Chapter Fifteen

It’s Wednesday afternoon, and Mrs. Martin has promised to stay after class to work with Sam.

For the last hour, Sam has listened with interest while different members of the class read stories from Greek mythology. He has always liked tales of escape—after all, what is basketball except a game about freeing oneself to shoot? And he had really enjoyed the story of Theseus trying to get out of the labyrinth. But now, Sam’s neck feels weak from trying to keep his head from nodding forward.

Mrs. Martin is collecting the Mythology books and piling them on her desk. “We’ll finish tomorrow.”

The final bell rings.

“I heard that Mrs. Ellsworth, the vice-principal, is about to return from maternity leave,” Miss Perkins whispers to him. “By the time she gets back, we’ve got to have Mrs. Martin on our side. Otherwise, Mrs. Ellsworth could make us attend a younger grade or even go to a different school.” She squeezes his arm. “So that’s a good boy. Do your best now, O.K.?”

This is Sam’s classroom. His school. Mrs. Martin is his teacher. The thought of leaving and starting all over again is frightening.

“OOO.K.,” Sam says. Even though he is so tired today, he is happy when he sees Ann heading over to him.

“Ann, have I ever showed you that Sam can read?” Miss Perkins says quickly. Her gaze is fixed on Mrs. Martin. “He can’t read small lettering,” she explains. “But I made this special alphabet for him.” From a side pocket in his wheelchair, she unfolds a cardboard sheet. The alphabet is written in large, black letters. She unfolds the plastic tray across his wheelchair and places the alphabet on it. “Think of a question.”

“What’s my name?” Ann asks.

Another silly question, Sam thinks as he points to the letters that spell ‘Ann.’ He decides to keep going. Even though he is bored with Ann’s questions, he is grateful to her for spending so much time with him.

Miss Perkins is jotting down the letters.

Sam points to: “Ann is nice.” But he would love to say: Take me to the basketball court every day, and I’ll be your friend forever.

“Does Sam like to read and write?” Ann asks Miss Perkins.

Before Miss Perkins can answer, Mrs. Martin joins them.

Sam wills his neck to stiffen. Miss Perkins is counting on him to impress his teacher.

Ann turns to leave.

Mrs. Martin stops her. “Ann, why don’t you stay a minute? I could use your help with Sam.”

“O.K.,” Ann says. As if Sam were her student, she moves closer to him. Sam feels the golden hairs of her arm brush against him.

Mrs. Martin shakes her head. “Sam,” she says. “Thank you for staying after school. It’s hard to talk during class. May Ann and I ask you a few questions?”

Sam starts to answer ‘yes,’ but Miss Perkins interrupts. “I think he could go to college, Mrs. Martin, if he had the chance. I never graduated from high school myself, but my boy could do anything that he wants to do.”

Ann holds up a sheet with the alphabet written on it in big letters. “I could ask him his favorite color, Mrs. Martin.”

“Sam, tell Mrs. Martin your favorite color,” Miss Perkins directs.

Obediently, Sam lifts his right finger and points at the ‘G’ on his alphabet chart, but he longs to say, Ask me something hard.

“He likes green, ma’am,” Miss Perkins explains. “I think it’s because he doesn’t get to go outside that much. Green is the color of the great outdoors. He likes the grass, the trees.”

“Would you mind?” Mrs. Martin interrupts. “Could Ann and I question the boy?”

Miss Perkins’ sweet face falls. Sam knows that her feelings are hurt.

“Please, ma’am. Go ahead,” she answers in her most dignified voice.

“You like Churchill?” Mrs. Martin asks.

“He knows everything there is to know about Sir Winnie, why he could…” Miss Perkins starts to detail his encyclopedic knowledge of Winnie, but Mrs. Martin touches Miss Perkins’ arm.

“Where was Churchill born, Sam?” Mrs. Martin asks. “Ann, write down his answer.”

Quickly so that Mrs. Martin won’t change her mind, Sam points to the letters for “Blenheim Palace.”

“How does he know that?” Ann asks no one.

“Sam’s correct, ma’am,” Miss Perkins breaks in.

“Shhh,” Mrs. Martin says. Behind her horn-rimmed glasses, his teacher’s eyes are sparkling. “Sam,” she begins cautiously, “When I asked you the question, ‘Where was Churchill born?’ and you answered, which of these did you hear in your head?

“Number one: Blenheim Palace, or Number two: Churchill was born in Blenheim Palace.” Mrs. Martin looks at Ann. “Ann, hold up the poster board so that Sam can choose.”

This is an unusual question. Sam starts to feel excited, too. He points at number two.

Mrs. Martin turns to Miss Perkins. “He hears sentences in his head,” she says. “Does he hear paragraphs, too?”

“YYes,” Sam says to Mrs. Martin. He wants to shout, At last, someone at this school understands.

Ann stares quizzically at him, as if he is a Math problem she can’t solve.

“I’m sure that he has a whole book in his head. Why…” Miss Perkins begins to brag about Sam.

“Has this boy’s I.Q. ever been tested?” Mrs. Martin interrupts.

“I don’t know that we need to, ma’am,” Miss Perkins disagrees. “Sam’s smart. I tell him something once; he remembers. He knows so much. He just doesn’t know how to communicate all that he knows.”

Mrs. Martin takes a deep breath. “Miss Perkins, I can see that I need to spend a little time with Sam after school each day. I’ll ask my babysitter if she can stay later.”

“That’s a jolly good idea,” Miss Perkins says. “He’d like that. It would mean a lot to both of us, ma’am.”

“Will you talk to me again after school tomorrow?” Mrs. Martin asks.

Sam eagerly looks up. He would love to.

“He’s saying yes,” Miss Perkins interprets.

“I know what he’s saying,” Mrs. Martin says brusquely. “Ann, you may go now. Thank you for your help.”

Before Ann can leave, Sam begins pointing at some letters on his alphabet.

Sam’s finger moves so fast that Ann has to borrow Miss Perkins’ pencil again. Ann looks down and reads her notes, “Same time. Same place.” She smiles at Sam. “You’re funny!”

“You, Ann, are beginning to appreciate my dear Sam.” Miss Perkins directs her words to Ann, but she keeps her gaze fixed on Mrs. Martin.

“You’ve made your point, Miss Perkins,” Mrs. Martin says quietly. “I’m excited. I think Sam’s going to be a good student.”

Somehow, Sam finds the energy to grin at his teacher.