CHAPTER NINETEEN
Miss Fairbanks continued to visit Brent every evening without fail. He looked forward to her visits, and was even willing to start doing her writing assignments. She figured since she was visiting him anyway and still considered herself to be his writing teacher, she might as well do her duty. And so he ended up writing a short story on door knobs, as well as a limerick and all of the other assignments as they came along.
Of course he always asked about the 'loser's club,' and was amazed as she reported that membership had increased so much there were hardly enough desks for everyone that came. With a great deal of puzzlement, Principal Clyde approved her request to relocate the 'club meeting' to the lunchroom tables if it became necessary due to lack of space. Of course, most students at Inner City Junior High still considered the club to be somewhat of a joke and wouldn't have wanted to stay after school regardless, since they just wanted to get away from the stinking place. But for a growing number of kids, the club was a wonderful outlet that gave them meaning in their lives. The official club mascot became the tarantula 'Harry,' who now lived happily in Miss Fairbanks' window. The official club initiation for new members was to draw a comic character to go somewhere on the ugly walls. The walls of Miss Fairbanks' room were starting to fill up at a rapid rate.
And then one day Miss Fairbanks had the pleasure of telling Brent on one of her visits about Armpit Arnold's joining the loser's club--then promptly getting kicked out and being accepted back into it again.
"You're kidding!" said Brent in surprise, staring at Miss Fairbanks in disbelief. "He's nothing but mean! How come he got back in? How'd he even get in in the first place?"
"He just showed up one day and agreed to abide by the rules like everyone else," said Miss Fairbanks. "After that very first time that he came and I told him the rules, I sort of figured he'd be back someday once he resolved in his mind that he could actually keep the rules. But you know Arnold! His first day in the club went ok since he tried very hard not to say anything. But sometimes his mouth moves quicker than his mind, and so on his second club day he suddenly called Slapface a stinking lizard face, or something like that." Miss Fairbanks smiled sweetly.
Brent was fairly certain that what Arnold had REALLY said included profanity and didn't have much to do with lizards, but of course he knew she would not repeat such a detail. "So what happened next?" he asked.
"Everyone in the club just looked at me," said Miss Fairbanks. "It was one of those defining moments when all the kids look to see if an adult is going to follow through and do what they said they'd do. Of course I had no choice. He knew the rules. I immediately asked him to leave. When he refused, I asked Melvin to kindly go fetch my friend Mr. Brek, after which Arnold was out the door rather quickly."
Brent whistled. "I wish I'd have been there," he said wistfully. In fact, he often said this on Miss Fairbanks' visits when she described what was going on in class, or in the 'loser's club.' But when questioned if he really did want to leave detention and go home again, his answer was always a firm 'no.' And Miss Fairbanks could certainly understand why. So far none of his family had come to see him at all, even though he had been in detention for two months.
"Well, the kids in the club got to talking," said Miss Fairbanks, continuing the story. "I think they were secretly glad I'd enforced the rule. But they decided that if someone broke a rule and got kicked out, they could be reinstated if there was a unanimous vote by all present to let them back in. And that is what happened."
"You're kidding!" said Brent for the second time. "Every kid there voted for him to come back? I sure wouldn't have, if I'd been there."
"There were some who were hesitant," admitted Miss Fairbanks. "But in the end they were persuaded by the others to give him a second chance. They all agreed that if he messed up again, he'd be out permanently. And so he was back. And I must say, he's now so afraid to say anything for fear of messing up, that he's been incredibly quiet! Sometimes he's the same in class, since I think he has a hard time keeping straight in his mind when he has to behave and when he doesn't, and he doesn't want to mess up again."
Brent laughed. "That's a sight I'd like to see. So, what's my writing assignment this time? Not that I'll do it, mind you," he added hastily as he always did every time she gave him an assignment. "I don't really have to do it, since I'm in here."
"Of course," agreed Miss Fairbanks, as she did every time he offered this objection. She knew he would do it, since he had turned in every assignment so far. It gave him something to do after the detention center classes were over for the day, rather than sit and watch mindless TV, or worry about what would happen when he was finally released and had to go back to live with Burt and his mom.
"You have to write a one-act play," said Miss Fairbanks mysteriously. Brent raised his eyebrows in surprise. And then she explained how the one-act play idea had come about.
The short stories on doorknobs in all of Miss Fairbanks' classes had gone extremely well--far better than any of the students had expected. Miss Fairbanks then offered for those students who wanted to, to come up and read their story to the class. Once more the result was controlled chaos as students reacted to the stories, sometimes causing noise levels so high the windows threatened to shatter. Mr. Clyde often popped his head in the door these days, since he was more worried and watchful of Miss Fairbanks, but while they read their stories he never stayed since the noise was often like thunder.
And then the breakthrough came. When a short kid named McGwerk came up to read his story, he brought up a few of his buddies. And rather than just read it to the class, they acted it out. Miss Fairbanks had to hold her hands over her ears as they did so, the pandemonium was so great. But she smiled just the same to see her students having so much fun at being creative.
And then the next day she sprang the one-act play idea on them that McGwerk had given her. Each of them would have to write a one-act play that would take five or ten minutes to perform. As with all of Miss Fairbanks' projects, the plays were to be squeaky clean with no profanity or indecency. Each student was required to involve the other students as the actors in their play, and each play was to be performed for the class. The students jumped on this idea like a dog on ice cream that's fallen on the sidewalk.
