Chapter 3: School, Take Two

August 12, 1981

Fortunately for me, I could use my left arm. I knew to use it as little as possible, but I needed it to get dressed. The unfortunate part is that the sprain didn’t hurt most of the time, but I knew it was there and using it too much would reinjure it. So, I had to respect the sling even though it never felt like I needed it.

Once I’d dressed, I had breakfast with Angie and Mom, and then got a surprise. Angie grinned, twirling keys on her finger. “One little thing you missed, bro — we got parking passes!”

“We did? Cool! Not enough juniors, I guess.”

“Nah. I think Meg pulled some strings,” she grinned. “We’re not the only sophomores to get one. Cammie has one on hold — she’s not yet started her lessons, though. Same with Sue. Gene says he’s not getting his license this year though, nor is Amit. And Cammie, at least, probably won’t have a car, even if she has a license.”

“Amit Kothari? He’s in?”

“Yeah. You know him?”

“Uh huh. He went to my junior high. I don’t know him well, but I know him.” I gave her a wink Mom would miss. She looked curious.

“Ok, we should get going. It’s my first day using my parking pass!”

“And you’re driving because...?”

“Two hands on the wheel, big bro.”

“Yup. Figured.”

“Let’s go!”

I gave Mom a hug. “See you after school, Mom!”

“See you! Have a better first day than the last one!”

“Not a high bar right there. Pretty sure I will!”

We both laughed. I’m glad she could joke about it.

Angie grinned at me once we she had us on the road. “This is really awesome! I missed driving. It’s been almost as long this way as it’d be for a new driver. Well, two-thirds anyway. But I knew what I was missing! Someone who’d never driven wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, definitely. Not so long for me, but we have so much more ... Flexibilty? Freedom? ... now. That’s what I missed. I actually like biking, but it won’t work for a lot of places. After driving for almost forty years, having to get a ride to anyplace further than maybe five or ten miles — depending on the sorts of roads in between — kinda sucked.”

“Not the good kind either.” She grinned at me. “Change of subjects. What was that look?”

“Amit’s another reversal, but more minor. We weren’t that close, but he was on the team when I joined him, so, yes, I know him. He kicked ass at Extemp. Good CX’er too, but of the two, Extemp.”

“This is going to keep happening, I guess.”

“Of course. As long as we’re at Memorial and I’m doing things I used to do and our ripples don’t change something, it has to. College? Probably not, especially if we don’t go where we went.”

“Well, you don’t want to go to UT and I sure as hell have no desire to do UH again. Way too many bad memories.”

“So, that’ll be new ground. Probably.”

“‘Probably’. You’re so reassuring!”

“Hey, we’ve got more of a map than most people. But we also know the map is wrong sometimes.”

“Too ‘true, big brother. Too true.”

I went to the office and picked up my class schedule. The student aide at the desk made me go see the nurse, who did a quick examination, declared me adequately healthy, and sent me on my way with a pass so I wouldn’t be tardy.

I got to my first class — World History — and surveyed the room through the door. Open seat next to Angie, check. That would be mine, most likely. Mike, Sarah, Cammie. Sue, as well. Good.

I opened the door, smiled to Ms. Ryder, handed her the pass, and took my seat.

“Welcome, Mr. Marshall. I hope you’re not a lefty!”

“No, Ma’am. Thankfully!”

She smiled. I’d liked her the first time. Hopefully, I would again.

After class, Sue caught up to me. “That, um ... I mean, I heard what happened. That’s intense! You could’ve died!”

“Yeah. Fortunately, not! Second time in a year and a half, though. I need to be more careful. Though, how you’re more careful in avoiding bat-wielding maniacs, I don’t know.”

She giggled. “Second time?”

“I lost control riding down a hill, landed on my head, and wound up wearing my bike and with a concussion. At the bottom of a hill where no one knew I was, and where no one goes very often.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s not good at all! Don’t do that!”

“I won’t ever again. Nowhere like that and never without a helmet. But I can’t say it was all bad.”

“Oh?”

“Being laid up made me rethink a lot of things and brought Angie and me closer together.”

“So, dark cloud, silver lining?”

“Pretty much. What’s your next class?”

“Biology. With your sister,” she grinned.

“Ahh. I’m heading close to there. Chemistry. Without my sister.”

“Too bad for you!”

“We get four out of seven. Not bad.”

“Not bad at all, since you get along!”

We’d reached the science wing. “Ok, this is my exit. See you ... soon! I don’t know what classes we have together.”

