Hey, I’ve figured out how to slow down time! Just have Digger stare at you all though history class. The bell rings and I leap up to leave, but am stopped when Ms. McKenna says, “Marley, Digger, I want you to stay after class.” She isn’t bopping around as usual. Instead she is very still and sounds stern. Ms. McKenna is holding our history tests like they’re on fire. “You both got exactly the same grade … D-plus. Coincidentally, you both got all the same answers, and both didn’t finish the test. In fact, you stopped at the same question.”
Digger and I are silent.
“I know one of you cheated off the other. What I don’t know is who. Do either of you want to confess?”
We’re still not talking.
“All right, then, I’m going to ask you some questions and see what you know. Who were the men on the Committee of Five who wrote the first draft of the Declaration of Independence?”
Silence hangs in the room.
Ms. McKenna warns us, “If neither of you speaks up, you both get after-school detention, your parents will be notified, and this goes on your permanent record.”
“Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Robert R. Livingston,” I rattle off. “And Roger Sherman.”
Ms. McKenna nods. “Okay, in December 1776, Benjamin Franklin was dispatched to which country as commissioner for the United States?”
“France.”
“Good, Marley. What is the famous second sentence of the Declaration of Independence?”
I stand up straight. “ ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.’ ”
“Why did Washington cross the Delaware?”
“To get to the other side,” Digger mutters.
Ms. McKenna ignores him and looks at me. I begin, “Washington crossed the Delaware to take Trenton. There were a bunch of Hessian mercenaries there, and they were basically bullies. They didn’t care what the cause was. They were just paid to fight. They were mean and ruthless. At the Battle of Trenton, Washington captured nearly all of them, with little loss of life. It wasn’t about who could beat up who, it was about avoiding too much battle. This boosted morale and was a turning point in the Revolutionary War.”
Ms. McKenna is beaming. “Marley, that wasn’t even on the test!” She turns to Digger. “Go directly to Principal Haycorn’s office.” She scrawls something on a piece of paper. “Give this to him. You, sir, have after-school detention for the rest of the week.”
“Can I finish the test?” I ask Ms. McKenna. “It won’t take long. I know all the answers.”
“I know you do, Marley,” she says. “But no, you can’t retake it.”
“But the only reason I didn’t finish was so that Digger wouldn’t get a good grade.”
“I’m sorry, Marley. I really am. But you’re stuck with that grade. You know, cheating can go two ways. It was wrong of Digger to copy your test, but it was also wrong of you to let him do that. However, maybe you can make up for it on your oral report next week.” When I don’t say anything, Ms. McKenna asks, “You are prepared for your oral report, right?”
I nod, even though I’m not ready for it. Oh sure, I’m almost done with my report about Benjamin Franklin. I know everything about him. But it’s one thing to stand in the Transporter Room in full Franklin garb and expound on him, and another to get up in front of the class and give a speech. I remember what happened to me the last time I stood in front of a class.
“Are you mad at me?” Ms. McKenna asks when I don’t answer right away.
That’s a weird question for a teacher to ask. “No, why?”
Ms. McKenna reaches for a tissue and blows her nose. It sounds like a goose honking. “Well, because I didn’t let you finish the test, and I know some students don’t like me, but I’m not sure why. I go out of my way to be rad. You may not believe this,” she confides, “but I used to be considered dorky when I was in school.”
“Really?” I say, trying to sound surprised.
“It’s true! Marley, I love teaching so much and I want to share what I’ve learned.” Her eyes are now moist. “The American Revolution, the creation of our nation — this is the stuff of life!!!”
Ms. McKenna sinks down into her chair and blows her nose again. She looks dejected. “Maybe I should have been a dentist, like my mother and father.”
As she tosses the tissue into the trash can, I try to think of something to say to cheer her up. Finally, I say, “After AV, history is my favorite subject.”
“It is?”
“Well, sure. Benjamin Franklin, Washington crossing the Delaware, the Constitution, it’s … it’s like it’s another place, another time, only it’s real.” Ms. McKenna nods. “Maybe there’s some way you could make it more real for your students than singing rap songs?”
