“Quiet down back there,” Mrs. Smithe barked as she started handing out papers to the class. “You'd think you two would get tired of arguing after last week, but you don't,” she sighed exasperatedly. “Stop arguing about the test answers, would you? It's Friday and we're starting a new unit this period.”
“I wouldn't have to argue with her, Mrs. Smithe,” I insisted, “If she was more willing to act like a human being once in a while.”
“Dinger!” Mrs. Smithe glared down at me. “You can't talk about someone like that. Not in today's world. You'd get suspended for bullying.”
“I wouldn’t argue, Mrs. Smithe,” Raiya said calmly. “If he would just admit he’s not being objective about it.”
“What does that mean?” Poncey asked me in a whisper off to the side.
“It means I'm right,” I muttered.
“Raiya, you bring up an excellent point,” Mrs. Smith smiled. Then she frowned. “Although not about Dinger, necessarily.” She headed back up to her lecture podium and faced the class. “You have finished all the history from the colonies to the beginning of the twentieth century, so we're going to take a bit of a break from information to more practical history.
“Class, today we're going to start talking about judgment on history. I brought up this example for us to give you an example of what I'm talking about.”
I nearly groaned when I saw the newspaper article Martha had produced. The Apollo City Mirror headline, in big, bold print, was entitled “The Angels and Demons of Apollo City.” I wondered what my chances of sneaking out of class undetected were.
Mrs. Smithe continued. “Class, what do you think our society a hundred years from now is going to think of our actions and our decisions?”
When no one answered her, she started to read the article aloud.
“‘Valentine’s Day is about fun and celebration. However, Apollo City’s latest monster sightings in the Central area have dampened the holiday spirt. Numerous eyewitnesses attest yet another attack on the city for the last several months by monstrous beings . . . ’”
I was starting to get angry as Martha continued reading on about the extensive damages the demons had managed to do, and about the people condemning the superheroes for their failure to destroy all of the monsters before they could attack again.
After all the people I'd saved, Wingdinger's integrity was being questioned?
I burned with fury, my veil of apathy precariously burning up. Ungrateful simpletons.
I was just about to tell Mrs. Smithe the media had it all wrong when she finished reading and posed a question to us.
“So, class, what do you think that the people living a hundred years from now will think?”
I think they'd better not blame me for all of this crap, I thought to myself.
“Herbert Butterfield once stated that 'Among historians, as in other disciplines, the blindest of all the blind are those who are unable to examine their own presuppositions, and blithely imagine therefore that they do not possess any'. What do you think that he was saying?”
Who really cared if I judged something with my own perspective? Wasn't that what postmodernism was all about? How could that be wrong? It's not like there's a good and evil in this world. Really – though maybe in the next one.
“Okay, I can see we’re not getting anywhere. Let’s try it like this.” Mrs. Smithe realized she was losing her audience. A shiny dot gleamed in her hand. “Who can tell me what this is?”
“It's a quarter!” Poncey spoke up; clearly I could tell he was glad to finally get a chance to contribute something to a conversation way over his head.
Mrs. Smithe smiled. “Yes, it is. Good answer, Evan.” Then she drew a line on the board, and then a circle. “Okay class, make Ms. Darlington proud. Which of these best represent the shape of this quarter?”
We looked at her as though she’d suddenly told us it was nap time. After all, she was asking them a second-grade question. And this was Martha, not our idiot English teacher, Mrs. Night.
Finally, Hoshi Tokugawa, our Japanese exchange student, raised his hand and pointed to the circle. “It's like the circle,” he stated very matter-of-factly.
Mrs. Smithe's eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint. “No.”
“The line?” Hoshi's Japanese eyes opened wide in surprise.
Mrs. Smithe shook her head, and even I was momentarily confused.
Then I got it – the quarter, on its side, was an unending line, and its face was the circle. So it was both.
“That's right,” Martha told the students as she noticed the dawning look of understanding come over our faces. “It's both. This is where the importance of perspectives can be really seen. Sometimes, we forget there might be other sides to a situation because we're too busy looking at what we see first.” She put the quarter down and turned back to the article. “Okay, so what do you think of this now?”
Brittany's hand shot up in the air. “They'd probably think we weren’t smart in seeing these attacks were part of some kind of ploy or experiment.”
While Martha had her develop that, I raised my hand angrily.
As I did so, Raiya snickered behind me. “You don't think that people a hundred years from now will really care, do you?”
I swiveled around to face her. “I don't think that it's an issue,” I asserted, probably a bit too angrily, “But I don't think that the presentation of this information has a lot of credibility.”
“I don't either,” Raiya assured me. She gave me a small smirk as she added, “Propaganda tends to be misleading.”
“Huh?” That came out of nowhere. “What do you mean?”
“Look at the title,” Raiya murmured as she turned her attention down to her own paper. “Clearly they're trying to incite the public's fear.”
“Yes, Hamilton?”
Mrs. Smithe had called on me. She smiled patiently as I turned to face her. “What do you think?”
“It’s very hard to consider this a credible source. Journalism prides itself on being unbiased as a profession, but they didn’t do a very good job with this article,” I replied.
