BenBee and the Teacher Griefer

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BenBee and the Teacher Griefer Page 7

by K. A. Holt


  0BenwhY: thanks for the computers

  0BenwhY: and don’t foregt ur homework ms j

  0BenwhY: cu 2morrow!

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!:

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!! HAS EXITED GAME

  0BenwhY HAS EXITED GAME

  BenBee HAS EXITED GAME

  BEN B

 

  She never lets us leave class fast.

  Most teachers do,

  but not Ms. J.

  We hop from foot to foot,

  ready to run free,

  but she makes us wait.

  Stand in line.

  High-five her.

  Say goodbye.

  Eye to eye.

  Every single day.

  I used to think it was weird,

  but I guess I’m getting used to it.

  She’s still kind of weird,

  though.

  I guess I’m getting used to that, too.

  Today, her high-five face is

  bigger

  brighter

  when it’s my turn

  to high five and bye.

  Ben B.

  You amaze me.

  I had no idea,

  no idea

  how fast you could type.

  For a minute I can’t think of anything

  at all

  to say.

  Then . . .

  Do I type fast?

  You do!

  I’m quite impressed.

  Quite impressed.

  Of course I’d prefer

  full sentences

  and proper spelling,

  but even so,

  good work today.

  Maybe we can think of other ways

  for you to use your typing skills

  in class.

  Let’s both think about that,

  okay?

  I feel my back straighten,

  like a flower figuring out

  which way

  the sun shines.

  Good at typing?

  Huh.

  I saw the lights behind Ms. J’s eyes turn on,

  just then,

  and it felt almost like

  she could see,

  really see,

  how being good at Sandbox

  isn’t just some dumb thing,

  but an actual real thing,

  an actual real thing I’m good at,

  me

  Ben B

  and not just

  BenBee.

  Mom and Dad ask about my day

  and I say

  it was all right.

  I don’t want to tell them about reading,

  about typing,

  about anything.

  Dad wants to see

  my homework.

  Mom wants to know

  what I’m reading in class.

  Dad wants to know

  how FART prep

  is coming along,

  how I’m maximizing my time.

  I let his voice drone,

  try to ignore it,

  try not to feel his questions

  in my chest

  like lead

  weighing me down.

  I want just a few more minutes

  to feel the light, bright

  shining feeling

  of Ms. J saying:

  I’m quite impressed.

  Quite impressed.

  And knowing that she meant me.

  CHAT

  Divergent Dingleberries

  Private server created by: BenBee

  Remember! Ghost Season is coming!

  Password required

  Avatar name: JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!

  Password: • • • • •

  Remember! Ghost Season is coming! Protect your lives, your health, and your gold by avoiding ghosts at all costs. Think you can outsmart the ghosts by logging out? Think again! All logged out avatars will remain in sleeping mode, so make sure you’re protected. Get melted during Ghost Season? Gonna cost ya!

  In order to bring you the very best game possible, Sandbox is moving to a pay-per-play model. Survive Ghost Season? You’ll maintain VIP status and continue on the free platform. Get melted? You can retrieve your gold and items when you sign up for one of our affordable monthly plans. Click here for more details.

  0BenwhY ENTERS GAME

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!:

  0BenwhY: hey Jordan

  0BenwhY: u sure ran out of class fast

  0BenwhY: after ur high five and bye

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!:

  BenBee: 0BenwhY heeeey.

  0BenwhY: hey benbee I thought u were grounded from screens

  BenBee: I am.

  0BenwhY: then how are u here

  BenBee: my parents go to sleep very early.

  0BenwhY: sounds like ur playing with fire man

  jajajavier:): hey look, ima fire man. i can juggle torches like a boss

  0BenwhY: oh look who is magically able to talk

  0BenwhY: u should prob put the torches down b4 u explode, javier

  0BenwhY: ur standing right next to my dynamite amplifying potions

  jajajavier:): what, no way they’re going 2—

  jajajavier:) HAS DIED

  jajajavier:) HAS EXITED GAME

  BenBee: omg

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!:

  0BenwhY:

  jajajavier:) ENTERS GAME

  jajajavier:): ok fine, torch juggling was maybe 2 close 2 ur potions

  BenBee: come on y’all, let’s get to work on the pyramid.

  0BenwhY: u said y’all! BenBeeeeeeee! u listened!!! ty

  BenBee: now let’s get going.

