Clothed in Thunder

by Sheila Hollinghead

  We left the lunchroom side by side.

  I stepped outside that afternoon, intent on hurrying home to tell Aunt Liza I would be going to Marla’s. When someone called my name, I relived yesterday. A vehicle was parked in the exact spot where Dan’s car had been, and a young man leaned against it.

  He pushed away from the truck and hurried toward me. I blinked my eyes and ran down the steps to meet him.

  Michael! He caught me in his arms, and it was all I could do to step back, aware that teachers patrolled nearby.

  “Michael! What are you doing here?”

  “I couldn’t wait another minute to see you.” His eyes held mine, and he sighed heavily. “But I’ve got to head back tonight.”

  I heard peals of laughter. Again, it was Sylvia and her friends. I was thankful Michael drove an old truck, and Sylvia wouldn’t be able to wedge her way in.

  Still, the girls gathered around us and forced me to introduce them. This time, they only stayed a minute before moving away. I prayed my thanks and climbed in beside Michael.

  His hand reached for mine. “Where to, my girl?”

  “I need to stop by the house, and then I’m going to a friend’s.” I threaded my fingers through his and bit my bottom lip.

  He looked at me, concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  I explained to him about Mr. Albertson.

  He shook his head. “That’s just ridiculous. That man needs talking to. Why would anyone act like that?”

  “I just hate that you came all this way, and I have to do homework.” I looked at him anxiously, a little afraid he would be angry with me.

  “It would be worth driving twice as long just to spend one second with you.” He squeezed my hand, and my heart melted.

  “When can you come back to spend longer?”

  “I’ll try to make it back this weekend. Working overtime, trying to make enough money to pay for college, and helping my paw around the farm, makes it hard to get away.”

  We pulled into the yard, and I jumped out to tell Aunt Liza that I would be at Marla’s and that Michael was driving me.

  When I came back, Michael’s face lit up again.

  “Aunt Liza told me to invite you to supper.” I looked at him, my fingers crossed.

  “What is she cooking?”

  I gently punched his arm. “Michael! I thought you wanted to see me.”

  “I do! I’ll eat pork liver for you.” He threw me a sideways glance. “But I hope it’s not pork liver.”

  “It’s pork chops.”

  “Great! I’m definitely staying, then.” He flashed a smile. “But I’ll have to leave right after supper.”

  “Are you sure? You can’t stay longer?”

  “Jay, you don’t know how much I want to.” He turned down a side road and threw the truck into park.

  He gathered me to him, and I leaned into his kiss, not wanting to ever let go.

  But thoughts of Mr. Albertson intruded, and I reluctantly pulled away. “Marla will wonder where I’m at.”

  “You’re right. I don’t want to keep you from your homework.”

  A scent drifted from Michael. “What’s that smell?”

  “What smell?” He looked at me, frowning.

  “Are you wearing cologne?”

  He smiled. “Yep. Just for you.” He grinned lopsidedly.

  I kissed him gently on the lips before he drove me to Marla’s. He dropped me off with a promise to meet me back at Aunt Liza’s for supper.

  Chapter 8—Marla

  Marla lived in a comfortable two-story house. A sitting room, formal parlor, a bedroom, and a kitchen made up the downstairs. Upstairs were three more bedrooms where Marla and her four brothers and three sisters slept.

  A cold front had moved through, and the temperature hovered already at freezing, making Marla’s bedroom too cool to study in. Instead, we settled at the kitchen table, the warmth from the stove filling the room. Marla sat beside me, and her youngest brothers and sisters gathered around us, clamoring for our attention.

  Marla’s mother, a tired-looking woman, shooed the children, all except the youngest girl, into the sitting room, leaving us to a relative peace.

  The sounds of laughter drifted through the walls. What would it be like to be part of such a large family? I would never know.

  “This is Grace,” Marla said, wrapping her arm around the young girl by her side.

  “Hi, Grace. How old are you?” I asked.

