"Okay class, it's time to hand in those book reports." The teacher said from the front of the class room.
Students started looking through their bags, while others had the reports already on their desks waiting for the teacher to come and get them.
Nichole was one of the students that had the book report already out on her desk, but her mind was somewhere else. She was looking out the window at the dead grass of the high school grounds, and wished that she was anywhere but here. Even though she loved English class, Nichole's heart wasn't really in it today.
The night before, Nichole had a dream that she would have something big happen to her today, and that it would change her life, and save others.
The dream was rolling over and over in Nichole's mind as she analyzed each part carefully, thinking that within the dream would be something that would give her a clue as to what would happen today.
Maybe it had something to do with The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton, because Sodapop Curtis was the one that was talking to her in her dream. When Nichole tried to ask Soda questions, he would only lean close to put a hand over her mouth, and tell her that there was no time for questions and that everything would make sense when the time came.
When Soda had said "Savvy?" which meant something like "do you understand me?" all Nichole could do was nod. Soda then smiled took his hand off Nichole's mouth and walked away. That was where the dream had ended.
Nichole had woken up then and had written it all down on a sheet of paper that was now laying on top of her book report. The paper had been folded and put in her pocket, then taken out again and unfolded so many times that day that it now looked like an old sheet of paper with blue marks from her jeans.
Nichole thought that she had the answer in her grasp when a voice interrupted her.
"Nichole?" The teacher said, and it sounded like she had said it more than once now.
"Hmm?" was all that Nichole could say at the moment since she was still off a little bit trying to grasp at it before it was gone.
The person that was seated next to Nichole poked her hard in the arm with a pen.
"Ow! What?!" Nichole snapped at the guy sitting next to her and rubbing at the spot where she had been poked.
"Thank you Sam," The teacher had said, "Nichole I need your book report." She had a patient look on her face, but one could easily tell that steam was close to coming out of her ears.
The teacher's name was Miss. Jackson, and she was new to the school. On the first day of school, Miss Jackson had stood up in front of the entire grade 11 English class saying that she had just come out of college, and that she was very excited to work with the class. Then she told the students to write about themselves in a 500 word paragraph. The class wasn't too happy about that because not a lot of students liked telling a teacher anything about themselves, no matter how young the teacher is.
"Oh, right. Um, just hold on a sec please. I put it on my desk here somewhere." Nichole said now looking at her desk.
Her binder was sitting on the desk and was covering everything. She started to look through it, and then under it. There she saw the dream paper and the book report. Nichole made sure that she gave the teacher the book report.
"What's that Nichole?" The teacher asked looking at the piece of paper on Nichole's desk after she had the book report staked in her arms along with the others.
"Oh, that's nothing." Nichole said with a little bit of a nervous laugh, and quickly put the paper in her binder behind her silent reading book, which she hadn't even payed attention to the words at all during the time she was supposed to be reading it.
The teacher raised an eyebrow, then held out her hand, "Hand it over, Nichole."
Nichole thought of every argument in the world, everything from: why do you want to look at it? All the way to no. But none of the words came from her brain to her lips.
Nichole only was able to dig out the paper and give it to her teacher.
"Thank you Nichole," The teacher said walking back up to her desk, "Now this piece of paper seems to be the thing that has you so distracted. Let's see if the entire class can help you out. It'll be part of today's lesson with analyzing things." The teacher then picked up a blue marker and started to write it out on the white board.
Nichole was frozen in her seat trying to think of something she could do, but nothing came to mind at all that would help her, and not have the paper along with her being dragged to the office where the principal would read it, and call her parents.
Nichole knew however that she would have to try. She dragged herself out of her seat, and walked up to the board, and the teacher. Who was just working on the first sentence that Nichole had wrote.
Nichole had picked up the eraser and swiped it across the board. Out of the corner of her eye, Nichole could see a few kids pull out their phones and hit record.
"What? Why?" The teacher asked.
"I think that I can figure out what I have on that paper on my own thank you." Nichole said and gently picked the paper out of the teacher's hand.
"You can't do that." The teacher said.
"And you cannot put down what students had written up on the board for other students to see without consent." Nichole said.
"Nichole. Office now!" The teacher said.
"Gladly." Nichole said. She went to her desk picked up her binder, and walked out of the classroom.
Nichole was sure that the teacher would call down to the office and tell the office worker how much of a trouble maker Nichole was, and was also noting how long she thought that Nichole should be suspended for.
Nichole decided that she would do her best to defend herself, and hope that whoever that was going to dole out her punishment would listen to the two sides of the story.
[…]
"Nichole, what were you thinking?" The vice principal asked pacing behind his desk angrily.
Nichole was sitting in a chair calmly as the vice principal paced. She had been sent in there just as soon as she had walked into the schools front office, and was told that the vice principal was waiting for her. Nichole had sat down calmly, while the vice principal was pacing behind his desk. Nichole could guess that he had been doing that for about a minute without saying a word since she had sat down.
