Somewhere Between Black and White (4 page)

Seven

“Hey, Karen, here’s
Elijah’s backpack.” Sophie dropped it on the floor near the classroom door.  “He
left it in my room yesterday afternoon, and I figured if I brought it to you,
he wouldn’t have to come get it during your class this morning.”

Karen
glanced up from her desk and its stack of papers. “Oh, thanks, but it wouldn’t
hurt my feelings if he left my room to get it.”

Sophie
scrunched her nose and nodded. “I hear ya.”

“How has
he been for you lately?”

“Eh. It’s
kind of a roller coaster with him. He’ll go a while and be halfway decent, but
then he’s gotta turn around and just be heinous. Long and short of it, he’s a
mean,
mean
little man.” Sophie took a
seat at one of the desks.

“He’s an
asshole!” Karen said before getting up to write the day’s assignment on the
board.

“Why
don’t you tell me how you
really
feel?”

“Well,
I’m sorry, but he is.” Karen was young, in her mid-twenties, always smiling and
personable. She put in a lot of extra hours tutoring students during her lunch
and after school, but whenever the subject of Elijah came up, her positive
attitude went out the window.

Karen
turned from the board and put a hand on her hip. “The other day in class, he
was doing everything he could to pull me into a power struggle. He was awful!
You could even tell by the looks on the other kids’ faces, they thought so,
too.” Her attention shifted toward the door. “Hey, Sam! C’mere for a minute,
would you?”

Sam
happened to be passing in the hallway outside. He back-stepped to see who was
calling him, and grinned when he realized Sophie was in the room. “Why, hello
ladies.” He didn’t enter, but instead leaned on the doorjamb.

“You have
Elijah Jones, don’t you?” Karen asked. “How has he been in your class?”  

As Karen
posed her question, Sam’s gaze drifted to Sophie, offering her a modest smile. He
and Sophie hadn’t seen each other since the night at the karaoke bar the Friday
before. Sophie had wondered how things would be at work, if he might pretend
like nothing significant happened between them. After all, you never knew what
to expect of people. However, she was relieved that he seemed genuinely happy
to see her again.

Finally,
he gave a half-hearted shrug in response to Karen’s question about the boy, as
if he knew where the conversation was going, but didn’t want to start bashing
the kid. “He’s. . . .”

“Ah! So
he’s a jerk in your class, too!” Karen said. “That gives me
some
solace. At least he’s sharing his winning personality
equally.”

Sophie
stood up and tugged at the bottom of her blouse. “I’m gonna head back to my
room. Let’s pray to the gods that Elijah will be bearable today.”

“Yeah,
right!” Karen snorted. “Thanks for bringing the backpack.”

Sam
stepped aside to let Sophie by, then followed her into the hallway. “And how
was the rest of your weekend?” he asked.

“Not bad .
. . not bad.” She was still bothered by her confrontation with Evie. “So where
is your classroom? Can I see it?”

“Right
down here, just a couple doors away from Karen,” he answered, leading the way.

When they
reached his room, Sophie was immediately struck by all of the posters of athletes
on the walls. “Bit of a sports fan, are we?”

“Ah, guilty.
What about you?”

She made
a face and shook her head.

“I
suppose I’ll have to let that slide,” he teased.

She
couldn’t believe all the clutter! How he knew where to find anything was beyond
her. Sophie wouldn’t have been able to function.

“Yeah, I
know. Kinda messy,” he said, as if reading her mind. His desk was in the corner
next to a small table that held a mini coffee maker. He picked up a pile of
student papers, trying to straighten them into a neat stack. “You know how it
is. You get busy during the day, and before you know it, you’re buried.”

“I
used
to know how it is, back when I taught
elementary,” she admitted. “Luckily, I don’t have all that paperwork to deal
with anymore. Everything’s done on the computer—quizzes, assignments.  I tell
ya, Google Docs is a beautiful thing.” She folded her arms across her chest as
she examined the paperback novels on one of his bookcases. “You have
 
Milkweed
!
” She pulled it
from the shelf.

“Yeah,
it’s a great book.”

“I love
this book! I read it to my fifth grade class. Of course, a lot of it went over
their heads. But I had this one boy, very bright, and Jewish, so he knew all
about the Holocaust. Such a sad story. I had to get him to read parts of it to the
class because I would just start crying.” Her face flushed. “The kids all
thought it was kind of weird.”

“I bet
they liked it, the fact that you were so into the story.”

“I don’t
know about that,” she replied. “Anyway, I don’t know how you teach English.
Ugh
!
I used to hate to grade writing. And then trying to get them ready for that
state writing test. I swear, I thought I was going to get an ulcer.”

“It’s not
that bad.” He looped his thumbs in his front pockets. “I kinda like it.”

“Really? Even
when they still don’t know they’re supposed to put a period at the end of a
sentence? Or what a noun is?”

“Yeah, I
guess even then.” He chuckled, leaning against his desk.

She walked
between the aisles of desks, which were arranged in pairs to make space available
in the room. “You’re quite the marvel, Mr. Collins.”

“Nah.”

“I guess
I better head back before the first bell rings.” She glanced at her watch.
“You’ll have to come my way sometime—No Man’s Land.”

“Sure. Do
you think you could be my computer guru this year? Sad to admit, but I’m pretty
technologically challenged.” All teachers had a computer of their own because gradebooks
and attendance were kept electronically.

“At your
service,” she said with a salute.
Why did you do that? That was
totally lame.
“Well, have a good day.”

“Sophie?”
His forehead wrinkled as he rubbed his jaw.

“You
already have a computer question, don’t you?”

“Uh, no.”

She
tilted her head, raising her eyebrows slightly.

