Misdirected (13 page)

 

 

Chapter 27

I Still Know How to Curse

Tess and I have been texting and talking online every night, but it's just not the same. I hate missing someone who walks by me in the hall everyday. By Thursday I just want school to be over so James and I can go home, read some comics or watch a movie, and wait for Saturday to come. Me, Tess, James, and Beth are all hanging out together. The way it should be.

During study hall I leave a note in Tess's locker. I write, “Can't wait to see you.” Tess would have drawn a smiley face or something on a note to me, but I think she'll get that I miss her.

Beth nods to me in the hallway now, which is a nice change. It's like I've got an actual group of friends. Even bigger than the group I had back at my old school. Of course I wasn't ignored by the other 99% of the population at my old school like I am here.

I think I'll ask Tess if she wants to sit in the back of the movie theater so if the movie is bad we can just make out. Hopefully it will be bad. Plus, I've been waiting to tell her that I emailed Pete and he's game for driving us to her brother's wedding. She's going to freak out.

In science class Mr. Thompson hands back a whole bunch of papers and tests. Flipping through my papers, I see nothing below an A-. Until I get to the bottom. My extra assignment on science and the Bible. There is a big fat F written at the top in thick red pen. F as in Fail. F as in, you've got to be effing kidding me.

Kenny is sitting next to me. He looks across at my paper and laughs hysterically, like my failing grade is the funniest thing he's ever seen in his life. A few other kids turn and look at me, chuckling as if they're all in on the joke.

“That's what you deserve, fag,” Kenny mutters to me.

I feel my face get red and my hands hold the paper so tight that it's crumpling. I researched this stupid thing. I had evidence. People way smarter than Thompson backing me up.

I want to throw it in Mr. Thompson's face.

I want to kick my desk over and throw acid on the floor.

I want to take my stupid textbook and set it on fire.

Once class is dismissed I wait for everyone to clear out. Kenny is the last one to leave and laughs at me one more time before closing the door behind him. I sit totally still in my seat until Mr. Thompson notices me.

“Yes, Ben?”

“You gave me an F.”

“I did.”

“I had footnotes. You can think I'm wrong but are you going to tell me that the greatest scientists of the time are wrong too?”

“I told you exactly what I wanted from this paper, Ben. I'm sorry that you feel it's unfair. But the paper is wrong. All of it. I can't give a passing grade on something like that.”

“Can I ask how this is going to affect my grade?”

“I'm afraid it's going to affect it quite severely.”

“How severely?”

“Well, let me see.”

He takes out a calculator and his grade book and starts plugging in numbers like it's nothing at all. He finishes, shakes his head, and looks at me.

“That paper brought you down to a C+.”

“You're telling me I went from an A to a C+ with one stupid paper?”

“I'm afraid so. And if you don't start incorporating biblical evidence into your papers, you're going to find that your grade will get even lower.”

“I know the freaking science!”

“I think you'd better watch your language.”

“Screw that! I'm the best student in this class and you want to bring my grade down to a C+ because of one paper on something that isn't even science? The Bible has nothing to do with science. They're just stories! Fiction! The only class we should be studying it in is English.”

Mr. Thompson stands, his face red. “You attend a Christian school whether you like it or not and we teach the truth based not only on science but also on what the Bible, the word of God, the truth, teaches us. You're more than welcome to stay ignorant if that's what you want. In this class the Bible is science and you don't know the material. So yes, you get a C+. And if you keep up with this behavior I can't even guarantee that.”

“Yeah well, we'll see about that.”

I grab my stuff and walk to the door without looking back. All my work, and this religious nut is going to bring down my GPA. I open the door but instead of taking a first step into the hallway I trip over something big and, in what feels like less than a second, I'm falling face first, my feet still tangled in whatever I tripped over. I put my hands out to brace my fall but not fast enough. I twist my body trying to save my chin and nose from hitting the ground. It barely works. I fall down on my left arm and smack my cheek into the ground.

The hallway goes quiet. I don't move. I just lay there feeling like my face and shoulder have exploded. Then there is a hand on my back. James is saying, “Are you okay?” I'm too stunned to answer. I sit up and look back to see what tripped me. Kenny is leaning next to the door, his backpack is twisted around my ankles.

“You're pretty clumsy,” says Kenny sneering.

“You tripped me!” I say angrily. I stand up, opening and closing my mouth to make sure my jaw is okay and lifting up my arm to make sure my shoulder still works.

“I guess sinners just aren't protected by God in the same way as everyone else.”

James puts his hand on my shoulder. “We should go,” he says. I shake him off.

Ignoring my pain, I walk right up to Kenny.

“You ignorant asshole. The fact that you really believe that means you're freaking stupid. Heaven doesn't exist and even if it did, none of your ignorant mean asses would be allowed in. You're only nice to the people who are exactly like you, and everything I've learned about Jesus says that he was nice to everyone.”

By now there is a crowd of kids around us, all staring silently at me. Kenny could probably beat the crap out of me right now and none of them would care enough to stop him.

