Week Two

Chapter Nine: Luke

I checked my grades online when I got back to school on Monday. I've got a middle C in English, an F in math, a low B in history and a low C in everything else...so things are going about like they usually do. I got an A on my symbolism paper on "A Christmas Memory." Ms. Hawk wrote all these compliments all over my paper, it made me feel good. But I got a low C on my PowerPoint and a 0 on a homework worksheet on sentence diagramming.

The PowerPoint thing started off bad and just got worse. When we got to the computer lab, Ms. Hawk told Elly and me that we needed to coordinate our PowerPoints since she was doing hers on how the Holocaust got started and mine was on The Night of the Broken Glass. So we had to sit next to each other at the computers and work together. That made me so nervous that my stomach started churning again, and I could barely talk. Meanwhile, Elly was smiling the whole time and chatting away with me about what she was finding out about the Holocaust.

I've got a confession to make. I've had a crush on Elly since the eighth grade. Every time she would see me, she would smile, and she's still like that in high school. I know she's friendly to everybody, it's not just me. But that's why I like her. She's smart, too, and pretty, and she has the most beautiful green eyes and long eyelashes, and gorgeous curly hair, and she doesn't put people and their ideas down when we have class discussions. The whole working-together thing should have been a way for her to learn that I'm somebody worth knowing and that I'm not stupid. Instead, I blew it. The truth is I'm not ready to go out on a date with Elly or any other girl this year. How can I when I can't even have a conversation with a girl, and my stomach is always feeling like it's about to explode when I try to. I worry that Elly is out of my league anyway, even when I am older.

When I presented my PowerPoint to the class last Thursday, I just mumbled and rushed through it and didn't "expound" on any of the bullet points like Ms. Hawk told us we had to do. At the end of class when I was walking out, Ms. Hawk called me to her desk and gave me one of those teacher pep talks. She said she gave me an A on my PowerPoint creation, but an F on my presentation, for an overall grade of C. She told me to try to relax, that she could tell I was tense all the time, but that I had good skills. I appreciate her trying to make me feel better, but she doesn't know how hard standing in front of the room is for me. Then her voice turned sharp and she started in on me on why I didn't do the homework worksheet on sentence diagramming, that learning how to diagram sentences is the key to learning how to write better, that she wanted to know why I had not done the assignment and she was waiting for an answer.

Then I said did she want to know the truth, and she said yes, and I said that I thought I was a good writer, that was about the only thing in school that I was any good at, that I had never been able to figure out sentence diagramming, that it made me think of math, and that I thought that diagramming sentences was stupid and confusing and had nothing to do with being a good writer. It was the longest conversation that I've ever had with a teacher. She got this shocked look on her face, and then I was scared to death she was mad at me. That she thought I was being smart-mouthed with her, and so I apologized for speaking that way. For a teacher, she's not bad.

And then Ms. Hawk said the strangest thing. ..that I had given her something to think about. Then she gave me an excused tardy to remedial math class, which I milked for everything it was worth, so I was five minutes late coming to class, which was just about the high point of my week in math. Everybody in there is as dumb as I am and most of them are guys. There are only three girls in the whole class and it seems like there must be 50 people in there but I know there are not. It only seems like it because most of the guys act up the entire time and it's just crazy—inmates running the asylum-type crazy. That's all I've got to say about that awful class. That's all I want to say about the whole awful first week of school.

I had an awesome weekend. Mom and especially Dad are big NASCAR fans, and this year they said that I didn't have to go with them to the races, as long as Granddaddy would come over or call and check in on me. I hate going to the races with all the smell and noise and not having time during the weekend to go off into the woods by myself and walking and exploring or fishing in the river. Dad knows somebody at NASCAR who is in charge of programs, so he gets some and sells them in the stands before he settles down with Mom and watches the race. Dad always says he makes enough money selling programs to more than make up for the cost of going to a race. Dad is always hustling to make money, he's good at it.

I spent Saturday in the national forest. It's about three or four miles from our house, and I ran all the way there. I run three miles before school every morning. I love getting up early in the dark and running when nobody is around and listening to the night sounds and looking at the stars. After I got to the national forest, I got on my favorite trail and hiked till about noon, then ate a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from my backpack, drank some water, and headed back. Granddaddy got me tree and bird field guides last Christmas because I asked him to, and I'm trying to learn how to identify every species of songbird and tree that I come across. Saturday, I finally figured out the difference between scarlet oaks and pin oaks and that we have scarlet oaks here. I heard or saw about twenty-five species of birds when I was up in the mountains, including this American redstart...the first one I've ever seen. It was awesome.

Sunday morning, I rode my bike to the river. I tucked my two-piece rod (that I asked Granddaddy to get for me the Christmas when I was nine) under my arm and put my best lures in a creel over my shoulder. I caught this huge 15-inch smallmouth bass on a Rapala minnow and a 14-incher on a Cordell Big O crankbait. That's good fishing, really good fishing. I'm going back to the mountains and the river next weekend, especially if Dad and Mom go to the races again.

I hope this week in school is not as bad as last one. Fat chance of that happening.