by Brian Toal
The first three days of school had passed and now the real work was beginning. Mr. Clifford had a short 'man to man' talk with Chris, explaining that he remembered the incident last spring, when Chris had damaged his car. He reassured Chris, he held no grudges relating to that incident. However, he had heard from Chris' last teacher he could cause problems in class and until he was convinced Chris had bettered his ways, Chris would sit at the front of row one, just in front of his own desk. Chris didn't think Mr. Clifford had forgotten about his muffler at all.
"The report can be handwritten legibly, or preferably typed if you have a typewriter or computer." He looked at his watch. "It is 10:45 - you have until lunch at the school library to begin your research. Mrs. Andrews is expecting you. All thirty-four of you." He emphasized the 'thirty-four', indicating there could be a count of the pupils during their research period.
Chris smiled, this was definitely a good development. An hour to use the library. Since his encounter with Mrs. Hepburn at the Detroit Library, he had not returned to any other public library, for fear of the same treatment and more embarrassing conversations with his mom or dad. Any future embarrassments would be with his mother now, as his dad had departed on another truck run. To add to his concern, he had also noticed that the security guard that had phoned his father, was now employed at the school and patrolled the corridors during class time. But he had managed to spend a number of hours in the school library and, although the public library certainly had a better selection, most of the research material he wanted was available, although there was not the variety of texts or the depth of knowledge that was available at the public library. Especially not in biology or human development.
Chris wasn't sure why he had developed a craving to investigate the workings of the human body. He just suddenly had an interest to find out. He also knew he was interested in exploring astronomy and mathematics, perusing world history, right back to Homo Erectus, as well as the more local and recent United States' history. The school library was well equipped to supply his needs in both astronomy and American History, and to a moderate degree, ancient history. However, the school library collection did not include many medical texts and the ones that were on the library's shelves were either very basic or quite dated. Chris was not sure how he would gain access to such material, but for now it did not worry him, the school library had enough material to keep him occupied for the next few weeks.
This new craving for knowledge didn't concern him, it was just something he felt like doing, as simple as wanting to take a bike ride down to the lake shore or go for a walk in the park. It was just something he found that he liked to do and looked forward to. And it wasn't hard work. He would pick a topic from a list of subjects he wanted to learn about, find the volume that most met his needs and read it - the whole thing. The information he actually needed, (and often he was not exactly sure what he was looking for), he could extrapolate from the hundreds of pages he had read. His memory of the material he was seeking, as well as his recollection of all the other material he read, was absolute. He found that he could retain every scrap of information in its entirety; the page number, the name of the book, what the type face looked like, even which pages were torn or stained.
He had never been a fast reader before, but he had never been much interested in reading either and so he was pleasantly surprised to find speed reading was quite an easy skill to master. He figured school should be more fun this year as he wouldn't need to work so hard.
Chris had no need to return to the section of the library which included the Civil War, as he had already amassed enough data on the conflict and the developments leading up to the war, to easily complete his assignment. Indeed, he was happy he had read all that he needed to on the subject, as the aisle on American History was currently jammed with students removing all of the available subject material on the Civil War and its causes.
Absently he wondered how many books on the Civil War there were in the library's collection and he felt the now familiar, adrenalin-like surge within his brain as a glowing replica of the library's computer screen, titled 'American Civil War' floated before his eyes. The students and the library were visible behind and through this apparition projected in front of his retina, although he knew from his research on the eye and the human brain, this information exchange was likely occurring at the rear of his brain in the Striate Cortex, which contained his optic center. At the upper right corner of the vision, a glowing line of text read '36 entries in this category'.
Well, there are enough books for everyone, Chris decided, providing people don't take more than one book apiece. The vision faded as soon as his interest in the number of books on The Civil War in the school's library left him.
He decided he would use his time in the library to study the European Middle Ages and walked towards that section of the library. He passed one of his classmates, Ben Able, opening a book entitled appropriately enough "The American Civil War."
