Chapter 12: The Grade
"Okay, everyone, come up and hand me your short tragedies." Mrs. Appleby requested the following Wednesday afternoon. The students stood, papers in hand, and walked up to her desk at the front of the room in an orderly fashion. Bulk strode up proudly and slapped down the single, crumpled, horribly sticky and smudged paper onto the desk.
"There you are Mrs. Appleby." Bulk said in a cheery tone. "One," he held up a finger for emphasis, "amazing tragic story by me and Skull." He declared. Mrs. Appleby was unimpressed.
"Well, I hate to break it to you boys, but this was not an assignment you could complete as a pair." She informed, without much sympathy.
"S'alright, Mrs. Appleby. I've got my own right here." Skull reassured handing her his own paper, taking both Bulk and Mrs. Appleby by complete surprise. Skull's own papers were in stark contrast to Bulk's. Although it was only one sheet, the paper was clean and mostly free of wrinkles, folds, and unidentified food stains.
"Skull? You actually did the assignment." Mrs. Appleby responded, not quite a statement but neither that of a question. It was the teacher trying to grasp the concept of this lazy boy actually turning in an assignment separate from Bulk, or an assignment at all for that matter. "Should I be afraid to read it?" she joked. Skull gave a shrug. "Well, I'm going to begin reading and grading your stories, you may use this time to study for our test Friday or complete the written prompts on the board due tomorrow morning."
On the blackboard were written opinion questions based on Romeo and Juliet. 'What did you think Shakespeare meant when he wrote this?', 'How do you believe the characters were affected by this?' etcetera. Bulk chuckled to himself as he settled back into his seat.
"Yeah right." He mumbled, pulling out a large container of jellybeans. "Hey Skull, did you want to-?" But to his shock, he saw Skull beside him do something he had never, in the many years of their friendship, ever seen him do. The skinny punk was writing in his class composition book. Bulk did a double take, and glanced over to see what he was working on. Perhaps, it was doodles or song lyrics—His eyes bulged in disbelief. Skull was jotting down the prompt questions.
"Hey, since when have you cared about the prompts?" Bulk asked in a concerned tone. "You sick or somethin'?" he asked. Skull shook his head, smacking away at his gum.
"What? I guy can't try to bring up his grade?" he shot back as if this behavior wasn't unusual. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to get straight 'F's again." He explained. "Kinda want to enjoy my summer this year…" he muttered. Bulk's jaw hung open. What had sparked this change in Skull, this need to actually try? It was so unlike his little buddy, it was genuinely frightening him. He quaked in his desk unsure of what to do.
As most of the students worked on the prompts and several others studied, Mrs. Appleby had finished reading the first few papers. As she set the recently graded piece in a separate pile, she turned back to the stack still needing to be graded. Her hand recoiled as she read the name scrawled in the upper right corner of the page, 'Eugene Skullovitch'.
Mrs. Appleby glanced up and saw much to her surprise and…delight, he seemed to be diligently working? No. He had to be goofing around as he always did. She shook away her concern and took the paper in her hands, red pen at the ready. Right away, she was intrigued and pleased to see he'd written in the proper format, despite his abysmal handwriting and writing past the blue indent line on the right of the page. She quickly made a mark in the indent column, before reading his piece,
'Once upon a time, there was a guy, not me but some made up kinda guy.'
Mrs. Appleby cringed. This piece was really off to a rough start.
'He was cool, but no one really liked him 'cause he was kinda a jerk. One day, a amazingly awesome girl gave him a chance. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever met and he soon realised he may have been in love with her. Even though he loved her, she wanted him to change who he was. Not like, change in a bad way. The girl wanted the jerk to be nice! The jerk didn't really want to change though! If he changed, he may lose his only friend and his friend liked him as a cool jerk punk guy. But the guy wanted to be nice to make the girl happy but guy felt like it was pointless because he didn't know if he could change if he tried so there was no point. So the jerk yelled at the girl and was mean and horrible andproudand selfish,'
The pencil seemed to have been pressed harder while the last line was written. Mrs. Appleby began to wonder about the story, if it was based on what Skull was going through. She glanced back up at him. He still seemed focused until he looked up at the board. His lips began to move, reading the question on the board before going back to writing in his notebook.
'So he was doing the work after all.' Mrs. Appleby concluded, turning back to finish reading.
'He made the girl cry and she never wanted to see him again. The jerk knew he was wrong. He knew everything was all his fault. He had a gorgeous girlfriend, but because he was scared to change he threw her away. That's the tradgedy The End.'
Mrs. Appleby marked the last spelling error with her pen and glanced over the page, taking in the words. She and Skull never really saw eye to eye, but as she watched him work, she couldn't help but want to reach out to him and make sure he was alright.
A little while later, Mrs. Appleby handed back the papers she'd graded. Skull was still struggling with only the second prompt on the board, but try as he might, he answered as best as he could. Not actually reading the material may have had something to do with it… Suddenly, a paper was gently sent next to his arm. Out of reflex, Skull was ready to just fling the paper onto the floor, anticipating that big, fat red 'F' glaring at him. Mrs. Appleby cleared her throat and the teen looked up at her.
"Skull, you may want to look at the grade this time." She suggested before handing Bulk his own paper with disgust. Skull frowned in confusion and frantically turned the paper over. His eyes widened. He just stared, slack-jawed in awe, his gum plopped out of his mouth.
He shook his head and looked back even closer to the paper to ensure his eyes were working. At the very top of the page, circled, in bold red ink, 'A minus', complimented with a star. Skull couldn't believe it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd received an A of any kind.