  N00B8675309 ENTERS GAME

  BenBee: n00b? your in the wrong place.

  BenBee: how did you even get in here? password protected, bro.

  0BenwhY: not a n00b server, n00b

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!:

  jajajavier:): Yeah! Go be n00by elsewhere, n00by Mcn00berson!

  N00B8675309: Hello, I’m playing the game for the first time. I was hoping I could watch a little bit so that I co—

  CHAT INFRACTION

  N00B8675309: Sorry, what just happened? Did I ask something that isn’t allowed? It seems like pretty much anythin—

  CHAT INFRACTION

  N00B8675309: Is there a rulebook, somewhere? Maybe a manual that explains gameplay? Can somebody point me towards—

  CHAT INFRACTION

  N00B8675309 HAS BEEN EJECTED FROM GAME

  THIRTY MINUTE RESPAWN COUNTDOWN BEGINS NOW

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!:

  jajajavier:): jajajajajajaja

  0BenwhY: um that was super weird

  BenBee: totally weird. i promise we’re the only ones who know the password.

  0BenwhY: it is kind of an easy pw tho

  BenBee: wait.

  0BenwhY: shouldn’t be hard to change it

  BenBee: no not that.

  BenBee: the n00b back there.

  BenBee: that wasn’t

  0BenwhY: what

  BenBee: all those words and complete sentences. do you think it could’ve been

  jajajavier:): straight up 100% Ms J pretending not to be Ms J?

  jajajavier:): yes

  0BenwhY: WHUUUUUT omg did she just come here to SPY on us???

  jajajavier:): well we did give her homework, so maybe not spying.

  jajajavier:): maybe just researching

  jajajavier:): maybe learning new skills from a very fantastic and handsome teacher

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!:

  BenBee: i can’t believe ms j infiltrated our home server.

  JORDANJMAGEDDON!!!!:

  BenBee: maybe she’ll be better at sandbox than we thought.

  BEN Y

  <0BenwhY>

  I’m out of the house

  before Esme wants hugs

  and kisses

  and her eyes

  remind me

  remind me

  remind me.

  Before Mom is u
p

  asking

  all

  the

  questions

  about summer school

  about where I’ve been,

  all

  the

  questions

  I don’t feel like answering.

  When these jeans were

  Benicio’s

  he got holes

  in all

  the weirdest

  places.

  Was it his wallet chain

  that rubbed this spot

  raw?

  Did his phone

  sit so close

  in this pocket

  that the denim

  wore away?

  I haven’t had them long enough

  to make any holes

  of my own.

  But I will.

  And these jeans will be ours.

  Not just his story,

  not just mine,

  but something worn,

  something shared.

  Hey, Jordan J.

  What’s hanging?

  Scooch over, dude.

  He starts talking

  just like every day

  when I get on the city bus

  make him scooch

  and we take the

  extra

  long

  way

  to school.

  Jordan J.

  The human version

  of coffee.

  Voice so happy,

  it wakes me up.

  Stories so funny,

  I can’t help but laugh.

  He’s always on the bus,

  always way too early for school.

  I never ask why.

  It doesn’t really matter.

  He’s always here.

  And so am I.

  We ride and chat,

  and chat and ride.

  I’m not sure

  I can really explain why,

  but it’s nice.

  Really nice.

  I also can’t explain why

  it doesn’t always translate

  to school.

  I actually don’t mind

  if it’s different

  when we’re not on the bus.

  That just makes the bus

  a little more . . .

  I don’t know . . .

  ours.

  Our fun.

  Our bus.

  Our jokes.

  Just a couple of moments

  only

  for

  us.

  Three of my strut strides,

  equal two Jordan J dancing leaps

  as we move from the bus stop,

  making our way to school.

  Part of our routine,

  this sweaty duet

  is swimming through the morning heat,

  trying not to be too early,

  not to be too late,

  stretching out the minutes of freedom

  before the stairwell,

  before divergence

  takes over the day.

  Hey.

  Jordan J twirls, a perfect pirouette,

  points,

  Javier by a white car,

  leaning in the window.

  Jordan J and I duck.

  I don’t know why

  we hide

  between the willow fronds,

  forest bathing

  as we spy.

  But we do.

  I w-w-w-w-w-won’t!

  N—No!

  Javier is mad, shouting.

  The wind catches words

  coming from inside the car,

  words like help you

  and it will be fine

  and trust.

