Jonathan stared blankly at the chalk board as Mr. Chambers wrote in big letters:
BEHAVIORAL STUDY
Mr. Chambers was wearing what seemed to be the same brown coat he always wore and the class seemed to be acting the same – noisy and obnoxious. Yet everything seemed so terribly different after what he had just experienced, as though just sitting in class was surreal after the traumatizing and intense experience in the alley.
It was quite unlike Jonathan to be daydreaming in class, but he couldn't shake several scenes that kept appearing over and over in his mind: The darkness of the alley, the poignant belief that any moment he was going to die, being forced to accept the powerful and deadly drug CliMax, and then that strange "help" he had received deep within his mind.
Jonathan closed his eyes momentarily, trying to picture where that "help" might reside. He knew only vaguely knew where it was and it frightened him, because he knew where it dwelt – in that part of him that day by day felt more anger and disgust at being victimized. He wanted to feel strong, powerful – invincible.
Jonathan, what an absurd idea.
No, it isn't, came that small, dark voice from deep within.
Inwardly he smiled to think that one day he might be as powerful Falcone – no, more powerful. But Jonathan mentally shook himself out of his brief intoxicating vision of grandeur. That could never happen, could it? Best to concentrate on what power he did have, the power of the mind, power he could control.
Eagerly Jonathan started taking down notes again, determined that nothing would stop him from first getting a scholarship to the university.
"Now with a behavioral study, class, as beneficial as it is to study from textbooks and from esteemed psychologists, it is just as valuable to gain field study and practical application," said Mr. Chambers. "Therefore instead of a final examination I want each of you to pair up and offer a presentation based on your findings on your behavioral study with your partner."
Jonathan's heart immediately began to sink. He would have far preferred to take a five-page exam or write a 20-page essay over pairing up with anyone. This time he dared turn around and watched as friends eagerly began pairing up with one another.
"No, no. Pairings should be random," said Mr. Chambers. "Rebecca, you'll be paired with Jennifer. Brian, you'll be paired with Adrienne. Jim will be paired with Jason –"
As Jonathan heard his teacher drone on, he just hoped he wouldn't be paired with an absolute dolt, as he usually was in a "shared" assignment. Last time that happened he ended up writing papers for both himself and Michael, who couldn't write a coherent essay any more than a chimpanzee could.
"And Jonathan will be paired with Emily," said Mr. Chambers. "Meet with your teammate and start working on what psychologist you wish to focus on and what your behavioral study will be about."
Jonathan heart leapt, but suddenly he felt a wave a panic.
Did Mr. Chambers say Emily? Great, now she's really going to hate me.
Jonathan was about ready to pick up his books and move to the back of the class where she was sitting when he heard a sudden, harsh slam on a desk beside him.
"I swear this is a conspiracy," Emily sighed. "Did you put Mr. Chambers up to this? You bumped into me a few days ago and now we're suddenly behavioral study partners?"
She shot him a suspicious look.
"Um, I guess it's pretty strange," Jonathan mumbled, studying the open page he was on with feigned interest.
Emily's chocolate brown eyes were intense, even angry.
"Very odd, I'd say."
She began chewing on the tip of her blue pen. From the look of her pen she did that a lot – it was pockmarked with teeth marks.
Jonathan smirked a little – it was not lost on Emily.
"What's so funny? You rarely smile in class – you better not be laughing at me," she said.
"No, I was just thinking back to Freud," said Jonathan. "If he saw your pen he would say you were suffering from an oral fixa-ah –"
She was now gazing straight at him with those dark, inquiring eyes of hers. He suddenly broke into a sweat.
"Oral fixa-ah," she mimicked.
"An – an oral fixation."
"Is that so?" She raised an eyebrow, then handed over to him her heavily gnawed on pen. "Then what does my 'oral fixation' tell you, Dr. Jonathan Crane?"
Jonathan almost laughed to hear Emily calling him a doctor. What an absurd thought – although the idea was strangely appealing somehow – a psychologist perhaps. He took the chewed up pen and gazed at it in mock concentration.
"I see you are suffering from a number of neuroses."
"Oh, is that so, Dr. Crane?"
"Yes, as well as anxiety disorder, perhaps schizophrenia and possible insanity."
"Anything else," she asked, innocently.
"You also need a new pen," said Jonathan, handing it back to her.
Emily took one look at the chewed up pen, then at Jonathan grinning at her, then playfully threw it at him.
Mr. Chambers turned around just as the pen was bouncing off Jonathan's shirt.
"Emily, you are excused from class. To the principal's office. Jonathan, I'll find you new partner."
"No, Mr. Chambers," Jonathan blurted out. "Emily and I . . . we were – we were testing the psychological trauma an individual would suffer after being hit with a flying projectile."
Mr. Chambers looked at Jonathan in disbelief and shook his head.
"I do hope you both come up with a project better than that," Mr. Chambers muttered, turning again to the blackboard to write out the study guidelines.
"Sorry, guess I got carried away," she said, blushing. "I've never had to go to the principal's before in high school. Thanks for keeping me out of trouble."
