by Nōnen Títi
“We did?”
“You had an entire story world built between you, a perfect world you acted out together.”
“That ideology can still be seen in their writing today,” Palmer says. “They have it in their blood and nobody can stop them, but the pen can be a mighty weapon, feared by others, especially those in power.”
“Is that why you protect Mariette?” I ask.
He starts laughing. “Yes, and because she reminds me of somebody who used to be exactly like that at your age.”
Turns out Jessica was kicked out of her school for arguing back and he had to pick her up from a police station twice for having been radically politically active. “But always for the right cause and with sincere motivations.”
“In the process making life very difficult, and not just for others,” Cheryl adds. “Thank heaven we have Carla to keep her out of trouble now.”
Jessica winks at me. She seems to enjoy the memories. “I’m afraid that’s the role you’re bound to play for your cousin,” Palmer says.
“I can’t do that. She’s way stronger than I am.” In fact, there’s little hope of Mariette warming up to me now that I called Grandpa Will on her.
When Palmer drives me home after lit group he suggests we should do this again some time. “Just read through your poems with an open mind, Jerome, and you might find some you’d like to share with a bigger audience.” He drops me off in front of the house. When I wave goodbye from the pavement, I notice Mariette in the window upstairs.
Grandpa Will greets me and says to stop worrying about what people say and that he believes they won’t be quite as aggressive as before. Just to play it safe I try to avoid being alone with Mariette. I keep things distant to avoid giving her a reason to turn me away, so the next morning we once again arrive, like when I first came to this school, in silence. Although nobody directly attacks me about not being part of their movement anymore, I can feel the distance.
Mariette is so quiet during English that she might as well have been absent. The others make less noise too and the day goes by without incident – except for me, that is. When the lunch bell rings Mr Fokker comes into the room and asks for essays. I don’t know anything about it so I don’t have any. Once Mr Shriver talks to Mr Fokker, I’m cleared of any wrong-doing, but this evokes a protest from Lindsay, who didn’t write one either and is sent home with the message that she has until tomorrow or be suspended.
“You’re having favourites. Why don’t Jerome have to get sent away?” Lindsey complains.
“Because he wasn’t here when I assigned the essay and apparently nobody bothered to inform him.” Mr Fokker looks at Mariette, who in turn glances at me and then shrugs. When we all leave the room she stays in her seat. I’m not sure if this is her idea or if Mr Fokker told her to, but I’m pretty sure she’s going to apologize to Mr Shriver for last week.
On Tuesday Mr Moralis is back, but he stays in his office. That afternoon Dad and Nikos leave with Grandpa Will for the farm, from which they’ll go and visit Rowan. “Keep me informed,” Grandpa Will says when I say goodbye. Mariette looks at me but doesn’t comment.
On Wednesday morning Josh says that he can’t let me write articles for the school paper anymore. “From now on everything has to be pre-approved by the principal.”
“Why don’t you quit then?” Mariette asks.
“I didn’t need to. I was told that I had better study for my exams,” he says. “You might consider me a coward, but I want to be done with high school so I’m going to step down until I can make a difference on a larger scale.”
During lunch PM calls our entire class into the gym to air his grievances with the anarchy. “I am extremely upset about the nasty rumours and this childish behaviour. You should be setting an example for the younger students,” he says.
“Maybe using the younger kids as spies isn’t very mature either,” I tell him, and for a moment everyone is silent.
Instead of responding, PM repeats that our parents will be notified. “This is the last warning for all of you. From now on everybody will follow the rules and nobody will be allowed onto the school grounds without a proper uniform, appropriate for their gender and one layer only.”
“How about yours?” Charlotte asks, causing a series of sputters and snorts from stifled laughter.
“Maybe he’s upset because of the girls wearing pants under their skirts,” Lindsey adds, so that Kathleen nearly chokes and then starts whispering too. Within no time everybody is grinning.
This, of course, only upsets the principal more. I don’t know why he doesn’t give it up; he can’t win. Instead he makes another plea for cooperation, saying that he has the best in mind for all members of the student body.
“I thought it was all about a certain member of the principal’s body,” Kathleen jokes, at which the whole group bursts out laughing and Mr Moralis walks out.
“They can’t expel the entire class,” Charlotte says.
After lunch we have history, which goes by without a problem, but Kathleen doesn’t turn up for civics.
“She was sent home,” Pat says.
“For what, that joke?” Mariette asks.
“She can’t come back unless she publicly apologizes.”
“Fornicating backstabber, I bet he can’t wait to witness that, just so he can ma- Ah!”
The moment Mr Fokker’s hand hits Mariette’s face, the whole class falls silent. He stands in front of her table and looks at her, as does everybody else. After a few seconds Mariette looks down but immediately glances back up, as if to make sure he’s really there.
“Way to go, Mariette,” Mick says, and he’s not being sarcastic.
Mr Fokker walks back to his desk and sits on it. I have no idea what will happen now, but this moment feels as if it’s the last drop, the end of school. She’s gone too far and she knows it.