The vice principal had been working at the school a little bit longer than Nichole had been going to the school. He was a bolding man with a moustache that the students including Nichole were sure that when the vice principal retired, that moustache would probably become a beard.
"I was thinking that it was only my business about what was written on that sheet of paper, not the rest of the class's or even the teacher's for that matter." Nichole said.
"Alright then Nichole, why don't you tell me your side of the story? Because I haven't heard anything about a sheet of paper." The vice principal said sitting in his desk. He looked like he was actually going to listen to her.
Nichole told the vice principal everything about what had happened in the class room from her point of view.
"I see." The vice principal said at the end of Nichole's story.
Nichole waited for the vice principal to say more, but he didn't say a word. He just stood up and walked to the school phone that hung on the wall. He called down to the classroom that Nichole had just left, and asked for Miss. Jackson to come up to his office.
[…]
It was a long and aggravating ordeal for Nichole to sit though, that was the telling of Miss. Jackson's side of the story. She told the vice principal all about how Nichole never did anything in her class, and just stared out the window the whole time. She then stated that today she had had it.
The vice principal looked at his computer, and then back at Miss. Jackson, and then back at his computer, then back at Miss. Jackson. "Now why don't I believe you?" he asked like he was about to pass out at any second.
"Well, I don't know sir. What part don't you believe?" Miss. Jackson asked with a bit of venom lacing her tone.
"Well. I'm just looking at Nichole's past classes, and what her teachers had said about her. The only thing that mentions anything about Nichole looking out the window, is when she's thinking really hard about something, and that she hardly ever does it." The vice principal explained.
"Well she has been doing it a lot this year." Miss. Jackson countenred.
"Nichole? Have you been doing it a lot this year?" The vice principal asked, looking at Nichole now.
"Not really. It was only twice this year before today, and it was only for a little bit I promise. I was just thinking about what to write for a couple of assignments." Nichole said.
"And what about today? Were you thinking about an assignment?" The vice principal asked.
"No sir. I was thinking about something that happened at home." Nichole said. This wasn't entirely a lie, because the dream did happen at home, and she was trying to figure it out.
"And this is the thing that you wrote down on this sheet of paper? And the same one that Miss. Jackson took from you, but you took back?" The vice principal asked.
"Yes, sir." Nichole said nodding.
"Miss. Jackson, it is not allowed to put anything on the board that is not an assignment that does not have a name on it. Also, everything that is written by a student, that a teacher wants to share with the rest of the class needs to get the students consent. Now Miss. Jackson, from what I got from both of what you two have told me, was that you did not have consent from Nichole to have her paper written out on the board for the rest of her class to see. Do not do that again.YOU ARE FIRED!" The vice principal said in a tone of voice that showed his authority.
"Understood." Miss. Jackson said quietly, looking down at her lap.
"And Nichole, please do not go up to teachers and get rid of anything that they are writing on the board again. I know that this time you were keeping something safe, but this should not happen again. So there is no longer any more need for you to do it." The vice principal said in the same tone of voice now pointed at Nichole.
"Yes sir." Nichole said, nodding.
"Well now that's all cleared up. You two may go now." The vice principal said.
[…]
It was the end of the day now, and Nichole was sure that nothing else was going to happen today, and that the dream meant nothing at all.
When Nichole had gotten home, she was alone and she thought that was probably for the best since she was a little bit late, and she didn't want her mom to ask her all the questions about where she had been and all of that.
Nichole just went to her room, and put her stuff on the floor, and she flopped on her bed. From there she looked at her book case that was on the other side of the room. She had close to a hundred books there, but one book really stood out to her. It was a worn out book with a black binding with red and white letters on it. The Outsiders.
Nichole sighed off the bed and pulled the book of the shelf and held it in her hands. Her copy of the book wasn't all that old, but one could tell that Nichole had read it a lot, and had poured over it time, and time again. She had bought it after she had read it for her grade eight class, and had just loved it. For the class too she had to make something like baseball cards for each of the seven boys, which were now tucked inside the book next to when each boy comes into the story. To keep the cards from falling out, Nichole had put a rubber band around it.
Inside the book also had markings of pencil inside it, some of it was her own notes about each chapter until she thought that it was stupid to do that, and had rubbed it out with and eraser. What she didn't erase were the places that she had under lined things in the book. Like all of the things that Dally did that was wrong, and Johnny telling Ponyboy to stay gold right before he died in the hospital after saving kid's lives inside a burring church.
As Nichole held the book in her hands she thought that maybe she should read it again since it was sort of in her head all day. Nichole took the book over to her bed, and she started it over right from the beginning.
By the time that Nichole had finished reading the book it was really late at night, and she was dead tired. She was also emotionally drained too because she had cried all over again when both Johnny and Dally died, and she wished that there could have been some way for someone to have told the boys not to go to the movies that night because then two of the gang wouldn't be gone at the end of the book.
Nichole lay on her bed, shut the book and held it tightly to her chest, hugging it as if it were an old friend.
"I wish I could save you all from pain." Nichole whispered, and fell asleep holding the book tightly.