  “Eight.” She moved even closer to Marla and stared at me.

  “Grace, don’t you want to go play with the others?” Marla asked.

  Grace shook her head, sending her golden curls swaying. If possible, her beauty outshone her sister’s.

  “We have to study,” Marla said. “You have to be very quiet.”

  Grace nodded her head without speaking. She settled with her arms folded on the table, resting her head on them.

  Marla didn’t waste any more time but opened the math book and showed me the problems. I couldn’t make hide nor hair of them. Without losing patience, she flipped to the front of the book and explained the very first lesson. I had missed so much school that it took a while to understand even the basic principles.

  Marla never complained at my slowness. With her encouragement, I began to catch on.

  After two hours, we had covered the first three chapters. But it was too little, too late. The class was now in the middle of chapter eight. There was no way I could do my homework for tomorrow when there was so much more to learn.

  Nothing I could do but leave with my homework undone. I shoved my uneasiness aside, knowing I would just have to wait for the morrow. Maybe Mr. Albertson would understand. Yet, I knew it was a foolish thought. I gathered my things and thanked Marla quietly. Grace slept, snoring softly, and I didn’t want to wake her. I gathered my books and hurried home.

  Aunt Liza had made mashed potatoes, turnips, and cornbread to go along with the fried pork chops. It was a perfect meal with Michael sitting by my side.

  As we finished up with a sweet potato cobbler, I repeated the story of Mr. Albertson.

  Aunt Liza sucked air between her teeth. “I can’t believe he holds a grudge after all these years!” Her face reddened.

  I looked at her in surprise. “You know Mr. Albertson?”

  She nodded and took a bite of the cobbler. My spoon remained dangling in my hand even though sweet potato cobbler was my favorite dessert.

  Uncle Howard shook his head at his wife. “Might as well tell them, Liza.”

  She swallowed the bite of cobbler and toyed with the rest in her plate before she spoke. “We graduated from high school together. He was valedictorian, and I was salutatorian.”

  “You look a lot younger than he does,” I said.

  “Thank you, hon.” She bestowed a smile on me. “Anyway, we both had to give speeches at graduation. I stole the one he had written.” She shrugged her shoulders.

  It was hard for me to imagine Aunt Liza doing that. “He knew you stole it?”

  She nodded her head. “Yes, he knew, but no one else. He never told.” She looked down at her plate, her cheeks red.

  “Well, I’m sure he deserved it,” Michael said.

  Aunt Liza raised her head, and her eyes clouded. She shook her head. “No, he didn’t deserve it. I was just ... jealous.”

  “Did he give the speech?” I asked.

  She waved her hand. “Oh, sure. Our English teacher helped him rewrite it. He remembered most of it anyway.”

  “Well, I think he’s plum silly to be mad all these years.” I rubbed my forehead. “Maybe he’s still not mad — he just doesn’t like me.”

  Aunt Liza shook her finger at me. “Now you’re just being silly. Why wouldn’t he like you?”

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  Michael pushed back from the table. “Sorry to eat and run, but I need to get going.”

  I sighed. “I still have English and history homework to do.”

&nb
sp; “Go, go,” Aunt Liza said. “I’ll do the dishes.”

  “Can I help?” Zeke asked.

  “You sure can. You want to wash or dry?”

  I walked out with Michael. The air was cool, and I shivered. We stood by his truck with its flaking red paint showing rust beneath. I thought how it contrasted with Dan’s shiny car.

  I turned to Michael. “I forgot to tell you. Dan came by.”

  Michael frowned. “He didn’t tell me when I saw him. What was he doing here?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know, except he said he wanted to apologize.”

  Michael rubbed his chin. “Yeah. He’s been doing a lot of apologizing.”

  “He apologized to you, too?”

  Michael nodded slowly. “Reckon you could say that.”

  “Oh, and he’s coming back this weekend. He’s bringing horses for Uncle Howard to board.”

  Michael’s eyebrows drew together. “Horses? What horses?”

