Cell Block D
Through sacrament meeting and Sunday School, I was able to catch up a little bit on my sleep. With Zack and Mimi focused on the kids, it seemed I had been a bit forgotten. Hope elbowed me only once in Sunday School, and I think it was because I must have started snoring. Mostly she didn’t talk to me. I wasn’t sure if it was because she had sympathy for me for being called out in the middle of the night or if she was still mad at me.
Unfortunately I couldn’t hide out during the third hour. I was assigned to the fourteen- and fifteen-year-old boys, and it was my turn to teach. I had planned to work on my lesson early this morning, but after having to chase down Peng, I’d forgotten all about it. Not that preparation would have done me much good anyway; the boys in the class didn’t seem to pay attention no matter how much work I put in. For some reason, we referred to the fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds as teachers. I was pretty new in the faith, but I think the scriptural reason for this must have been because the word devil had already been taken.
I began my lesson, and as usual, the boys weren’t listening to me. I didn’t think it was because I was a bad instructor—my college students always gave me good marks—but today I was definitely overfatigued and underprepared. I felt like I might as well be talking to the walls—which would’ve been a lot less frustrating. They called our meeting place the Scout room, but I referred to it as Cell Block D.
In Cell Block D, we had four inmates. I was the assistant warden, Ron Kelton being the main adult in charge. Sometimes a member of the bishopric would also attend, but usually he didn’t last very long before he found an excuse to meet with someone in the hallway. I wished I was in the hallway right now. The inmates were getting ready to revolt. I could feel it.
JR was the ring leader. Currently, he was leaning back on the rear legs of his chair and finding a position where he could achieve balance with no hands or feet touching the floor. He was compact and wiry, with visible cords of muscle running through his hairy forearms. He usually had a toothpick or straw in his mouth, and he was extremely creative in finding ways to interrupt our class. He seemed to have no respect for authority and, in that way, reminded me a little bit of myself. He was a royal pain, and I was more than a little bit ashamed that at times I wished Peng were more like him. Heck, I wished I were more like him. He seemed to be a natural leader, and heaven knows he had more control of the boys than I did.
JR coughed once. This was the signal for inmate number two—Eric Chase—to look at him. Once he had Eric’s attention, JR coughed twice. I had come to learn that this was the signal to follow JR’s example. Eric did so and began balancing his own chair on two legs.
Eric was tall and gangly, with a mop of curly blond hair that seemed to bounce no matter which way he moved. He was a follower and a laugher, and when he started laughing, he didn’t seem to have the ability to stop. JR’s major goal in life seemed to be to find ways to get Eric to do what he wanted him to do because then it would put Eric into a laughing fit.
I thought of JR and Eric as the two stooges. A third stooge would have made sense and would have added a symmetry to the mix, but the other two potential stooges didn’t seem to fit the mold. Peng had his head down. He was probably listening, but I found it disconcerting to address the top of his bowed head, so I turned my full attention to the only other remaining boy—Joseph Johnson. His parents called him JJ, but JR wouldn’t allow any other initial-bearing boys in the class, and Joseph seemed too formal for his short, pudgy body and perpetually dimpled apple cheeks, so we all just called him Joey.
Joey had his hand raised to dutifully answer one of my questions when I heard JR begin to cough again in short bursts.
Uh-oh, I thought and looked to Ron, our warden. I could see by the look in his eyes that he knew, like I did, what was probably coming next. But his expression seemed to say, “You’re the teacher. You need to deal with it.” I felt as helpless as I had the night before when Hope had said I needed to be Peng’s father. I had no clue how to deal with this type of thing.
The third cough sounded. This was JR’s signal for Eric to do something that would cause a disruption. It was only seconds after the signal had been given that Eric obediently did as he’d been instructed. He leaned back farther on his chair until he completely lost his balance and then flapped his arms as if to catch himself as he fell backward onto the floor in a clattering mess.
The sound reverberated off the walls, and I’m sure the class of girls next to us was in the process of sending someone to complain to the bishop.
Eric, lying in a heap on the ground, looked stunned at first and then said, “I think I just named a whole village in China.” He turned to JR for approval, and when he got a smile and a nod, he laid his blond curls back on the ground and burst into laughter.
I looked at Peng to see if he’d been offended by the obvious slight to his name. However, the soon-to-be-president of this motley crew had barely raised his head. Joey was smiling, but he seemed unsure of whether he should laugh at Eric.
I felt heat filling my face, and I took a step toward Eric. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to him, but I was tired from the night before, and I’d pretty much had enough.
Luckily, Ron decided to take this moment to stand and step in. “Okay, guys, that’s enough.” His voice was quiet and composed, but Eric immediately stopped laughing and put his chair back into place. I had nowhere near the amount of respect from the boys that Ron did. Maybe it was because he’d been teaching boys this age a lot longer than I had; maybe it was because he really cared for the boys and they knew it; or maybe it was because he used to be in the special forces and could probably take any one of us out with his little finger.
He was in his early thirties, about my age. He was also close to my size and build, but when he stood up in the room, you would think he was ten feet tall. The boys called him Brother K, but it sounded like “Sir,” when they said it. Sometimes they called me Brother N because of the sound of my last name, but usually it came out sounding like “You idiot.”
