Post by fellbelow on Feb 3, 2007 0:51:40 GMT -5
“Any volunteers?”
Every head in the classroom dropped. No one wanted to risk meeting the teacher's gaze and being called to the front. Children's eyes flitted from side to side hoping that if they were somehow caught in her line of sight their motion would throw the look elsewhere. Many of the students stared unblinking at their desks. They hoped that somehow the swirling wood grain would open into an escape hole and allow them to run and avoid the presentation altogether.
“Well, someone has to go. We can't just sit here all period while you guys stare holes in your desks,” the teacher looked around the room and caught Nick Tucker glancing in her direction.
“Looks like you're up, Nick.”
The heat of every gaze in the room fell on Nick's face with the sound of students shifting in their seats. He felt like the soldiers who walk the front line of battle when he turned to face the class with the blackboard behind him. No one was sure whether they would live or die, but they knew that being the first into battle meant you weren't leaving without losing a limb.
“When you're ready, Nick,” the teacher made it sound like he had all the time in the world.
For a moment Nick just stood there watching his thumbs twiddle over one another. Beyond that he saw his feet lifting and dropping in cadence as he shifted his weight from one side to the other. One, two. One, two.
“Maybe I was a bit too generous. Soon would be preferable,” the teacher said.
“I can start with my Grandfather. He fought in Vietnam,” as he spoke he looked at the other kids. They had all been involved in their notebooks and cell phones until the teacher had made it obvious that Nick was choking. The scent of blood was in the air now.
“Is he your oldest living relative?” the teacher asked.
Nick's eyes lit up. His nervousness left him and he knew exactly where to start.
“No. My mom told me one time that my distant Aunt Eve and Uncle Adam were really old. She mentioned something about some fruit and a snake. I remember I thought that was weird because snakes eat mice and stuff like that, but I wasn't really paying attention because Uncle Eric was telling the other kids how he used to have to wear real animals to stay warm. He's probably my favorite Uncle because he always gets drunk and starts arguments with Uncle Chris. See, they both went to this New Land that no one else knew about, but I always said that if no one else knew about it, why did it matter? Besides, my Choctaw cousin Jospeph told me that his great-great-great some kind of grandfather told him that he and his side of the family were there before either of my Uncles and that they were both full of-”
“Nick!” the teacher's face was solid red. He heard the rest of the class snickering and he knew that he had pushed it. Now comes the limping away, he thought.
“The assignment was to put together a detailed family history, not stand in front of the class and tell stories!”
“But I was telling you about my family.”
“Nick, I don't know how naive you think I am, but no one would believe that you were related to all of those people. Especially if you act like you just talked to them the other day.”
“Oh, I didn't. The last reunion was this past summer. Aunt Eve and Uncle Adam are visiting at the moment, but the only permanent resident is my Opa Adolph,” as he spoke Nick had a firm, convicted look about him.
“Nick, just sit down. You'll come to class tomorrow with a real family history or you'll get an F on the assignment.”
“No way!”
“Sit!”
Nick marched back to his seat a little set off. When he got situated in his desk once again and the next student had began their presentation, he felt someone tap his shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“Opa Adolph. Did you mean the Adolph?” the kid asked.
“Yeah, what about it?”
“What's he like?” The kid had a smirk that betrayed his false interest.
“He's great.”
Now came a changing of the guard. The smirk fell from the inquisitor's lips and picked itself up on Nick's.
“I know it's hard, but if you don't want the truth then keep your schnoz in your own business.”
After a moment of blank staring the kid turned back to his friends to relate what Nick had said.
That afternoon when school let out Nick began his walk home alone. Nothing but his thoughts and the sound of street to accompanied him until a red-orange cat sprang from the bushes and attacked his heel.
“Shit!”
Nick kicked the cat away, but it came right back and this time it jumped for the fleshy spot behind his knee. His leg gave out and the cat hissed and ran away when Nick almost crushed it. When it was a safe distance away the cat turned and sat staring at Nick as he got to his feet. Something sharp and cold hit Nick on the side of the head. He fell again.
From the same bushes that the cat had sprung stepped the inquisitive schnoz. Nick started to stand again before he saw two other boys emerge from the brush and decided to just stay down. The Schnoz circled around in front of Nick and stared down at him. Nick noticed how pissed he looked but opted to keep his mouth shut. He was ready to get home.
“Hold my yarmulke. If I messed it up beating this bigot senseless my dad would kill me..”
Nick almost protested the label but knew it was pointless. Instead, he knelt and took the beating, eventually falling on his face and blacking out.
What woke Nick was one of his fingers popping back into place. It hurt like hell. It always did.
He laid there while the rest of his body readjusted itself to be able to move again. Once everything was aligned and in place he stood up.
I was wrong. Now comes the limping away.
When he finally made it home he went straight upstairs to his room to grab a change of clothes and wash up.
On his way downstairs to the kitchen he passed the sitting room and saw Opa Adolph sitting at the piano.
“You never learned,” Nick said.
Adolph was startled by Nick's sudden presence. He smiled as, however, as Nick approached the bench and sat down next to him.
