The Talent Diary

by Chris McFarland

  Chapter 4: Test Day

  December 1st, 1991 Day Nine. Hello diary. Nothing interesting in Grandpa’s diary today. He played with some friends and had chicken for dinner. Not that I would dare do anything now anyway. I’m still too scared to try it. What if I did something and he died? What would happen to me? Would I just disappear or would I feel it? I got so scared thinking about it last night that I called Grandpa at midnight. He wasn’t mad at all. He said he was glad I called. He told me not to worry and to get back to sleep.

  I didn’t do much of anything again today. I studied because we have a test tomorrow. Becky is nervous because she thinks she has a bad grade already. I haven’t seen them except at school for almost a week. I miss playing, but I’m scared I might get hurt.

  “You alright today,” Thomas asked. “You look tired.”

  “I’m fine,” Samantha said.

  It wasn’t true but at least was something to say. She hadn’t slept much the night before, thinking about what her Grandpa would be doing back in 1941.

  “Well, good luck on your test today. I’ll see you at three.”

  “Bye Dad.”

  Samantha got out of the car and walked up the school hallway. Kids swarmed everywhere because the front of the school housed grades one through three. She walked through the crowds and passed the library. To her right was the cafeteria, a light brown color with glass double doors propped open. She walked through the open doors and down the aisle in the middle of the long cafeteria tables, where a few early morning kids were finishing breakfast. At the back of the cafeteria were the two sixth grade classrooms. Marissa, Becky, and Samantha were all in room 19, which was taught by Mr. Stillson. He had won state teacher of the year three years before. Cliff and Mark were also in room 19. Mrs. Proctor, a tall, thin woman with corneas of a disconcerting pale yellow, taught room 21. Samantha had no friends in room 21, although Marissa sometimes played with Mindy, a skinny girl who had the first pierced ears in the sixth grade.

  Samantha entered her classroom and the first thing she saw was Brandon Simon, whom everyone called Mink, casting a fishing rod across the classroom at Kelvin Zan, the smartest kid in the class. The fishing line was tied to a large rubber spider, which plopped directly onto Kelvin’s desk. Kelvin pretended it wasn’t there. Mink jerked the spider a couple of times, messing up Kelvin’s papers. Kelvin continued to ignore the spider so Mink gave up, sighed dramatically, and started reeling the spider back in. The spider bounced up and over people’s desks, causing a lot of laughing and yelling. Samantha laughed too, for what felt like the first time in days. She walked to her desk, located in the back row next to Mink.

  Brandon was called Mink by everyone because that year for Halloween he dressed in a full-length mink fur coat, pearls, and makeup. It was fun to be his neighbor in the back row because he rarely teased you and you got to watch him tease other people. He was very good friends with Cliff and Mark, who, unfortunately for them, sat directly in front of Samantha, which meant they were hit with spitballs all day long.

  Everyone was laughing and becoming so loud that even Kelvin looked up to see what was happening. Samantha figured he was doing his math homework. He was taking algebra at the junior high school across the street.

  Then Mr. Stillson walked in and went immediately to his desk and sat down. He leaned back in his chair and watched all his students talking and laughing. He waited and they slowly settled down. After a couple of minutes the classroom was quiet. He bounced to his feet and retrieved a large bunch of papers from his neon pink backpack.

  While he was focusing on the stack of papers, Marissa, who sat immediately to the left of Cliff, turned around and passed Samantha a note. Mr. Stillson let them send notes in class, unless there was a test, because he said it taught them how to write better than he ever could. Samantha was always glad she wasn’t in Mrs. Proctor’s class, because if Mrs. Proctor caught someone passing notes she would photocopy it and paste it to the wall of the room for everyone to read.

  Samantha unfolded Marissa’s note and read: ‘Hey. I have a great idea on how to get back at Cliff and Mark. Can I come over after school?’

