some good news—at least for some of you. Your grades are back for the Tennessee Williams project.”
Groans reverberated around the room.
“I thought you’d be happy,” he clucked. “Don’t worry. Most of you did fine.”
Frasier darted through the door and collapsed at his desk. “Sorry I’m late, sir,” he panted. He was drenched in sweat and looked like he’d run the whole way.
“Are you all right?” I mouthed.
He nodded stiffly. For a second, his eyes fell on Becky, but then he quickly turned away. I figured he must have felt awkward because of the confession he’d made to me at the party.
“Right, time to put you all out of your misery.” Mr. Maine stalked around the room handing back everyone’s assessment papers. Luckily, I wasn’t in suspense for long. I got a B+, which was better than I’d expected, considering I hadn’t really put that much effort in. Frasier had virtually carried us through the whole presentation, so we had him to thank for that.
Mr. Maine turned to the whiteboard and wrote the words SCARLETT O’HARA in big, bold letters. “Today, we’re going to compare Blanche Du Bois with Scarlett O’Hara from Gone with the Wind . It could be argued that Tennessee Williams picks up where Margaret Mitchell left off. Both Blanche and Scarlett are headstrong Southern belles fighting for survival in treacherous new landscapes …”
As he continued to ramble, my eyes kept flickering back to Frasier, who was sitting two rows ahead. He definitely wasn’t his usual self. He seemed so subdued, almost vacant. I wondered if something was wrong.
“What are you doing after school?” Becky whispered, forming her words around a wad of gum.
“I’m not sure,” I replied, trying to conjure up an excuse for what was coming.
“A few of us are going to the All-Star. Wanna come?”
“I’d love to, but I’m kind of broke at the moment.”
“Don’t worry, I can lend you a tenner,” she said with a smile. I opened my mouth to protest but she silenced me. “I won’t take no for an answer. It’ll be fun. I love hanging out with you.”
“A little less talking girls!” Mr. Maine snapped.
Reluctantly, I admitted defeat and agreed to go to the All-Star for an hour. After my clandestine “date” with Lee, part of me felt guilty, and Becky was holding out an olive branch. I would have been a fool not to take it. When the bell finally sounded, the class dispersed quickly, but I lingered to speak to Frasier.
“You seem a bit distant today,” I said.
He looked at me funny. “Meet me behind the science department at lunch,” he said softly. “I need to talk to you.”
“What about?” I asked.
“Later,” he said simply. “We’ll need some privacy.”
Without another word, he gathered up his books and rushed out the room.
Thoughtfully, I ambled down the shadowy corridor toward my next class, a knot of anticipation twisting in my belly. What could Frasier have to tell me that was so mysterious?
The rest of the morning seemed to drag. My mind was buzzing and I could hardly think straight. All I could see was the expression on Frasier’s face.
At one o’ clock, I found him waiting for me at the designated spot, sitting on a bench and eating a rye bread sandwich. I sat beside him and he offered me a bite, but I declined, although it did look tasty.
“So what’s this all about?” I asked eagerly. “What did you want to tell me?”
Frasier chewed methodically for a few agonizing moments, then turned, looked me straight in the eye, and said, “It’s about Lee.”
“What about Lee?”
“That night at the party, something weird happened,” he said, swallowing the last bite, “and I haven’t slept for days trying to figure it out.”
“Can you please stop being so cryptic and just tell me what’s going on?” I demanded.
He sighed. “Okay, it’s like this. Remember when I fell down the stairs?” As I nodded, he continued, “Well, I hurt myself pretty bad.
Groans reverberated around the room.
“I thought you’d be happy,” he clucked. “Don’t worry. Most of you did fine.”
Frasier darted through the door and collapsed at his desk. “Sorry I’m late, sir,” he panted. He was drenched in sweat and looked like he’d run the whole way.
“Are you all right?” I mouthed.
He nodded stiffly. For a second, his eyes fell on Becky, but then he quickly turned away. I figured he must have felt awkward because of the confession he’d made to me at the party.
“Right, time to put you all out of your misery.” Mr. Maine stalked around the room handing back everyone’s assessment papers. Luckily, I wasn’t in suspense for long. I got a B+, which was better than I’d expected, considering I hadn’t really put that much effort in. Frasier had virtually carried us through the whole presentation, so we had him to thank for that.
Mr. Maine turned to the whiteboard and wrote the words SCARLETT O’HARA in big, bold letters. “Today, we’re going to compare Blanche Du Bois with Scarlett O’Hara from Gone with the Wind . It could be argued that Tennessee Williams picks up where Margaret Mitchell left off. Both Blanche and Scarlett are headstrong Southern belles fighting for survival in treacherous new landscapes …”
As he continued to ramble, my eyes kept flickering back to Frasier, who was sitting two rows ahead. He definitely wasn’t his usual self. He seemed so subdued, almost vacant. I wondered if something was wrong.
“What are you doing after school?” Becky whispered, forming her words around a wad of gum.
“I’m not sure,” I replied, trying to conjure up an excuse for what was coming.
“A few of us are going to the All-Star. Wanna come?”
“I’d love to, but I’m kind of broke at the moment.”
“Don’t worry, I can lend you a tenner,” she said with a smile. I opened my mouth to protest but she silenced me. “I won’t take no for an answer. It’ll be fun. I love hanging out with you.”
“A little less talking girls!” Mr. Maine snapped.
Reluctantly, I admitted defeat and agreed to go to the All-Star for an hour. After my clandestine “date” with Lee, part of me felt guilty, and Becky was holding out an olive branch. I would have been a fool not to take it. When the bell finally sounded, the class dispersed quickly, but I lingered to speak to Frasier.
“You seem a bit distant today,” I said.
He looked at me funny. “Meet me behind the science department at lunch,” he said softly. “I need to talk to you.”
“What about?” I asked.
“Later,” he said simply. “We’ll need some privacy.”
Without another word, he gathered up his books and rushed out the room.
Thoughtfully, I ambled down the shadowy corridor toward my next class, a knot of anticipation twisting in my belly. What could Frasier have to tell me that was so mysterious?
The rest of the morning seemed to drag. My mind was buzzing and I could hardly think straight. All I could see was the expression on Frasier’s face.
At one o’ clock, I found him waiting for me at the designated spot, sitting on a bench and eating a rye bread sandwich. I sat beside him and he offered me a bite, but I declined, although it did look tasty.
“So what’s this all about?” I asked eagerly. “What did you want to tell me?”
Frasier chewed methodically for a few agonizing moments, then turned, looked me straight in the eye, and said, “It’s about Lee.”
“What about Lee?”
“That night at the party, something weird happened,” he said, swallowing the last bite, “and I haven’t slept for days trying to figure it out.”
“Can you please stop being so cryptic and just tell me what’s going on?” I demanded.
He sighed. “Okay, it’s like this. Remember when I fell down the stairs?” As I nodded, he continued, “Well, I hurt myself pretty bad.
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