The noise in the classroom died down as Miss Wilson looked up from her papers. Over her glasses, she scanned the room for familiar faces and empty seats. Claire sat staring out of the window, absently trying to will the clock to move faster. Miss Wilson's English class was not one of her favourites, and as a result she struggled to pay attention whilst doing the bare minimum to maintain her grades. But today, there would be an extra distraction.
"Mr Bender. So glad you could join us."
Claire could feel the colour rising in her face as she commanded herself not to look up, but she could feel the breeze as he walked past, and there was the smell of leather and cigarette smoke in the air. She heard the scrape of the chair on the tiled floor behind her, and only then did she look up, hoping that nobody would see the colour in her cheeks, and afraid that she was broadcasting to the whole world that she'd gone to John Bender, that Saturday, in this very school, and had thoroughly enjoyed kissing him. Fortunately, Miss Wilson's attention was elsewhere, occupied with getting copies of 'The Merchant of Venice' distributed around the classroom to those who had forgotten to bring their own. As usual, this was greeted with groans, all of which were quickly stifled when Miss Wilson looked around for a reader.
John slid further down in his seat, knowing that it was unlikely that he would be chosen after the last time that Miss Wilson had singled him out. 'Romeo and Juliet' would never be quite the same again, and certainly won't be featuring in any school performances in the near future. He'd taken a quick glance down at Claire as he approached, and was now wondering why she'd looked away. He'd been hoping for at least a sign that she'd been thinking about him. And the more he thought about it, the more he convinced himself that he'd got just that sign. She was obviously embarrassed about everything that she'd done. And everything that she'd said. After all, as they had agreed, she was a princess, he was a criminal. And just as oil and water don't mix, neither do royalty and welfare cases. He really should have known. If he was running a book on this happening, he'd never have laid down a single dollar at these odds. Still, for a half-hour it was very nice…..
"Are you with us, Mr Bender?"
John looked up, to see Miss Wilson standing over him.
"I must be crazy, but I really would like to see what you can make of Shylock. Front and centre, please."
John looked around, to see all of the other students staring at him. Well, all but one. Claire still hadn't moved since he came into the room. He looked up again, and saw that there was no way to get out of this. Still, if it had to be done, at least he could show Miss Prissy what she was turning down. He stood, and picking up his textbook, walked to the front of the classroom.
Miss Wilson took John's seat at the back. "Act One, Scene Three. Shylock's speech, if you would." With a smile on her face, she folded her arms and waited. Every other eye turned towards him, and John was confronted with a sea of faces and the top of a single head. Here goes, he thought….
"Signior Antonio, many a time and oft
In the Rialto you have rated me
About my moneys and my usances:
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe."
….. and he paused. The faces still stared at him, but he was delighted to see the smile had dropped from Miss Wilson's face. Even more, that Claire had looked up, and just as the rest, was looking in amazement.
"You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,
And all for use of that which is mine own.
Well then, it now appears you need my help:
Go to, then; you come to me, and you say
'Shylock, we would have moneys:' you say so;
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard
And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur
Over your threshold: moneys is your suit.
What should I say to you? Should I not say
'Hath a dog money? Is it possible
A cur can lend three thousand ducats?' Or
Shall I bend low and in a bondman's key,
With bated breath and whispering humbleness, Say this;
'Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last;
You spurn'd me such a day; another time
You call'd me dog; and for these courtesies
I'll lend you thus much moneys'?
And still the room was silent. Nobody had moved. John placed the book on the desk beside him, and just walked out of the door. Behind him, he heard the noise level rise, and Miss Wilson did nothing to stop it. That'll give her something to think about, John thought, as he walked off down the corridor. Although whether he meant Miss Wilson or Claire, not even he was certain.
Back in the classroom, Miss Wilson was amazed. Not just because the recital she'd just heard was good. Not even because it came from John Bender (although that was enough to stop her in her tracks) but because from halfway through, he wasn't reading it. He'd learnt it. John Bender had studied. She couldn't stop the word forming in her head.
"Fuck!"
And this was enough to have the whole class fall silent and turn to stare at their teacher.