“You're all freaking hypocrites,” I say, not just to Kenny but to all of them. “Stupid small town Bible thumpers! The only thing I wish is that there really was an afterlife, because when you all die and nothing happens, I won't get to see the look on your face that there is nothing. That all your stupid beliefs and rules were pointless. God doesn't exist. And you're all too stupid to realize it.”

Then before I can stop it, before I can think about how terrible what I'm saying is, I shout the F word. And not just the F word. I sandwich it between the two worst words I could ever choose. Clutching my hurt arm, I yell Jesus f***ing Christ at the top of my lungs. And for a second, it feels great. Like I've finally been able to say what I've been thinking since I got here. They might shun me, hate me, push me to the ground, and fail me, but here's what I really freaking think of all you.

Every single head within earshot turns toward me. Some look hurt. Most look mad. So mad that if it was physically possible smoke would be coming out of their ears. If they thought I was going to hell before, now they think I'm an actual devil. I have crapped on the name of the son of god. Kenny heard it, Mr. Thompson heard it, and all of these other morons now know exactly what I think of them. It feels good. It feels freaking fantastic.

And then I see Tess standing about fifteen yards away. She's shaking her head at me. I see tears well up and spill down her face. She gives me a last look, then turns and walks away, shoulders shaking as she goes.

I want to go after her. I want to tell her how sorry I am. How it just came out of my mouth. I said it without thinking.

I don't. I turn and head down the hall, the crowd parting and moving away from me like I've got a contagious disease. I get outside and call my dad. “Come pick me up from school, I need to go home. Now,” I say.

Ten minutes later he pulls up in the car. I get in the passenger seat and say, “Drive.”

“What happened? Jesus, what happened to your face?”

“I'll tell you when we get home. Just drive.”

He looks like he's going to question me again. Instead, he closes his mouth when he sees how close I am to crying.

 

 

Chapter 28

What To Do Once You
'
ve Acted Like a Total Ass

I
t's silent on the car ride home. I'm trying not to cry and Dad is trying to give me space. I can feel him looking at me so I turn my head to look out the window.

I'm such a goddamn jerk.

We get home and go inside. I try to go straight upstairs to my bedroom but my dad grabs my arm and pulls me over to the couch.

“Okay. What happened?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“I just took you out of school in the middle of the day. You look like you're getting a black eye. You're going to talk about it.”

I take a deep breath. The last thing I want is to start crying in front of my dad. He gets up, grabs me a glass of water, and sits back down.

“Drink it.”

I do. I take a slow breath and feel like I've got control of myself.

“I haven't told you and Mom yet. I've gotten all A's this quarter. I was going to surprise you.”

“Ben, that's fantastic,” he says smiling.

“Well, until today. A few weeks ago, Mr. Thompson, my science teacher, made me write a paper on why the Bible is important to science. I tried. I really freaking tried. But he wants me to say that the world is only like six thousand years old and that humans didn't evolve and other crazy crap like that. So I wrote a paper on why the facts I know should be enough and how the Bible shouldn't have anything to do with it. He gave me an F. It brings my grade down from an A to a C+.”

“That had to make you pretty upset.”

“That's not all. As I was leaving the classroom, this kid Kenny, the one I went to church with, who wrote fag on my locker last month, left his backpack in front of the door so that I would trip over it. And now my face and my shoulder are killing me. At that point I kind of lost it and screamed about how much I hate the school and how everyone who believes in god is stupid. Then I got so mad that I yelled Jesus effing Christ in front of like half of the school.”

“Oh, Ben.”

“Tess heard me and those are pretty much the worst things I could have said.”

My dad just looks at me, shaking his head like I'm last week's leftovers and he's deciding whether or not to throw me out. As he gets up to grab me an ice pack from the freezer, he says, “What happened to respecting other people's beliefs?”

“It's not like they're respecting my beliefs!”

“We'll go to the school and talk to your principal about it. Kenny should be punished for bullying you, and it's worrying that he's been getting away with this behavior for so long. However, before we go anywhere, you and I need to talk about a little something called conflict resolution.”

I can't stop myself from rolling my eyes. He hands me the ice with a towel over it to put on my cheek.

“Look, at your age and frankly at any age, it can be difficult to manage your emotions. When you get angry you react with anger.”

“How else would an angry person react?”

“Acting like a jerk isn't going to make anyone agree with you or want to help you. When you get yelled at, do you listen to what they have to say?”

“I guess not.”

“So why should anyone listen to what you have to say? Even if you're right.”

I shrug. And now on top of feeling like hell for cursing out god and pretty much the entire school in front of Tess, I now feel like a complete tool for not being able to control myself.

“Next time you feel like that, or if someone confronts you, take a walk. Go tell someone. By yelling at Kenny and offending everyone around you, you became a part of the problem instead of the victim. If it's an issue with your teacher or a student, don't talk to them about it until you've calmed down. Just be the bigger person and walk away. Now, we're going to have some lunch and then go back to the school so we can apologize for your reaction, tell them what Kenny did, and talk about your grade.”

“So you agree that I got totally screwed, right? And that Kenny is dangerous.”