  Samantha grinned and wrote back one word, ‘Yes’. She passed the note back to Marissa, who unfolded it, making sure her arm shielded the note from Cliff’s curious peeking. Samantha was reaching into her bag for a pencil when Mink pulled out his fishing rod and lowered the rubber spider over Marissa’s shoulder. She squeaked in fright and jerked back. Mink started laughing because the note had stuck to the bottom of the spider and he pulled it back to his desk hurriedly.

  “Hey, give that back,” Marissa said.

  Mink pulled the note off the spider and put it on his desk.

  “I’ll just read it later,” he said.

  Most of the kids in class were looking at them. Mr. Stillson had finally got the stack of papers organized and he turned around, smiling.

  “Mr. Simon? Could you and Marissa please assist me in handing out the tests,” Mr. Stillson said.

  “We already took that test, Mr. Stillson,” Mink said, “We had it last week.”

  “We did?”

  Mr. Stillson looked confused. He squinted up his eyes and appeared to be thinking deeply.

  “Yeah. We took it last Thursday,” Mink said.

  “Well, I must have graded it but I don’t remember doing that. How many questions did you get right, Mr. Mink?”

  The class laughed. “I got 95 right,” Mink said.

  “Oh, that’s too bad, because there are 200 questions on the test! I guess you’ll have to take it again, along with everyone else.”

  Samantha laughed again, wondering why Mr. Stillson always pretended to be really dumb. Marissa had walked up to Mr. Stillson. He handed her about three tests to hand out. Mink also left his desk and had recovered his good humor. He looked playfully interested in Kelvin’s homework and the class laughed again. Everyone seemed like they were in a good mood, especially considering they were having an English test. Mink finally made it to the front of the class and Mr. Stillson gave him all the rest of the tests.

  Samantha leaned over and pulled the note off Mink’s desk right as Mark was turning around to do so. He looked at her and smiled.

  “Hope you didn’t get in trouble for the other day,” he whispered.

  “Nope.”

  “Thanks for not saying it was us.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Samantha said.

  “Did you study?”

  “Not enough. Did you?”

  Mark laughed. “Hardly at all. I forgot. Becky said she was studying all night.”

  Samantha received her test but left it face down on her desk. Mink sat down at his desk with the last copy. Mr. Stillson wrote a large number 45 on the board and looked at his watch.

  “OK people. You know the drill. Forty five minutes and you can start now.”

  Everyone turned over their tests and started working. Mr. Stillson sat down in the beanbag chair at the side of the classroom and looked like he fell asleep. Samantha wondered why no one ever cheated when he fell asleep. All she knew is that she would never cheat in Mr. Stillson’s class and she supposed everyone else felt the same.

  Fortunately the first few questions were easy and Samantha answered them right away. However, in the middle of reading the sixth question her vision got blurry. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. A headache started. Her arms fell away from her eyes and landed on the desk with an audible thump. The thump was loud enough to make Mink look at her curiously. Samantha tried to lift her arms and could only do so with the greatest of effort. Her head was very painful now. It felt like the worst ice cream headache she could imagine. She managed to get her arm up but Mr. Stillson was still asleep. She tried to say something but no sound came out. Samantha started to get scared. Mink was looking at her openly now and with concern.

  “Samantha,” he whispered, “Are you alright?”

  She tried to nod for some reason. But she couldn’t do even that.
So she just looked at him. Her arm fell back to her desk. Mink started to look scared himself.

  “Mr. Stillson,” he called into the quiet room. Most of the students jumped at the sudden noise. Mr. Stillson was on his feet in moments. Samantha tried to turn her head to see him but it was like watching a slow motion movie. He was at her side, squatting down and peering at her closely.

  “Samantha?”

  She was vaguely aware that everyone in the class was staring at her. Some were curious and some looked scared. She tried to nod again, but couldn’t.

  “Don’t feel good,” she finally was able to say.

  “OK. I’ll help you up. We’ll take you to the nurse’s office right away. Mink? Please put help me pull her up.”

