“So let’s hear an alternate view. Why do you think Coleridge might be less than honest?”
No one volunteered an opinion. Molly gazed imperiously around the classroom, as though daring anyone to defy her.
“Sally?” Mr. Pipich said.
Sally froze. Normally, she liked it when Mr. Pipich called on her. Today, though, she wasn’t sure of the right answer. She didn’t want to look like a fool in front of Mr. Pipich.
On top of that, she was already sideways with Molly over Romeo and Juliet and the incident at the mall. She didn’t want more trouble.
Molly fixed Sally with a hot, threatening glare. Sally swallowed hard and returned her attention to Mr. Pipich.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “It feels like a complete poem.”
“Go on,” Mr. Pipich prodded.
Sally sensed she was onto something. Mr. Pipich had indirectly told her she was on the right track.
“Well, when you read it, it seems like the story is over,” Sally explained. “When we got to the end of the poem, I didn’t feel like there was any more to be said. So if he did get interrupted, it must have happened at a really good stopping point. It doesn’t feel like there was this big, epic poem that a knock on the door stole from him. I mean, if he was that good a writer, shouldn’t he have been able to get it back if it was this big, long thing? I mean, Shakespeare didn’t write Romeo and Juliet in one night. It just seems like he’s making excuses for something.”
“Very good,” Mr. Pipich said. “That’s excellent.”
Sally beamed despite her fear of Molly. She loved getting praise from Mr. Pipich.
“The poem does feel like a self-contained story, doesn’t it?” Mr. Pipich said. “There is a certain school of thought that believes that the introduction was added well after the poem was written. Coleridge even admits in his opening that the poem is ‘published at the request of a poet of great and deserved celebrity.’ He added it on, they think, because he wasn’t comfortable with the rest of the material.
“Now, there’s no way to prove such a thing one way or the other. But we can make hypotheses by analyzing the text. In this case, the ‘completeness’ of the poem seems to belie Coleridge’s claim that he simply lost his inspiration.
“It’s important when we study literature to look closely at the words. We have to ‘read between the lines’ sometimes to really get the true intent of the author. Many times, we need to consider also what was going on in the writer’s life and in his or her world at the time the piece was written. While sometimes an author does write exactly what he or she means, more often there is more to it than that.
“Good job, Sally. You’ve done well.”
Sally blushed. Mr. Pipich was embarrassing her now. She liked receiving praise, but the timing of showing up Molly had been really bad. Sally wanted to see Molly made a fool of, but she didn’t want to be the person who did it.
As if to confirm everything Sally was thinking, Molly threw her a hateful glare. There was going to be a price for this victory. Sally could have wept.
***
Sally didn’t find the ham sandwich she’d made for herself that morning very appealing when lunch rolled around. She was hungry but not for what she had. It did not inspire her to think the afternoon would be good.
She sat on an end seat so Alison could see her when she came in. Sally waved to her as soon as she appeared in the door of the cafeteria. Alison smiled, and her blonde hair bobbed as she came over.
“Hey,” Alison said as she slid into the seat next to Sally. “How was your morning?”
“Okay,” Sally said. “We read ‘Kubla Khan’ in Mr. Pipich’s class. That was fun. How about you?”
“I so hate math,” Alison said as she unpacked her lunch, putting a sandwich and a bottle of fruit punch Gatorade on the table in front of her. “I don’t know why they bother to teach us all this complicated stuff. Like, when are we ever gonna use it?”
“When we have to balance our bank accounts?” Sally offered.
“All you have to do for that is to be able to add and subtract,” Alison complained. “I learned that in, like, the second grade.”
Sally nodded. She didn’t think math was as hard as Alison did, but she really didn’t see how it would be practical when they were grown up.
“I might have made more trouble with Molly,” Sally confessed.
“Sacre bleu,” Alison said. “Now what?”
