Rising (4 page)

They were all talking about something to Clara,
but I was just trying to get a grip on whatever it was I was feeling.
 
It was aggravating, annoying, and completely
mesmerizing all at the same time. I’d never been put off-balance like this by
anyone.

         
“Gabe and I have Mrs. Jaden next.
 
You can come with us,” offered Ben.

         
“That would be great.
 
Thanks,” she said, seemingly unaware of my
gaze.

         
Yeah, that would be just great,
Ben.
 
Now I can stumble like a drunken
idiot back to class with this girl.

         
“Why are you taking English IV?” asked
Mel.

         
“Oh, well, when we moved here from New
Orleans last year, I was ahead in a few classes. Guidance forgot when they set
the schedule and just now got it straight.”

         
“Yeah.
 
They move a little slowly around here.
 
I’m sure you can catch up quickly.
 
We’ve only been in class two weeks,” said Mel.

“Are you a genius or something?” asked Ben,
stuffing several Pringles in his mouth at one time.

         
“Uh, no.”

         
“Uh, yeah,” interrupted Jessie.
 
“She took physics last summer.
 
Homeschooled by her dad.”

         
I could tell Jessie harbored a little
jealousy over her cousin.

         
“You can do that?” asked Ben.

         
“I had to take an exit exam,”
explained Clara, trying to sound modest.
 
“It was really hard.”

         
“Wow, she could give you a run for
your money, Gabe.
 
He’s the big brains in
our group.”

         
“You’re forgetting about the National
Merit Scholar next to you,” I added, pointing to Mel.

         
“He always forgets about me, and
my people
.”

“Come on, Mel.
 
Stop being that way.
 
You’re not
still mad at me?” asked Ben, giving her his sweetest smile.

         
“I’m still thinking about it,” she
said, already softening a bit.

         
“What happened?” asked Jessie.

         
“Don’t ask,” I said, relieved that
Mel’s vibe had calmed.

         
While the entire conversation rattled
off in a matter of seconds, I was completely transfixed by Clara.
 
It was nice the way her auburn hair waved
past her shoulders, making her fair face that much more striking.
 
She tucked one side behind her ear
nervously.
 
She had bright amber eyes
that seemed to notice everything.
 
No one
seemed affected by her presence at all, but I was almost numbed by it.
 
I hid my emotions well—as always.
 
How had I never noticed her before?

         
“Yeah, well, in Clara’s defense, she
kinda
couldn’t help doing the Physics thing, her dad being
a teacher and all,” said Jessie.

         
“Wait.
 
Your father is Mr. Dunaway?”

         
I was a little distracted before to
make the connection.

         
“Yes,” she replied shyly. “I’m Clara
Dunaway.”

         
“Your dad is so cool,” I said, trying
to sound as normal as possible.
 
“I just
had him for physics.”

         
“Cool?
 
Wow.
 
That’s the first time I’ve
heard my dad described that way.”

         
“Well, compared to the last few
science teachers I’ve had, he ranks at the top.”

         
“Speaking of classes, you were
supposed to explain that Robert Frosty poem to me,” said Ben before gulping
down his orange Gatorade.

         
“Well, hello friends! How are we doing
today?” asked Mark, shoving Ben over so he could maneuver himself next to
Clara.
 
“Hi, I’m Mark Mouton.
 
I know I’ve seen you around campus
before.
 
Were you in my Fine Arts class?”

         
Mark shook her hand a little too
eagerly.
 
Clara smiled politely, but I
detected a change in that ethereal air of hers.
 
It dimmed to a more defensive mode.
 
I couldn’t help but chuckle under my breath.
 
She glanced at me curiously, while Mark
continued with his not-so-subtle introduction.

         
“No, Mark, I don’t think I’ve had the
pleasure of having a class with you,” she replied sarcastically.

         
Evidently, Mark didn’t detect the
sarcasm.
 
He just barreled ahead.

         
“Really?
 
Well, we must fix that,” he said, flashing
his most charming smile.

         
“Don’t you have some freshman to
harass or something?” I asked lightly.

         
Before he had time to respond, the end
of lunch bell rang.

         
“Saved by the bell,” mumbled Mel
before leaving.

         
“What class do you have next?” Mark
persisted.

         
“Don’t worry, Romeo” Jessie said
annoyingly, “Ben and Gabe are showing her where it is.”

Jessie had always been the oddity in our group
of friends.
 
She had little to nothing in
common with any of us.
 
She wasn’t very
brainy or athletic or artistic, but she was eccentric. We had just accepted her
when other cliques refused to.
 
Jessie
was a bit too odd for any of them.
 
She
was into graphic novels and underground punk bands no one had ever heard
of.
 
Even though the other cliques had
all rejected her, she seemed to reject them as well.
 