“Do you think that people will think that these incidents were handled in a good or bad way?”
“They will have a bad judgment in determining whether it is good or bad.” I briefly recalled what Elysian had once told me: Good judgment required a broad perspective. “It's only one article. They would need to read more to get a better understanding.”
“Good reply,” Mrs. Smithe beamed at me. “Because that’s exactly where we're headed today. What are some of the limitations this article demonstrates in its presentation of events? Is there a special consideration of this article? What do you think as a response to this article? What about your own conception of this is brought into question?”
While students started making responses, I managed to calm down somewhat. At least Mrs. Smithe wasn't agreeing with that ridiculous article's conclusions. I smirked as I thought that Elysian would probably have enjoyed this class. I'd have to remember to tell him about it–
I nearly hit myself at the sudden lapse; I buried my head in my work as I glanced at the clock.
Time had passed so egregiously slowly since I’d given up being Wingdinger. It was just too slow, and then it was gone, and then it was just . . . meaningless.
I glanced over and saw Gwen, probably the only thing keeping me from freaking out or losing it completely. I’d had a lot more free time to be with her. And it had been great, I reminded myself, recalling how much fun the last few weeks had been, getting to hang out with her at Rachel’s, and getting ice cream at Frosty’s, and having her come to my swim meets, and getting her to help me take care of Adam.
Without a doubt, she was the only thing good in my life right now.
The bell rang, and I didn’t hesitate. “Gwen.”
She didn’t seem to hear me, but I caught up with her outside the classroom. “Hey, Gwen.”
“What, Ham?” she asked, as she turned to fa
ce me. “I’ve got to get to my next class. I have four minutes to cram for a test.”
“I was wondering if you’d like to spend Valentine’s Day with me.”
“We’ve already got plans, remember?” Gwen cocked her eyebrow. “You asked me to come to your swim meet last week.”
“Oh.” I’d forgotten about that.
She sighed. “Are you sure you want to go out again?”
“What? What do you mean?”
Gwen looked away. “It's just that you are always playing with your phone, or you take me to meet with your friends. I mean, do you even want to spend time with me? You spent most of our last date at Rachel’s arguing with Raiya about how mocha was better than tea."
It would have been hard to explain to Gwen how paramount it had been for me to win that argument, on a number of levels, so I skipped over that. "Of course I want to be with you, Gwen."
"You have a funny way of showing it."
I cringed. "I'm sorry you haven't been happy, Gwen." I looked up at her meaningfully, waiting for her to deny it. She didn't. I continued. "You were the one who said happiness wasn't everything."
Her mouth dropped open. "Are you blaming me for being unhappy?"
"No, I am asking you to give me another chance to make it up to you. Let me take you out for Valentine's Day after the swim meet is over."
A long moment of silence ensued before Gwen relented. "Okay."
“Geez, don’t say it like that. I haven’t forgotten anything important,” I protested, anger creeping into my voice. “And if I did, it’s just because I’m so excited about being with you.”
“You don’t have to argue with me,” Gwen interrupted, suddenly looking hurt. She looked down at her phone. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at the swim meet tomorrow.”
“I would love nothing more,” I declared, taking her hand and squeezing it, despite her phone getting in the way.
She slipped her hand out of mine. “Okay. Bye.”
As I watched Gwen head off in the other direction, I felt a lingering shadow of my conscience. A whisper of longing brushed by me as I recalled being able to feel another person’s emotions. It would’ve been helpful here, I thought. I hoped I hadn’t hurt her feelings. Even though I probably did.
Ugh. The last thing I needed was more guilt.
I needed distraction, and quick.
I looked up to see Mikey was at his locker just ahead of me. Perfect! “Hey Mike,” I called out, hurrying over.
“Hi Dinger,” came the stoic and distracted reply.
“Whatcha doing?” I asked.
There was little emotion on Mikey's face. “Going to the pool now,” he said. “Uzzy said I could practice for a while after school if I wanted.”
“Oh, I see. I heard you were getting extra practice in,” I smiled. “Still trying to beat me?”
“I have to impress the scouts coming tomorrow,” Mikey said in a hard voice. It wasn't exactly an antagonistic tone of voice, but it wasn't friendly, either. “I have to start thinking about paying for college.”
“You have all next year,” I reminded him.
“That's easy for you to say, Dinger,” Mikey shook his head. “You don't have to work hard like others do. You have connections, money, and talent. Me . . . Well, I got some athletic ability, but I'll be shuffled to the side like always when it comes to top pick.”
“Well, thanks,” I grinned. “I know I'm a great all-around kind of guy.” Looking at the resentful expression on Mikey's face, I suddenly wished I hadn't said anything. “I'm sure you'll be fine,” I said. “There're always government loans, right? And there are a lot of stupid scholarships on the Internet, like having blue eyes or something.”
“I have brown eyes,” Mikey replied.
“But you get the point, right?”
Mikey shook his head.
“Wow, you are slow,” I joked. “No, seriously, I'm saying you'll be fine, even if you aren't the fastest, the smartest, or the best-looking.”
“I thought I was the best-looking,” Mikey said.
“Really? You think so?”
Mikey frowned. “Bye Dinger.”