Jonathan smiled slightly, admiring how adorable she looked when she blushed.
"That's all right," he said. "We are partners right?"
Emily nodded and smiled.
Suddenly the prospect of doing a behavioral study with someone as beautiful and intelligent as Emily made it seem even more worthwhile. Jonathan's mind worked furiously on a variety of interesting and challenging projects, but when he presented them to Emily, each one of them she either rejected as being too difficult or dangerous – arguing they either placed the subjects or themselves at possible risk.
"Let's keep it easy, Jonathan. We are in high school psychology, after all."
"But don't you want to go beyond this, Emily," Jonathan said, his eyes ablaze with ideas. "We could do something really original. We could do a groundbreaking study."
"Jonathan, this is only supposed to be a simple behavioral study."
Jonathan sighed, frustrated. The only behavioral study Jonathan and Emily eventually could agree upon was Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. They gained permission from Mr. Chambers to spend some class time observing three- and four-year-old children in the child development class.
"So you're going to study children and their behaviors. How interesting," said Tanya, a bubbly teenage girl with short-cropped chestnut hair.
Tanya currently was holding a three-year-old boy who was more interesting in picking his nose than in participating in their behavioral study.
"Yes," said Emily. "We'll be observing through that two-way mirror how these children's needs are met and how they're able to develop and grow after each need is met. Jonathan and I – uh, Jonathan?"
Jonathan was busy looking at three-year-old boy who seemed to be fascinated with spinning around in circles. Jonathan took out his notepad.
Subject A displays obsessive tendencies toward circular motion until said Subject collapses on the floor. Subject disoriented after circular motion. Subject likewise engages in obsessive circular motion after regaining orientation.
"Jonathan, we haven't begun the study yet," said Emily.
"Oh, that's right." Jonathan put his pen away as the child was spinning around on the floor again.
Everywhere young children were screaming, throwing toys, crashing into blocks and beating each other up with dolls.
This must be what it's like to work in a mental institution, thought Jonathan.
"Daddy!"
Jonathan felt something tugging hard at his pant leg and looked down at a small little girl. She had smooth brunette hair and large, bright blue eyes.
"Aww," cried Emily in delight. "How adorable, Jonathan! You must look like her dad."
I never knew my father, Jonathan thought.
"Yes, she's very cute," he said, wanting to get away from the kids as quickly as possible. "Um, I think we should get to the study."
"Daddy!"
The little girl beamed at him and Jonathan turned away.
Emily was smiling, gazing at the children through the one-way mirror. Jonathan was positive she'd be waving at the toddlers if they could see them, but they couldn't. In the darkness of that small cramped room, furnished with just two chairs and a table, they had complete privacy to take notes. On Day Three after seeing a number of temper tantrums, a couple of block throwing fights, a few games of tag and enough screaming to make Jonathan feel like his nerves had been scratched raw with sandpaper, he thought it was time to mix up the study a bit.
"Let's hide their toys and document their reaction."
"Jonathan, that will only make them scream."
"What if one of their needs isn't met? Would they regress back on the hierarchy of needs? Wouldn't that be fascinating?"
"Jonathan, we're here to study and document how children grow and develop as their needs are met."
"But what if one of their needs isn't met? What happens then?"
"Jonathan, we're not taking away their toys."
"At least no milk and cookies one afternoon."
"Jonathan –," Emily said in her warning voice.
"But if we don't observe how will we know?"
Emily rolled her eyes and went back to taking notes.
On Day Four of observation Emily noticed Judy, a four-year-old in a plaid dress and curly golden hair was screaming and crying for "Mr. Snuggles." Tanya was frantically looking for it.
"Um, Jonathan."
"Yes, Emily."
"Who is Mr. Snuggles?"
Jonathan kept his eyes on his notepad, busily taking notes.
"I don't know. How am I supposed to know?"
"Wasn't Mr. Snuggles a toy?"
"I don't know – was it?"
"Yes, I think it was a toy rabbit."
"Hmm." Jonathan now was pretending to write notes.
"Jonathan."
"Yes, Emily."
"Give her back the rabbit."
"But Emily –"
"Give her the rabbit!"
Jonathan threw down the notepad and left his chair. He paused, gazing at Judy screaming, her face red and wet with tears. Apart of him was fascinated by what seemed to be an ordinary temper tantrum as she was jumping up and down, her tiny fists clenched.
Good! Scream! Cry you little brat! I've had nothing! NOTHING!
Jonathan shook his head, frowning.
He made sure Emily didn't see, but from the back storage closet, he picked up the floppy white-furred rabbit doll and gave it to Tanya when she went on her break so Emily wouldn't see him with it.
When Jonathan returned, he could see Emily was smiling. Judy was busy hugging Mr. Snuggles, clearly overjoyed; her tears dried on the doll's matted fur. Jonathan slunk down in his chair and picked up his notepad.
None of my needs have been met, Jonathan petulantly thought.
(But they will, came the dark voice. Some day they will.)
Jonathan gazed up from his notepad through the two-way mirror, his eyes not on the screaming and playing children, but on a vision unfolding within his mind.