“Next is 4th. Algebra II.”

“Fun! See you there.”

“Algebra II isn’t fun!”

“It is if you’re doing it right.” I wiggled my eyebrows.

“Men!” she giggled. “Bye, Steve.”

“Bye, Sue!”

Chemistry was a relief. Or not. I hadn’t completely figured it out by the end of class. I might not completely figure it out by the end of the year. Or longer.

Ms. Hancock was the first teacher — besides Meg, and Meg’s class is totally different — who let students just sit wherever they want. Mel had grabbed me a seat next to her. And Morty, and Andy and Cal, and Sarah. I was happy we had a nice little group here.

What I did not have was a seat next to Dave Winton. As much as anything, that’s because Dave Winton wasn’t in this class at all. And thus, to some extent, that answered my concerns about what to do. I couldn’t start a tentative friendship with him in Chemistry because he wasn’t here.

Why the difference? Who knows? I was in Debate now, which locked down my 7th period. Meg taught other classes at other times, of course, but competitive Debate was 7th period, take it or leave it. Of course, you could be on the team without being in the class, and a few people had been over the years. None now, as far as I knew, and definitely none last year. That meant my 7th period was different, which might rearrange my entire schedule. So, maybe it was just me. But it could be anything.

Another little reminder that our precognition wasn’t infallible. And that we could wrap ourselves around the axle trying to figure out how to handle situations that might not happen.

Third period I had PE. Mel, Morty, and Sarah had it, too, so we all headed there together. Well, until we reached the locker rooms, much as I might have wanted to join Sarah and Mel instead of Morty. Emily and Mike were in the same PE. I figured we’d hang out as much as possible.

Fourth period was another of those differences. Smaller? Maybe, but how do you measure the size of this sort of difference? Neither Mark nor Morty were in my Algebra II class this time.

In another unusual moment of a detailed memory from a class not named Debate, I knew for certain that Mark and Morty had both been in my Algebra II class the first time through. I knew this for a silly, juvenile reason. Sophomore comes from words that mean ‘wise fool’, and ‘wise fool’ describes Mark and Morty’s behavior quite often.

My Algebra II teacher was — both times — Ms. Lynch. Ms. Gladys Lynch. Who Mark and Morty immediately dubbed — behind her back, naturally — ‘Happy Butt’. Get it? Their textbook covers featured smiling butts; they sometimes passed notes with the same design. Very sophomoric.

I liked Ms. Lynch; she was a good teacher and pleasant enough to be around. I had also thought — sophomore, remember? — that their little jape was hilarious. And I was, this time, still enough of a teenaged boy that I landed on the ‘it’s funny’ side. Less than before, but enough.

The first time through, I thought it was a giant secret that would trigger unpleasant conversations with principals should Ms. Lynch find out about it. This time, though, I looked at it through different eyes. Ms. Lynch didn’t hide that her name was Gladys. She didn’t go by something else. She didn’t even downplay it. And she’d taught math to sophomores for years. And not just any sophomores, but ones who were in the advanced math track and therefore, by definition, nimble-minded. What are the odds that Mark and Morty were the first to discover the possibilities of her name? It wouldn’t surprise me if most classes had their jokester who’d come up with a funny name for her. I’d guess she knew exactly what they were.

And it worked for her. Like I said, she was pleasant; no one really disliked her. And it’s hard to get too annoyed with a teacher that you’re thinking of half the time as ‘Happy Butt’.

Finally, we got to lunch. I had a constant stream of acquaintances coming by and checking on me, making sure I was OK, offering their sympathies. Also, I could take off the sling for a bit and stretch my arm. They allowed me a few breaks; lunch was a great time for one. At lunch I found out that Connie had asked for a student trainer position but couldn’t get one this year. Too busy a class schedule to fit the times they’d need one. Things looked good for next year, though. I still had her pegged as Doctor Ng one day, but being a trainer now couldn’t hurt that.

After lunch, Angie, Cammie, Mel, Mark, and I all headed to Art. Sue turned out to be in this class as well.

I’d had Art before, of course — it’s a required class — and liked it. What’s not to like? It’s much more appreciation as opposed to creation. While I’m a terrible visual artist, I love the visual arts, as previously noted. And Ms. Stanley was in an early wave of teachers who found value in non-traditional types of art — comic art, for instance. By the time my kids had been high school, saying that comics or graphic novels counted as ‘art’ wasn’t controversial. In 1981? Controversial and almost unheard of.