There’s not much information in that book, concerning the developments leading up to the war, Chris recalled. It’s all about the actual war itself. Chris grinned, but he’s a pain in the ass anyway, so let him waste his time.
He continued past the aisle of American History to an aisle one row over, the portion of the library devoted to European History and although the selection of books was more limited, he thought the contents were far more fascinating.
The Europeans - now they knew how to fight battles. Pictures of various paintings appeared in front of his eyes. Paintings he had seen in the fourteen books he had already perused on European history. The British in their red coats and white pants. The French in their blues, canons blazing, and thousands of soldiers marching towards each other, muzzle loaders and bayonets pointing. Now, those were wars!
He turned into the aisle and selected six volumes about the history of Europe up until the sixteenth century, then returned to a row of cubicles, each with its own padded chair, arranged along the inner wall of the main room. Tall, curtained windows lined the far wall behind Mrs. Andrews' desk with numerous study tables, now with students gathered around them in groups, occupying the center. Chris sat down and stacked five of the books, the covers facing down, on the built-in shelf in front of him. Holding the sixth book so that the spine rested on the surface of the table he rapidly began to move through the pages, his left hand flipping the pages approximately every two seconds. Just enough time to scan each page, individually.
"What are you doing?" Chris pulled his eyes away from the book and turned to his right as a pale, thin boy with long blond hair seated himself next to Chris.
"Studying for the report."
"You're lucky, you get to tape it!" Jesse Hersfeld whispered, pulling a lined pad, closer to himself, two fingers on his right hand stained blue from the cartridge pen Jesse habitually used. "What’re you doing after school?"
"Nothing much, I was going to watch some T.V., or something. Why, do you want to come over?"
"Sure. And my sister got that new Ninja game for her birthday, I could probably bring it over too."
"Oh yeah! That’d be great."
"I think I can get it. I'll ask her. If I can't, I can get it for sure tomorrow. She has dance lessons then."
Jesse Hersfeld was a friend he and Todd had spent a lot of time with. Two years ago, shortly after the Hersfelds had immigrated to Detroit from Denmark, Jesse's dad had left for the day to search for work and had phoned to say goodbye five days later from California. Jesse and his two little sisters and even Jesse's mother, now spent a considerable amount of time over at Chris' house. Their four blonde heads, looking definitely out of place among the dark complexions of the McCarter family. Now that Todd was no longer available to play with, Chris was monopolizing a great deal more of Jesse's time. Not that Jesse seemed to mind.
"I can't tomorrow," Chris responded. "My Mom is taking me to visit Todd at the hospital and I won't be allowed to do anything after school."
"Oh,
that's a drag." Jesse responded, pulling a history text towards himself and opening it, staring directly ahead into his own cubicle as he continued to speak with Chris. "How is Todd?"
"He's all right I guess."
"Is he talking, yet?"
"Yeah, sort of...but not too good." Chris had been to visit Todd twice over the last week, his animosity towards visiting him having diminished slightly, but he still didn't enjoy sitting beside the boy who resembled his friend, yet was so unlike him in every important way. "Hey!" Chris' eyes brightened as a new thought occurred to him. "Do you want to come with me? I'm sure my Mom would let you. I mean like, you were a friend of Todd's."
"That’d be alright, I guess. I’d have to ask my Mom though."
"Do it, okay. I hate visiting him, just Mom and me. It’s kind of depressing."
"Is he weird looking or something?"
"No. It's just, kind of...sad, seeing him lying there, and school's in and Todd always liked school and... Well, you know what I mean."
"I’ll ask my Mom, I’m pretty sure she’ll let me go."
"That’d be great, and maybe we could play the Ninja game when we got back."
"Shhh...there’s Mr. Clifford." Jesse said, quickly bowing his head to his open book. Chris also changed his position, hunkering his body over the table in front of him to hide the textbook in his hand. Mr. Clifford circled the room, bending down once or twice to speak with students who beckoned for his attention, then continued on his rounds to ensure his charges were doing what he had asked of them. He passed to the rear of Chris' and Jesse's two chairs, glancing at their bent backs and then returned, looping around behind Chris to appear at his side.
