CHAPTER TWELVE
The day passed quickly. Miss Fairbanks' mysterious jailbird Uncle Egbert made his appearance in each of her classes as the day progressed. None of her students were fooled, of course. By now they all knew that Miss Fairbanks sometimes mixed fantasy with reality in a tricky way to get them to work--sort of like she did on the very first day, with the magic compact. But rather than resent it, most of them just took it with a smile. It was a lot more fun than being yelled at by Mr. Thacker in history class, or trying to dodge the soggy prunes that Mr. Felcher threw at his noisy students in Algebra. Miss Fairbanks' class was always weird and fun. Even her threat to make them stay after school and join the 'loser's club' was fun, since they all knew she'd never do it.
And finally the bell rang, and the exhausted school building once more spewed its awful students out into the unfortunate neighborhood. Miss Fairbanks now had a sizeable stack of 'evil box' papers to grade, for which she was very thankful. That way, she could take the mindless fun of her students home with her, and keep the horrible thoughts of the real phone call out of her mind all evening.
Heather came into the classroom a few minutes after the final bell and took a seat. To Miss Fairbanks' surprise, another girl entered the room right after her. She had bizarre pickle shaped earrings--yes, pickles--and had her hair tied up in a lopsided ponytail. Miss Fairbanks had noticed her in her fifth period class. She was always doodling and trying not to pay attention to the snide criticisms of the students around her.
"This is Ella Mack," said Heather. "I told her about the comic strip figures you were thinking of putting up in here, and she offered to draw some. She's very good at pictures."
"Welcome, Ella!" said Miss Fairbanks as the new girl smiled shyly. "Any help with drawing comic characters will be greatly appreciated."
Jerry trounced into the room, followed by Melvin. "Great idea today about the evil boxes," said Melvin in his blunt, direct way. "But what was your Uncle Egbert really put in jail for?"
Miss Fairbanks simply smiled at him. "I don't actually have an Uncle Egbert," she said. "Although after today, I wish I did. He sounds like a fun character."
"My dad served in prison for awhile," said Melvin casually. "Or rather, the county jail. He got drunk and stole some stuff. Wish he would've stayed there."
Miss Fairbanks winced. It never ceased to amaze her how callously her students talked about their abusive parents. She was about to say something when suddenly there was a shadow at the door.
The room was instantly quiet. To Miss Fairbanks amazement, scar face was standing there. He frowned at everyone in distaste, and smacked his right fist into his left palm. Jerry gulped and Heather looked intently at the floor. Scar face fit in with this bunch about as well as an electric eel in a tank of happy clown fish.
"Welcome Bobby," said Miss Fairbanks, trying to keep her voice from wavering as she did what no one else ever dared to do--use his real name. He stood silently for a moment while no one said anything. His eyes were looking intently at the floor. Miss Fairbanks looked desperately around, fishing for something to say that would make everyone feel at ease. She had no idea why scar face was here, but she didn't feel she could turn him away.
"We've been talking a lot about how to decorate this room," said Miss Fairbanks lamely. "Maybe you can give us some ideas that will help." She knew she'd used this idea too much lately, but she couldn't come up with anything better. Without a word, scar face slouched into the room and took a seat on the front row. He started looking out the window again just as he had all through Miss Fairbanks' first period class.
There was obviously something wrong. Indeed, the mere fact that he was here at all instead of out on the street with his gang was remarkable. Clearly he had come for a reason. But everyone, including Miss Fairbanks, was mystified about what the reason could be.
Miss Fairbanks fumbled with the papers on her desk, picked up the eraser to wipe the board, then put it back since she'd already done all the erasing. She looked around at her now silent students. It was clear none of the others would say a word as long as scar face was there. Yet he showed no sign of moving, or of saying a word.
Miss Fairbanks walked slowly around to stand between scar face and the window. He glanced up at her, and for the briefest moment they made eye contact. With a start Miss Fairbanks took a step back and put her hand over her heart.
There was pain in those eyes. Tremendous pain. Just as strong as the pain and fear she had seen in the eyes of Brent Llewelyn that first day in class.
"Bobby, what's wrong?" said Miss Fairbanks, completely forgetting the others were even there. "Something's happened. I can tell."
Scar face looked up at her with a blank stare. The pain jumping out of his eyes was so intense it was frightening. He turned and looked at the others in the room, all of whom tried hard to pretend they were busy with something. Heather studied the floor, Melvin pretended to read a book (which was upside down) and Ella was doodling for all she was worth.
"Don't worry about them," said Miss Fairbanks. "They're my friends. We don't tell each other's secrets, because friends never do that." She paused. "What's wrong?" Taking a seat next to him, she gazed intently into his eyes.
Scar face let out a long breath. He looked back around at the window, and rapidly started to blink his eyes. He was clearly fighting back tears, which no one in the room had ever thought they would see him do. Finally he said in a whispered voice, "My mom's dead."
Miss Fairbanks sucked in her breath. "Your mother?" she asked faintly. "No! What happened?"
Scar face shrugged. "Don't know. Came home last night after running with the gang, and she was just sitting in a chair staring into space. Didn't answer me when I talked to her, and slumped over on the floor when I touched her. When the ambulance people arrived, they said she'd been dead for hours."