They had a ball with it naturally. To her surprise, Miss Fairbanks found herself "starring" in a large number of her students' plays, in roles from a Chihuahua dog to a pretzel stick come to life. Mr. Brek was brought in too, since he was now showing up frequently at odd hours in most of her classes. He was usually cast as a giant or a freight train or something else large. In one play he had to be a mountain of melting ice cream, and did so with a good deal of fake shivering that made his skin wobble like a floppy seal, and which rumbled the whole floor.
But that wasn't all. One of the kids cast Principal Clyde in a play, in the role of a school principal of course. However in the play, his "school" was made up of bacteria and viruses that lived in someone's intestines. Poor Principal Clyde found himself barking out orders to his senseless virus students for ten minutes during Miss Fairbanks' fifth period class. When he came back to his office Mrs. Jenkins was surprised that he was no longer limping or rubbing his sore kidneys like he'd been doing when he left.
"Wild!" was all he said as he passed her desk and went into his office. "That was absolutely wild!" There was a big, goofy grin spread all over his face, and for the next half hour Mrs. Jenkins distinctly heard him barking out orders in his office as if he was re-living the play, even though there was no one in there to hear him.
In the midst of the week her students were presenting their plays, Mr. Brek showed up at Miss Fairbanks' door one day during her lunch hour. She still ate alone in her classroom, usually only having a simple peanut butter sandwich. Of course, students often wandered in for a chat, or just stayed the whole time like Heather. When Mr. Brek showed up on this day, he was carrying a bouquet of flowers.
"Mr. Brek!" said Miss Fairbanks in surpri
se, looking back and forth between the flowers and the goofy smile on his face. "What on earth?"
"I just happened to see a flower vender on my way over here," he said casually, as if the whole notion of flowers had been accidental--which of course it wasn't.
Miss Fairbanks' face had gone white, and she suddenly started wringing her hands. Heather smiled broadly, and so did Slapface who happened to be sitting in the classroom during this particular lunch period. Melvin was there too, but he just wrinkled his nose in distaste.
"Well," said Miss Fairbanks vaguely when she finally managed to find her voice again. "I suppose they need a vase or something with water, so they won't wilt."
"Really?" asked Mr. Brek, who obviously knew very little about flowers. As Miss Fairbanks fluttered around looking for a vase in her room--which of course could not be found since there was none there--it was clear she had as little experience with romance as he did with flowers.
In the end a soda can with the top ripped off had to serve as a vase, which naturally tipped dangerously and had to be propped between a number of books on Miss Fairbanks' desk. After that there were a few awkward moments as Miss Fairbanks didn't know what to say, after which Mr. Brek said he had to go.
As Miss Fairbanks was saying good-bye to him in the hall, she floundered around again for something to say, as if she was a fish gasping its last breath after it's been caught and dragged into the open air. Finally, her practical nature asserted itself, as she realized she didn't want a good friendship spoiled by romance. She blurted, "Look Mr. Brek. You have to understand that I consider you as simply a good friend--nothing more!"
Mr. Brek smiled knowingly. "Your oldest and dearest friend?" he asked.
She frowned. "Will you please be serious? I just want you to understand that there is nothing between us! Nothing at all! We are mere friends, and that is all!"
"True enough," said Mr. Brek, groping at the empty air between them. "Nothing here but air."
The frown on Miss Fairbanks' face deepened. "Will you stop clowning!" she barked at him. She then ran a shaky hand through her hair. "I don't know what else to say, Mr. Brek. I appreciate the flowers, but I want you to know I will treat you no differently than before and will not consider anything to be changed. Please don't misunderstand. I enjoy having you come around, but--"
"Are you perhaps against men who go to bars?" asked Mr. Brek, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes!" said Miss Fairbanks, seizing on the idea. "I'm very strongly against men who drink! I think it destroys not only them, but the people around them!"
"True enough," agreed Mr. Brek. "That's why I don't touch the stuff. Not even when the boss offers it to me for free. I've seen too many unpleasant things while standing at the bar door all night." He looked at her curiously, then asked, "Perhaps you're just against men who aren't educated like you are?"
Miss Fairbanks face flushed scarlet. "I am NOT that way at all!" she cried. "How much education a person has doesn't mean a thing! People who think like that should put their head in a microwave until they unlearn their stupidity!"
Mr. Brek just smiled at her. "Well then," he said casually, "I'll be seeing ya, my oldest and dearest friend." Then he turned and sauntered off down the hall whistling to himself.
As Miss Fairbanks came back into her class, Slapface and Heather gave her knowing looks. "Did he ask you out?" asked Heather curiously.
"NO!" yelled Miss Fairbanks furiously. Then she looked at Heather in embarrassment, since it was normally against her nature to be so snappish. "I mean, no he didn't," she said in a calmer voice.
"You like him, don't you?" asked Slapface.
"I DO NOT!" she cried indignantly, completely losing her composure. Her face resembled a very red beet as she hastily retreated to her desk and took a vicious bite out of her peanut butter sandwich and chewed it frowningly.
Heather and Slapface exchanged meaningful glances. Romance at Inner City Junior High School was not a subject either of them would normally comment on. But Miss Fairbanks case was clearly an exception ...
Miss Lydia Fairbanks and the Losers Club Page 19