"Mr. McCarter and Mr. Hersfeld..." both boys looked up as he spoke. "Are we accomplishing good work here?"
"Yes sir." Chris responded, his right hand, still in its bandage, laying across the open pages. He hoped Mr. Clifford would not bend down close enough to actually read the writing or pick up one of the other books laying face down on the small shelf.
"Good, I’m glad to hear that." He smiled down at Chris. "I hope your hand will not continue to trouble you for much longer."
"No sir. The doctors are going to take the padding out from in between the figures tomorrow."
"Good. I don't think dictating reports improves one's literary ability to the same extent as actually writing them. What do you think?"
"Ummm...I don't know, sir. I guess not."
"Well, I don't believe it does. Certainly, in your case, you need more practice actually constructing the written word." Mr. Clifford reached into the pocket of his jacket and as he withdrew Chris' small tape recorder, a note-sized, powder-blue piece of paper fluttered to the floor, catching Chris' attention as it landed face-up on the library carpet beside him.
"Darn," Mr. Clifford muttered as he quickly bent to retrieve it, jamming it back into his pocket. "Here is your tape recorder. I’ve marked the answers you recorded, so you may erase it."
"Yes, sir." Chris said, taking the tape recorder with his left hand while he covered his open book with his bandaged right.
Mr. Clifford looked curiously down at the partially visible page and then turned, his eyes not registering the words, towards the other side of the library where Mrs. Andrews sat behind her desk.
"Are you really studying?" Jesse whispered as Mr. Clifford moved away from them to sit on the librarian's desk, chatting amiably with her.
"Yes, only I'm not actually studying the Civil War."
"What are you reading, then?"
"A book on European History."
"Yuk!" Jesse exclaimed, keeping his voice low as he expressed his apparent dislike of the subject. "I had to study some of that back in Denmark. Why do you want to read that stuff?"
"I don't know, I just find it interesting. It's better than American History."
"Do you think so? I think American History is cool. The Indians sneaking around the woods, the gold rush, the gunfights out west and blowing up the British. I think American History is better."
"That's because you already know European History." Chris whispered defensively.
"I didn't say I knew it. I said I studied it. European History is impossible to learn. It goes back two thousand years. I hated it - I could never remember the dates."
"Well I can. I don't have trouble remembering dates and things like that."
"You’re a liar." Jesse said pleasantly, a big grin on his face. "You almost failed History last year and you were the worst at those speeches we had to memorize."
"That was last year. This year I can remember lots."
"Bull!" Jesse said, then noticing the book Chris had in front of him, he continued. “If you think you’re so good at European History, then tell me when England was last invaded."
"1066."
"When was Henry VIII, the King of England?"
"1509 to 1547."
"When did Denmark discover Greenland?"
"Eric the Red discovered it in 985."
"Wow!" Jesse was impressed, but continued with his questioning. "What year did Olaf I Tryggvason die?"
Chris wrinkled his brows, "I don't know. Who is Olaf...whoever?"
Jesse laughed. "Ah-ha! You don't know everything about European history. Olaf I Tryggvason was one of the first kings of Denmark and he Christianized large portions of our country."
Chris shook his head. "I haven't studied the history of Denmark specifically. And there aren't any books in this library about just Denmark. Ask me another question."
Jesse thought again, raising his head to look at the ceiling, trying to think of another question that would stump his friend. His thoughts moved to his current project. "When was Andrew Jackson elected, President?"
