mentanoia - ben gross

chapter three;

Chapter three;

If it hadn't been for the luck of seeing the postman drop a mail in his post bus, it would've taken Ben weeks upon weeks before he would've realized he had post. He felt awful for feeling some warm feelings inside of him when he realized it was a funeral letter; the realization that someone had thought of inviting him must've been the most unexpecting thing to happen.

Seeing the photograph of the smiling five-year-old he'd never seen in real life but only heard a countless of things about through Patty, the warm feelings inside of Ben were soon replaced by a hollow emptiness.

~

She'd totally forgotten about the history presentation she was supposed to put together, so there she stood. Wiggling her weight from one foot to the other, forcing a smile to her friend giving her two thumbs up.

"No PowerPoint presentation?" Mr. Shapiro's frown showed enough disappointment, but of course he didn't know about the awful week Jane was in the midst in of, "Did you actually prepare a presentation?"

She knew she was already failing this class, so she had to wing this by improvising absolutely everything. Nodding to her teacher, she took a deep breath and looked at her fellow peers. "I'd like to talk about the 1953 North Sea flood."

Mr. Shapiro tilted his face immediately. "The North Sea Flood?" He visibly considered the subject, "Alright then, go ahead."

And so she did. Jane threw out everything she knew about the flood that had struck a tiny country called the Netherlands and even a bit of Belgium back in 1953, killing two thousand people. Somehow, as if she'd suddenly become an entirely different person, she managed to collect everyone's undivided attention. She even caught Ben, seemingly impressed, staring her up and down.

In the midst of her recital about the consequences the flood had had, the classroom door slid open.

Principal Grubbs peeked inside, scanning the classroom before finding Jane standing at the front. She motioned for Jane to follow her and shared a look with Mr. Shapiro, "I'll borrow Jane for the rest of the day, now."

But Mr. Shapiro jumped up to his feet. "She was actually in the middle of her presentation, can't she finish it first?" He saw the surprised eyebrows of Mrs. Grubbs. "I mean, unless it is that urgent, of course."

Pushing her hands against her hips, the principal nodded to the history teacher. "It is that urgent. Follow me, Jane."

She wasn't taken to the principal's office, but was told in the middle of the hallway that it was about Max.

"He has punched a kid and needs to be picked up and since no one can seem to reach your mother, I'm afraid we'll have to ask you." An apologetic pout appeared on her full lips. She paused for longer than seemed natural, "It scares me that I, nor seemingly anyone at this school, has any idea of what's happened to you and your family."

"Fuck." Jane whispered under her breath, so softly that even she herself couldn't hear it. She looked down at her feet and wiggled her toes in her shoes.

"Why did I have to find out through your brothers teachers and maybe even more importantly, why doesn't anyone know about Ian?"

Jane shrugged her shoulders. "No one knew Ian at this school, so I don't see why it would have to worry anyone?"

Mrs. Grubbs sighed. "Because we know you and you're the one suffering. We can help you, if you need more time for projects or if you need someone to talk to."

The thought of talking to teachers about Ian alone made Jane sick in her stomach. She shook her face before Mrs. Grubbs had even finished her sentence. Terrified that somehow the news would come out and teachers would start to treat her differently, Jane balled her fingers into a fist. "No!" It slipped out louder than she'd meant it to, "I mean." She coughed, "No, it's fine. That won't be necessary."