"An 'F'. Figures." Bulk complained, looking over the page, it wasn't until he actually looked at the page he realized the problem. Skull didn't write the story correctly, which couldn't have POSSIBLY been from Bulk shouting and screaming at him over his shoulder, forcing him to dictate his words while he spoke them aloud. Skull wrote,
'Once, there were two amazoning heroes that were stronger than anything even power rangers, heroes were they, gret conquers were they and loved by people. So loved that something something something, BUT they would not be forgotten for you see (large smudge) jumped in volcano and power rangers made statue one that was big. The heroes had a legacy or somethin. THE END.'
'The End' was written in dramatic flourished lettering, standing out proudly against the rest of the scribbled handwriting. Bulk growled.
"You dolt! I told you NOT to paraphrase my speech! I-" Bulk stopped, realizing Skull was frozen, staring at his paper. "What? Did Mrs. Appleby finally give you an F minus minus?" he joked, looking at his grade. Bulk let out an involuntary yelp in shock, making half the class turn. "Skull! How!"
"Bulk, silence, please." Mrs. Appleby instructed crossly.
"B-but, Mrs. Appleby-" Bulk stammered, struggling to find his words. She glared at him, slowly making him sit quietly. His brain buzzed, feeling as though it was going to short circuit. "This is an alternate dimension isn't? I've fallen through a wormhole somehow, haven't I?" Bulk asked himself, terrified. This was when Skull noticed the 'Please see me after class' written near the top. Skull's growing smile dropped in disappointment.
"Hey, Bulky," Skull whispered to his buddy who still seemed to be suffering from a mental breakdown. "If I got an A minus, how come there's a 'see me' at the top?" he asked worriedly.
"H-how should I know? Neither of us have ever gotten a grade like that in our entire lives." Bulk replied, gripping the edge of his desk.
"Well-" Skull began about to correct that statement. He seemed to recall getting low 'A's in 1st grade, at least, he thought he did. Bulk began to perspire.
"Is this the dimension where if I put glasses on everyone is an alien freak and the kitty poster over there actually says 'OBEY'?" Bulk asked, whipping wildly around the room. Skull looked exasperated at Bulk.
"I got an 'A' for writing a story, pally, it's not that crazy," Skull assured, growing more and more annoyed, and shoving his wad of fallen gum back into his mouth.
"It must be one of the signs of the apocalypse." Bulk muttered in panic. He leaped out of his seat. "We're all doomed!" he boomed.
"Farkas! Go stand out in the hallway!" Mrs. Appleby ordered. Bulk ran out the door, continuing to whoop and holler in the hallway. It would only be a matter of time before he got a detention slip personally handed to him by Principal Caplan. Skull smacked his gum and shook his head. Sure, Skull getting a good grade was unusual, but it certainly didn't call for that level of over dramatics.
Finally, the bell rang and students filed out of the room. Skull gulped and approached the desk, backpack slung over his shoulder and paper in hand. Once all the students had left, Mrs. Appleby turned to him.
"You uh, wanted to see me, Mrs. Appleby?" he asked holding up the paper as if presenting evidence.
"Yes." She answered. "Oh, don't worry, Skull, it's nothing bad, I just wanted to talk with you." She clarified.
"Uh…'bout what?" Skull inquired.
"First of all, wonderful job on the assignment, and I hope that means you're going to make an effort to pull up your grade?" she wished open-endedly. Skull couldn't help but laugh.
"Yeah, we'll see..." he answered cockily.
"Regardless," Mrs. Appleby continued, "your story. I could tell it was very heartfelt." Mrs. Appleby complimented. Skull nodded humbly. "That's why I wanted to ask you if you were okay." She said looking at him with concern. The punk was taken aback. He never thought he'd be having this conversation with Mrs. Appleby. He was sure she'd given up on him when she had the misfortune of teaching him last year.
"I'm okay, why wouldn't I?" he asked, laughing it off. "The story's not about me or anything, why would you think it was about me, 'cause it isn't." Skull unnecessarily defended.
"I wasn't saying that. What I am saying is that…" she paused thinking how to word this properly, "The boy in your story, if he's in love with the girl and the only kind of change she wants from him is just to be nice, I don't think he should be afraid." Mrs. Appleby advised.
"But what if I- I mean, what if the GUY doesn't want to lose his best friend?" Skull asked, eyes full of dread.
"Well, I think if his friend is really a true friend, he'll support him like always. Who knows? Maybe the boy being nice would spark a change in the friend, too." Mrs. Appleby suggested.
"What should he do?" Skull asked looking at her in defeat.
"I think he should apologize to the girl. That would be a good start. Trying to be good is hard, but I'm sure the boy can do it if he tries, especially if it's for a girl he loves." She said with a smile. Skull nodded and smiled back, his confidence renewed.
"You know what, I think you might be right, Mrs. Appleby! And this boy is gonna start doin' good by studying for that William Shakesman test!" he announced proudly. Mrs. Appleby's eyes rolled back, eyes fluttering in exasperation.
"Shakespeare, Skull." She corrected.
"Right! That guy!" Skull proclaimed, marching out the door, ready to find Trini and make things right. He wasn't quite ready to make up with Billy, but in his joint quest with Bulk to find the identities of the Power Rangers, he could strive to better himself in the meantime. He had the whole rest of the year to bring up his grades and start trying to be kinder to people. He was ready to make the change, not just for Trini, but for himself. If she was happy, so was he.
Mrs. Appleby sighed in exhaustion.
"I REALLY hope the school board doesn't insist I teach seniors next year. I don't know if I can take much more of this kid…" she muttered to herself, resting her head on her desk.