"Oh, Bobby," said Miss Fairbanks softly, reaching out to take his hand. "I am so sorry! You must be heartbroken!"
Scar face began to blink rapidly again, then turned to look at the others. They were no longer pretending to be busy, but simply sat in stony silence. Pain was something they could all relate to, and even though they had long seen scar face as an enemy, they couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
"How is your father taking it?" asked Miss Fairbanks.
Scar face grimaced. "Ain't got no father," he said flatly. "Never knew him. He ran off when I was a baby. There's never been anyone but mom and me." He paused. "She was nice. She was real nice to me. Always trying to get me to quit the gang, telling me I could do more with my life. I just shrugged it off." He suddenly looked down at his hand that Miss Fairbanks was holding, then yanked it back out of her grasp. He quickly covered his eyes with his hands, but he still made no sound. He was far too practiced at being tough for that.
"Oh, Bobby, I'm so sorry," repeated Miss Fairbanks, surprised to learn of a parent in this neighborhood who wasn't an abusive, heavy drinker. "She sounds like she was a wonderful woman. And I'm sure she was very proud of you."
Scar face jerked around and stared at Miss Fairbanks with red eyes. "Proud?" he asked in shock, his voice shrieking. "Of me? Are you kidding? I drove her to it! I killed her! It was because of me and my gang! I did it! I--"
"No, no, that's not true," said Miss Fairbanks as Scar face suddenly buried his face in his hands and began to sob. She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. "That's not true," repeated Miss Fairbanks. "It can't be true. She saw the good in you. And so do I. I saw it my first day in class when everyone was trying out the magic compact. You knew it was a fake, but you went along with it. That really helped me that day. You'll never know how much that helped me."
Scar face made no move, but continued to sob. Tears dripped through his fingers onto his desk. Tears like this tough, know-it-all boy had never before shed in his life. They were shed for the mother that loved him and who had done all she could for him, even though he had never thanked her for it. They were tears of grief that she had died thinking
her son was going to end up just like his father, running away from everything, and getting into needless trouble. They were tears that she had died thinking she was a failure, because of how he was turning out.
"Oh, Bobby, Bobby," said Miss Fairbanks, gently shaking his shoulders. "Your mother was proud of you! I know she was. How could she not be? With such a strong, brave son, who obviously cared so much about her--"
"But I didn't care!" yelled scar face, yanking back from Miss Fairbanks once more. "Don't you get it? I killed her! It was me! I drove her to the grave because I was doing bad things and she told me to stop and I wouldn't, and it killed her! I killed her the same as if I put a gun to her head! I did it! It was me! I killed my own mother!"
Miss Fairbanks looked at scar face, while her lips started to quiver. Tears were glistening in her own eyes now. She reached out a shaking hand to straighten her hair. "No, Bobby," she said in a wavering voice. "You're wrong. You did NOT kill her. It wasn't you. Believe me. I know what it's like when a family member kills someone. And when I look at you, I just know you didn't do it! You've got to believe me! Your mother was worried about you, I'm sure she was, but she was proud of you at the same time! She saw the good in you like all mothers do, and that's why she kept encouraging you to change! If she hadn't seen the good in you she would have given up, but she didn't! And she knew someday you would change, Bobby! She knew you would, because she raised you and she knew your heart! She knew it, Bobby! She knew it!"
Miss Fairbanks' eyes were glistening, and scar face was now just a blur. She quickly put her hands to her face, trying to compose herself. This was not good. Not good at all. Panic gripped her heart as she fought back what she knew was coming. She could tell she was slipping over the edge once again, triggered by what scar face had said. The words echoed through her mind with horrifying clarity, driving deeper and deeper into her. "I killed my own mother! I killed my own mother! I killed my own mother!"
Suddenly the pain of that morning's phone call was back as strong as ever. Who had she been fooling? She'd only been pretending that call from the penitentiary had disappeared and gone away. But now it was back, as real and ugly as ever. The events from twenty years ago were starting to relive themselves in her mind again, brought to life by the echoing words Bobby had said. "I killed my own mother! I killed my own mother!"
But just as real was this boy sitting in front of her, turning to her because he apparently did not have anyone else to turn to. He obviously couldn't turn to his gang. They would never understand. He couldn't turn to his long-gone father, or any of the other students or teachers in this school. And so he had chosen her, weak, silly little Miss Fairbanks, to pour his heart out to. And she couldn't let him down. She couldn't let him leave thinking he had murdered his own mother. Not his own mother. Not her, of all people. He was no murderer. Not him. He would never kill someone in his own family ...
And suddenly Miss Fairbanks was sobbing as well. She simply couldn't help it. She knew it made no sense to react this way, but she just couldn't stop. She had gone over the edge once more. Great gushing tears poured down her face and her wracking sobs shook her weak frame violently. The phone call and the letter were screaming out to her, screaming for all they were worth, along with scar face's words "I killed my own mother!" She couldn't shut them out. They kept echoing louder and louder in her mind. And suddenly she found herself saying what she had so often said before when she'd woken up sobbing from one of her unspeakable nightmares, "Oh, why did I do it? Why?! Oh, how I wish it had been me instead! How I wish it had been me! Why wasn't it me?"
