Chapter Ten
All of today's classes will be shortened because we have a welcome assembly this morning. When I heard about that, I thought that it was a tad late for a welcome assembly. It is already the second week of school. We usually had these kinds of pep assemblies during the first week of school back home, but whatever.
Writing starts and Ms. Reyes jumps right into class.
"If you remember last week, we went around and told stories to our table mates involving random words I said. Today we will be repeating the exercise, but now you will be inventing your own story. You will not be telling a true story." A few excited murmurs pass through the room. "And if you want, after that, we can all tell a story together. I will explain those rules when we get to the activity."
The class waits for Ms. Reyes to announce the first word, which is iguana. I attempt not to laugh.
"Ron was walking home from work one day," Al begins, "when he saw something move across the busy street. From over ten yards away and without his glasses, he could not tell if the creature he saw was a possum or if it was a fat lizard. Ron was tempted to turn around and take the long way back, but then he saw the creature was an iguana. This confused Ron greatly because he didn't live in iguana territory. He then had a sudden thought and fear it would shift shapes into a dragon and catnap his precious Waffles."
"Wait," I say. "His cat's name is Waffles?"
"Yes."
"Okay. I didn't know if he thought the dragon would take his cat named Waffles, or steal his actual waffles. Got it. Continue." Al chuckles.
"The thought worried Ron so much, he sprinted home. Luckily the iguana had not followed him and Waffles was safe. He was lapping up the fresh water Ron set out earlier for him. Waffles looked up at Ron and meowed before returning to his water dish. Ron had nothing to fear, but he still wanted to iguana-proof the house before bed. The end."
"That was really entertaining," I say. "I like it."
I decide to wait a few more minutes for the next word so I don't get cut off mid-story. I don't know what I would have said. Al is good at thinking on his feet.
My story has to include the word 'photograph.'
"Ned and I rummaged through the attic looking for that box of Grandma's things. The one with all the nice silverware. She asked us to bring everything down for Lola's rehearsal dinner this evening. It took hours before we found the correct set. Who knew one person could own so much silverware? I carefully lifted the box and carried it down two flights of stairs and outside to the tent. Lola was inside putting her makeup on while the rest of us did all the hard work.
"Grandma gave us a photograph to reference how the rehearsal dinner looked days before her own wedding. It was up to me and Ned to fix it all up in the next few hours. Cindy wasn't helpful and Mom was running around barking orders at people. Now that I think about it, Ned and I got the easy job."
Al sat there staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite put my finger on. He looks an equal amount of impressed, pleased, and pleasantly surprised.
"How do you do that? Just make up stories like that?" I shrug.
"It took me years. I'm good at making things up to please others."
"You're very selfless." I replace my scoff with a smile. I'm not selfless, but there's no need to deny a compliment.
"You are too," I say.
Al doesn't reply yet, Ms. Reyes unintentionally interrupts by shouting out the next word.
"I took a handful of almonds from dish in front of me; eating them one at a time. I flip flopped my attention from Mom to Dad and back again as they continued arguing. I felt like I was watching a lame soap opera. They always playfully fought in this way. Going back and forth about something stupid that happened at work with smiles that said they weren't really mad. It used to scare me as a kid when my parents would fight, knowing the divorce rate was not going down.
"One day when I was visiting my aunt and uncle, and my parents started arguing, I ran into the garden in the back and my aunt came out to comfort me. I'll never forget her words. 'All couples fight and that's okay as long as nothing turns physical. It's when couples stop fighting when all hope is lost because it means here is nothing left to fight for.'"
It takes me a while to absorb the story he just told.
"Al that was beautiful. Are you sure that wasn't a true story?"
He smiles proudly. "Yeah. I don't see my aunt anymore, she's crazy."
"The one who told your mom to put toothpaste on the toilet paper and throw it on the ceiling?"
"That's the one. I haven't seen her in years. Probably best that way." I don't want to bring up a difficult subject, so I move on on the conversation.
"Well, that was amazing. That was really realistic."
"So was yours," he says.
"Who names their daughter Lola?"
Al laughs.
A while later, Ms. Reyes changes the word again. Since we only have ten minutes left of class, this is the last story bomb. The word is 'orchard.'
I take a moment to picture an orchard in my mind. Sometimes if I picture a setting in my mind, the story comes easier
How do I picture this orchard? Rows and rows of cherry blossom trees. Ripe apples have fallen to the ground. The grass is as bright as the clear sky. It's summer and the breeze is refreshing in the hot sun. I could start the story that way.
"Cherry blossoms line the green pathway beneath my feet. The grass is greener here than anywhere I've seen in years. Apple litter the ground. I consider picking one up and taking a bite, but then I reconsider when I remind myself of the pesticides.