  Mom! N—No! I h-h-hate it.

  Javier slams his fist

  on the car door

  where the window is rolled

  down.

  It doesn’t h-help.

  It m-makes me f-feel stu-stu—

  He doesn’t finish.

  He storms away.

  The woman in the car shouts:

  Javier!

  Come on! You’re the smartest person I know!

  Javier!

  He whips around,

  marches back to the car,

  shouts:

  S.T. is f-f-f-for

  b-b-b-babies!

  He pulls his hoodie

  over his face.

  Storms off into school.

  Jordan J and I look at each other.

  Is that why Javier won’t talk?

  I whisper,

  swiping a tickly frond from my cheek.

  Why he won’t read out loud?

  In class?

  His stutter?

  But we’re all terrible at reading out loud so that means he wouldn’t be any different than any of us, maybe we should just tell him that. Also, isn’t he really really really hot in that hoodie? I mean sweaty hot, not like movie-star hot. I am sweating my I can’t say off and I’m wearing shorts and this AWESOME Fierce Across America tank top. Oh, oops, are we still supposed to be whispering? That wasn’t really a whisper was it? I’m not a great whisperer.

  I shrug.

  Jordan J shrugs.

  We sit under the tree.

  Hmm.

  Interesting.

  Like a shadow with a hoodie,

  like a song stuck in my head

  Javier

  Javier

  Javier.

  When my eyes lock

  with Javier’s deep dark stare

  in class,

  I can’t figure out . . .

  what

  is

  he

  thinking?

  Did he see us under the tree?

  Javier

  Javier

  Javier,

  is it the stutter that makes you so quiet?

  You’re so funny in chat,

  but now,

  half hidden,

  hoodie pulled tight,

  you’re a mystery,

  and I can’t help but wonder:

  Can you see into me?

  Can mystery see mystery?

  He blinks,

  looks away,

  head bowed,

  pencil scratching,

  always drawing,

  never talking.

  Javier

  Javier

  Javier,

  can I see what you draw?

  Javier

  Javier

  Javier,

  what secrets do you know?

  Three announcements!

  Ms. J’s voice is bright,

  a yellow pop of sound

  sparkling around us.

  One!

  My avatar is JJ11347.

  It was supposed to be only JJ113

  but I guess there are forty-six other JJ113s?

  And the game added the forty-seven?

  Because I don’t have enough gold to change my name yet?

  The snickers tiptoe

  up and down the walls,

  until Jordan lets out a full-on snort

  and we all collapse in laughs, even Ms. J.

  We gather up our laughs,

  stuff them in our mouths,

  try to swallow them

  so we can see . . .

  is her next announcement

  as funny as the first?

  Two!

  Thank you to Javier,

  who happened to be here

  after school yesterday,

  and who happened to stay

  to help me muddle through

  setup

  after seeing how badly

  I mucked up

  my avatar name.

  It is because of Javier

  that we can play the actual game today.

  Can we all please give him

  a round of quiet applause?

  My eyes grow so wide

  they might actually have merged

  into one giant eye

  that catches
Ben B’s matching giant eyes

  and our eyes both say:

  Because . . . what now?

  Javier was here?

  With her?

  After school?

  And does that mean?

  She was chatting with us?

  While they both were here?

  So probably she didn’t hack anything at all?

  Because Javier let her into the server?

  I clap very slowly and point my clap at Javier.

  Ben B follows my lead.

  Javier’s cheeks turn pink,

  and his mouth curls into a

  devilish grin,

  before Ms. J says,

  Javier, all of your help means you’re reading today,

  correct?

  You’re playing today?

  Yes?

  Javier’s grin disappears,

  his face quickly bending,

  trying to blend in with

  his notebook.

  Three!

  Please listen carefully:

  When we chat during

  typing practice,

  everyone is to use

  full sentences,

  correct punctuation,

  correct spelling.

  I feel a moldy green groan

  grow in my throat.

  Please be advised

  you all are very

  very

  very

  lucky

  to have

  typing practice

  in class.

  Let’s not groan too loudly

  —she looks directly at me—

  or we risk losing the privilege altogether,

  hmmmm?

  Today’s pink-and-gold caftan shimmers

  as her arms cross over her chest.

  Good!

  Benita?

  It’s your turn to read.

  I look down at the book

  open on my desk,

  pages fluttering

 

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