Eviskar Island

by Warren Dalzell

  Marcie was an extremely bright, studious tomboy of a girl who was currently experiencing the throes of adolescence. For the most part she and Gail got along well. They admired one another, accepting the roles they had been forced to assume.

  In the last few months Marcie had guardedly begun to open up to Gail about some of the social problems she was experiencing in school. The soccer coach had placed her on the “C” team rather than the Junior varsity where Marcie felt she belonged, and one of her better friends was giving her the cold shoulder for some unknown reason. But there were other issues, those relating to the physical changes associated with puberty, which Marcie refused to discuss with anyone, not even her father, a physician. Gail wanted desperately to play a greater role as confidant and parent to the young woman, but that wouldn’t happen unless Marcie wanted it.

  Gail wiped a tear from her eye. Over the last two days, Marcie had plummeted into a deep funk over her dad’s unwillingness to allow her to go on that summer archeological trip to Greenland. “You’re just too young to be that far from home and for such a long period of time,” Steven had blurted out the night before. “I don’t want to hear another word about this, young lady. The issue is closed. Do you hear me? Closed!” Never before had Gail heard Steven get cross like that, especially with his daughter. She knew he was stressed at work and Marcie had been nagging him incessantly about the trip, but that conversation had resulted in hard feelings between father and daughter. On previous occasions when Steven had declined to grant permission to Marcie for something—usually with regard to attending unsupervised parties—Marcie had reluctantly accepted her dad’s denials. But this time things were different. Both Marcie and Steven were firmly anchored to their respective positions. Marcie insisted upon joining the expedition and Steven was just as steadfast about his veto. The household was laden with tension and Gail felt caught in the middle.

  Abruptly Gail stood up. Her love for both Steven and Marcie demanded she become involved. “Damn it,” she thought, “Maybe I shouldn’t do this, but…” She strode through the house and bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Outside the door to Marcie’s room, however, she stopped. Taking a moment to compose herself, and to gather her courage and her thoughts, she took a deep breath and knocked.

  “Marcie, it’s me, Gail. We have to talk.” (no answer) “Marcie van Wormer, open this door!”

  A feeble voice, attributable to someone who’d been crying, answered, “Go away!”

  Gail opened the door and stepped into the room. Marcie was lying on the bed facing away from her. She was staring blankly out the room’s solitary window that overlooked the street.

  “This can’t go on, Marcie. It kills me to see both you and your father so unhappy.”

  “So, you want me to pity you because, as an ‘impartial’ observer you feel uncomfortable? Get real, Gail. I know why you’re here. Mission accomplished. When dad gets home you can now honestly tell him that you and I had a talk, and that ‘little Marcie’ his ‘child’ is still upset. You did your duty, Gail,” she said despondently, “now please leave me alone.”

  “You mean you’re going to accept your dad’s decision?”

  “What choice do I have, Gail? I’m a minor. If he doesn’t sign the consent form, I don’t go on this trip. Period. I’m fucked!”

  Gail bristled at her stepdaughter’s language, but didn’t admonish her. The girl was understandably upset. “For what it’s worth, Marcie, I came here to support you. I think you’re right.”

  Marcie sat up and turned to face her. “What?”

  “Hey, I’m entitled to an opinion on this matter even though I have no authority. And make no mistake, Marcie, I’m not here to win brownie points with anyone, neither you nor your father.” She sat on the bed and looked into the girl’s eyes. Marcie returned her gaze, noting the anguish in Gail’s countenance.

  “You’re going to be fifteen in less than two months,” Gail continued quietly. “You’re also exceptionally mature for your age and your grades are top notch. There will be other kids, I mean, other young adults, on this trip as well. It is a true scientific expedition and possibly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

  “Thanks, Gail,” Marcie said with true sincerity. She slid across the bed and gave her stepmom a hug. “Thanks for believing in me.”

