Chapter 13

School was a whirlwind; thanks to Lanh’s tutelage, both were taking college entrance classes. Lanh hoped to enroll in college after they were finished with his Air Force commitment, and Don was taking the advanced classes because he enjoyed the scholastic challenge for the very first time.

When it came to social acceptance, their final year was almost as horrible as their freshman year. Even though they took part in sports and Lanh was captain of their championship debate team, they were just a nerd mixed-race couple to be taunted and harassed. Don was merely a “farm boy” and looked down on by the “townies” who didn’t have to shop at the Goodwill store for their school clothes, and Lanh was a “gook,” a “chink,” and a “four-eyed chi-com titless wonder” but unlike their first year and a half, they now had each other to lean on for support.

They drifted through the first half of their senior year, the only interracial couple in the school, and they drew a lot of stares as they walked hand in hand through the halls, oblivious to what the other students said or did. Their world started with each other, their families, the friends they made on the debate and swim teams, and their educators, too. Also, they were the oldest students in the building, but you wouldn’t know it from their size.

Occasionally, Don would get “checked” into the lockers by some jerk, and sometimes Lanh’s books would be slapped out of her hands by the girlfriends of those jerks that torment Don, but Don and Lanh ignored them. But the teachers were not their enemy. They all saw Don and Lanh’s love for each other and silently wished them well, praying that the love story would survive graduation, where most high school couples parted ways.

There was only one teacher that they had a problem with. It was Miss Bernice Weberman, also known as Beached Whale to most of the student body. Miss Weberman was a ghostly pale, pasty-faced, morbidly obese woman-thing with a series of chins that wobbled in time with the rest of her body as she spoke far too much and far too often. Her lectures always veered off into things that had nothing to do with the subject matter of the class, and often into her personal political views. And speaking too often meant that when telling the class to read a particular passage or paragraph, her jaw would continue to flap about some innocuous thing that was not conducive to being able to read what she just told you to read.

Miss Weberman taught Applied American Literature. It was a college preparatory class, so naturally, Lanh took it, and it was one of the prep classes that Don signed up for with the sole purpose of being able to sit next to Lanh. Miss Weberman’s father was wounded during the Vietnam war, and she made it her goal in life to destroy Lanh’s perfect GPA to atone for her father’s injury. It was a blatant contradiction in ideologies. The “beached whale” was an avowed socialist, but was angry about the actions of a communist country.

After class on the first day, Miss Weberman asked Lanh to remain behind for “a word,” so with a promise to catch up later and running late due to Miss Weberman’s insistent bloviating, Don hurried off to his chemistry lab leaving Lanh behind with, as the less charitable students called her, “Jabba the Butt.” When they caught up later, Don found Lanh to be sullen and withdrawn. No matter what Don said or did, Lanh refused to talk.

At swim practice, while Lanh was timing the medley relay, Don went to talk with Mr. Mach. “I think we have a problem with Miss Weberman, sir.”

“How so?” It was time to be a guidance counselor.

“Lanh is leery about her; Lanh isn’t like that. I don’t know what Miss Weberman said to her after class yesterday, but Lanh is really upset over it.”

Paul Mach couldn’t operate on feelings. Too many poor students came to him and thought that their teacher was out to get them, but it was rare to hear it from an outstanding student. “I need something solid; will she tell you what Bernice said to her?”

“I tried to get her to tell me, but she won’t, she won’t tell her family either. Beached ... I mean Miss Weberman keeps making remarks about Asians though.”

Mr. Mach sighed and shook his head. “All I can say is to take good notes, there’s nothing we can do without proof.”

Don understood and nodded sadly, “no problem coach,”

Two days later, the instrument of Miss Weberman’s downfall was handed to Don by Miss Weberman herself. “It’s only September but here you are, your final assignment for this class will be to write a piece of American literature,” said Bernice as she rolled up the projector screen to reveal what was written on the board. “I want one original story, that’s all. Use the skills you learn here. Don’t forget the five elements of a story: characters, setting, conflict, theme, and the plot.” Her pointer whacked the board as she pointed out each item.

“And in that story, I want to see the proper use of the story progression; exposition,” Whack! “rising action,” Whack! “climax,” Whack! “falling action,” Whack! “and conclusion.” Whack! “You can start now if you’d like or you start December first, it’s up to you, but you will be presenting them on stage, in the auditorium, starting December fifteenth.”

She waddled back and forth in front of the class; her pointer was now held at port arms like a rifle. “It can be a nonfiction or fiction, the fiction can be fantasy, romance, science fiction, western, inspirational, historical, or horror. Nonfiction can be memoir, biographical, autobiographical, expository, or narrative nonfiction.” Again, her pointer swished through the air, striking the board with the sound of a rifle crack. “It must clearly fit in the parameters of the genre you select, and we will be covering genres this semester. Failure to do so will result in automatic failure.” Then she stopped her considerable bulk in front of Lanh’s desk and looked down at Lanh and smirked, “And it goes without saying, please hand in your completed assignments in English.”