  Mink stood up, looking uncharacteristically nervous. He put his hand under Samantha’s armpit and helped pull her out of the chair. Mr. Stillson then picked her up as if she weighed nothing and started walking to the door.

  “Cliff! You are in charge until I get back. I’ll send Mr. Steele as soon as I can.”

  Then he was out the door with Samantha and the class sat in silence, looking stunned.

  “You’ll be fine Samantha. We’ll be at the nurse’s office in a moment.”

  Samantha was marveling at how unreal everything seemed, how the familiar walls of the school seemed to run like melted taffy into strange curves. The sounds of Mr. Stillson’s feet clattering on the sidewalk were much too loud, and too singular. Each step echoed eternally, eventually dying with great reluctance. And yet at the same time they seemed to be moving much too quickly for an ordinary human. Within seconds, it seemed, they were at the nurse’s office.

  Samantha was laid onto a soft bed and surrounded by concerned adults. She heard Mr. Stillson asking people to do things and she was amazed again at how people seemed to listen to him without question.

  “Ms. Tyler? Could you please call Samantha’s parents? You’ll find them at home today, I believe. Mr. Steele? I’ve left my class in the good hands of Cliff Wilson but could you kindly take my place? Thank you, sir.”

  The nurse, Mrs. Rotterdam, leaned over Samantha.

  “Samantha? Samantha? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s wrong? What hurts?”

  “I got dizzy. And I have a really bad headache.”

  “What about your arms? Can you lift them for me please?”

  Samantha looked down at her arms. Her headache felt a bit better and she wasn’t having as much trouble focusing on the people around her. She tried to lift her right arm and it responded normally. She kept it there, steady, for a moment.

  “Excellent. What about you head? You said it hurts.”

  “Yes, but I think it’s feeling a little better now. I can see better too.”

  “You couldn’t see for awhile?”

  “It was hard to see. The walls looked like taffy.”

  Samantha could see Mr. Stillson behind the nurse, looking at her with concern.

  “Thanks Mr. Stillson, for carrying me here,” Samantha said.

  Mr. Stillson coughed into his hand and smiled at her.

  “You’re very welcome Samantha.”

  The nurse stood up after looking into Samantha’s eyes and down her throat. She turned her back to the bed and conferred in whispers with Mr. Stillson and the secretary, Ms. Tyler. Samantha made no effort to hear what was being said. Now that her fear had passed she felt almost peaceful. Had she experienced the first draining from her future son or daughter? She very much thought she had.

  The nurse walked back to Samantha, who had her eyes closed, and crouched beside the bed.

  “Samantha? Your father will be here in a couple of minutes. They are going to take you to the doctor’s. How are you feeling?”

  “I keep feeling better,” Samantha said calmly, “it hardly hurts at all anymore.”

  “That’s good,” the nurse said, but she looked over shoulder quickly at Mr. Stillson, a worried expression on her face.

  Thomas arrived minutes later and hurried into the office. He picked Samantha off the bed and carried her out to the car, guided by Mr. Stillson. Mr. Stillson also reclined the front passenger seat as far as it would go and they placed Samantha inside. Just before they shut the door, Samantha had a thought.

  “Mr. Stillson?”

  “Yes?”

  “I won’t be able to take the test today. Sorry.”

  He started laughing and winked at her. “Somehow I think that is fine. Feel better soon Samantha.”

  He shook Thomas’s hand and walked back to the school. Thomas didn’t talk much as they headed to the doctor’s office because Samantha kept closing her eyes and falling asleep. It took ten minutes to get across town but it only seemed like seconds to Samantha. She woke up to the feel of her father lifting her out of the car. The feel of the sun, despite the chilly December air, was wonderful and she smiled.

  “Hi Samantha,” Dr. Ginger said.

  Samantha was sitting on the edge of a paper-covered table, her feet dangling lightly against the metal base. Dr. Ginger was a thin woman, with glasses and electrified hair. She was constantly washing her hands and shuffling her feet.