“Eric, I don’t want you to do anything like that ever again,” Ron said. “I’ve seen a man break an arm from a fall at about that height. We were in the jungles of Nicaragua. He tripped on a root, reached down to break his fall, and drove the bones in his arms back up and through his elbow. One of the bones clipped an artery. A tourniquet finally stopped the bleeding, but the arm got infected. By the time we got him out, it was a green, stinking mess. The doc had to take the arm off at the bicep. I want you to think about that the next time you decide to lean back in your chair.”
The boys followed Ron’s story with their full attention. Even Peng looked up. Ron was always good about adding details to give the lesson a little more color, and for some reason, an arm with gangrene was particularly interesting. I was pretty sure Joey’s mother would pass out if she ever heard what was being shared in class.
“What’s my favorite scripture?” Ron said in his best drill-sergeant voice.
The stooges groaned. Joey raised his hand and recited, “John 15:13—Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”
“Very good, Joey.” He turned his attention to Eric. “Eric, does this mean that you need to die for the other boys in this class?”
“No,” Eric mumbled reluctantly.
“What does it mean?”
Joey piped up again. “It means that we need to learn to live for each other. To be nice to each other and serve each other.”
Ron’s gaze was burrowing into Eric. He didn’t say anything about Eric’s jab at Peng’s name, but I could see that Eric got the message all the same as he lowered his head in submission.
Ron looked around the room, making eye contact with each of the young men. “I want to tell you boys something. Brother Knight has given up precious moments of his life to prepare an excellent lesson, and I don’t think you are being very appreciative of the gift he is giving you. Now, in the few minutes we have before our guests arrive, I would appreciate it if you would give him your full attention.” Ron sat and looked back over at me.
I felt a little guilty at his words. I hadn’t spent that much time preparing this lesson. In fact, the first time I’d even opened the book was this morning. And I didn’t think that anything I could teach them from the manual would have near the impact of Ron’s sharing some of his army experiences. He didn’t ever actually say that he had been in Delta Force, but from some of the details of his stories, I was convinced this was the case. In truth, I was a little jealous of Ron. I had some good stories too. I just hadn’t figured out a way to tell any of them. Maybe I should try.
I cleared my throat. “Thank you, Brother Kelton. Uh . . .” I glanced down at the manual, but I couldn’t remember where I had left off. Maybe I needed to wing it. “Uh,” I said again. “This reminds me of a time when I was in London, working undercover to stop a terrorist threat at Heathrow airport.”
Every head, including Peng’s, snapped up and looked at me with curiosity. So that’s how you get their attention.
“I broke into the apartment of one of the suspected perpetrators and didn’t realize until I was in his bedroom that he was on the floor behind the bed, prostrate on his prayer mat. I stood there in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do. I didn’t bring a weapon with me because I was just there to gather intelligence, and he wasn’t supposed to be there. He had an AK-47 lying next to him. If he noticed me, I was toast. I began to back away slowly, and somehow my foot found the creakiest floorboard in the entire city. Still, he did not look up but continued his prayers.”
I definitely had their full attention now, though several of the looks I was getting were more than a bit quizzical. This was a true story, and the details got better from here, but it was probably time to retreat back into my cover and not let my pride or jealousy of Ron take me somewhere I really didn’t want to go.
Joey raised his hand. “So what did you do?”
“I did the only thing I could do,” I said. “I started to dance.”
Eric looked at me like I’d gone mad.
“What?” I said, “I’m a really good dancer.” I broke into what I thought would be some impressive urban dance moves.
There was a moment of silence, and then Eric blinked and began to snicker. That was all it took. The rest of the boys erupted in laughter.
Between guffaws, Eric said, “You had us going, Brother N. For a minute there, I thought you might have really been a spy.”
“That’s not the half of it,” JR added. “Before you started moving, I thought you really might be a good dancer.”
This brought even more laughs. From everyone except Ron and Peng, who both seemed to be studying me curiously.
It was at this moment that the bishop decided to stick his head into our room. I could tell from the look on his face that he was not pleased with what he saw.
I held up one finger, asking for him to give me a minute. “So the point of the story is,” I said as the boys quieted down, “that reverence is not about being quiet. It’s not about walking around with folded arms and a somber expression. Like the terrorist on the prayer mat, it’s about being so focused on revering God that nothing is able to distract you, not even an excellent dancer like myself.”
Eric’s eyes lightened with understanding, and he began applauding. “Brother N,” he said. “I think that’s the best lesson you’ve ever given.”
I looked over to the bishop as if to drive home the point. For some reason, he didn’t look impressed. Maybe if he hadn’t walked in during the laughing part. The bishop opened the door wider, and in filed the parents and guests. Both Hope and Zack gave me a scolding look. They must have heard the earlier commotion as well and, for some reason, thought I had something to do with it. Permelia had also joined them, but her eyes sparkled with approval. At least someone seemed to appreciate my methods.
The bishop said a few words and then proceeded to lay his hands on the heads of the boys, one at a time, to set them apart as the new presidency of the teachers quorum. Peng was the president, JR the first counselor, Eric the second counselor, and Joey the secretary. JR didn’t look too happy about not being the president.
After class, as we were going out the door, the bishop stopped me. “Brother Knight. I’m wondering if you could visit with me for a few minutes in my office.”
“About that lesson?” I said.
“It’s not about the lesson. I’d like to meet with both you and Peng.”
I looked over at Zack and our other guests. “I really need to get the grill fired up.”
“It will only take a minute,” he said.
I hadn’t been active in the Church for much of my life, but I’d had a few meetings with bishops in their offices before. Most of them had been with Zack, but either way, I knew what these meetings meant.
I didn’t know why or what for, but for some reason, I was in trouble.