Chapter 23: Fallout

Describing Monday as a complete disaster would be like describing an amputation as a simple flesh wound (there's a Monty Python joke in there somewhere).

I woke up aggravated at Mom for the way she was reacting to my breakup with Christy. Halfway through my five-mile run that morning, I stepped into a hole and twisted my ankle. On the ride into school, all Alice wanted to talk about was the drama that occurred Saturday night. Mike was quiet, thankfully; but even my short, monotone responses didn't clue Alice in. I had thought about bringing up the idea of double-dating Saturday with them, but that went out the window quickly when Alice started in.

I was happy that Jessica hadn't changed her demeanor towards me in homeroom. She continued to mostly ignore me, but she did text a smiley face to me just before the bell rang.

In just about every class, someone would approach me and rehash the infamous event Saturday, as if I hadn't been there and they were giving me brand new information. As the day moved along, elements of the story changed. One rumor had it that Steve had challenged me to a fight over Christy in the parking lot and I had backed down. Another was that I wasn't man enough for Christy and she left me to find someone better. I knew that there would be rumors and stories. How I ended up being the bad guy was hard to comprehend, but I'm sure that status had a lot to do with it. Christy was popular. I wasn't. The result would be that I would absorb most of the fallout. If anything, there seemed to be some understanding that Christy had simply dumped me because I was not part of the popular crowd. In any case, I decided to listen to Mom's advice and just leave it alone.

Lunch was particularly brutal. I knew I still had Mike and Alice as lunch buddies and I wasn't expecting Christy to join us. Suzanne was there and waved to me, but she had her friends around her and I was grateful that she didn't make a scene. It was especially hard seeing Christy sitting at the table with Bill Dolan, Steve Williams and the rest of their friends. I caught Christy's eye for a couple of seconds and it didn't seem like she was any happier than I was, but that could have been wishful thinking on my part. My appetite ruined, I made my excuses to Mike and Alice, and abandoned the lunch room for a little air.

I'd been outside wandering around aimlessly before I decided to head to AP History and Mrs. Parkman's class a few minutes early. I arrived to find the door closed as she was eating lunch while Mr. Craven, the History teacher from the next classroom was hovering over her. Mrs. Parkman did not look comfortable. When I knocked on the door, Mr. Craven jumped a little, and then looked my direction with a scowl on his face. Mrs. Parkman waved me in.

"C'mon in, Mr. Marlow, I'm just finishing up lunch."

I parked in the desk immediately in front of Mrs. Parkman's, as Mr. Craven gave me an icy stare. Mr. Craven had a reputation as a complete asshole and I saw nothing to refute the claim. He ran his class like a drill instructor and did very little to help his students, unless you were a pet of his. Mike had him for a class last year and said he was the worst teacher he had ever met. Apparently, Mr. Craven had it in for athletes and was especially hard on them. At 5'5" and probably no more than 130 pounds, I guessed he was envious or had been harassed by some jocks when he was in school and was using this as his opportunity for a little payback.

The joke around the school, which likely didn't help Mr. Craven's state-of-mind, involved Mr. Craven's first name, which was Richard, in conjunction with his last name. In the school directory, teachers are listed alphabetically by last name. It was just unfortunate for Mr. Craven he was listed in the directory as "Craven, Richard B.". Many of his less-than-satisfied students referred to him as 'Craven Dick'.

I guess you had to be there.

"Mr. Marlow, don't you have lunch?" questioned Mr. Craven.

I shrugged and replied, "Not really hungry, so I thought I would get here a little early."

Mrs. Parkman waved him off. "Mr. Marlow, you are welcome to drop in at any time. I always have time for my students. Thank you for stopping by, Richard, but I have a few things I need to discuss with Mr. Marlow."

He wasn't happy about it, but Mr. Craven turned on his heels and walked out of the room. I noticed that he hadn't bothered to close the door this time.

"I'm glad you stopped by, Mr. Marlow." She glanced at the door, making sure Mr. Craven had left. "You have no idea how glad."

"He doesn't seem like a very nice person."