She sank from the chair to the floor, completely helpless in her emotional agony. The tears ran as if they were coming from a bottomless river. Her hands were shaking and her arms seemed to have lost all strength.
"Miss Fairbanks! Are you all right? Miss Fairbanks! What's wrong?" The voice sounded as if it was coming from a great distance. It sounded vaguely like Heather's voice. She felt a hand gently pushing on her shoulder. "Are you all right? Miss Fairbanks! Please be all right! Please!"
Her lips were quivering madly, completely out of control. Her hands were shaking so badly she could do nothing but clench and unclench her fists. She opened her eyes and looked up at the blurry image of Heather and Ella looking down at her. Heather was biting her lips in concern, close to tears herself. Slightly to the left, Miss Fairbanks could see Jerry and Melvin looking down at her too, with big surprised eyes. And to the right was the tear-streaked and astonished face of scar face.
Suddenly Miss Fairbanks emitted a choking laugh. "Aren't I a sight?" she gibbered in a voice that could barely be understood. "Here I am trying to pretend to be strong, and I dissolve like a cube of butter in a microwave."
Relief washed across Heather's face to see that Miss Fairbanks was not dying. Gently she and Ella lifted their frail little teacher and set her in the desk once more. "Thank you girls," she said in a badly wavering voice, trying to pat their hands, but without success since her own hands were still shaking so badly. "I guess I just got a little emotional. Sorry to worry you. I'm all right. Really I am." Her voice was still so strained and shaky they had a hard time understanding what she said.
For several minutes no one said anything as tears still streaked down Miss Fairbanks face. She knew from experience that once this waterfall got started, it was very hard to stop. She ran a shaky hand through her hair. She kept trying to force it to stop, or at least to compose herself. The effort was not very successful, and left her hair wildly skewed and wet from the tears on her hands.
Looking over at scar face, she smiled weakly. "I'm sorry, Bobby," she said softly in a shaky voice. "I guess I'm not much help to you. I know what it feels like ..." she groped for words, unable to finish. Finally she just said, "I wish I was more help to you. You must be feeling terrible."
Scar face angrily brushed at his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Suddenly he stood up. "I've got to go," he announced flatly.
"You'll be all right, won't you?" asked Miss Fairbanks in concern. She suddenly tried to stand up, then shrank back weakly in her seat, still not sure she could rise. "Where will you go? You can't go back to that empty house alone!"
"Naw," said scar face, shaking his head. "I've got an Uncle in Jersey. I've only seen him a couple times in my life. He's coming to get me. I'm going to live with him now."
Miss Fairbanks' lips started to tremble again. "You mean, you're leaving? You won't be in my class anymore? I won't see you again?"
Scar face shook his head. "Naw, I'll be in Jersey. I just wanted to come here today, and ..." He left the sentence unfinished.
"Oh, Bobby I'll miss you," said Miss Fairbanks. "You will write to me, won't you? Please do!"
Scar face shrugged. "Sure," he said casually with a weak smile. "After all, you're my writing teacher." He turned and sauntered toward the door.
"Bobby!" called out Miss Fairbanks in her weak, shaky voice. He turned to look at her. "Please don't blame yourself for what happened." Her lips were trembling again. "I know about these things. I know when someone is truly the cause of something tragic. And it wasn't you. You didn't do it. And you can still make your mother proud, when she looks down on you and sees what you're doing with your life."
Scar face stared at the floor for a minute. "Yeah, sure," he said vaguely. Then he turned and walked out the door.
There was an uncomfortable silence in the room, as Miss Fairbanks continued to snivel, trying vainly to compose herself. Melvin went back to reading his book (right side up this time), while Ella went back to doodling. Jerry also seemed to be absorbed in drawing something. Heather on the other hand simply sat and stared worriedly at Miss Fairbanks with her dead eyes.
The minutes ticked by. Miss Fairbanks kept blowing her nose and rubbing her eyes, wishing that this embarrassment had not happened here of all places. These kids probably now thought she was some kind of fruit cake to break down like she had.
But none of t
hem showed it. And after a few minutes Jerry suddenly held up a picture of Scooby Doo. "Here it is," he said simply. The picture was surprisingly good. Scooby was winking at them while scarfing down a 'scooby snack.' "What do you think?" asked Jerry.
"Marvelous!" said Miss Fairbanks in her shaky voice while trying to rise, then sinking down again. "We'll put it on the wall right behind my desk, so everyone will see it behind me when I'm in front of the class."
Jerry smiled in pleasure as he went to put the picture on the wall. Melvin however just shook his head. "That's a bad place to put it. It'll just make everyone hungry, seeing Scooby up there chomping away."
"Hungry?" repeated Miss Fairbanks. "You mean it'll make them look forward to going to the lunchroom at noon?"
Melvin just stared at her for a moment. "Good point," he said finally. "Maybe it's ok there after all."
Miss Lydia Fairbanks and the Losers Club Page 12