then, my thoughts were interrupted by Sadie, screaming at me halfway down the hallway.

"Come here! I have to tell you something!"

There was no way I could force myself through the mass of students in the hallway. 

"Why don't you come here?" I shouted over the buzz of students chattering.