I bit my lip as Mikey walked away, not just because our conversation did nothing permanent to resolve my pain but because it made me even angrier. I didn’t think that went well.
“That didn't go well,” a voice from behind me said.
I jumped nearly a foot in the air. Raiya had appeared behind me from out of nowhere. I managed to keep my cool, but I was steadily getting steamed. “Do you mind? I'm trying to stand here.”
She tilted her head thoughtfully as she ignored my commentary. “You hurt his feelings.”
“That's how guys talk to each other, in case you’re wondering. Or eavesdropping.”
“I wasn't listening on purpose. But you did hurt his feelings.”
“Really? How?” Okay, I was fully irritated now. She had no right to judge me or my friends. If anything, Mikey was the one who could’ve been a lot nicer about stuff.
“Wow, you are slow,” she commented, making fun of me as much as making a point. “Isn't it obvious?” Raiya pushed back a strand of gingersnap hair that had fallen over her eyes. “You hurt him with your words.”
“Oh, I'll give you a few words,” I muttered.
A lot of girls would frown or start crying, or even rightfully apologize for attempting to correct my actions. Raiya just gave me a smirk. “You don't have to be so hostile.”
“You don't have to be so annoying.”
“I was just making a comment.”
“An unnecessary comment.”
“A lot of your comments are unnecessary. You can't use that argument without convicting yourself.”
“Don't tell me how to argue. My mother's one of the top lawyers in this city. I know how to argue,” I frowned.
“I wasn't telling you how to argue, I was pointing out you weren't arguing very well.”
“What makes you think I want to argue with you?” I asked. “Just stop bothering me.”
Her voice had an impatient edge to it. “You know, your temper is a sign of immaturity and weakness.”
I thought about how much fun it would be to push her over the edge, to make her explode with anger. After all the fights we had had in AP History, I knew she was a worthy opponent.
My conscience struck another chord.
Was I really trying to get into a fight? I had to stop this.
“No one asked you,” I replied as evenly possible. “And as for my so-called weaknesses, that's not your business, either.”
“True enough, but your temper is starting to get on other people’s nerves.” Raiya rolled her eyes and excused herself.
I stood there watching her leave, trying to prove to myself I could let her have the last word.
“Shut up,” I muttered as she turned the corner.
☼14☼
Swim Meet
Valentine’s Day was never my favorite holiday. The previous year, I’d been dating Via Delorosa, the head cheerleader at Central, and it had been less than exciting. She’d ended up taking me out to one of her friend’s parties, where she alternated between flirting with a bunch of other guys in front me and ignoring me.
But this year, things were looking up. Gwen was going to come to my swim meet, I was going to have a great swim meet, get to show off for the college reps, and then I would take Gwen off for an unforgettable Valentine’s Day date.
Which I actually still needed to plan, I reminded myself as I headed towards the pool locker room.
I was greeted by a large, buzzing crowd of people.
There were two reasons for the popularity of the swim meets: me, and the 'swim-ghetti', a more recent development. (It was just a small bowl of regular spaghetti, I didn't really see what was so special about it.)
But it was enough to get a crowd. While still a far cry from the crowds of a football game, the audience was steadily filling up. Several of my fans waved from the stands conserv
atively, while a few others were all-out, decked in school colors and face-paint.
Coach Uzziah was all fired up and trying to hand out last-minute reminders and tips. She saw me and literally jumped with happiness. She pointed into the stands at a couple of men wearing suits. “Ham, those are the early arrivals of the college scouts,” she explained softly. “I talked with them earlier, and they've heard all about you. If you do well tonight, they'll be back on Friday to see you again.”
“Cool.” I gingerly stepped to the side and began stretching. I half-wondered if Uzzy was going to point out the scouts to Mikey.
Thinking of that, I looked over in the pool to see Mikey still doing laps in the pool. He'd started practicing since last period had gone out, apparently. He didn't seem to be tired at all. Guess all that practice was paying off.
The races began shortly, and I forgot all my troubles. My attention was captured as I watched and cheered on my teammates as they tried their hardest to win. I also had my side-attention on thinking how much faster I was than every of them.
“All right, Dinger, let's go! You're up,” Uzzy called out. She gave me a smile. “Go out and make me proud.”
I grinned. I knew I would make her proud. Proud enough to make her go easy on me in Health class. Not that I needed it, of course. But every little bit helps.
Once in position, I waited for the buzzer. And when it sounded, we were off. The hundred meter freestyle was easily the easiest event; Stroke, stroke, stroke, turn for air, stroke, stroke, stroke, turn for air . . . flip-turn, wash, rinse, repeat . . .
But then something happened I had not anticipated. My arms and legs still moved, but my mind was whisked away. I would’ve groaned if I wasn’t worried about choking on the chlorine water.
All things around me faded into grayish light, with one splotch of black. Mikey. Black haze surrounded Mikey as his brown eyes turned ominous green.
A jarring pinch shot through my arm as I smacked pain into my head.
I sputtered as my mouth and eyes filled with chlorine water. Looking up, I found my hallucination had gone, and I’d won the race. But I’d managed to swim headfirst into the pool wall.