November 9, 2006
Chapter 10
(Filed under: The Novel)On Monday grey clouds covered the sky. The extreme flatness of the land still accentuated the sky, giving the overcast day an ominous feeling.
Anwyn walked to the center of town where the bus would pick up the most of the Richmond kids. A few other students nodded to her, but mostly they all stood in silence, hoping it really wasn’t another Monday and another school day.
Anwyn had been looking forward to starting high school and being in the same building as her sister. She really didn't know why. They usually didn't get along that well. She just remembered having her sister in the same building from kindergarten through second grade and liking it for some reason.
But when Anwyn went to the first day of third grade she had to walk to the bus stop by herself. Her sister had left for sixth grade and middle school 45 minutes earlier. For the rest of her public school life Anwyn would have to walk to the bus stop alone.
Life at Howe High School was survivable. She had already been through one week of school and made it out alive. She told her dad she actually managed to learn a thing or two, so her academic career wouldn't be completely flushed down the toilet thanks to their move to Kansas. Her dad simply smirked at her and mumbled something about a Kansas education being good enough for him.
She actually had several mostly sophomore classes, thanks to her advanced schedule. Geometry, biology and English literature were all sophomore classes, though since the school was smaller the grade divide didn't seem to be as sharp as it was in St. Paul. Befriending sophomores and even juniors wasn't frowned upon like it would have been back home.
Anwyn trudged off the bus and to her first class, biology. She plopped down next to Lynn, a sophomore from Carver who had commented on Anwyn's bright red shoes on her first day of school.
Anwyn had grinned and said they were her ruby red slippers. Lynn just rolled her eyes and they both repeated, "There's no place like home." Lynn hadn't been born in Kansas either and enjoyed the cynical little joke together. When Missy—Anwyn's tour guide on the first day—didn't get the joke, Anwyn decided to keep wearing the grungy red Converse.
"Did you do anything worthy this weekend?" Lynn asked, her head still resting on her desk.
"Visited my grandpa," Anwyn responded, slouching in her desk.
"How very local of you," Lynn said.
"The postal woman recognized me as the 'Runner of Richmond'," Anwyn said. "So I've got that going for me."
"You run?" Lynn asked.
"Yeah, it helps me clear my head."
"That is worthy," Lynn said.
"Really?"
"Yeah," Lynn said. "How many people do you see jogging along the corn fields around here?"
"I guess so," Anwyn said with a shrug. "I didn't realize I was being so counter-cultural."
"Yep, you're a rebel," Lynn said. "If you go vegetarian I'll have to turn you in and we'll have ourselves a lynchin'."
"Where's the beef?" Anwyn asked.
"That a girl." Lynn was even less enthused about living in Kansas than Anwyn was. Anwyn could handle it. She missed the city but knew it was for the better. She also saw upsides, like reconnecting with her extended family. But Lynn would rather drown in the negatives, playing up the stereotypes and wallowing in it all.
The bell rang and class started, their biology scrawling the date and the topic of the day's lecture on the board. The teacher had shoulder length hair and a bald spot on top, prompting Anwyn to ask Lynn if it was legal to import hippies.
Later that day Anwyn met up again with Lynn on their way to English Lit. Oliver was in the class as well, though she didn't know it until the second day. She had spent that class period the first day chatting with Mr. Dalhman the guidance counselor. The second day Oliver walked in and saw her.
"Hola, chica," he said.
"Don't you mean, 'hola'," Anwyn said, giving the 'hola' her best English accent and butchering the Spanish. "This is English Lit after all."
Oliver smirked and took his seat. Anwyn played insulted and turned to Lynn.
"Lame joke?" she asked.
"Borderline," Lynn said. "I give you points for effort."
"So you know Anwyn?" Oliver asked, looking over at Lynn.
"Yeah, we go way back," she said, grabbing Anwyn's hand. "All the way to first period." The girls snickered. Oliver just looked bemused. He was used to sitting quietly in class and not talking much. It wasn't that he was shy and quiet, he just was just more reserved.
"Anwyn and I are cousins," Oliver said.
"Well, not exactly," Anwyn said.
"That's the short story anyway," Oliver replied. Lynn sat up with mock intrigue.
"Ooh, do tell more," Lynn said.
"Yeah, we're not cousins," Anwyn said. "We can't go to prom together if you say we're cousins." Oliver blushed.