  Gail smiled. “All I can promise is that I’ll talk to your dad. I’ll tell him how I feel and throw in a little guilt trip about the encouragement he gave you when you submitted your essay. I’ll remind him of the hypocrisy of denying your participation after having supported your application.”

  Marcie laughed. “Yeah, that’s good. I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “But I also want you to consider why your dad feels the way he does. I don’t mean to sound overly patronizing, Marcie,” she smiled sheepishly. The young woman seated next to her was extraordinarily astute. “He’s scared. If you go, it will be the first time he’s been separated from his little girl, both in duration and geographically, since you were born. It’s weighing on him.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Marcie admitted.

  “His angst isn’t a very good reason for denying you this opportunity, and I’ll try my best to make him realize that. But,” Gail continued soberly, “just because I don’t agree with his position doesn’t mean he’ll change his mind. As you said earlier, the final decision to give parental consent is his alone. Even if your mother were to disagree, your parents’ custody agreement effectively gives him complete control.”

  “My mom doesn’t care one way or the other,” Marcie muttered.

  “It’s settled then,” Gail said in a conspiratorial but upbeat tone. She walked to the door and turned to face Marcie. “I’ll put as much pressure on your dad as I can, but in return you’ll have to accept his final word with dignity.”

  “Deal,” said Marcie.

  Jocelyn Delaney

  The bell outside room 210 announced the beginning of another class at Hamilton High School in Corpus Cristi, Texas. It was Friday, mid-March. Herb Powell stood leaning against the bench at the front of the room, surveying the mix of juniors and seniors in his eighth period Biology class. Off to his right, at the back of the room, sat his “problem children.” They were an incorrigible bunch, rude, disruptive and unpredictable. Today, Jocelyn Delaney sat in the middle of the group flanked by Freddy Ramos and Ann Marie Severko. Directly behind her sat Toby Johnson. Powell made note of the seating arrangement chosen by the students and smiled inwardly. All was as he expected.

  “Class, before we begin I’d like to introduce you to Miss Diane Thompson.” He nodded towards a woman in her late-twenties seated near the blackboard. She was pretty, with red hair and freckles. She gave the class an embarrassed wave and flashed a winning smile. “Miss Thompson is a student teacher and has come to observe our class today.” Snickers and muted laughter came from the back corner of the room but Powell ignored the noise and continued, raising his voice several decibels. “As you know, today you’ll take your mid-term exam. Please clear your desks of everything but a number two pencil so that we may begin.”

  While the students stuffed notebooks into backpacks and backpacks under and behind seats, Powell picked up a neatly stacked pile of test papers and began walking up and down the rows of desks, passing them out. As he walked among those seated in the back, he said, “If you have any questions, please raise your hand and either Miss Thompson or I will come to you. When you’re done, bring your test to the front of the room and then work quietly at your seat until everyone has finished. You have forty-five minutes in which to complete the exam.”

  Powell didn’t anticipate any questions from the students. He’d made the test multiple-choice. All of the problems were clearly stated and the answer choices were direct and unambiguous. Those who knew the material should finish in thirty minutes or less. He sauntered back to the front of the classroom, donned a pair of dark glasses and pretended to write something in a notebook. Knowing t
hat others would be unable to follow his gaze, he kept a surreptitious eye on the troublemakers seated in the back. Soon, when they thought his attention was directed elsewhere, Ramos and Severko, the students sitting adjacent to Jocelyn Delaney, would blatantly lean over to look at her answers. Powell glanced at Diane Thompson who nodded almost imperceptibly.

  Powell then relocated to a chair next to Diane and the two of them engaged in muted conversation. Although his back was now to the room, Thompson had a clear view of what was happening among the cheating students. She gave Powell a blow-by-blow account of events. At one point, Jocelyn nonchalantly leaned down to scratch her ankle with one hand while simultaneously holding up her test in the other so that the boy sitting in back of her could clearly see her answers. Powell snuck a glance over his shoulder to verify Diane’s assessment.

