Others joined in. Flinch never had a chance. A kid might help another kid who fell into a river, and a kid might help another kid search for a lost baseball, but there isn’t a kid I’ve met who will help another kid out of a humiliating situation. We just aren’t built that way.
So I put on the wig and tried to act like Thomas Jefferson, not that I had a clue how to really do that. It was pretty much a wasted hour. We all walked around and talked about the Revolution. I’m pretty sure I didn’t learn anything, except that wigs are uncomfortable.
I noticed that the tough kids who’d been in my other classes weren’t in history. Ms. Crenshaw had said that there was a choice. I guess the thugs had decided they didn’t want to wear costumes and wigs. As far as I was concerned, that was one good reason to stick with this class, no matter how crazy it seemed. All we had to do was walk around and make sure we used the vocabulary words the teacher had put on the blackboard. No trouble at all.
Toward the end of the period, Ms. Crenshaw asked us to sit down so we could discuss what we’d learned. I was just relaxing in my chair when someone shouted at me.
“Shut up! Just shut up!”
I looked over to my right. It was Lucky. He was glaring at me. But it was real spooky. I would have bet a thousand dollars that even though his eyes were pointed in my direction, he didn’t see me.
A hand tapped my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it,” Torchie said. “He does that sometimes.”
Nobody else seemed worried about it. I turned away from Lucky. Sure enough, a minute later, when I glanced back, he seemed okay.
At the end of the period, as I was handing in my wig, Ms. Crenshaw patted me on the arm and said, “Well, Martin, did you enjoy our little class?”
All I had to do was nod and say yes. That would have been fine. Three letters, one syllable, and I’d be out of there. Instead, I said, “You must really have a desperate desire to be in the theater.” I shook my head. “This sure ain’t Broadway. But it’s as close as you’ll ever get.”
She looked like she wanted to hit me. Through gritted teeth, she said, “You don’t have to participate. You can attend the lecture instead. Would you like to do that?”
I shook my head. “No thanks.”
She continued to glare at me. It seemed I’d gotten another teacher to leave my fan club. That wasn’t fair. I hadn’t really said anything all that bad. At this rate, I’d need to start using pencil and paper to keep track of who hated me. Though with my luck, Torchie would set my list on fire.
“Does Lucky do that a lot?” I asked Torchie when we left the room. Torchie shrugged. “Not that much. You’ll get used to it. He’s really a good guy. Just make sure you don’t make any comments about things being missing when he’s around. He’s really sensitive about that ‘cause he’s always getting in trouble for stealing stuff.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I glanced back into the room. Lucky was in the corner, reaching into the wastebasket. I couldn’t tell whether he was putting something in or taking something out. I guess it didn’t matter either way.
“Anyone ever get out of here?” I asked Torchie as we walked down the hall.
“Kids drop out when they get old enough,” he said. “Or they get arrested and go to jail. That’s only happened a couple of times, when there were real bad fights. Principal Davis doesn’t like to call the cops. You can graduate, of course. But that’s no good, because then you have to go to the alternative high school down in Danville. And that place is ten times worse than here.”
“No, I mean does anyone ever get back to regular school?”
“There’s the review,” Torchie said.
“What review?” I asked.
“Didn’t you read your handbook?”
I thought about the charred paper in my wastebasket. I guess I couldn’t blame Torchie. Even if he hadn’t set it on fire, I’d already tossed the handbook out. “Tell me about it.”
“They get together at the end of your first month and discuss whether you should stay. After that, you’re here for good.”
“They?” I asked.
“Your teachers,” Torchie said. “The ones who see you in class. It’s not really fair. There were four fires the day I had my review. They blamed me. For all four! Can you believe that? I heard it was the quickest review in the history of the school.”
I was only half listening to Torchie. My mind was replaying my first meeting with each of my teachers. So far, I’d pretty much guaranteed they’d hate me. One month. Maybe if I just kept my mouth shut and did my work, I’d have a chance.