  “Hi Doctor,” Samantha said.

  Thomas, who had been sitting in the room’s only chair, rose to his feet.

  “She had some type of fainting spell at school today,” Thomas said.

  “Yes. Your wife called and let us know what to expect. And how do you feel now Samantha?”

  “Better. Almost good.”

  “Yes? Well I’m not surprised. At your age migraines can come and go very quickly. Your mother and the school nurse said that you had a headache and that your vision was impaired?”

  “My head hurt really bad for a few minutes. And when Mr. Stillson carried me to the nurse it was hard to see.”

  “And your arms wouldn’t move,” Dr. Ginger asked.

  “No. I was trying but it was like they were paralyzed.”

  Dr. Ginger shuffled her feet and looked at Thomas. Thomas had his hands in his pockets and seemed anxious.

  “I know that Sandra has had migraines in the past,” Dr. Ginger said to Thomas, “but what about you? Have you or anybody in your family ever been diagnosed with migraines?”

  “I’ve never had any but my Dad has had them his whole life. Do you think that is what Samantha had?”

  “It’s hard to tell with only one instance but that’s my guess. There’s a family history and her symptoms fit the migraine profile very well.”

  A nurse walked into the office. She was young and pretty, with dark hair tied back in a bun. She nodded to the doctor and started looking in Samantha’s eyes and ears. She examined her throat and finished by shining a light into Samantha’s eyes a second time.

  “Her pupil dilation is normal, doctor.”

  “Samantha,” Dr. Ginger said, “how’s your head now. Does it still hurt?”

  “No. Sometimes it almost does but I think I’m just remembering it.”

  “We’re going to check your reflexes last, Samantha,” the young nurse said.

  The nurse retrieved a small rubber hammer and felt the underside of Samantha’s kneecap gently with her fingers. Samantha was watching her closely and the nurse smiled, but something about the way she looked made Samantha nervous. You’re being silly, she told herself, you are only nervous from your first draining. It didn’t feel that way, however, when she watched the nurse tap her leg right below the knee. Nothing happened. The nurse hit again, a little harder. There was still no response.

  “Please relax and this will go faster,” the nurse said.

  Samantha looked at her father. He was standing with his arms crossed, watching the nurse intently. The nurse hit below the kneecap again, even harder this time. Nothing happened. Samantha winced. The nurse gave an exasperated sigh.

  “Help me here Samantha. Please relax your leg so we can test.”

  The nurse looked up at her with a sour expression. Samantha w
anted her away so she closed her eyes and concentrated on relaxing her leg as much as possible. The nurse hit her leg again. Right as she did, Samantha felt a moment of panic because her leg had become tingly. When the reflex hammer struck her Samantha’s leg lashed out violently. Her foot, still in a shoe, collided with the nurse’s arm just above the wrist. The nurse was driven into the air and she fell, sliding across the tile floor of the office. Dr. Ginger jerked back, startled, as did Samantha’s father. The rubber hammer flew out of the nurse’s hand and somersaulted upwards, embedding itself into the ceiling tiles. The nurse started yelling and she sat up, holding her arm. Samantha saw that her right arm was broken and very crooked, twisting almost 45 degrees. Samantha looked at her Dad and tried to tell him that she didn’t mean it, that it was an accident, but nothing came out.

  Dr. Ginger went to the nurse’s side and started looking at her arm. Thomas was looking at the nurse as well. An immense dizziness appeared in Samantha’s head, along with a high, piercing buzz and thick nausea. Her hands clamped up to her forehead and she started crying out because the sound was so loud. The dizziness and noise were suddenly her whole life and all her other thoughts were driven out. Then the buzzing stopped, the dizziness got worse, and a deep black emptiness so complete that she did not even exist inside of it blanked out her thoughts. Samantha fell back against the hard, paper covered table, unconscious.