I sat there for a while longer than I would have with Fatty because I was very anxious about my next class. The truth is, she, of course, repulsed me, sitting there, staring straight ahead with those cascaded bowling balls for eyes, her mouth swung open like an attic door that couldn't clasp shut, gnawing on her carrot, chewing in a clockwise motion like an animated mascot for a Milk marketing campaign. *
"I'm pretty, get over it", I snapped.
Gah! I wanted to ask her about my next class, but thought I'd better storm off without another word, for fear of appearing rude. Sex Ed. What if it wasn't Abstinence only education? There are some things I cannot and will not put up with. Like that essay they wanted me to write on Evolution back in Utah.
"Stella, our ancestors did not live amongst the dinosaurs"
I forget her name. Godless woman. Godless teacher.
"I know, Mrs. Flatcherly! God moved dinosaurs to the moon. Read the book you should have read before throwing your body to Satan, you viper."
OK. I remembered her name, but I wanted to forget it. I made sure she never taught in Utah again. And now this. The hallway smelled of forensics, and for a moment I thought of Fatty. I felt sorry for her. Would she even need Sex Ed class? A fat girl inspired by academic merit. I could see her now, listless, a kid on her lap, dropped out of school to marry someone who never got past grade Eleven, a product of insecurity - putting herself aside for the vanity of being accepted by anyone attractive at all. She'd probably work at Dairy Queen part time, while her husband spent his time hunting and carrying on. She'd probably end up living on the avails of her husband's enabling parents.
Maybe she was a lost cause.
There it was. Room 69. I didn't get it then and I do not get it now.
Two things happened to me when I entered the classroom. Two. The first thing happened when I chose to do something only, looking back, only someone who was entirely out of clue with teenagers, would do. Since it was me, it made sense. I went up and introduced myself to the teacher, who was midsentence trying to explain something.
"Hi. Mr. SockCwollow?"
He was so irrelevant as to be positively non descript in appearance.
"Yes! I'm Stella Chastity, Colonel Chastity's daughter. I'm sure you've been made aware that I'd be coming."
A cough came from behind me startled me, and holding back a scream, I turned around to see why someone would be coughing at me, to discover that the classroom was nearly full. Except for one seat. In the back corner. Gentle reader, you're not ready to discover who the lab partner destiny had appointed to be mine, so please be ever patient. What was further striking was that Fatty was there too. Fatty. But, instead of the blue track suit she was last wearing to repulse me, she was wearing a green one with vertical white stripes.
And things would get more weird, more fantastic and, so about my dead to goodness pretty features, gentles readers, read on.
*Stop with the clever comparisons. Stay in the authour's voice - Ed