"I walk down the calming path with the breeze temporarily blowing the heat away. I close my eyes and let my feet take me where they may. Hopefully there is a stream around here. The breeze won't last and it's not enough to keep my a body at a pleasant temperature."
I just realize how stupid that line is. The breeze doesn't influence your internal temperature. But Al gives me the same look he did last story I shared.
"Is this genetic or do you offer lessons?"
I giggle shyly and turn my head so he can't see me blush.
"I don't know," I say. "I'll ask my family if they're good at this too. I'll text you after school."
When this round ends, Ms. Reyes explains our next activity.
"We are going to go around the room and share one sentence until all of our sentences string into a new story. We'll keep going until the bell rings and then we'll walk down to the auditorium together for the assembly. Is there anyone who wants to go first? Who wants to start us off?"
Zeke raises his hand immediately and Ms. Reyes chuckles and calls on him.
"Once upon a time, there was a boy named Chad."
Tobias adds one sentence, "Chad was very good at basketball."
And then Shauna, "But he was so short, it often caused problems for him."
Other students made up sentences until we learned that Chad didn't want to play basketball, he preferred rollerblading.
And then it was Al's turn. "Chad would take his skates out every day after school and skated around the neighborhood."
I freeze up at everyone's eyes on my face, but I throw out a sentence. "He spent hours practicing; he practiced until it got dark."
The story develops into some kind of romance where Chad only took up rollerblading to impress the kid down the street who hates basketball.
It was Zeke's turn again. "When Chad reached his crush's house, not only did his heart skid to a stop, but so did he."
"Unfortunately for Chad, he tripped over the curb and fell hard on the sidewalk."
"Chad looked up to see his crush staring in utter shock."
A girl, whose name I just learn is Lauren, continues after Shauna. "Chad was to embarrassed to see if... Uh... Donna was looking, so he picked himself up and rollerbladed home."
The story went around until Donna showed up at Chad's house to give him a get well soon card and went home. Chad was apparently confused by this since he was not injured severely.
The weird piece of fiction we created ends on Tobias as the bell rings. He doesn't bother wrapping up the story for Chad and Donna, which is a shame.
Ms. Reyes tells us to walk quietly to the auditorium. She was going to take attendance to make sure none of us skip.
Walking through the halls, Al compliments my storytelling skills.
"You're really good Beatrice."
I am about to respond when a girl's voice echoes my name from behind. On instinct I turn to face her. I don't know her whatsoever. She's around my height, has smooth looking brown skin, and dark hair. She's pretty.
"What kind of name is that?" she says. "Who named you? Your great-grandparents?"
I sigh. I don't take too much offense. My name isn't very common for being born in the early 2000s.
"Why do you do this Nita?"
What was it that Will, Edward, and Rita said about Nita?
"She's not someone you should hang out with," Will says.
"No one likes her," Edward adds. "She's a manipulator. You don't want to get on her bad side."
Great. I just made another enemy. And this is only the second week of school.
"I have an old fashioned name too," Al says.
Nita must not know how to respond. She glares at me and Al and dramatically flips her hair and walks away.
"I like your name," Al says. I glance at him for a second before following Nita with my gaze. This has happened too many times.
"Tris," I say. Al raises an eyebrow. "You can call me Tris. I'm done with Beatrice." He sighs sadly.
"I really do like your name."
"Thanks Al, but it's been fifteen years too long I've heard these kinds of things."
"Try not to let her upset you. She's graduating this year, so it doesn't matter. Don't let one little thing she says get you down."
"Thank you for your kind words, but I want to do this."
Al drops it and we walk the short ways to the auditorium.
The assembly and the rest of the day was boring. I almost fell asleep in psych. I had to deal with Peter and his lackeys and then I had to deal with Peter again in gym. Christina could sense I was stressed by the time study hall came, so she left me alone. I finished my homework and got caught up in my psychology textbook and To Kill a Mockingbird.
When Caleb asked about my day as we were walking home, I neglected to mention the teasing from Nita. I highlighted writing and my day with Al. Caleb couldn't shut up about History.
At home I take a quick nap. I wake up to the sound of Mom and Dad coming home.
"Tired?" Dad asks. I nod groggily.
"How was your day?" Mom wonders.
I tell her my day was fine and Caleb echoes me. We ask them the same thing and they reply the way they always do.
"Oh, I was wondering if you guys are good at making stories up on the spot for entertainment."
Dad gives me a serious look and Mom cracks up. Even Caleb snickers from the dining room table.
"I take that as a no."
I take my phone out and form a text to send Al.
50 bucks a lesson
He takes no time to reply. It's as if he has his phone in his hand, which wouldn't surprise me. Most teens do.
I read his text and I can't help but blush.
It will be worth it, Tris