“Mr. Pipich called on her in class,” Sally answered, “and she got totally the wrong answer. Mr. Pipich wanted to know if we should believe Samuel Taylor Coleridge when he said he got interrupted in the middle of writing ‘Kubla Khan.’ And Molly’s all like, ‘yeah, why would he lie?’”
Alison cocked her head in surprise. Then she shook it disbelievingly.
“Gee, I don’t know, Molly,” Alison said, “have you ever told a lie?”
“Exactly!” Sally said. “And you know when the teacher asks you something like that it’s totally a trick, so she should have known not to answer yes.”
“So what’s that got to do with you?”
“Mr. Pipich called on me, and I got it right,” Sally said . “Mr. Pipich said I’d done very well. Molly was pissed. She gave me a total death glare.”
“Ugh,” Alison said. “Ce une chienne.”
Sally studied Alison as her friend bit into her sandwich. As usual, she didn’t understand the French, but she knew the words weren’t very nice. Alison stopped chewing and indicated with a nod of her head that Sally should look up.
“Speak of The Devil,” Alison said with her mouth full.
Sally followed Alison’s eyes and saw Brinna and Kylie coming down the aisle in their direction. They both scowled as they approached, lunch trays in hand. An evil smile curled onto Kylie’s lips. Sally’s danger sense went off.
It didn’t help, though. When they drew within a few feet of Sally, Brinna pretended to trip. She threw her tray at Sally, and a huge pile of spaghetti and an open carton of chocolate milk launched off it. Then she fell on Sally making certain to use her tray to grind the food into Sally’s chest. Her momentum carried both of them back over the bench. Sally landed with a thud on the hard tile floor, bruising her elbow.
There was a moment of silence as the echoes of the collision died away. Then Brinna said with false innocence, “Oh, sorry, Prescott. Didn’t see you there.”
Pain shot up Sally’s arm. She pushed Brinna off her and tried to get up. Then she saw what a mess her grandmother’s hoodie was. A mass of brown and red stains formed a giant blotch in the middle of it. Strings of spaghetti stuck to her everywhere. Was it ruined? It couldn’t be ruined, could it? She could get the stains out, right?
Sally started crying. How could they do that to her? How could they do that to her favorite hoodie? Didn’t they know what that meant? Didn’t they care?
“Wow, Little Red Riding Hoodie,” Kylie remarked. “That flat chest of yours makes a good food tray!”
Alison sprang from her seat. She took one stride forward and threw her Gatorade in Kylie’s face. Plenty of the red liquid hit Kylie’s pristine white top. Despite her tears and misery, Sally’s mouth opened wide when she saw what Alison had done. Sally wasn’t sure if she could save her grandmother’s hoodie or not, but there was no way those red stains were coming out of silk. There was dead silence in the cafeteria.
“You bitch!” Kylie shouted. “I’ll kill you!”
“Let’s go,” Alison sneered.
She set up in a fighting stance as Kylie moved to put her tray down. They never came to blows, though. Coach Braddock came storming down the aisle. A former All-American linebacker who now coached the Roosevelt Middle School football team in addition to teaching gym, he had a hulking frame and an iron jaw. Even the toughest boys didn’t dare to mess with him.
“All right, you two,” Coach Braddock said. “I think it’s time we all had a nice chat in the office.”
“Did you see what she did to me?”
Kylie yelled.
“Oh, I saw the whole thing,” Coach Braddock growled. “I saw it all. Let’s go, ladies.”
He ushered Alison and Brinna out of the cafeteria. Kylie watched them go for a moment, and then turned her gaze on Sally.
“You’ve really screwed up this time, Red,” she said. “You thought you could mouth off to us at the mall and take Molly’s part? You got shown what happens to people like you. Now? You’ve made it so much worse. I’d transfer if I were you, Prescott. Because Roosevelt Middle School is about to become your personal Hell.”
She stalked off to join Molly and the rest of The Set, all of whom immediately began sympathizing with her over her ruined top and handing her napkins to try to clean it up.
Sally ran out of the cafeteria as everyone stared. She went to the bathroom, praying she could save her treasured hoodie.