Mrs. Parkman tossed the remains of her lunch in the trash can and wiped her mouth. "I'm not going to discuss a fellow teacher, Mr. Marlow, that's just bad manners; but I will tell you that your timing is appreciated." She smiled as she regarded me for a few seconds. "Having a rough day are we?"

Geez, I thought, could I go anywhere and not have to deal with the events from this weekend? This day was really starting to piss me off.

"Is there something I missed? Did someone run an ad in the paper? Maybe there's a plane overhead with a banner saying 'Phil and Christy Broke Up!'? Were there announcements this morning over the PA?

"Calm down, Mr. Marlow. I was simply commenting on your appearance. If you're trying for a part in a zombie movie, then I think you have the look down pat. I haven't seen any Hollywood types around here," she said with a smile, "but now that you mention it..."

I know I rolled my eyes as I slumped in my chair.

"It's a relatively small school, Mr. Marlow. Word travels pretty quickly, especially among the teaching staff, here ... you know, the staff I won't discuss. Why don't you give me your version?"

So, for the next few minutes, I did. She nodded at the appropriate times, but didn't comment until I was done.

"Sounds typical for a high school relationship. Do you want my advice?"

"I hope you have a new angle. I think I've heard just about every piece of armchair psychology I can stand."

"Well, take it in the spirit it's given, which is to say, it's free." We both chuckled at that. "Move on. You're not even sixteen yet. If the average holds true, you'll likely have several more doomed relationships to get through before you find the right person for you."

"I know. My mom keeps saying the same thing. Sometimes I think the two of you could be related."

She chuckled. "If that's the case, I need to meet your mom. If I have a lost relative out there, I need to find them."

"I would have loved to have had you come to our last pool party."

She smiled and blushed profusely.

"You really are shameless, aren't you?"

I smiled and shrugged. It was the best I had felt all day.

"In all honesty, Phil, you're best bet is to move on and find someone new. You're too young to get so serious. I think the mistake I made was getting too serious at such a young age. If I could do it over again, I would have gone out with more people and really understood what it was I looking for in a partner. I know the discovering sex part is really exciting, but there has to be more there to build a good relationship."

"Is that what you did? You got too serious, too soon?"

"This is way more personal information than I ever planned on sharing with a student, but yes, I did. I met my husband during my junior year in high school and ended up marrying him after my sophomore year in college. We both went to Ohio State."

She paused for a few moments and I saw her look at me, questioning.

"I have no idea why I shared even that much information with you, Mr. Marlow. I would ask that you not share it with anyone else."

"You have my word, Mrs. Parkman."

We sat in companionable silence for a few moments as we both considered our discussion. Had we just crossed a barrier of sorts? Was her opening up to me a sign of something deeper than student/teacher? A friendship in the making, perhaps?

"For what it's worth, I appreciate you sharing that with me, Mrs. Parkman. I've had a pretty crappy day, until now. I'm glad I showed up a little early."

Again, she paused, clearly considering something.

"Mr. Marlow, you are welcome to stop by anytime. And while we are having these types of discussions, you are welcome to call me Elle."

We had crossed a barrier! I rose from my seat far enough to extend my right hand to her. "And you can call me, Phil, Elle."

She accepted my handshake and offered a smile in return.

And that was the lone bright spot in an otherwise brutal Monday. Bill Dolan took his shot in passing between classes.

"I knew a loser like you couldn't hold on to a girl like Christy. She's way out of your league, dickwad."

"How's the season going, Bill?" It was all I could think of at the time. "Figure out which uniforms your receivers are wearing, yet?"

"At least I'm playing. I'm glad my buddy Steve got Christy to see the light. Now that she's with him, you're nothing more than a fucking afterthought."

"Get used to that term, Bill. When you graduate, that's all you'll ever be."

On the way home with Sparks and Heather, I received the same treatment from Heather that I received from Alice on the way in to school. I really needed to get my own damn car!

Maria gave me a hug when I got home. Then she got the opportunity to listen to me describe the horrible Monday I had endured. She was sympathetic and offered to fix me a nice snack, but my appetite just wasn't there. After my workout, I grabbed my books and headed for the treehouse. I wasn't there five minutes before it started to rain. Somehow, it just seemed to be fitting.

