I update!

I was in a dull Fine Arts class the next day with Sabrina. We were drawing water lilies and she was pretty hopeless at it. Flustered, she dropped her white again. I picked it up and handed it to her.

"Thanks." She said as she went back to taking a stab at drawing. She had told me earlier that she wasn't all that good at it.

"Then why are you in this class?" I'd asked. She twirled a strand of her curly copper hair and shoved her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

"My mom says it's going to make me more appealing when I go to get married." She ceded reluctantly. "I'm really good at math and science. I mean, I can make a radio or figure out all those Trig problems with no problem. My mother says I'm never going to get married if I keep thinking for myself and if I'm all smart."

I was stunned. "Well, there's some old fashioned sentiment."

"No freaking kidding." She said. "But my dad likes me the way I am. We rigged the biggest music system you've ever seen!" And she was proud of that. So I left it at that.

I yawned, last night had made me tired, but I hadn't gotten any sleep. Why? Rob went out like a light and sawed wood all the livelong night. He'd gotten up earlier and left. I got up soon after, but as I was dressing, he decided to remember his homework and had bolted back. It wasn't an ideal situation. I was in my underwear and bra and he was going to be red for the rest of the day; that was for sure. The others, Danny, Neil, Sean and Geoff, must have gotten all of the details out of him at breakfast, for when I walked into English (a class that they are all in), they looked me over.

We sat in silence for five minutes or so. The teacher hadn't appeared yet. When they did, it was a sub. Another young teacher, but he didn't look halfway as nasty as Donelly. In fact, he looked down right absentminded. He put his bag down on the desk in front and looked out on us with a smile. "Hello."

There were mumbled 'Hellos' all around. He pulled a textbook out from a drawer of the desk; placing it down he turned and wrote his name on the board. A Mr. O'Ryan had come to sub our class. We all sort of stared, waiting for him to do something. He stared right back with a half smile. Like I said, he was young. He must have stood beneath six feet and had short sandy hair that was standing on end. We all were waiting for some one to do something, anything.

O'Ryan flipped open the book and began looking at the pages. He paused to read something; he looked back up at the class. "So," he asked, "Where are you in this?"

A goody two shoes by the name of Lauren flipped primly through her book, stopping at a marked page. "Page five ninety five." She said.

O'Ryan turned to the page and looked at the poem on it. The rest of us opened up our books. 'The Funeral' graced that page. He was looking at the class seating chart. We could see his lips moving as he put a name with a face. "Dalton, I've heard quite a bit at this place about a Charlie Dalton." He looked at us.

I raised my hand. "Which one sir? Me or my Dad?"

"Charlotte, isn't it?"

"Charlie, sir, I like to be called Charlie."

"That's an unusual name for a girl." Why do they always have to say that?

"Well, your father I suppose, you look to innocent to be thrown out."

"She is NOT!" Anderson sounded from the back. All my classmates sniggered.

"Thank you Mr. …Anderson. That will do. In fact, because you spoke up, why don't you read what's in front of you. Your teacher wants you to cover it, there will be a quiz tomorrow."

Anderson made a face, but read in a mocking tone all the same.

"After many snows I was home again.

Time had whittled down to mere hills

The mountains if my childhood.

Raging rivers I once swam trickled now like gentle streams.

And the wide road curving on to China or Kansas City or

perhaps Calcutta,

Had withered to a crooked path of dust

Ending abruptly at the county burial ground.

Only the giant who was my father remained the same.

A hundred strong men strained beneath his coffin

When they bore him to his grave." Anderson finished, still using a mocking tome of voice. O'Ryan grinned at him. Anderson sat back down.

"Does anyone see the main theme?" O'Ryan asked. I had an idea, I might be wrong, but it sounded like it had a strong theme of perspectives. When you're a kid everything seem so big and powerful and as you grow up these things once so big shrink. That and we all die at some point. My father had told me when I was five that I was going to die some day and to live like each day was my last. Now that is something big to tell a five year old and it has left quite an impression on me. But the guys were already letting their idiocy out.

"The author doesn't feel like swimming?"

"His father died?"

"He died?"

"He ran out of pavement?"

"He's a grave digger?"

"He's traveled the world?"

"THINGS OF HIS CHILDHOOD HAVE CHANGED BECAUSE HE GREW UP AND LEFT HOME! AND WE ALL DIE SOMEDAY!" I yelled over the confusion because I couldn't take it anymore.

"Thank you Miss Dalton. Yes, when you all go home for the holidays, go to your old hideout or you ole swimming hole. They will look very different because you're older, taller, I don't know if mature would apply to all of you and your perspectives have changed. Changing perspectives is often the best way to solve a problem. Now, who's read 'To Kill a Mockingbird'?"

Three people raised their hands. He pointed to one named Francis.

"Tell us then what the theory of Atticus Finch is."

"You don't know how someone feels until you've walked around in their skin?"

"Close enough Mr. Howe. This idea allows us to write about anything. You need to understand what others feel, think and do. With this concept, most anything is possible. Yes, it could even come to be useful for those of you who are going to be lawyers or doctors." O'Ryan was smiling at those who were rolling their eyes. "Poetry can allow to savor or appreciate the emotions or passions of another or of yourself. I noticed in an earlier class that some one had ripped out the introduction of your textbooks and after reading it in this one, they did that quite rightfully so."

O'Ryan closed his book and looking around, jumped up onto the heater. "My you all look very different from up here. Anderson there doesn't look nearly as tall as he really is and you, Mr. Overstreet, you don't look so calm. What is going on in that head one may wonder? Why is the poor boy so horribly flushed and only turning redder as I speak of him? What could it be?"

O'Ryan got off of the heater and sat cross legged on the floor. "Well, you all look positively gigantic from here. Why don't you all change you perspectives? Come now, change them."

I was the first to move. Well, almost. I think Anderson beat me to it. We both stood on our desks at the same moment. Rob, who was behind me, quickly hissed, "Sit down for the love of god!" as he could see up my skirt.

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"That has got to be the best class I have ever had!" I announced as I was walking out with the guys and a reluctant Sabrina. I told her to stop living up to her name, but it was no use. Rob was still red as a cherry. All of us couldn't help but laugh at him. The poor only child was unaccustomed to women other than his mother. To him, the fact that he'd viewed me in a most indecent manner, was unbearable. I was even over that fact but not him.

"I don't think we're going to get past that quiz tomorrow." Sabrina said.

"Sabs don't you get anything?" Danny said.

"What?" she said stubbornly.

"We were never going to pass it in the first place." Dan reminded her.

Well, the next day, wouldn't you know, the entire class failed. It was sufficient enough for our home work to be near copying our textbooks down until our brains bled.

Ok there you go and remember to review! I'll see everyone tomorrow because I'm posting three chapters this weekend! – The Druidess

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Mr. Nolan, it's for you. It's God. He says we should have girls at Welton.