Trey Roberts and the Ancient Relics

by Lee Magnus

  “You can’t change the past, but you can learn from it”

  and

  "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

  Trey waved at someone in the back of the room then brought his attention to the front desk headed by a hefty mid-sixties woman with greying brown hair pulled in a tight bun. She greeted him with only a sullen glance above half-lensed glasses.

  He gave her a polite nod. He smiled and said nervously, “I hope you had a great weekend Mrs. Hawkins.”

  Her face softened into a faint smile. She replied, “I did Trey. Thank you for asking.”

  He felt good about the smile he brought to Mrs. Hawkins. She always seemed unhappy. The students in history class were good enough. Maybe it’s something at home, he thought to himself as he passed her desk.

  He turned down his row holding onto the previous thought then unexpectedly tripped on something in the aisle, stumbled into several desks, then knocked Marcus to the floor before he sprawled across a desk. He righted himself facing a surprised girl. The class became instantly silent while everyone processed the embarrassing moment. Then, in unison, it roared with laughter.

  He was unmoved by the directed amusement at his expense because he was too consumed with the beautiful person staring back at him. Teenage lust overpowered motor functions, fireworks exploded in his stomach. Oh my god. It’s Sarah Thompson. She’s looking right at me. His heart galloped, his mind whirled. Mesmerized by big brown eyes, he didn’t move for what seemed like a whole semester. Her raised brows highlighted radiant wavy blonde hair. Roses and lavender filled his senses. Her perfect slightly parted lips were shaded in a light pink. Her head turned ever so slightly to the left. With a soft smile she said in a voice that could melt mountains, “Hey Trey Roberts. Nice of you to drop by,” after which she giggled the sweetest most lovely giggle in all humanity.

  The world as he knew it stopped. The roaring mass echoed distantly in his mind. His next moves were in slow motion compared to reality.

  Without removing his eyes from hers or saying a word, he gave her a wavering smile then slowly pushed himself off her desk. He turned to help Marcus with wide eyes and a petrified face.

  “Kid!” Marcus said under his breath. “You ok?”

  Awareness seeped back. Anger boiled to the surface of his skin which was easily mistaken for embarrassment. He cut a vicious eye at an oversized oaf who offered a wicked smirk in return as he pulled a large foot back under his desk.

  “Yeah. I’m fine,” he replied curtly, pulling his glare from the instigator.

  “Class! Please settle down! Mr. Smith, will you please keep your feet to yourself?” Mrs. Hawkins said in a yodel-like, vacillating voice.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Donald said in an overly agreeable manner.

  “Mr. Roberts, please find your seat.”

  Trey nodded then took the third seat behind Sarah in the adjacent row.

  “Ok class, last week we discussed the Korean War….”

  As she droned on, Trey couldn’t help but steal another look in Sarah’s direction. He slowly drifted off for a moment, daydreaming of a warm spring day, wind rustling her hair, walking hand in hand...

  ”Mr. Roberts?” Mrs. Hawkins requested under raised eyebrows.

  “Premier Kim Il-Sung, Mrs. Hawkins,” he said in step, slowly drawing his attention away from Sarah’s exquisite loveliness.

  “That is correct. Kim Il-Sung was the leader of North Korea during the war,” she replied moving on with the lesson.

  After class, Donald gave Trey a crooked grin that went unnoticed as Sarah waved a chest high bye when she passed. In a thick daze, he left the room and the building with Marcus who led them to P.E. Marcus rambled on about something, but Trey hardly heard a sound.

  While Trey was highly athletic, his short stature compared to other eighth grade boys along with a general indifference to basketball usually influenced his choice of activity during P.E. Marcus’ disinterest in sports always made him a great walking partner.

  “Why do you let him pick on you like that?” asked Marcus as they lapped around the track. “You could easily take him. I know he’s got at least fifty pounds on you, but I still think you’d have no problem.”

  An ultra-skinny boy passed them, maintaining a steady pace.