  When the bell rang to end the period, the students clambered out of the room conversing excitedly in their collective euphoria over the commencement of the weekend. Mr. Powell tried to ignore the smug looks on the faces of the four dishonest students as they made their way past him. He sincerely hoped they’d be embarrassed and chagrined once he revealed what he’d done.

  Years earlier Powell had pulled the same stunt and felt it had made a difference to several of those involved. Three of today’s participants would undoubtedly laugh this off as a silly game. But the fourth? Herb shook his head. It would be easy to grade her paper normally. After all, there was little doubt she had done her own work, but there was also no doubt that she was complicit in the schemes of the others. The consequences for her would be heart-wrenching, but he, along with several of her other teachers and the principal, had agreed that all should be punished. Cheating was unacceptable.

  “Thanks for helping out today, Diane. I wish we could have worked together under happier circumstances.”

  “No sweat, Herb. Don’t let this trouble you. You did the right thing.”

  The following Friday was overcast and dreary. Cold air spilling in from the north was slamming into warm, moist air roiling up from the Gulf. Winds were high. Heavy rains periodically lashed the windows of the Biology Lab as squalls made their way across the city. Herb Powell’s mood mirrored the weather as he delivered an uninspired lecture to his last class. Halfway through the period Diane Thompson entered the room and sat demurely by the door. Five minutes before the final bell, Powell handed back the previous week’s exam papers, graded and marked with corrections. Scrawled across the tests of the students who’d cheated were the words: ‘See Me After Class.’

  “There’s gotta be some mistake here,” complained Toby Johnson as he approached Powell’s desk. “I studied hard for this test. I don’t see how I could’a got an ‘F’.”

  “Cut the crap, Toby,” Powell replied. He arose and closed the door to the hallway, then motioned for the four students to sit down. “I misled the class on Friday when I introduced Miss Thompson as a student teacher. For that I apologize. She is actually dean of students at George Washington High on the other side of town. She works principally with students who have disciplinary issues.”

  “I try to get problem students to see the errors of their ways,” Diane interjected. “What I saw on Friday made me sick.” She gave a hard stare to each student in turn. Jocelyn Delaney went pale when she realized what was happening.

  “I handed out two different tests,” Powell said. “Superficially the two looked the same. In fact many of the same problems appeared on both, but with the possible answers in different order. I made certain that Miss Delaney took one test and that the rest of you took the other. Mr. Johnson and Mr. Ramos, ALL of your answers were the same as Miss Delaney’s. You each received a score of 8% on the exam.” At this point Powell allowed himself a hint of a congratulatory smile. “You’d have scored better if you had guessed at every question. The only reason your scores weren’t zero is because, coincidentally, the correct choices for four of the fifty questions were tied to the same letter—an oversight on my part.”

  Freddy snickered, “That’s really clever, Mr. Powell. You pulled a fast one on us—must be really proud.” He looked at his peers soliciting approval for his macho attitude towards their recent academic disaster. Toby and Anne Marie laughed, but Jocelyn remained stoic.

  “I’m really sorry you don’t get what’s going on here, Fred,” Powell replied sadly.” It’s been years since I’ve had to do something like this. Cheating is just plain wrong, guys, and I won’t tolerate it. What really saddens me, though, is that you’re all so bright. Instead of playing childish games trying to scam the system, you could be broadening your knowledge, showing a little discipline and self-respect.”

  Powell arose, indicating that the lecture was over. None of those in attendance, including him, wanted to waste another minute talking about this. “Diane and I have discussed your punishment and decided that each of you will get a grade of zero on this test. Mathematically, that will drop you at least one letter grade for the course.”

  “All of your other teachers have been informed of this,” Diane added, an ominous tone to her voice. “Another cheating episode will result in expulsion.”

  Jocelyn was the last student to leave the room. As she walked dejectedly past her teacher he said in a low enough voice so that the others wouldn’t hear, “Why did you do it? You won’t be valedictorian now, not with a low grade in this class.” She just pushed by him, flashing a venomous glare, but saying nothing. “I hope it was worth it, Jocelyn. I really do.”