Mel felt sorry for her one day when she saw
her eating alone by the vending machine, completely absorbed in her comic book,
Dr. Strange.
She had been hanging out
with us ever since.
 
Even now, she mostly
spent lunch time flipping through her latest issue of
Punk Magazine
.
 
Somewhere
along the line, she picked up Mel’s dry sense of humor, but it sounded crueler
coming from her.

         
“No problem.
 
I’ll catch up to you later,” said Mark,
giving Clara a wink before he headed off to B Wing.

         
“Mark’s a sweet guy,” Jessie said to
Clara.
 
“But, he’s in love with a new
girl every minute of the day.
 
Don’t get
too excited.”

         
“Oh, um, I wasn’t actually,” mumbled
Clara.

         
Ben walked alongside Clara and Jessie,
chatting lightly.
 
I followed behind,
taking in that serene sensation once more.
 
It wafted over me like a sweet balm, drawing me nearer.
 
Clara glanced over her shoulder once or
twice.
 
She must’ve noticed me
staring.
 
I wanted to move closer to feel
its full effect, but restrained myself from doing so.

         
Ben offered her the seat next to him
on the last row near the windows.
 
I sat
in my usual desk in front of Ben.

         
“Hey.
 
You better bail me out if she calls on me about that poem,” Ben
whispered.

         
I nodded.
 
Mrs. Jaden was writing a quote on the board
as students trailed in late from lunch.
 
The quote read, ‘Most powerful is he who has himself in his own power,’
with the title Seneca, Roman philosopher, beneath it.
 
Just after the bell, Mrs. Jaden turned
dramatically to the class and asked a question.

         
“What does this mean?”

         
No one said anything.
 
Mrs. Jaden was accustomed to our pensive
silence, always a little sluggish after lunch.
 
So she read the quote aloud then asked her question again.
 
It was Mary Sullivan, a know-it-all on the
front row, who spoke first.

         
“It means that you control your own
destiny and your own future.”

         
“Very close, Mary, but not quite,” said
Mrs. Jaden.

         
Hah.

         
“I think it means that if you can
control yourself, then you can do anything.
 
You have real power,” said Derek
Touchet
, a
skinny, disheveled kid in the second row.
 
        

“Yes, Derek, but what does it mean to control
yourself?”

         
“It could be anything,” he replied,
“your actions, your dreams, your feelings.”

         
I flinched.
 
I didn’t think that anyone noticed.

         
“Yes, Derek, very good.
 
Now, this is going to be our philosophy for
this month.
 
We will periodically have
assignments related to this quote, so you might as well jot it down in your
notebook and become familiar with its meaning.
 
Okay, class,” she said, putting the dry erase marker on the lip beneath
the board.
 
“You were supposed to read
and interpret Robert Frost’s poem ‘Fire and Ice’ last night.
 
Let’s get those out and hear what you think.”

         
There was a minute of shuffling
papers, binder rings popping open and shut, and zippers sliding on
backpacks.
 
Mrs. Jaden walked down the
fourth row and placed a copy of the poem on Clara’s desk.

         
“Here you go.
 
I’ll speak to you after school on what we’ve
covered so far.
 
Don’t worry about being
behind.”

         
Clara nodded politely.

         
I stared down at the poem:

Some say the world will end in fire;
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

“So, what is Frost trying to tell us?”

         
Lots of hands went up, including Derek
and Mary.
 
Suck-ups.
 
Ben lowered his
head, avoiding any eye contact with Mrs. Jaden.

         
“Steven, why don’t you share your
thoughts?” she asked that dopey guy on the basketball team in the middle of the
room.

         
“He’s saying that there are two ways
to die—through fire or ice.
 
And, he
prefers fire because it’s through his desires that he would die.
 
But, he also thinks that if he had to die a
second time, he wouldn’t mind the ice.”

         
Although Steven only gave a literal
interpretation of the poem, Mrs. Jaden always offered a little encouragement to
her students before she corrected them.

         
“Okay, I could agree with that.
 
However, there’s more here.
 
He is proposing his opinion on whether fire
or ice would be the better way for the earth to end.
 
You could say that he might be simply making
a preference on which way he would prefer to go.
 
Which end would any of you prefer—fire or
ice?”
 

         
“Fire, definitely.
 
I would want to burn up from desire,”
answered Steven, with a smirk.
 
“‘It’s
better to burn out than to fade away.’ Am I right?”

         
His friends laughed a bit
overenthusiastically.
 
A few girls
giggled in the back row. He was such an idiot.

         
“I don’t think fire only represents
desire,” came Clara’s clear voice right next to me.

         
Mrs. Jaden was excited that Clara
joined in the discussion.
 
She moved to
the front of her row.

         
“How do you mean, Clara?
 
Please explain.”