McKenna sits up. “How, Marley? How would I do that?”
“I don’t know,” I confess. “But, Ms. McKenna —”
“Yes?”
“I like your class.”
“Thank you, Marley. That means a lot to me. Say, would you like a warm fuzzy?”
“Sure,” I say. I mean it. Then I ask, “Would you like an Officer Uhura?” I take the Star Trek action figure out of my pocket and hand Uhura to Ms. McKenna.
“Star Trek?” she asks.
I nod. “I love Star Trek. Space is the final frontier. Up there, anything is possible. Uhura’s the USS Enterprise’s Chief Communications Officer.”
“Thank you, Marley,” Ms. McKenna says.
As I hold my warm fuzzy and Ms. McKenna holds Officer Uhura, we both smile.
“Marley, so nice of you to decide to join us,” Mr. Jiang says. I hand him my late pass. “Are you just visiting, or are you back for good?”
“Back for good,” I tell him. “I quit the track team.”
“Ah,” Mr. Jiang comments. “The allure of wobbly AV cart wheels and tangled cables beckoned you back.”
“Something like that,” I say. I call out to Troy and Patrick, “Hey, guys, I’m back.”
They barely look up from the DVD player they’ve taken apart. “When were you gone?” Patrick asks.
Max gives me a grin. “Tell them what you did,” she says. I blush when I remember how proud she was when I told her the news.
“I got Digger thrown into detention,” I announce.
“Dude!” Troy shouts. “Gimme five!”
I look over at Ramen. I can tell he’s listening. “Hey, Ramen,” I start to say.
“Hey, nothing,” he answers. “Oh, I mean, I’m nobody.”
“Quiet, please,” Mr. Jiang says as he settles in for a nap.
“Are you going to the Star Trek Convention?” Troy asks. He’s now working his way through a giant bag of potato chips and keeps wiping his hands on his pants.
I shake my head. “Not this time. You going?” I ask.
“Heck yeah,” Troy says, giving me the Vulcan sign. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything!”
At the beginning of the year, I would have said the same thing. Only, there is one thing that I would miss the convention for. To look good in front of Emily Ebers. Forget Ramen. He’s acting like a baby. I’m moving up in the world, and if he can’t handle that, then that’s his problem.
After AV Club, there is no Gorn and no Digger to torment me. I wait for Emily at her locker. My hand is in the pocket of my B-Man jacket, gripping the note. I had brought Uhura to help me here, but she’s with Ms. McKenna now. I take a deep breath to build up my nerve. There she is!
“Hi, Marley!” Emily says, giving off a radiant smile. Today she’s wearing a skirt and a pink fuzzy sweater.
“NuqneH!” Oops, gotta stop talking Klingon, that sounds so stupid. “Hello, Jell-O!”
“Do you have big plans for winter break?” she asks. Why is Emily asking me this? Maybe she wants to get together over break?
“Uh, no plans. Just whatever. And you?”
“I’m going to see my dad in New Jersey.”
“Maj! I mean, good! That should be fun,” I tell her. Should I give her the note? Emily’s smiling at me again. “I’ve never been to New Jersey,” I say. “Don’t they have a lot of cows there or something? You know, Jersey cows, New Jersey. Moo.”
Oh man, could I sound like a bigger nerd?
Emily laughs. “Cows? I don’t know, Marley. Maybe. Well, I have to go meet Millicent at the library. It was nice talking to you. See you around!”
My heart is still racing even though it’s been over five hours and thirty-two minutes since I’ve seen Emily. I wonder if she feels the same way? Lavender is talking to a woman who can’t stop thinking about her fiancé. “No matter how hard I try, Orlo’s always on my mind,” she says.
“Hmmm …” Lavender ponders this and continues, “Jennifer, there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“I guess not,” the caller says.
“Well, Jen, and for all of you out there that have a special someone they can’t stop thinking about, here’s the Willie Nelson classic, ‘Always on My Mind’ …”
I still have the note I wrote to Emily. Maybe it’s time to be a man and give it to her.