“Trust me, I'm furious you've got a black eye. That's absolutely unacceptable. Kenny's parents should be called and he should be suspended. As for the grade, I agree that it seems unfair and like a big drop in your grade from one paper. But we will not be using the word
screwed
when we talk to the principal. Let me make you a sandwich and then I'll call the principal to see if we can meet with him. You just keep that ice on your face.”

I eat my sandwich even though I'm starting to feel sick. The entire school probably knows what I said by now and it will get back to the parents. If I wasn't public enemy number one before, I sure am now. Which means that Tess probably wants nothing to do with me anymore.

The whole time we've been dating she's been totally cool with me being an atheist. She lies to her family just to be with me. And here I go and insult her god and her beliefs in the worst way possible. My dad is right. Anger makes me stupid and mean and unworthy of a girl like Tess.

Dad comes in the room and says, “You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You've always got a choice.”

I wonder if all dads say ominous crap like that. It makes you feel like you have a choice. Really, if I chose to stay home, I'd feel even worse.

“Do me a favor and bring the ice. Sympathy points never hurt,” he says.

Luckily everyone is in class when we get back to school so I don't have to look anyone in the eye. As we walk into the office, my dad whispers to me, “If I were you, I'd apologize before he asks for one.”

The woman at the front desk seems to be expecting us and says, “Principal Willard will see you now.”

This is it.

She shows us into the office. We sit down in front of Principal Willard, who puts his hands on the desk and looks at me in that way that grown-ups do.

“I think we all know why we're here,” he says.

I suck as much air as I can get into my chest and then spew out a whole bunch of words.

“I'm sorry for saying such horrible things on school grounds this morning. It was mean and disrespectful and I wish I could take it back. There were reasons though. I think you should know the circumstances that led to me saying it.”

He leans back in his chair. “Go on,” he says.

I tell him about Mr. Thompson and the paper and how his failing me is going to drag down my GPA. How I've made so few friends here because I don't believe in god and how hard it's been being harassed or ignored by practically everyone in the school. I end with how Kenny tripped me outside of Mr. Thompson's class and how everyone watching seemed to think it was some kind of joke.

I lift the ice off my face so he can see how red and messed up it is.

My dad says, “I think you can tell how awful Ben feels about what he said. He was under a lot of emotional stress, though that doesn't excuse his behavior. He knows it's wrong and he's sorry. I hope we can agree that Mr. Thompson's grade was unfair and that Ben shouldn't be penalized for having different views. Also, I think that Kenny should be suspended due to his bullying. Ben's going to have a black eye and his arm is hurting him all because of that boy's prank.”

“Ben, do you think a student at your old school would be given a lesser grade if they said that evolution was wrong on a test?”

“What?”

“If a student took a test at your old school and said that the earth was 6,000 or so years old, do you think they would get that answer incorrect?”

“I'm not sure.”

“I am. And the answer is yes. They would get that answer wrong even though they were responding based on what they know to be true. What everyone in this school knows to be true. Now, I've talked to some of your other teachers. You are an impeccable student. However, religion is a part of the curriculum here and I can't just ignore that you don't know it.”

“What does that mean?” Dad asks.

“It means that the grade stands. If Ben wants to excel here, he's going to have to learn the material that's presented to him.”

“But, sir,” says Dad. “Don't you think it's unfair that the hypothetical kid who believed in creation in your scenario got a bad grade? Isn't this just reversed?”

“Ben has enrolled in a religious school. Learn it or leave. That's really all I can tell you.”

“I'd like to point out,” says Dad, “that you haven't even addressed the fact that my son was physically assaulted at your school.”

“I've talked to some witnesses. They say he tripped over a backpack. There is no evidence of anyone touching him so no assault happened.”

Dad stands up. “I think Ben would be safer and his work ethic would be more appreciated in a public school. We'd like our tuition for the rest of the semester back.”

“You brought your son here so he could learn about values. I'm sorry we couldn't be of more help. However, I'm afraid if you read your agreement you will see that we do not refund. You are paid through December.”

“We'll see about that. Come on, Ben. We're leaving.”

“I'm not going to the rest of my classes?”

Principal Willard says, “And as for your unfortunate choice of words during your outburst, I'm afraid you're facing a week's suspension. We do not tolerate such language at this institution.”

Dad clenches his fist and shakes his head. “So one student injures my son and you do nothing. My son says some hurtful words and he's suspended?”

“As I said, there is no evidence that your son did anything but trip.”

“Let's go, Ben. Mr. Willard, thank you for your time.”

We walk out and go back to the car. Dad sits still and holds the wheel so tightly that if it were alive he'd have strangled it.

“You thanked him,” I say.

“Yes,” he says, letting go of the steering wheel and putting on his seat belt.

“Why did you thank him?”

“Because that's what adults do in a bad situation. If I had reacted the way I wanted to, it would have made things worse.”

“So being an adult means holding your tongue and letting a guy kick you in the metaphorical balls?”

“Yep. Sometimes that's exactly what it means.”

“I think I like my way better.”