  The door slammed behind her.

  A salt breeze assaulted Jocelyn as she made her way out to the street. Ann Marie vaulted a large puddle in the parking lot in order to catch up with her. “Hey, Jossy, can you believe what Powell did? What a douche bag.” She laughed. “He acted so sad, like giving us a bad grade was going to devastate us. Oh yeah, like going from an ‘F’ to an ‘F minus’ is a big freakin’ deal for me.”

  Jocelyn forced a smile, “He’s a real turd all right.”

  “C’mon, let’s go to the beach. Toby and Javier are all jazzed to get out on the bay. Hobie Cats are gonna fly in this wind. It’ll be awesome. Afterwards we can grab something to eat, maybe get high. Wadda ya say?”

  “Nah, maybe tomorrow,” Jocelyn replied, “looks like it might rain some more.”

  “Suit yourself. See you tomorrow, Jossy.”

  Left alone with her thoughts, Jocelyn walked the nearly two miles to her house instead of taking the bus. She was close to tears. “God,” she thought, “What a shitty thing for Powell to do.” When she got home she took a minute to compose herself before slipping into the kitchen via the garage.

  “Is that you, Jossy?” Her mother hurried past fumbling for her keys in her purse. “I have to show a house in five minutes. I’m late. Hey, you okay? You look sad.”

  “It’s nothing. I just, uh, I’m not feeling well. I think maybe I’m getting a cold.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Look, I won’t be home for about an hour. Your dad is going to stop on his way home and get take-out Chinese. You get some rest, okay? See you soon.”

  Seconds later Jocelyn stood alone in the kitchen, the ticking of the cuckoo clock above the telephone breaking the sudden silence in the room. She plodded silently down the carpeted hallway to her room and dumped her books onto her desk. Fighting the urge to cry, forcing reason to overcome emotion, she sat and stared at the mementos, photos, trophies, and knick-knacks that littered the room, the icons that chronicled her life.

  The preponderance of awards indicated that the bearer was a bright, talented and ambitious young woman. Many of the framed certificates staring down at her from the walls were from science fair competitions, something she’d been into in a big way in her youth. The more prominently displayed pieces—those she was most proud of—pertained to her language skills. Jocelyn was a true polyglot. She seemed to absorb foreign languages like a sponge. Several of her native Spanish-speaking friends were hesitant to converse with her; they were intimidated because h
er vocabulary, diction and grammar were superior to theirs. One of the certificates had been awarded to her by the local Societé de la Culture Française. She’d won a standing ovation for an entertaining speech given entirely in French.

  The shelf above her desk was adorned with brass frames containing photos from family vacations: her folks skiing in Taos, NM; Jocelyn, Ricky and their mother hiking in the Okeefenokee wilderness; mom and dad laughing in a café in old Quebec City. She stared at her favorite, a blowup of her sitting on the beach on South Padre Island. She’d been to South Padre many times, of course, but on that particular trip she’d met a boy with whom she’d shared her first kiss. That’s something a girl never forgets.

  Jocelyn’s reverie ended with the slamming of the front door. A child’s voice yelled, “Mom, Angelo asked if I can sleep over. Can I? Hey, mom?” When he got no answer, Ricky Delaney bounded down the hallway and skidded to a stop outside Jocelyn’s room. The door was open so he barged in. At eight years old he had little respect for his sister’s privacy. Breathing hard he asked, “Where’s mom?”

  Jocelyn looked at her sibling with a mixture of annoyance and resignation. Diminutive in stature and with a freckled face and ears that stood out like those of a mouse, most adults considered young Ricky to be adorable. Even Jocelyn had been of that mindset until a few years ago. Her kid brother had since passed through the adorable phase. In fact, he’d rapidly progressed through “cute,” “bothersome,” and “aggravating,” and had now become “insufferable,” a royal pain in the derriere. His main goal in life now seemed to be the torment of his older sister.