Chris glanced behind him to see Mr. Clifford still seated on the librarian's desk, witnessing a flash of blue paper exchanged between their two hands. He leaned over to his friend, his mouth close to Jesse's ear. "I can do better than that. Andrew Jackson was elected in 1828, inaugurated in 1829 and served two terms ending in 1836, defeating Henry Clay in 1832." As Jesse looked into Chris' blue eyes, only inches away but unfocused and staring through and beyond his head, he drew back, his own eyes and mouth wide with amazement as Chris continued. "He paid off the National Debt in 1835 and through the development of his Specie Circular halted land speculation and..." his eyes dropped to the book lying open in front of Jesse, "...you can find the information on President Jackson's decisions that influenced developments leading up to the Civil War, in that book on pages 201 to 235 and 407 through to 420." He stopped, a large grin on his face. "What do you think of that?"
Jesse continued to stare at Chris, his mouth still agape, his eyes moving from Chris to the desk in front of him, looking for some explanation of how Chris could have repeated all that he did. Finally, he looked back into Chris' eyes, "Holy...how did you do that?"
Chris tapped the side of his head. "Brain power."
"Bull." Jesse replied weakly. "But how can you know all that stuff?"
“I don't know, I just can. I can do it now anyway." Chris leaned back into his own cubicle and reached for the unread books as the lunch bell sounded in the corridor.
"Holy...." Jesse repeated, the awe noticeable in his voice. "Can you help me with my essay, then?"
Chris laughed out loud. The class was breaking up, students rising from their places and chatting among themselves. "Yeah, I'll dictate two essays and give you one of them. Then you can copy it out."
"That’d be great!"
Chris laughed again, happy he had shared his new-found skills with his friend. Together they left the library and walked towards the cafeteria.
"Hey, Butt-face. Seen any new crack lately?" Chris' teeth clicked painfully together from the smack against the back of his head.
Ben Able's sharp guffaw of laughter rang in his ears as Chris' eyes followed the other boy's rolling gait down the cafeteria aisle to a table two rows further on. There he slammed himself into a vacant seat beside f
our other, similarly large buddies. Two painfully thin girls, each with small buds of womanly appeal, greeted his arrival with wide smiles.
Chris couldn't stand Ben Able. Yet he had been seated beside him in class. Ben's propensity for fighting and laziness was deemed by Mr. Clifford as no less serious a crime, then Chris' own mischievousness. Ben was always asking to borrow rulers, pencils, note paper and whatever else he had misplaced or broken in the last few days. Lately Chris had begun to say 'no', which had pissed Ben off to no end. Ben was a bully - big, clumsy and stupid - but incredibly strong and he loved to fight.
"What an asshole." Jesse said from across the table, as Chris turned back to continue with his lunch. The clatter of chairs and the raised voices of students talking and laughing during their sixty minutes of mid-day freedom, surrounded them. "He beat up Tom Handly yesterday and Tom didn't do anything."
"Yeah well, he’s mad at me because I won't lend him anything anymore."
"Well, he is an asshole. Maybe you should get Mr. Clifford to move you. Maybe you can get moved over by me." Jesse suggested.
"Naw, I'll be alright. Besides Mr. Clifford wouldn't move me, he wants me to sit up front."
"I wish guys like that had to be sent to another school." Jesse dug further into his lunch bag, pulling out a peach with a big, discolored bruise on one side. "Last year, John McCann punched me out by the garbage bins, around back. He said I was talking to his girlfriend, Joann Thompson. I didn't even know Joann was his girlfriend."
"Yeah, I remember." Chris replied, his eyes focused on the five older boys laughing and jostling each other in their seats. Ben was sitting two chairs down from the 'pounder outter' of last year, John McCann. The two of them were eating spaghetti and meatballs - today's special - if one wished to purchase lunch from the school cafeteria.
"Anyway, I stay away from those guys, now. They’re all just assholes." Jesse repeated. "Hey, do you want to go over to the store? I’m not going to eat this peach. It's all squashed."
"Yeah, we could..." Chris answered absently, as he watched Ben lift his plate of spaghetti up to his mouth, sucking a clump of noodles off the edge and into his mouth like a clump of long, bloody worms. He heard the two girls high-pitched protests as they gigglingly expressed their revulsion. Chris turned away to watch Jesse's thin arms scoop up the remainder of his lunch and cram it into his lunch bag.