  I shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

  “He told me he needed my help but didn’t say why. Guess he wants to borrow me and my truck.” He kissed my forehead, and I caught the scent of his new cologne. “Well, I’ll be here this weekend to keep an eye on him.”

  “An eye on him? You think he’s up to something?”

  “You never know with Dan. I best be going.” He climbed into his truck and closed the door.

  I stepped onto the running board and leaned in the window. “Be careful going home.” I gave him a peck on the lips.

  “See you Friday, if the creeks don’t rise.”

  I smiled and stepped down. He waved and drove away. When he drove out of sight, I went to my bedroom to finish my homework, already missing him.

  Chapter 9—The Office Visit

  The next morning rain clouds gathered. When I was still a block away from school, the rain began. I was soaked when I entered the building and made my way through the crowded halls. Thunder shook the glass in the windows.

  I shivered as I waited for Mr. Albertson to pick up the homework. The thunder rumbled farther away, but the clouds still hung dark and heavy. The lights did little to dispel the gloom.

  Mr. Albertson made his way around the room until he once again stopped at my desk. “Homework, Miss Hunter?” His voice sounded more than ever like the cawing of a crow.

  I looked down at my desk. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “What is your excuse today?” He crossed his arms, and his face took on the contortions of someone eating an unripe persimmon.

  “I didn’t know how,” I said. “Marla went over the first three chapters with me, but that was as far as we got.”

  He cast Marla a malevolent stare as if she had betrayed him before turning his anger back to me. “Stand up, Miss Hunter.”

  I hastily obeyed. The class started to snicker, but one look threw them into silence.

  “To the blackboard.”

  I walked to the board. My hands trembled slightly, and I rubbed my nose to hide my nervousness.

  Mr. Albertson thrust a piece of chalk at me. “Let’s see exactly how much you do know.”

  My cheeks burned as he wrote a series of problems across the board. He spun to face me and narrowed his eyes.

  “You may begin.” A thin strand of his remaining dark hair fell over one eye as he jerked his head at me.

  The board wavered before my eyes, and I squinted as if that would help. My stomach churned as I attempted the first one. I swallowed hard and moved to the next one. I had no clue how to proceed. Several students giggled. I gulped the air, trying desperately to calm myself.

  Finally, I squared my shoulders and turned to face him. “I can’t do any more, sir.”

  He kept his eyes on me and spat out a command. “Miss Sylvia, up front, now.”

  Sylvia walked regally to the front of the room. “Yes, sir?”

  “You’re in charge while I’m gone.”

  Quickly, he grabbed my elbow and propelled me toward the door. I was barely able to keep pace with him, even as short as he was. By the time we reached the office, I was out of breath.

  He released my arm and banged on the counter, startling Miss Ballard.

  She jumped from her chair. “Mr. Albertson! Anything wrong?”

  He ignored her question. “Where is Principal Martin?”

  “He’s in his office. I’ll tell him you’re here.” She threw a look of sympathy at me before going into the inner office.

  She returned in a few seconds. “He can see you now.”

  Mr. Albertson pushed me forward. My heart pounded in my ears. What would Mr. Martin do? Would I be kicked out of school for not doing my homework?

  Anger surged, and my head throbbed. I straightened to my full height and marched ahead of Mr. Albertson. I pushed the anger away and moistened my lips.

  Principal Martin stood as we entered. Mr. Albertson explained the situation.

  I studied the many books on the bookshelves lining the walls, trying to distract myself as Mr. Albertson hurled accusations at me.

  The principal walked to the front of the desk and leaned against it, studying me. I turned my full attention to him.

  “Miss Hunter, did we make a mistake placing you in tenth grade?”

  “No, sir,” I said, firmly. “I know I can do the work if I have time to catch up.”

  Mr. Albertson snorted. “I will not have a student in my classroom who refuses to do homework. She doesn’t even try.”

  I stared down at my shoes, biting my lip to keep from blurting out.

