you to do, but you did do something. And I might add, with an awful lot of passion too. Considering the lackadaisical manner in which you usually go about doing homework, Ian, you definitely caught my attention." She paused for a moment. "Ian I don't know if you noticed or not, but when Steven stood at that podium, he pretty much expressed the same negative opinion of organized religion that you did. The difference was that he didn't have any anger in his voice. He only spoke of a supreme being in a very general sense. Steven didn't specifically insult any religion the way that you did."
"That's probably because his parents don't aspire much to be religious."
"Ian, I've met your father on several occasions, and he seems like a nice enough person to me. I don't recall your sister ever complaining about him..."
This instantly infuriated Ian. His voice now went up several decibels. "Look ma’am, if it makes you happy, I've got another sister who's just like the first one. She'll be coming along in a couple of years. The school will be proud of her."
Ian grabbed his lunch, stood up, and started to make his way towards the door. "I think I'll go let Becker beat me into a coma. Then you won't have to deal with this idiot anymore!"
"Ian, sit down!" she grabbed his arm, and pointed towards the seat. "Please."
He reluctantly complied.
Realizing she had just hit a huge sore spot with him, she tried to speak as calmly as possible. "Ian, I think it would be best if, instead of going to your next two classes, you went to see the school's guidance counselor. For the last couple of days, you haven't fully attended the classes.."
"So you know about that?" He was a bit surprised that this fact didn't seem to have any legal consequences. "So why didn't you call the cops."
"Because we didn't have to. The principal at the Hasting school informed principal Raoul about some kid named 'Ian' who was joining their kids every day during their fifth period recess."
"How did he find out about me?" Ian asked.
"Obviously to me that one of your little biker friends must have informed him."
"Why didn't he come outside and toss me out on my ass?"
"I guess the kid who informed him must have also put in a good word for you."
Ian thought about this for a moment. "Well, I did offer to buy them all a pizza if they let me stay."
Mrs. Pinny shook her head and sighed. "Ian, you have no idea how unique this situation is. You know, when a kid is truant, it's because he's either using drugs, spraying graffiti all over the place, or committing armed robbery. This business of sneaking off a school campus for the purpose of sneaking on to a different school campus is never heard of...And it's a reflection of our failure as much as it is yours."
"Well, what do I have to do to bring extreme sports to Alamanda?"
"Ian, that's not going to happen any time soon, however beginning next week, we are going to try and put an end to this business of yours, or anyone else getting beaten up in the halls. Meanwhile, You're going to see a guidance counselor."
"Let's get real," Ian was grinning. "Guidance counselor is another word for a shrink."
"Either way Ian, it gets you out of your next two classes without having to ditch school. Which I'm sure you'll appreciate."
Ian couldn't help but agree with that. "So what's he going to tell me that I don't already know?"
"Boy, if I knew that, there would be no need to send you to him." There was a long awkward pause. "Ian, there's something that's been weighing heavily on me, and I feel I owe you a big apology."
Ian looked up at his teacher quizzically. What could she possibly have to be sorry about?
"I've been fully aware of the way Phoebe frequently...gestures at you in class. I've been letting it slide because I feel sorry for her."
"Why in the world would you feel sorry for her?"
"Because she comes from a broken home, Ian, and I don't think she's a very happy person. However, that surely doesn't give her the right to go out of her way to make you as miserable as she is. From today onwards, she is not getting away with that any longer." Mrs. Pinny moved closer to him and started to speak very softly, almost whispering. "Ian can I trust you to keep a secret?"
Ian was intrigued. "I guess so."
"Boy, if it ever got out that I said this to you, I would probably be in big trouble, so I need you to swear to me that you'll never tell anyone that this conversation took place."
A hint of a smile now appeared on his face. He was flattered that the teacher had enough faith in his character to trust him with extremely confidential information. "You have my word ma’am."
She looked to the left, then to the right to make sure there was no one there, and then whispered in Ian's ear. "I've met Phoebe's mother. Those rumours you've been hearing about her are all true, and then some. The woman's the biggest nut on the planet."