Six
As Sally expected, the afternoon did not go well. She thought she got all the spaghetti out of her sweatshirt. It would need to be washed at home, but it did not appear to be ruined. However, that had taken a lot of work, and by the time she was done, the hoodie was soaked. She couldn’t wear it.
She hung it in her locker to dry, but she’d only been wearing a t-shirt under it, and she was cold for the rest of the school day. On top of that, she was late to science class, because she’d spent so much time in the bathroom.
“Why, Miss Prescott,” Ms. Haversham said, “how kind of you to join us.”
“I’m sorry,” Sally began. “I had to—” She didn’t want to say what had happened in front of the whole class. They’d all been there, and it was embarrassing enough as it was. “I was in the bathroom.”
“Well, perhaps you could learn to evacuate your bowels a little more quickly so you could be here in time for the bell,” Ms. Haversham said.
Sally blushed deeply as everyone laughed. She couldn’t tell Ms. Haversham she hadn’t been on the toilet. She’d have had to say what the real reason was, and that would only make more trouble with Molly.
“Take your seat, Miss Prescott,” Ms. Haversham said. “If this happens again, you’ll be seeing me after school.”
Sally went to her desk while people continued to laugh. She sat down, ashamed.
“Hey, Red,” Wendy sneered. “Where’s your hoodie?”
Sally glared at her and opened her science book. She was beginning to hate school.
The remainder of the afternoon went by without incident, but Sally was in a foul mood by the time the final bell rang. She wasn’t even looking forward to play practice.
When she got to her locker, Alison was waiting for her.
“Oh, my god,” Sally said, “What happened?”
Aside from homeroom and lunch, Sally and Alison didn’t have any classes together, so she hadn’t been able to find out what became of Alison going to the principal’s office.
“Not much,” Alison said with a smile. “I can’t talk long, because I got detention.”
“You got detention?” Sally said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Alison said. “It was totally worth it. Kylie’s lucky Coach Braddock came along, or I’d have laid her out.”
Sally’s eyes grew wide at that suggestion. Fighting was an automatic three-day suspension. Alison was lucky Coach Braddock got there when he did.
“So what happened?”
“Like I told you,” Alison said, “nothing really. Principal Carter gave me this stern talking-to about how what I did was wrong and how I might have to pay for Kylie’s shirt, but I could tell he didn’t really mean it. He kept saying things like, ‘It’s good that you stick up for your friend like that, but you need to find a more appropriate means of defending her.’”
Sally giggled. Alison did a pretty fair imitation of Principal Carter’s voice.
“Brinna and I both got three days’ detention,” Alison went on. “Coach Braddock saw the whole thing, and he knew Brinna did it on purpose. Plus, I got the impression he knows what kind of girls The Set are. If he’d been faster getting there, I probably wouldn’t have gotten anything, because he’d have taken Brinna to the office before Kylie could open her mouth.”
“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Sally said.
“Don’t be,” Alison replied. “It was totally worth it.”
“Yeah, but you might have to pay for Kylie’s shirt.”
“I don’t care if it was a hundred bucks,” Alison said. “It was still worth it. Those girls need to learn The Set doesn’t run the school. If they mess with us, they are going to pay.”
A lump came into Sally’s throat. Alison had stuck up for her before, but this was taking things to a whole new level. She’d risked suspension to shut Kylie’s mouth.
“Thanks,” Sally said.
“Don’t mention it,” Alison said. “You’re my best friend. Nobody gets to mess with you, especially those stuck-up, wannabe Mean Girls, The Set.”
Sally smiled at her. She wanted to believe she would do the same for Alison, but she feared she didn’t have the courage. Alison was brave.
“I gotta run,” Alison said. “They probably get really mad if you’re late to detention. Text me about how play practice goes. And if you kiss Brian, I want to hear all about it.”
“Shut up,” Sally said, grinning.
“Au revoir, cherie!”