  “I mean,” Marcus said pointing at the passing boy, “If you were Thomas, he would smash you. But you have skills. What good are they if you don’t use them?”

  “If I were Thomas, I’d just keep running for another thirty seconds and Donald would give up,” Trey said snickering. “I don’t know why I don’t stand up to him. I guess I sort of feel bad for him.”

  “Why?” Marcus said with a sour face. “Why would you feel sorry for that guy? He’s awful.”

  “I know. He moved in with his grandmother who lived on my street about three years ago. She died like a year later. I didn’t know him before that. My mom said they couldn’t afford the house, so they moved into government housing. He seemed like a nice kid. But he hung around his older brother a lot who was always in trouble, so I didn’t get a chance to know him that well. Donald, you see, was held back a year. The school offered a tutor, but his mom was gone all the time and he wasn’t motivated enough to make the sessions on his own. Donald basically raised himself, and not too well up to this point. He hangs with Bobby and Carl, two of the dumbest kids in school. The trio couldn’t prove the Pythagorean theorem to save their life. It wasn’t until last year that he took notice of me. It was like all of a sudden, he hated me. I don’t know what I did.”

  “Yeah, that’s tough, but he has to take responsibility for his actions at some point. What about his dad?”

  “He says he never met him.”

  “So, enough about that dufus. Tell me about it,” Marcus said excitedly as he faced Trey.

  “Tell you about what?” Trey replied confused as to what Marcus was referring, but sort of had a good idea by how he was acting and what had happened in history class.

  “So, what was it like?”

  “What was what like?” Trey replied defensively – now knowing exactly to what Marcus was referring.

  Marcus lightly hit Trey in the chest with the back of his hand then said, “Kid please! Sarah! You’ve been talking about her for the past two years.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Yes. You have. I’m your best friend. I know you. I’ve been telling you to talk to her and you just keep ignoring me.”

  Trey looked down and away. He felt his ears turn red admitting his feelings for a girl but with Marcus, it didn’t seem so bad. “Yeah. I know. I should’ve talked to her by now. But she’s way too pretty for me. She’d shoot me down before I even opened my mouth.”

  “You’re crazy, Kid. With those dreamy hazel eyes?” he said grinning in a way that conveyed the compliment but didn’t reveal an exorbitant amount of sincerity. “No way. Plus, she didn’t shoot you down today did she?”

  “That was different. That was an accident. She didn’t have a choice to acknowledge me.”

  “But she talked to you – and smiled.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. What was she supposed to do, just ignore the fact that I nearly knocked her out of her desk? Just because I’ve never spoken to her doesn’t mean she can’t be nice. I mean, we’ve only had two classes together, ever, and she’s super popular. I bet she’s nice to everyone.”

  “You seriously have a confidence issue. You should just talk to her, and now you have a reason. Tell her you’re sorry for smashing into her desk. She’ll probably think you’re funny if you bring that up. You should definitely use this to your advantage.”

  “Yeah. She’ll laugh at me and walk away. Probably go tell all her ultra-popular friends so they can all laugh at me.”

  “You need to lighten up, Kid. Why do you care what anyone else thinks? Don’t worry about what she or anyone else will say and just do it. Talking to girls is the same as talking to anybody. Just go say hey
and if you can, find something to compliment her on.”

  “Yeah. I’m not gonna do that. It’ll be ok. Just let it go.”

  “I can’t let it go. This may be your only opportunity. You have to take it.”

  “No. I think I’ll just let it go. Besides, she probably doesn’t like –“

  Marcus’ expression instantly changed. “What,” Marcus said abruptly with serious eyes. “She probably doesn’t like what – smart guys like you?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Seriously? You think she wouldn’t like you because you come from a mixed family? She’s not like that and frankly you should be ashamed you even thought it.”

  “You wouldn’t understand.” Trey hung his head and distanced himself from his long-time friend.

  “The hell I wouldn’t,” Marcus retorted angrily and closed the space between them. “I’ve known you nearly all my life. I’ve seen you take crap from racist clowns before. Trust me. It hurts me just as much as you.”