  “Do you refuse to do your homework?” Principal Martin asked.

  I raised my head to meet his eyes. “No, sir. Marla helped me to learn the first three chapters. We didn’t have time to do more.”

  “Mr. Albertson, did you examine her on those chapters?”

  “No, sir, but . . .”

  Principal Martin waved his hand in dismissal. “Give her until Monday. If she’s not caught up by then, we’ll see what other arrangements need to be made.”

  Mr. Albertson gritted his teeth and glared at me.

  I swallowed. “Principal Martin?”

  “Yes, Miss Hunter?” He had moved back around his desk.

  “I don’t have a math book. I live with my aunt and uncle, and they couldn’t afford all of my books.”

  He sighed. “Mr. Barnett is your uncle?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He studied me for a long minute before sighing. “Times are hard for everyone. Mr. Albertson, do you have an extra textbook in your room Miss Hunter may borrow?”

  Mr. Albertson threw back his shoulders. “I’m not sure if she should be trusted with one of our books.” He threw me a look of distaste.

  Mr. Martin shook his head slowly at him and wagged his index finger. “We will trust her with the book until the time she shows herself untrustworthy.”

  Mr. Albertson stiffened. “If you say so, sir.”

  I nodded my head and tried not to look smug. “Thank you, sir.”

  Mr. Albertson and I turned to leave.

  “Miss Hunter?”

  I paused on the threshold. “Yes, sir?”

  “Remember you have until Monday. Understood?”

  “Completely, sir.” I hurried after Mr. Albertson.

  Mr. Albertson walked even faster back to the classroom than he had going to the office, but I managed to keep up with him. Ignoring the students’ stares, I followed him to his desk. Sylvia stood at the blackboard, watching each student with a hawk eye.

  Mr. Albertson gestured to her. “Miss Sylvia, you may be seated.”

  Sylvia handed the piece of chalk back to Mr. Albertson and brushed past me on the way to her desk, giving me a tight smile.

  I remained at the front of the room, afraid if I sat down that he would not give me the book.

  Mr. Albertson settled behind his desk and opened a deep drawer. He fished out a book and slid it across to me without looking in my direction.

  I picked up the book
and headed back to my seat. Mr. Albertson propped his elbows on his desk and allowed his forehead to touch his hands.

  None of the students moved. I wondered for a moment if he was praying. Then he raised his head.

  “Turn to page 104 and 105. Do all of the problems.”

  Several students groaned. Mr. Albertson ignored them and simply stared into space until the end of the class period.

  I struggled with the work, flipping back pages to find any information to help me. When he took up our work at the end of class, I had only managed to do five problems. And they were probably wrong.

  Before we were allowed to leave, he pointed to the blackboard.

  “Your homework for tomorrow. I expect everyone to have it. No excuses.” He turned to me with narrowed eyes.

  “Class dismissed.”

  Chapter 10—Michael & Dan

  After school, I again went to Marla’s and told her all about Michael’s visit before we settled down to work. For the next three days after school, Marla patiently taught me lesson after lesson. I didn’t know how I would ever pay her back.

  The thought of seeing Michael kept me going through the week. With the exhaustion from trying to catch up on my math work, Mr. Albertson’s daily disapproval, all my other homework, and the excitement of seeing Michael, I had all but forgotten Dan.

  Dan showed up on Friday before Michael arrived. I didn’t go to Marla’s, eager to get home from school. I had barely tossed my books on my bed when I heard the car drive into the yard. I ran out, hoping it was Michael, but already knowing it didn’t sound like his truck.

  Dan slammed his car door and grinned at me, his eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun.

  I frowned at him, chided myself, and forced a smile. “Hey, Dan.”

  “Hey.” He grinned at me. “I brought you something.”

  “What?” I didn’t feel like playing guessing games with him.

  I walked toward his car, and he held up a hand to stop me. “Wait right there.”

  I hesitated, irritated at his bossy tone. He swung open the car’s back door, and a dog jumped out.