"Why not?" Lynn asked. "I was going to ask my attractive looking cousin." Oliver just shook his head. This was a little much for the guy who normally just sat there quietly and waited for class to start.
"Oliver's mom used to be married to my uncle, but then he ran off—what ever happened to Robert?" Anwyn asked, received only a shrug from Oliver, and continued, "—When Catalina was born. She's Oliver's sister and my cousin. But then Oliver's mom got remarried to Carlos and they had Oliver. And since I'm not related to either of Oliver's parents by blood, we're not technically cousins."
"Whoa," Lynn said. "That's some soap opera."
"Hey, I had nothing to do with it," Oliver said, raising his palms.
"So this Catalina is your cousin and Oliver isn't, and they're brother and sister," Lynn said, trying to work it out. "Weird."
"Technically Catalina is my half-sister," Oliver explained. "So that could make us half-cousins."
"There's no such thing as half-cousins," Lynn said. She turned to Anwyn: "That boy is prom material." Oliver gave up and turned to pull out his books and notes.
Lynn and Anwyn continued like that most every day and Oliver realized his quiet English Lit class was gone. This particular Monday was no different. Anywn and Lynn came in from lunch, still debating the merits of various old school punk bands. Aside from targeting their jokes at the state of Kansas, Anwyn and Lynn both enjoyed punk music in all varieties, from the old school late 1970s to the modern resurgence that true diehards scoffed at. They both just liked good music, regardless of the current critical climate.
"OK class, let's get started," said Mrs. Summers, tapping a piece of chalk on the board. "We have a lot to cover today." That's what she said every day. She was older, in her mid-50s, wore conservative skirts and her hair pulled into a bun. You couldn't ask for a more stereotypical English teacher. She tried to make up for it by forcing the class to act out scenes from the books they read and when it came time to show movies she went with the modern versions instead of the 1960s versions. And even though the modern Romeo & Juliet had Claire Danes and Leonardo DiCaprio, some of the guys in her classes pleaded for the 1968 Zeffirelli version, thanks to a momentary scene where Juliet can be seen topless.
"Last week we finished up Hamlet and we will continue discussing it this week," Mrs. Summers said. She asked the class some basic questions to get them back into the play and then had them read a few scenes.
"All right, now I want us to talk about Ophelia," Mrs. Summers said. Anwyn looked up from her book and readjusted. "Why do you think Ophelia killed herself?" A few hands went up and Mrs. Summers called on a girl in the corner.
"It's pretty basic, isn't it?" she said. "She was in love with Hamlet, Hamlet had no interest and ditched her, so she lost her will to live."
"Perhaps," Mrs Summers said. "Other thoughts?"
"Didn't Hamlet have a bit of a suicidal bent with his whole 'to be or not to be' thing?" asked a boy in the front. "I think Hamlet gave her the idea, intentionally or not."
"I think it was grief for her father, killed by the man she loved," said a guy with glasses sitting in front of Anwyn. "She had a double whammy of life's pain and that was it."
"It's kind of a lame reason to die," Anwyn said, speaking up without being called on.
"What was that, Ms. Miller?" the teacher asked.
"I just said it's a lame reason to die," she repeated. "So she had some pain? Was that the only solution?"
"We should point out that not everyone thinks it was suicide," said Mrs. Summers. "Academics debate the point and the text isn't entirely clear. Suicide is certainly implied, but it's not directly stated."
"So you think Ophelia drowned by accident and it wasn't suicide?" Anwyn asked.
"Well, it would give credence to your theory that being 'ditched' by your love interest who goes on to kill your father is a 'lame' reason to die," Mrs. Summers said. "Perhaps it was accidental."
"And she was hanging out at the river to—what?" Lynn asked, "—drown her sorrows." A few students chuckled.
"Do you have a theory, Ms. Harris?"
"It could have been both," Lynn said. "She could have started out wanting to end her life and so she wandered down to the river. She walked up and down trying to get up the courage, but she couldn't do it. Just when she was going to go back home and live life to the fullest she slipped on the shore and fell in and died anyway, even though she had changed her mind and wanted to live."
"Suicidal remorse?" Mrs. Summers said. "That's a plausible theory."
Anwyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the discussion continued, moving away from the why and onto what it meant for Hamlet and the chaos that ensued. She glanced over to Oliver and realized he'd been starring at her. Their eyes met for a moment and then he quickly looked to the floor.
Posted by kevin at November 9, 2006 9:41 PM
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