Blinded by the Sun chapter 2
HERE YE HERE YE, I still don't own Holes.
Three years earlier…
Mr Cormier planned his entire teaching year ahead of time, right down to the day, every year without fail. He had become so good at this that he had even learned to seamlessly budget time for mistakes.
The other teachers smiled and said he was very good at his job. He was obsessively organised.
Until his first year philosophy class entered the room, bright and early Monday morning, first class of the year, Mr Cormier had had no problems with his system. Every time he had a new class he sat them down, and before he even introduced himself he would ask them the same question he had asked each previous class.
"If you have a text of any sort, that is constructed to imitate or represent human life as we know it," He paused, looking from student to student creating a very unrealistic dramatic effect, "What is the most dangerous stage of advancement it can take form in and why?" he asked.
He wasn't expecting the correct use of logic, resulting in a flawless answer but he didn't mind; he knew it was a very difficult, if not a trick, question. With each new class he took in a bunch of (mostly) school-leavers, fresh with ideas and experiences and by the end of the course those same people had been transformed into stable, logical individuals.
Of course he had planned in advance that next lesson he would reveal the answer and introduce them to the wonderful world of philosophy.
He wasn't prepared, however, for the voice of the girl with the long red hair and seated in the front row.
"The most dangerous stage wouldn't be at low or moderate stages of advancement…" She said slowly, contradicting the thoughts of every other student. "It would be as close to humanity as possible without being interchangeable right?
"And why is that?" The professor asked, leaning down to pick up the chalk that had just dropped from his hand.
"It's dangerous," She began, sounding far more confident than she felt, "because people begin to subconsciously break down the metaphorical wall between the two. This usually results in the inability to distinct between the properties of the actual and the imitation. People may find themselves picking up unnatural habits, perhaps ones that might cause… a recession in development?
There was a silence. The class was rather impressed; needless to say, Mr Cormier was in an advanced state of shock. He composed himself, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He eyed his student. 'You're very much correct, Annabella."
"Annalise." She corrected him, nodding politely.
She didn't look like the type of person who would know everything about everything. In fact, she looked like she cared more about how the planets were aligned, the phase of the moon or what a topaz was. Her long red hair contrasted immensely with her whimsical purple singlet dress that hung about her ankles.
Mr Cormier replaced his glasses and continued teaching.
***
Lou Stood at the window, her mouth a thin line. To any passer-by-er it might look as though the Warden of Camp Green Lake, juvenile detention centre for boys, was gazing out the window at something she considered moderately unpleasant.
The passer-by-e (lets call him Bob for convenience sake) would initially think whatever was out the window was causing Mrs Wannabe Cowgirl her problems, or at least the ones she was currently pondering. If Bob walked up to take a look out the window he would see many clusters of boys digging holes.
Bob would only be half right.
Warden Lou was indeed considering something, and her devious little mind was conjuring up a plan. A slow smile spread across her face.
***
In the counsel room, after a long day of digging in the hot sun, a group of seven or so boys were situated in various positions around the room.
A small, unfortunate-looking man wearing a lawn hat stood at the front of the room, speaking to the group of D-tenters, who looked too bored to be bothered to look bored.
"Now you people… you boys need to pull your socks up before someone pulls them up for you." Dr Pendanski said, a badly disguised "proud" look on his face, most likely as a result of his oh-so-threatening threat. He hurried on, deciding that he could use some more feet/socks/shoes related words of advice. "You can't put your shoes on until you have your socks on first!"
He wished the warden were here to see his mentoring victory.
Squid was chewing a matchstick and leaning against the far wall. "Whose shoe is where?" He asked, nonchalantly.
Zigzag, who was playing with his shoelace, looked up when he said this. "Keith Berringer's shoe is on the roof of the math block" he said, his eyes animated.
Dr Pendanski tried to win back their attention with a sentence or two, failing as the conversation increased. He sank back into his chair, rubbing his temples.
"….Ya'll know nobody gets away with…" somebody said. Instantly the room was full of rowdy chatter and movement.
"Pendanski!" Came the voice of Mr. Sir.
Dr. Pendanski ducked to avoid a shoe that came flying at his face.
"Tell your boys to shut the f-"
Doctor Pendanski had had enough. He could take it no longer. In the instant that it took him to climb up onto the chair and tower over everyone in the room, Mr Sir had collected his boot from across the room and strolled out, avoiding the blast that would become Dr Pendanski's breakdown.
"QUIETEN DOWN YOU LOT OF PIG-DOG FALLANGEE BLEEDIN' SQUALLORS. GOLLY LOSHA FITTINS!!"
By the end of his little speech his face was bright red and every eye in the room was turned his way. He took a deep breath and let it out with a "woosh" sort of sound.
"Boys," He said calmly, "Your warden has decided that it would be in your best interest to bring another counsellor into the camp. Her name is Miss St Bride and you're gonna treat her better than your own mother."
Squid muttered something about his mother and deserving respect.
***