“You assume that from my skill? I learned, boy. I just didn't learn well,” he threw in an exaggerated wink and as he spoke Nick smelled the cognac on his breath and saw the quarter-full bottle sitting atop the piano.
“You never stop anymore, do you?”
“It's not like it will kill me,” he said. He turned to stare out the window again. “If my life were better I'd be thankful for that.”
Nick thought about whether he should tell his Opa about the Schnoz that beat him up or not. He decided to tell him everything starting with the family history presentation.
Adolph sat and seemed to be thinking hard over what Nick had just told him. Nick wondered if he was thinking about how unforgiving his teacher had been or how hot headed the Schnoz had been.
“More red or orange, would you say?”
Nick had no clue what his Opa was talking about.
“His yarmulke? Is that what you mean? It was black. Not red or orange.”
His Opa looked down at him in that condescending manner that only grandparents can get away with.
“No, not the yarmulke, boy. The cat. Was it more red or orange?”
“I guess red.” Nick felt like his Opa was slipping. Out of all that he had told him, why had he thought so long on the wild cat?
“I thought so. Hard times lie ahead for you, Nick.”
“What do you mean? What's the cat got to do with any 'hard times'?”
A weight that is only held by experience settled on the room. Nick knew to listen or he might not be able to handle the load he was about to be passed.
“Horses are archaic. Cats, with their odd way of passing from shadow to shadow unseen until need be, are much more practical to modern times.”
“I still don't get it, Opa.”
Adolph got up and beckoned Nick to follow him into the kitchen. As they entered they startled Aunt Eve at the refrigerator and she dropped what she was holding. Without picking it up or closing the door she hurried past them, sparing them only a weak smile.
“An odd ball, eh, boy?”
“Sure,” Nick said. He was frustrated now, though. “Opa! What does the cat have to do with hard times for me?”
“A red cat for a red horse, boy,” he said as he examined what Aunt Eve had dropped.
Something clicked in Nick's mind.
“War?”
“Ja, boy. But it appears I was wrong to assume the hard times are held only for you,” he said, tossing what he was holding back to Nick.
“If history truly does repeat itself then that can only mean hard times for us all,” he said. Then, more to himself than to Nick, “Can we really fall any further?”
Nick stood confused and watched his Opa walk from the kitchen to the sitting room again. He wasn't sure how to process what had just happened. His day had gone from being about a failed history project and getting beaten to the point of death to being about War omens from cats.
Nick moved into the light. He held the only clue he was left with now. His brow furrowed as he turned the object over in his hands. Its red skin caught the light as he did so. It reflected the white light all along its near flawless surface. One spot absorbed the light into a dead white.
A small bite had been taken from one side of the apple.
Every head in the classroom dropped. No one wanted to risk meeting the teacher's gaze and being called to the front. Children's eyes flitted from side to side hoping that if they were somehow caught in her line of sight their motion would throw the look elsewhere. Many of the students stared unblinking at their desks. They hoped that somehow the swirling wood grain would open into an escape hole and allow them to run and avoid the presentation altogether.
“Well, someone has to go. We can't just sit here all period while you guys stare holes in your desks,” the teacher looked around the room and caught Nick Tucker glancing in her direction.
“Looks like you're up, Nick.”
The heat of every gaze in the room fell on Nick's face with the sound of students shifting in their seats. He felt like the soldiers who walk the front line of battle when he turned to face the class with the blackboard behind him. No one was sure whether they would live or die, but they knew that being the first into battle meant you weren't leaving without losing a limb.
“When you're ready, Nick,” the teacher made it sound like he had all the time in the world.
For a moment Nick just stood there watching his thumbs twiddle over one another. Beyond that he saw his feet lifting and dropping in cadence as he shifted his weight from one side to the other. One, two. One, two.
“Maybe I was a bit too generous. Soon would be preferable,” the teacher said.
“I can start with my Grandfather. He fought in Vietnam,” as he spoke he looked at the other kids. They had all been involved in their notebooks and cell phones until the teacher had made it obvious that Nick was choking. The scent of blood was in the air now.
“Is he your oldest living relative?” the teacher asked.
Nick's eyes lit up. His nervousness left him and he knew exactly where to start.
“No. My mom told me one time that my distant Aunt Eve and Uncle Adam were really old. She mentioned something about some fruit and a snake. I remember I thought that was weird because snakes eat mice and stuff like that, but I wasn't really paying attention because Uncle Eric was telling the other kids how he used to have to wear real animals to stay warm. He's probably my favorite Uncle because he always gets drunk and starts arguments with Uncle Chris. See, they both went to this New Land that no one else knew about, but I always said that if no one else knew about it, why did it matter? Besides, my Choctaw cousin Jospeph told me that his great-great-great some kind of grandfather told him that he and his side of the family were there before either of my Uncles and that they were both full of-”
“Nick!” the teacher's face was solid red. He heard the rest of the class snickering and he knew that he had pushed it. Now comes the limping away, he thought.
“The assignment was to put together a detailed family history, not stand in front of the class and tell stories!”
“But I was telling you about my family.”
“Nick, I don't know how naive you think I am, but no one would believe that you were related to all of those people. Especially if you act like you just talked to them the other day.”