“Wow!”
1:32 pm
Ian was led into an room that was adjacent to the principal's office, and had to wait an hour and a half before the counsellor actually showed up. Luckily, he had brought a couple of good books with him to kill the time. The man finally walked into the room and introduced himself.
"I'm Mr. Zivan."
"I'm Ian."
The two gentlemen exchanged handshakes.
"So, my man," The guidance counselor began. "Let's get down to it. Your Sociology teacher tells me that you're basically a good kid with a deep sense of humour, and virtually no attention span. Would you consider that to be true?"
Ian slumped further down into his seat. "I'm not so sure about the 'good kid' part." Ian also wasn't quite sure of exactly what to make of this guy.
"Well, let's see, do you smoke son?"
Ian sheepishly shook his head no.
"Ever drink? Drugs? Ever been in trouble with the law?"
Ian kept shaking his head, while staring back at the guidance counselor like he was more lost than the people he was supposed to be 'guiding.' What was his point?
"Son, I've also heard that you hardly have any friends. Why do you suppose that is?"
Ian squinted his eyes and answered him in a droll manner. "Gosh, I don't know. Could it be because I don't smoke, drink, or use drugs?"
This brought a smile to Mr. Zivan's face. "Your teacher warned me of your interesting wit."
Ian rolled his eyes and looked off in another direction. He had no idea what this guy wanted from him.
"Ian," the man continued. "I want you to know that I only work here on Fridays. I'm at a different school every day of the week. Two of those schools are in the inner city.”
He looked intently at the boy’s eyes. “Son, there, I usually have to deal with kids who often don't even know who one or both of their parents are. A lot of them have father's who are in prisons, and mothers who are selling drugs..."
"Look, with due respect sir," Ian cut him off abruptly. "Would you please spare me your sermon about how 'fortunate' I am to come from a good family? The simple fact is, I don't have any friends and I'm not good at schoolwork because I'm from a genetically inferior specimen. My sisters got all the looks and the brains. I may be a dim-witted buffoon, but at least I'm man enough to admit it."
Mr. Zivan begged to differ. "Ian, I beg to differ on that. I've only known you a few minutes, and I can already tell you’re an intelligent and articulate young man. There's just some sort of mental block that's keeping you from being able to pay attention in class. That’s what we need to find out."
Ian now had an idea. He wondered how one of the arguments he's had with his father would play out with this guy. "You know something? I know exactly what's keeping me from paying attention in class. May I ask you three questions, Sir?"
"Of course, Ian."
"On Christmas
Eve, in the year 69 A.D., Rome's emperor Vitellius was assassinated. Do you know the name of the emperor that succeeded him?"
"I must confess, I do not."
"Have you ever been curious to know the name of the emperor that succeeded him?"
"Once again, I must confess that I haven't."
"Then why the hell do you think that I would be!?..Or should be!?"
Mr. Zivan didn't let Ian's sudden outburst faze him. "Alright, so I guess European history isn't your favorite subject. Or mine, for that matter, Ian. May I ask if there is anything you're interested in?"
"Yeah sure man, I'd be interested to know what it's like to not live in fear of getting the shit beaten out of me every day."
"Yes, Mrs. Pinny told me about that," The man leaned back in his chair. "And I've got an idea that I hope you'll be open to."
"What's that?" Ian was skeptical.
"Well, son. I could recommend to the principal that you try home schooling for a week."
"I see. In other words, I'm being expelled. Not that I have any objection to that."
"No, don’t jump into conclusion just yet. If you were being expelled, you would have no say in the matter. I'm recommending some home tutoring on a trial basis, because I believe that you would prefer that as well."
"Sir, may I ask who I am going to be 'home tutored' by? My Dad works, and we're currently not on speaking terms anyway. My Mom probably knows less about the Roman empire than I do."
"Right. I'm going to recommend a professional private teacher..."
"Just great,"