field. I climbed the steps and sat in the middle of the empty bleachers.
As I unwrapped my egg sandwich from the wax paper, I noticed someone across the field, in the middle of the other set of bleachers. From her size, I knew it was Patsy. I thought about going over to ask if I could eat with her, but someone sat beside her. It was a girl with metal braces on both legs.
I could see they were talking while they ate, so I decided not to intrude. Besides, I didn’t know how to intrude.
Do I just walk over and sit down? Or ask if I could sit with them? What if they say, ‘No?’ Then what? That would be embarrassing. Better to keep to myself.
After a quick lunch, I went to my science classroom a half-hour early and sat in the empty room, where it was quiet. Twenty-five minutes later, when the kids started coming in, I pretended to read my textbook.
“Wow,” one of the boys said, “he knows how to read.”
“Na, he’s got a comic book hidden inside his science book.”
They laughed.
I should say something. What’s a good comeback? “Yeah, I got Superman in here.” No, that’s stupid. “Sure, don’t you wish you had one in yours?” No, that requires an answer, and he’d have a smart remark, then I’d have to think of another one. My God, social life’s complicated. I’ll just keep quiet until they get tired of pestering me. How long’s that going to take? Probably the whole semester. Crap, three months of teasing, pestering, and wisecracks. I’ll never make it. How does Patsy do it?
Mrs. Adams’s history class had some of the same students from my English class.
I sat in the back, hoping no one would notice.
After the teacher wrote 330 BC on the blackboard, she asked, “Where did Alexander the Great come from?”
Several students raised their hands.
She went to stand in front of a girl. “What’s your name?”
“Ember Coldstream.”
“Can you answer the question?”
“I think Brindley knows. He’s an expert on ancient history.” She turned to grin at me.
What? Why is she doing this to me?
“Brindley,” Mrs. Adams said, “where did Alexander the Great come from?”
“Um…England?”
“No. Anyone?”
Juliet raised her hand. Mrs. Adams nodded to her.
“Macedonia.”
“Right. And what empire was the first to be conquered by him?”
“Greece.”
“Right again. Good work. I’m glad someone’s been reading during summer vacation. Now, let’s talk about the Roman Empire.”
Before the class was over, she assigned us the first three chapters to read before the next day’s class.
Algebra was just as hard as English and history.
Why didn’t Mrs. Caldwell teach us some of this stuff?
“Buenas tardes estudiantes,” (Good afternoon, students) Mrs. Sandoval said at the beginning of Spanish class.
Several kids responded, “Buenas tardes, Señora Sandoval.”
“Es un hermoso día,” (It’s a beautiful day) Ember said.
I sat in the back of the room, staying very still. I had no idea what Ember had said, but it brought a smile to the teacher’s face.She then looked my way, and I sank down, knowing what was coming.
“Como te llamas, joven?” (What’s your name, young man?)
I only knew by her tone of voice that she’d asked a question. I shook my head.
“I asked your name.”
“Oh, Charley Brindley.”
“El tiene un ligero problema mental,” (He has a slight mental problem) Ember said.
A few of the students giggled.
I only knew it was something about a mental problem; I could guess the rest.
“Oh, siento mucho escuchar eso,” (Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that) Mrs. Sandoval said. “We’ll start off slow for your benefit.”
Ember’s smile looked very much like a sneer.
Why does she hate me?
I opened my textbook and held it up in front of my face.
After school, I stood on the sidewalk, waiting for the school bus.
“Back of the line, Clod Hopper.”
“What?” It was the freckle-faced Crammer.
“You’re standing in my spot. Get to the back of the line, where you belong.”
“There’s no line.”
“There will be, and you’re in my spot.”
He shoved me backwards, knocking my books to the ground.
Some other kids came to watch.
I lunged for him, grabbing him around the waist.
Crammer brought up his knee, hitting me in the stomach.
When I swung at him, he hit me in the chest, knocking me down.
The others laughed. “Go get him, Brindley.”
I jumped up and swung my right fist.
He turned his shoulder toward me.
My fist hit solid muscle.
He punched me in the face, and I went down. I got to my knees, rubbing my eye.
The bus pulled up, and everyone filed on, laughing at me as they passed me. I was last to board. I dropped into a seat behind the driver.
After a month in school, I’d learned nothing, except for the best places to hide at lunchtime and to keep quiet in class. The teachers finally quit asking me questions, since I could never answer anything correctly.
It was the same in all six subjects. I sat in the back and just tried not to be noticed. I took notes and read my assignments, but I was just too slow. Most of the other kids participated in class, always ready to show off their knowledge, particularly the girls – and especially Ember. I guess because her father was a teacher.
I left English, hurrying toward my history class.
“Hay Seed.”
I