Tuesday wasn't much of an improvement over Monday. My daily habits had to change and Tuesday signified the real beginning of that change with my new tutoring responsibilities. By three-thirty, a group of nine students and Mrs. Parkman met in the library. Mrs. Parkman described the tutoring as an extension of the Freshman Mentoring Program the school had used for a number of years. After she provided background, Mrs. Parkman introduced the three tutors and the six tutees, which consisted of four girls and two boys. All were freshman and none of whom were familiar to me. All six were students in Mrs. Parkman's Freshman American History classes.

We all sized each other up as Mrs. Parkman described the intent of the tutoring sessions and milestones they were expected to reach as a result. The tutors would be evaluated on the improvement by the tutees, and extra credit assigned accordingly. The tutees were advised to take these sessions seriously, as this was intended to help them pass their classes.

Then it was time for Mrs. Parkman to assign the two students each of the three of us would help. As I looked at the six tutees, I was quickly drawn to a short red head with a nice figure and an oversized bust. My hands were not small, but I would have a hard time imagining I could hold just one of her breasts without using both hands. Her eyes were brown, which I thought was unusual for hair as red as hers, but it certainly gave her a unique look. She couldn't have been more than an inch or two above five feet and, other than her large chest, didn't have an ounce of fat on her. If there was anything that detracted from her look, it was her slightly oversized nose. She was fidgeting as she sat there, waiting for Mrs. Parkman to start assigning them to their tutors. I crossed my fingers in both hands as I held my hands behind my back, hoping she would be assigned to me. Several times, our eyes made contact, but she quickly looked away and blushed. That couldn't have been a bad sign.

As it turned out, Beth McKenzie was assigned to me, along with Jim Daniels (yes, his father's name was Jack and, no, it wasn't THAT Jack). Jim stood a good five or six inches taller than me, and had a huge fight on his hands with acne. I really felt badly for the guy, not only being so much taller than most people and feeling awkward, but also having to fight an acne issue. Jim was going to play basketball and needed to do well in history if he was going to make the team. He told me in no uncertain terms how much he hated history. He was only here because Mrs. Parkman had talked to his coach. He was going to be a real challenge if I couldn't get him to relate to the material.

Beth was a completely different story. After spending twenty minutes getting to know her and Jim, I doubt she had said more than twenty words. Of course, the grouping of words, initially, was not at all enjoyable.

"I'm sorry to hear about you and Christy."

She had used half of her word allotment for the day reminding me of the events that took place that weekend. There was simply no escape.

So, while Jim had an issue with acne, it appeared Beth had an issue with shyness and confidence. From what I could gather, she didn't consider herself to be a very smart person, and was feeling a bit overwhelmed by her classes. My challenge was less about the material and more about motivation (for Jim) and confidence building (for Beth).

After twenty minutes, Mrs. Parkman excused the tutees and pulled the three of us tutors together for a discussion. She asked for our honest opinion of the people we were helping. When I described Jim and Beth and the challenges they presented, I could tell she was pleased with my assessment. She gave each of us a study guide to review and a series of sample quizzes and tests she had incorporated over the past few years and asked us to make good use of that material. In a way, I looked forward to next week's session. There was certainly something intriguing about Beth.

Tuesday evening, Jessica came over to talk. She had been there to watch the treehouse construction, so that wasn't new to her, but it was the first time she had been in it. Unfortunately, although the treehouse construction was mostly finished, I hadn't yet stocked it, so the only furniture in the room was a couple of folding chairs. By the weekend, I promised to have the place completely furnished, as much as a mattress and a couple bean bags could be considered furniture.

For the first twenty minutes, she filled me in on the happenings in her life. She still felt out of sorts, at times, and seriously depressed at others. She was able to put on a good front, but she was still having nightmares, and they were not diminishing. I asked her again to consider counseling, and I think I finally got her to concede, at least a little.

"If you think you can find someone I can talk to that you trust, I'll think about it. But you'll have to sell me before I agree. I can't go to a professional, because I would either have to pay for it on my own, or tell my parents what was going on. That's not an option, either way." I promised her I would try to find someone. Somehow, Mrs. Parkman seemed like a possibility.