For several long minutes the two of them look at each other; Mariette on and off and Mr Fokker constantly. Both ignore the hubbub that’s slowly taking over the class. Apparently the others have different ideas about just who will have to leave school. Charlotte is packing her bag and announces that she feels threatened being in the same room with an abusive teacher. Mick is already making plans to call a lawyer and Lindsey asks what number to dial for the police. Most are getting up to leave.
I look at Pat, who shrugs her shoulders. There’s no answer for this.
Then Pat and Charlotte try to get Mariette out of her seat. “Come on, we’ll go call your parents.”
She shakes them off, slowly at first, but when they keep insisting, more aggressively. “Leave me alone!” In the end she puts her head in her arms on top of her table and shuts out the world.
Mr Fokker looks at me then. I do what Pat did, shrugging to say, ‘I don’t know what next’. He must know that his job is in danger, but he doesn’t show it. He sits down behind his desk and starts writing. Most of the class leaves, noisy, angry and maybe also confused by Mariette’s silence. Mr Fokker makes no attempt to either stop them or to respond to the accusations.
As there seems to be no class, I take out my diary and scribble the first words of a new poem; words that just can’t wait any longer.
Wielder of words
what moves you?
When you challenge
all the limits?
Why can I just be a shadow
and you see only sun?
When the bell rings to announce the end of the day, Mr Fokker picks up his bag and leaves without tidying the room first. The last danglers go as well and I’m left with Mariette and no idea what to tell her, so I wait until she finally pulls her head out of her arms. “Ready to go?”
She picks up her bag and we walk to the bus stop without saying anything about anything.
“How was school?” Aunt Karen asks her standard question.
“Okay,” I tell her.
Mariette goes to her room without answering and doesn’t come down for dinner. I tell my aunt a
nd uncle that she had a fight with someone and to not worry about it, but I feel strangely affected by the need to keep it quiet for her sake.
Why do I fear your passion?
Why can’t I match his?
I’d like to be your guide,
Director of your play;
Let you be the commotion.
In the morning she doesn’t get up. She doesn’t answer when Aunt Karen calls or when I knock on her door, so I do what brings the risk of flying objects directed at my head and I walk in. “It’s seven forty-five.”
“I’m not going,” the lump under the blanket says. “Staying away would be doing what PM did.” It takes at least thirty seconds before she responds. “Everybody will know.”
“Probably.”
She throws back the blanket and steps out of bed, dressed in what she came home in and leaves in the same clothes twenty minutes later. She hasn’t showered or eaten.
“What about it?” Mick asks Mariette as soon as we arrive.
“What about what?”
“What did your parents say?”
“I didn’t tell them.”
“Are you crazy?” He pulls on her arm, shoving me out of the way. “This is our big chance. I thought that’s why you said it.”
“Well I didn’t and it isn’t anybody’s business but mine – not my parents’ either.”
Mariette shakes everybody off and goes in search of Mr Fokker during first period. When she comes into art she tells me that he isn’t in his room.
“Maybe he comes in late on Thursdays.”
She doesn’t do anything during art class and slowly the rest give up trying to get her to talk, including the teacher. During second period Kathleen walks in, grinning ear to ear.
“What happened?”
“Dad came with me and told PM that the new rules are violating our liberties and that we merely responded to that. He said the school had no right to send the police after us, and that since no alcohol was found he’ll be telling the media about the state of affairs at this school and how kids are being detained for having an opinion and the police used as a threat, while in the meantime the rumours that might be true aren’t being investigated. He was great,” she says. “Did you have to apologize?”
“Yes, but not in public. Why didn’t you call me last night?” she asks Mariette. “No reason.”
“Yes reason. Because she’s stubborn and stupid,” Charlotte says and tells Kathleen about civics class.
“That’ll sure get him fired,” Kathleen concludes. “Not unless she gets to her senses.” Mariette ignores them.
“We need to stick together,” Kathleen says. “We won’t let them split us up.”
I agree with her. “We need to find a way to help Fred as well. He doesn’t answer my e-mails and isn’t allowed his phone. It’s like he’s disappeared from the face of the Earth.”
Mr Fokker remains absent all through recess, which makes Mariette more restless. Between Kathleen and me we manage to force her into eating something during lunch, though we risk being caught at the milk bar.
Just when the bell for period five goes, an announcement calls Mariette to the office. “I guess school’s out forever,” she says, and that is the first time today she smiles.
Kathleen and I join her, but while Kathleen gets sent away I’m invited to follow PM and Mariette into the office. Aunt Karen, looking very nervous, stands up when we enter. Equally nervous, PM addresses her. “I’m extremely upset about what happened and I understand that you may want to take action. I’m only asking you to consider the reputation of the school. Naturally we will discipline the teacher in question.”
On either side of me their expressions change. Aunt Karen now looks as surprised as the situation calls for. “I’m not sure I understand,” she says, while Mariette perks up.