  “I doubt that, but I know you’ve been there for me.” Trey chuckled.

  Marcus’ eyes narrowed. “What. What are you laughing about?”

  “Nothing,” Trey said with a smile.

  “Hey. I had that eighth grader on the playground back in sixth grade,” Marcus pleaded. “I couldn’t let him talk to you like that.”

  “No dude! That was great. You jumped on top of that big kid without even thinking about it. Your banshee scream frightened everyone.” Trey glanced at his friend to assess his level of excitement then said, “You were lucky Mrs. Patterson got there quickly.”

  “Yeah. You’re probably right. I had a black eye for two weeks after that.”

  Trey shuffled his feet as he said, “I’m probably just overreacting with Sarah. She’s just…I don’t know.”

  “More like making excuses to not do what’s best for you.”

  “You think so?”

  “Have I been wrong before?”

  “Plenty of times.”

  “Then this time I’m right based on odds,” Marcus said with a shining grin.

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Does that mean you’ll talk to her?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Well, that’s better than no.”

  A whistle blew, indicating time to change back into school clothes.

  Trey!” said Coach Rafiq, Trey’s soccer coach, from across the track.

  “I’ll catch up with you after school,” Trey said to Marcus.

  “Later, Kid!”

  Trey sprinted to Coach Rafiq, a medium sized dark-skinned athletic man with muscular legs who spoke with a rich Spanish accent.

  “What’s up, Coach?“ he said with his hands on his hips catching his breath.

  Rafiq spoke slowly in order to enunciate properly as if he were new to the language. “At practice today, we’ll go over this weekend’s match and run our normal drills but tomorrow I’d like you to help me with the 4-2-3-1 formation. We’ve had trouble controlling the ball in the middle of the pitch. I’d like us to have it down by the match this weekend.”

  “Yeah, Coach. That’s a great idea. If we can learn that one as a team, it’ll bring Philippe up with the wingers which should give us plenty of passing options. Plus, it works well as a transition from our typical four-three-three.”

  “Great, Trey. You are doing very well this season,” he replied, placing a hand on Trey’s shoulder. “You played a heck of a game against a formidable team last weekend. Keep it up and making the high school varsity team will be no problem.”

  “Thanks Coach.”

  “Speaking of the high school team, Coach Ward would like you to join their practice next week. They practice the same time but on field four.”

  “Really? The high school team? Why?”

  “I feel they will challenge you in a way the middle schoolers can’t. You understand?”

  “Yeah, I think. Thanks for setting it up, coach. I’ll be there next week.”

  “I’ll see you later at practice.”

  “Ok. See you then, Coach!”

  Trey walked toward the gym ruminating on the conversation with Coach Rafiq. The high school team? I can hang with these inexperienced middle school kids, but high school is a different game entirely. I’m not sure I’m ready for that much of a challenge, he kicked a rock across the trimmed grass, not even just on the practice squad. Maybe I’ll talk to him about it today after practice. I just don’t know.

  Even knowing his favorite class was next didn’t keep him from sulking the entire way there – thoughts lost in the fear of a non-existent event, one that hasn’t yet occurred.

  “Hey Trey! Ready to walk Max’s Planck today?” asked Nick as Trey, for the second time today, emerged through the doorway of the science lab.

  “Dude. That was weak. Even for a middle-aged science teacher.” He chuckled at his own comment and softly slapped Nick’s shoulder which lightened his mood after dwelling on the day’s earlier events. He continued, “Don’t I wish you could teach us about quantum theory.”

  “Yeah,” said Nick crossing his arms, “That’s a bit too advanced for the rest of the eighth graders, except for maybe Sarah.” Nick regarded Trey for a moment and smiled a warm fatherly smile before saying, “I heard you had an encounter with her today.”

  “How do you know about that?” Trey replied, startled. He felt heat rush to his face and defensiveness enter his thoughts.

  “I overheard a couple students in the hall say a big kid tripped you into her desk.”