Alison bounced off in the direction of Mr. Frank’s room. Sally felt sorry for her. Having detention was bad enough. Having it with Mr. Frank probably bordered on cruel and unusual punishment.
Her sweatshirt was still wet, but she grabbed it out of her locker anyway. She planned to lay it out in the auditorium, hoping it would dry before she had to ride her bike home.
When she arrived, most of the cast was there already. Brian was hanging out in back, talking to Brad Wesley, who had been cast as Mercutio.
“Hey, Sal,” Brian said when she entered.
Sal?
“Brad and I were just scoping the cast,” Brian went on. “Looks like a pretty good crew.”
“By which he means, there’s a lot of cute girls,” Brad said.
“Oh,” Sally said, feeling stupid.
There went Alison’s theory about Brian being interested in Sally. She wasn’t pretty, cute, or otherwise attractive. Brian was checking out the good-looking girls, and he had no interest in Sally. She was just the girl who got the part opposite him. She went to one of the seats and spread out her hoodie on the back of it.
“Man, I saw what Brinna did to you today,” Brian said.
“Everybody did,” Brad added, making Sally feel worse.
“That totally sucked,” Brian said. “I hope Principal Carter nails her for it.”
“She got three days’ detention,” Sally said.
“That’s it?” Brad said. “That’s so not enough.”
“Those girls all need an attitude adjustment,” Brian said.
Sally was rescued from having to think of something to add by Mr. Pipich’s arrival. He breezed in through the door by the stage and started talking immediately.
“Okay, people,” he said as he set his things on the stage. “Everyone gather round.”
Mr. Pipich passed out scripts and permission slips and measurement forms, explaining how everyone was to get their mother to measure them and return it by the end of the week, so costuming could get going on what it needed to do.
Sally felt a moment’s regret when she thought about the fact her mother wouldn’t be there to measure her. She looked at the sheet and saw one of the measurements was “bust.” She was pretty sure she would get a zero for that, and she didn’t want her dad to measure her. Maybe Alison would do it.
“Okay,” Mr. Pipich said. “Let’s everyone go around and introduce ourselves. Please give your name and what part you are playing. We’re all about to become a family for the next eight weeks, so we need to know who we are.”
They went around the group one by one. Sally could still hardly believe it was true when she stood
up and said, “I’m Sally Prescott. I’m playing Juliet.”
When all the introductions were done, Mr. Pipich looked around the group. He put a stern look on his face.
“Now, I have a few rules I have to address before we begin,” he said. “The first rule of theater is that there is one director. That’s me. I’ll tell you guys what to do, and you follow those directions. If you have questions or you want to try something different, you come to me. You don’t discuss it with the rest of the cast, your family, or your friends. You don’t change what I told you to do without my permission. And no one here tells anyone else what to do, okay? You let me tell the others what to do. You focus on what I told you to do.
“Second, I expect everyone to be respectful. You need to respect the building and the equipment. It’s the only one we’ve got and there isn’t a lot of money for sixth grade plays in the budget, so use what we have wisely.
“You need to respect the material. This is one of the world’s greatest love stories by the finest poet in history. The language will throw you. I’ll help. I’ll make sure you understand what you’re saying and hearing. Nobody ever talked like this. It’s all poetry. Keep that in mind; it’ll help.
“Most of all, I expect you to respect each other. You were all chosen for your talent. Everyone is here because I think you are the best at the role I gave you. Be respectful of each other, help each other, and treat each other kindly. This is a big, big project we’ve got here, and we need to support each other.
“For that reason, my third rule is for you to be on time. We have a lot to do, and eight weeks will fly by faster than you realize. I want to start on time every day, so we get as much work done as we can.
“Also, no cell phones during rehearsal. They’re a distraction to what we’re trying to do. I don’t hate them the way some teachers here do, but I want them put away while we’re working so your focus is here. Check them before we get started if you need to, and of course, you can use them to call for a ride afterwards. But during rehearsal, they should be off and in your bags.
Little Red Riding Hoodie: A Modern Fairy Tale Page 6