“Oh, I didn't. The last reunion was this past summer. Aunt Eve and Uncle Adam are visiting at the moment, but the only permanent resident is my Opa Adolph,” as he spoke Nick had a firm, convicted look about him.
“Nick, just sit down. You'll come to class tomorrow with a real family history or you'll get an F on the assignment.”
“No way!”
“Sit!”
Nick marched back to his seat a little set off. When he got situated in his desk once again and the next student had began their presentation, he felt someone tap his shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“Opa Adolph. Did you mean the Adolph?” the kid asked.
“Yeah, what about it?”
“What's he like?” The kid had a smirk that betrayed his false interest.
“He's great.”
Now came a changing of the guard. The smirk fell from the inquisitor's lips and picked itself up on Nick's.
“I know it's hard, but if you don't want the truth then keep your schnoz in your own business.”
After a moment of blank staring the kid turned back to his friends to relate what Nick had said.
That afternoon when school let out Nick began his walk home alone. Nothing but his thoughts and the sound of street to accompanied him until a red-orange cat sprang from the bushes and attacked his heel.
“Shit!”
Nick kicked the cat away, but it came right back and this time it jumped for the fleshy spot behind his knee. His leg gave out and the cat hissed and ran away when Nick almost crushed it. When it was a safe distance away the cat turned and sat staring at Nick as he got to his feet. Something sharp and cold hit Nick on the side of the head. He fell again.
From the same bushes that the cat had sprung stepped the inquisitive schnoz. Nick started to stand again before he saw two other boys emerge from the brush and decided to just stay down. The Schnoz circled around in front of Nick and stared down at him. Nick noticed how pissed he looked but opted to keep his mouth shut. He was ready to get home.
“Hold my yarmulke. If I messed it up beating this bigot senseless my dad would kill me..”
Nick almost protested the label but knew it was pointless. Instead, he knelt and took the beating, eventually falling on his face and blacking out.
What woke Nick was one of his fingers popping back into place. It hurt like hell. It always did.
He laid there while the rest of his body readjusted itself to be able to move again. Once everything was aligned and in place he stood up.
I was wrong. Now comes the limping away.
When he finally made it home he went straight upstairs to his room to grab a change of clothes and wash up.
On his way downstairs to the kitchen he passed the sitting room and saw Opa Adolph sitting at the piano.
“You never learned,” Nick said.
Adolph was startled by Nick's sudden presence. He smiled as, however, as Nick approached the bench and sat down next to him.
“You assume that from my skill? I learned, boy. I just didn't learn well,” he threw in an exaggerated wink and as he spoke Nick smelled the cognac on his breath and saw the quarter-full bottle sitting atop the piano.
“You never stop anymore, do you?”
“It's not like it will kill me,” he said. He turned to stare out the window again. “If my life were better I'd be thankful for that.”
Nick thought about whether he should tell his Opa about the Schnoz that beat him up or not. He decided to tell him everything starting with the family history presentation.
Adolph sat and seemed to be thinking hard over what Nick had just told him. Nick wondered if he was thinking about how unforgiving his teacher had been or how hot headed the Schnoz had been.
“More red or orange, would you say?”
Nick had no clue what his Opa was talking about.
“His yarmulke? Is that what you mean? It was black. Not red or orange.”
His Opa looked down at him in that condescending manner that only grandparents can get away with.
“No, not the yarmulke, boy. The cat. Was it more red or orange?”
“I guess red.” Nick felt like his Opa was slipping. Out of all that he had told him, why had he thought so long on the wild cat?
“I thought so. Hard times lie ahead for you, Nick.”
“What do you mean? What's the cat got to do with any 'hard times'?”
A weight that is only held by experience settled on the room. Nick knew to listen or he might not be able to handle the load he was about to be passed.
“Horses are archaic. Cats, with their odd way of passing from shadow to shadow unseen until need be, are much more practical to modern times.”
“I still don't get it, Opa.”
Adolph got up and beckoned Nick to follow him into the kitchen. As they entered they startled Aunt Eve at the refrigerator and she dropped what she was holding. Without picking it up or closing the door she hurried past them, sparing them only a weak smile.
“An odd ball, eh, boy?”
“Sure,” Nick said. He was frustrated now, though. “Opa! What does the cat have to do with hard times for me?”
“A red cat for a red horse, boy,” he said as he examined what Aunt Eve had dropped.
Something clicked in Nick's mind.
“War?”
“Ja, boy. But it appears I was wrong to assume the hard times are held only for you,” he said, tossing what he was holding back to Nick.
“If history truly does repeat itself then that can only mean hard times for us all,” he said. Then, more to himself than to Nick, “Can we really fall any further?”
Nick stood confused and watched his Opa walk from the kitchen to the sitting room again. He wasn't sure how to process what had just happened. His day had gone from being about a failed history project and getting beaten to the point of death to being about War omens from cats.
Nick moved into the light. He held the only clue he was left with now. His brow furrowed as he turned the object over in his hands. Its red skin caught the light as he did so. It reflected the white light all along its near flawless surface. One spot absorbed the light into a dead white.
A small bite had been taken from one side of the apple.