“I know
we don’t know each other that well yet, so if you don’t feel comfortable
accepting, I understand. But . . . could I make you dinner sometime?”

Sophie
beamed, her stomach fluttering. “How can a girl refuse when a boy offers to
cook?”

***

“Miss,
why is he sitting way over there now?” Elijah asked, referring to the student
who used to sit next to him. Elijah didn’t even know his name.

“Because
he asked to have his computer seat moved,” Sophie answered. Normally she didn’t
grant requests for seat changes unless she felt there was a good reason, but the
student complained that Elijah constantly bothered him to do his work for him,
and was just all around mean. The truth was, Sophie could think of only one kid
in the class who tolerated Elijah, and even they had a sort of love-hate
relationship.

“Why does
he
get to have his seat moved?” Elijah complained.

“Why does
it matter to you? You’re the one who said you two don’t get along.”
As
if you get along with anyone.

“Well,
can I have my seat moved?”

“You’re
fine where you are.”

“That
ain’t fair. How come he gets to move and I don’t?” The rest of the students
were working on the assignment, and the girl three seats down from him glanced
his way and rolled her eyes.

He’s pulling you in, Sophie. Don’t
let him. Why are you arguing with this child?
“Elijah, just drop this and do your work. If you need
help with anything, then let me know.”

“W-o-w-w-w,”
Elijah said, drawing out the word. It was his most overused response, and his
passive aggressive way of saying,
you
are quite the bitch
. If that wasn’t the
meaning, Sophie would sure like to know what it was; she had to go to her happy
place every time he said it. A nice beach somewhere, with a beautiful fruity
cocktail.

He got up
from his seat at the computer and started walking past the rest of the
students.

“Elijah,
what are you doing now?”

“I gotta
get something out of my backpack.” The perimeter of the room was lined with the
computers facing the walls, while the desks in the center pointed toward Sophie’s
desk. Of course, he took the most indirect route from his computer to his desk.
Sophie was about to point that out, but then decided against it. It just wasn’t
worth it.
It’s not like we haven’t had that conversation before
. She
eyed him the entire time, knowing the whole purpose of getting out of his seat
was so that he could aggravate one of the students along the way.  

Sure
enough, the second she thought it was safe to turn her attention to something
else, he snatched someone’s paper. He never did it in a mean, bullying way—at
least she didn’t think so. It was always passed off as a joke, but Sophie could
never figure out if he was trying to harass, or simply relating with his peers
the only way he knew how.

“Okay,
Elijah. I think it’s time to call home,” Sophie said as she reached for the
phone hanging on the wall.

“No! No,
Miss! I’m going back right now,” he said and shuffled back to his computer. Clearly,
he had no reason to go to his backpack in the first place, other than to be a
total pill.

Sophie
had called his mother a couple of times earlier in the year, and Mom made it
clear that she wanted to be notified when he was being a problem. Watching his
reaction now, Sophie wondered why she didn’t play this card more often. She
loathed having to call parents and felt as if she should be able to take care
of the situation herself. She kept the phone in her hand. “I’m not doing this
with you every day, Elijah. So fix it!”

“Okay,
okay, Miss. I was just playing!”

She hated
to admit it, but calling a student’s mother was mostly a hit-and-miss
proposition, especially if there was no dad in the picture. Sometimes a phone
call straightened the kid out, but most of the time it didn’t. On the other
hand, when you called a dad . . . Sophie loved calling dads!

At the
beginning of last year, she had another student, Malcolm, who was giving her a
lot of trouble. Kind of a large boy, bigger than Sophie. He was rude,
disrespectful, and loud. One day when he came in, he decided it was a nifty
idea to fling his backpack halfway across the room. Sophie laid into him for
it, and that afternoon made a call home. She happened to reach his dad, and
when she told him what happened, he apologized and said very calmly, “You will
be having no more trouble from my son. I guarantee it.”

The next
day when Malcolm came in, he was a different person. He gave Sophie a sincere
apology, and his dad had emailed her to let her know all his privileges had been
taken away for two weeks. No video games, no hanging out with friends, nothing.
From that moment on, Malcolm was not a problem. The loudness never went away,
but at least he was pleasant.

Unfortunately,
those kind of results seldom occurred. One thing was certain, things weren’t
the way they were when Sophie was a kid. If you got in trouble at school, you
had better pray Mom or Dad didn’t find out.

These
days . . . not so much.

Eight

Sophie stood at Sam’s
front door and paused before knocking. Oh my goodness, she was nervous! And
why? She’d already had lunch with him twice in the teachers’ lounge, but that
was different because there were other people there. This was an official date.
She gave her clothes a once-over, trying to smooth any wrinkles her seatbelt
may have left on her blouse. Then she dug into her purse for some gum and stuck
a piece of peppermint in her mouth.

When she
finally rang the doorbell, a dog barked inside. Its deep tone made Sophie
wonder if it was a big dog. Sophie rocked back and forth on her heels as she
waited for him to answer. “Abby, sit!” Sam commanded from the other side of the
door. She was prepared to be pounced on by a lab, or maybe a German Shepherd,
but was pleasantly surprised to peer down and see what appeared to be some kind
of mutt with a brindle coat, sitting obediently, and wagging her tail.

“Come
in,” Sam welcomed.

“Why
hello, Abby!” Sophie said and bent down to pet her. “You know, that’s my
mother’s name.” The dog refrained from jumping on her, but helped herself to
Sophie’s chin with her tongue. “Ah, you got me!” She wiped the slobber from her
face.

“Sorry, I
should have warned you,” Sam said. “She likes to kiss, and she loves visitors.”

“She’s so
darn cute. What is she?”