  Trey’s guard gave way to the excitement of reliving the moment.

  “It was lit, Mr. H! She smiled then said, hey Trey Roberts! She actually said my name! It was the most wonderful six seconds of my life.”

  Nick brandished a large smile. “You know you should really thank him.”

  “Who, Donald? I’m not sure I'll go that far, but I suppose you’re right. I bet it’d eat him up to know how I feel about it now.”

  “By the way, I'm only thirty-five. Don’t call me middle-aged just yet,” Nick said with a raised eyebrow.

  Trey smiled then said, “I see we have a sub the next few days. Where’re you off to now? You just returned from China over the summer and earlier this year you left us for a rainforest in Costa Rica. Are you going through a midlife crisis?”

  “No, Trey. I’m not going through a midlife crisis,” he said rolling his eyes.

  “But don’t you guys buy ridiculous sports cars and chase hot women rather than traveling the world looking for lost artifacts? Besides, that’s what archeologists do right? You know, like the guy with the fedora and whip?” he said emulating snapping a whip. “Science guys are supposed to occupy sterile labs and read complicated texts. What’s the deal, huh?”

  “I said I'm not middle-aged and I’m not going through a crisis. For your information, I'm travelling to a desert oasis in western Egypt and possibly one in Eastern Libya, I leave tonight.”

  “Still chasing lost treasure, huh?”

  “I suppose you can call it that,” he said as he leaned against his desk.

  “But you almost died in Costa Rica trying to summit a mountain just to talk to some creepy old man and in China you were mauled by a bear. You’re lucky to be alive.”

  “Che was a cool dude,” he said, raising his eyes to the ceiling as he reminisced. “We spent six days in meditation on top of that mountain. I suppose the bear was a close call, but the pit of bird spiders really freaked me out, eekssh.”

  “Bird spiders? You didn’t tell me about those.”

  “Yeah, bird spiders are numerous in China, bigger than your head and very deadly.” He held his hands together in a way that looked like a big spider. He then wiggled his fingers toward Trey’s face who reflexively jerked away as if Nick’s hands were a real spider. “I was moving through a tunnel on the map Che drew then all of a sudden, the floor gave way. I found myself in a pit surrounded by massive spiders.”

  “That�
��s crazy Mr. H! But it sounds really exciting. I hope I can join you sometime – without the spiders, of course.”

  “Me too Trey. There’s the bell.” Nick stood and turned to the students saying, “Everyone find your seat. Let’s get class started.”

  Trey loved science class. Not because he would learn anything (his knowledge of science exceeded that of most people) but because he loved science and Mr. Hampton too. Mr. Hampton had been a source of wisdom, guidance and support during Trey’s most trying personal moments since they first met when Trey won the science fair as a fourth grader with a realistic replica of a Tokamak.

  Today, Trey wasn’t engaged – Nick took notice.

  After school, Trey walked himself home while Marcus stayed at school for band practice. That night, after a grueling soccer practice and a warm meal prepared by his mom in their small three bedroom home in an ordinary suburb west of Washington D.C., Trey laid awake in his bed; thinking of Sarah’s gorgeous face, the way she gracefully floated from classroom to hall to locker to lunch as if nothing foul could ever touch her, her voice of which even Jackie Evancho would be jealous, her hair gently flowing behind her as if a warm summer breeze preceded her every move. He dreamily drifted away in a pillow of teenage love crushing away at his heart.

  The next day, Trey avoided the park as usual on his walk to school. Marcus waited on him at the entrance of his neighborhood.

  “Hey Marcus.”

  “Sup, T?”

  They performed their handshake routine before continuing the walk to school.

  “Did you finish that English essay yet?” Trey asked.

  “No. Not yet. We have till Friday. I’ll do it Thursday night. You?”

  “Nothing like waiting till the last minute, huh? I did it over the weekend. Soccer practice gets in the way of a lot of stuff during the week for me.”

  “I suppose it does.” Marcus kicked a rock then watched it bounce off the sidewalk before he abruptly changed his friendly demeanor.