PM repeats that he was referring to what happened yesterday, stressing that the teacher was out of control and that this has never happened before. Of course, he says, Aunt Karen has every right to be upset, but asks her not make the whole school suffer.
“I still don’t understand,” Aunt Karen says. “I wasn’t aware that anything happened.”
“You were not informed?”
Both PM and Aunt Karen look at Mariette.
“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” she says.
Next all three look at me. I shrug and shake my head, which they can interpret however they like, but for me it means I want nothing to do with this.
Now PM goes into a frenzy, saying he must have misunderstood or that the information given him was part of a prank. “I thought I could trust the people who told me and then when the teacher- …I am so terribly sorry for the confusion. I just hope that the news of this misdemeanour will be kept confidential and you can be assured that we will not disturb you again.” He’s bright red and his hands are trembling when he says goodbye to Aunt Karen. Mariette rolls her eyes at me, but they’re shining victoriously.
“What was that about?” Aunt Karen asks as soon as we’re outside.
“I have no idea. He’s known to get confused sometimes. It might be the early stages of Alzheimer’s,” Mariette says. “We’ve learned not to pay too much attention.” She waits with her real feelings until we’re alone. “The good thing about this is that PM can’t fire a teacher because of a misunderstanding so Mr Fokker still has to be around somewhere.”
She asks Mr Shriver about him at the end of English.
“He’s taken the day off.”
“Assuming you know what this is about, could you just call him and say I’m sorry? I mean, I’ll tell him too, but he might want to know first,” Mariette says.
“Know what?”
“Know that nothing happened, officially. For Mr Moralis it’s just gossip.”
“I don’t see why you have to turn everything into a battle,” Mr Shriver replies.
“I don’t know that either, most of the time.”
“He’ll be back tomorrow.”
A police car is parked at the milk bar, so we avoid it. I don’t ask Mariette any questions. She’s more likely to share when she’s ready anyway. Kathleen has no such reservations. “Why are you protecting him?” she asks.
“I’m not, but this is between him and me and nobody else has anything to do with it.”
“Fine, I’m just saying – you’ve got PM in your pocket now. Don’t lose it. Mick will never forgive you.”
No more is said about it until at dinner by Miranda.
“Mariette got hit at school,” she announces.
“Liar,” her sister responds.
“Everybody knows. All the kids and the teachers.”
Uncle Gerard looks at Aunt Karen. She tells him about the confusion. “I’m beginning to wonder if that principal is really suitable,” she says, and Mariette sends her a huge smile.
The phone rings. It’s Kathleen, asking for Mariette.
“Who? …What is this, a plot? …I’m not saying that… Yes, I’ll be careful,” Mariette tells her and hangs up.
“What’s really going on at that school?” Uncle Gerard asks.
“Nothing.”
“Sounds like a whole lot of nothing to me. Jerome?”
“Don’t do that, Dad. Just because he’s a nice guy doesn’t give you the right to put him on the spot. I’m telling you that you don’t need to worry. If they’re about to kick me out they’ll call you first, but I think he’s crawling for you at the moment, just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“In case you intend to sue the school for that slap the rumours say happened but really didn’t.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was true, considering the way you’ve been behaving lately,” Aunt Karen says.
“In that case you can be happy, Mum, because then I deserved it and you won’t have to call the farm.”
I follow Mariette upstairs to avoid more questions, but I’m thankful that she said that just now and maybe a little content that
she’s letting me and nobody else in on her lie. “What did Kathleen say?”
“She says it’s my word against the rest of them, but only I can officially press charges. She warned us to be careful, since Mick and Charlotte are plotting to force me into doing it. She said she’ll meet us at the bus stop.”
Uncle Gerard drops us off there, and Kathleen is waiting. “Now they have the police walking the school grounds too,” she says.
“What?”
“Yeah, look.” She points at the gate where two uniformed policemen stop every student going in to inspect their bags.
“They’re sending the army after us?” Mariette exclaims. “I can’t do this anymore! I’m going back home.”
“Oh come on, we’ll go in over the back fence somewhere,” Kathleen suggests. “They’re not going to have the school surrounded.”
“If they as much as stick a finger out at us we’ll accuse them of physical violence and obscene language or something,” Mariette decides.
There’s nobody watching the back fence. “Normal people would sneak out of school, not into it,” Kathleen jokes. We haven’t even reached the gym yet when Charlotte and her friends come marching toward us. “Mick’s been arrested,” Lindsey says, sounding proud. She points to a car in the car park that has broken windows and scratches all over it. The exhaust pipe is filled with leaves.
“Why? Whose car?” Kathleen asks.
“Mr Fokker’s. If you’d stood up for yourself he wouldn’t have had to do it,” Charlotte tells Mariette.
“What? It’s my fault he destroys a car because I don’t want to run to a lawyer. Have you totally lost it?”
“No, you have. You, hiding inside his room every week when there’s no other kids there. There’s something wrong in your family, you know that? You’re teacher suckers.”
“At least he’s intelligent enough to talk to, which I’m starting to doubt you are,” Mariette replies.