Slow Dance in Purgatory (19 page)

             
Then her parents died, and Maggie’s progress came to a screeching halt.  She was never really anywhere long enough for people to realize she had a learning disability.  She was always quiet and well-mannered.  She always worked really hard and never complained.  Everyone was so relieved that they didn’t have a problem child on their hands that they never realized the child had a problem.

             
Mr. Marshall seemed to hone in on her disability the very first day and was constantly asking her to read this or that.  He seemed to take great pleasure in correcting her when she mispronounced a word or when she hesitated for a few seconds, trying to visually herd the letters into order.  However, today they were measuring several different solutions into beakers of varied sizes, and Maggie welcomed the break from the norm.  She removed her glasses and pulled on the required protective goggles - she was far-sighted so she should be okay - and hurried to assemble her equipment.  Her partner hadn’t shown up for class so she was doing double duty.

             
“You all have a hand-out in front of you.  You will be conducting the experiment as outlined on pages 5 and 6,“ Mr. Marshall instructed without preamble.  “You will then need to compare your results with the findings discussed on the first four pages and take the quiz on pages 7 and 8.  Please proceed,” he intoned.  Stepping away from his lectern, he sank into his chair and spread the newspaper across his desk dismissively.

             
Maggie snatched up the hand out and flipped to pages 5 and 6.  The words swam dizzily on the paper.  Breathing deeply, Maggie removed her goggles and slid her glasses back on her nose.  She could do this.  She would just have to do it slowly like she did all her other assignments.  Slowly might mean she didn’t complete the experiment in the time allotted, but without a partner she didn’t have much choice.

             
“I’ll read, you measure,” Johnny’s voice murmured softly near her ear, and Maggie jumped, his sudden proximity creating an instant hum of awareness under her skin.  She jerked her glasses off her nose so she could see him.  He laid his hand lightly on the small of her back, and the hum became a full fledged song.

             
“Slide the handout closer to me, and put your goggles back on.”

             
Maggie stepped away slightly so she could concentrate.  When he was close she felt like curling around him like a sleepy snake.  That could get her in trouble, especially considering no one else could see him.  She snapped her goggles into place and gave a quick thumbs-up.

             
“Before this very moment, I would have said there wasn’t a girl on this planet who could pull off protective glasses,” Johnny’s face was serious but there was laughter in his voice.  “How is it that you look absolutely delectable in those ugly things?”

             
Maggie grinned up at him and tapped the hand-out he was supposed to be reading.  She would have to concentrate now; the temptation to converse with her invisible partner was incredibly strong.

             
“Work, work, work,” Johnny sighed and cuffed her lightly on the chin.  He started at the beginning, and Maggie breathed a sigh of relief.  Maybe she would make it after all.  With Johnny reading the instructions, and Maggie doing exactly as he said, they were making excellent progress through the assignment.  Then Mr. Marshall decided to intervene.

             
“Miss O’Bannon,” he raised his voice imperiously.  “You aren’t even consulting the hand-out.  I’ve been watching you for the last five minutes, and you haven’t looked at it once.”  Mr. Marshall rose from his desk and approached her workspace.  “This isn’t ‘Make Your Own Potions 101,’” he said sarcastically.  “You actually have to follow the instructions in the hand-out.”

             
“I r-read it before I started, Mr. Marshall,”   Maggie stuttered awkwardly, noticing that the other students had ceased working and were tuning in to the confrontation.

             
“Oh, really?”  Mr. Marshall snatched up the hand-out that lay on the table in front of Johnny.  “Take me through the first steps in the experiment.”  Mr. Marshall was very smug – apparently he
had
been watching her.  She hadn’t been reading, and now he was looking forward to nailing her to the wall. 

             
In a flash, Johnny stood behind Mr. Marshall, looking over his stooped shoulder.  “Tell him the first step says to fill the largest beaker with two parts water, one part vinegar.”

             
Maggie repeated Johnny’s instructions word for word.

             
“Tell him part two says to fill the smallest beaker with the sodium solution.”

             
Maggie did exactly as he said, never breaking eye contact with the scowling teacher.  Johnny fed her the instructions, word for word until she’d reached the conclusion.  Mr. Marshall tossed the hand out down on the table with a sniff. 

             
“You’ve done this experiment before – perhaps at your old school?  You should have informed me as soon as you realized.  I could have found an alternative experiment for you to do.  No credit will be given to cheaters.”

             
Johnny growled an expletive.

             
“I have never taken Chemistry before at any school, Mr. Marshall,” Maggie protested, seeing her grade crumbling before her eyes.  “You can have the secretary check my transcripts!  This is the first time I’ve ever seen this experiment!”

             
“My dear Miss O’Bannon,” Mr. Marshall snapped sharply.  “Please don’t make things worse for yourself.  You and I are both aware that you don’t read well enough to have completed this portion of the assignment  in the limited time it took you.”

             
Maggie’s face flamed a hot, deep crimson, and she removed her goggles with shaking hands.  It didn’t seem to matter that the other students had a partner to read them the instructions, or that the other students had someone to share the workload with– wasn’t that what she had done?  Why was this teacher so intent on humiliating her?

             
Mr. Marshall turned away from her table with a small smirk and made his way back to his desk.  Johnny was there waiting for him.  Mr. Marshall made a great display of sinking back down upon his throne.  Only…his chair had been removed at the very last second.  Mr. Marshall’s head disappeared behind his desk as he fell to the floor with a girlish cry and a manly thud.  The class burst into smothered giggles, snorts, and chortles.

             
Maggie’s persecutor pulled himself up gracelessly, smoothing his disheveled comb-over as he did.  Gripping the sides of his leather chair, he again attempted to sit.  Johnny shoved the chair forward violently, taking Mr. Marshall’s legs out from under him and sending him flying back into his seat.  The momentum toppled the chair and the teacher over backward, wheeled legs and skinny ankles in argyle socks waving in the air.  The giggles and snorts turned into guffaws and shouts.
             

             
Mr. Marshall rolled out of his upended seat in shocked bewilderment and, rising on wobbly legs, attempted to right his chair.  As he leaned over, Johnny grabbed the waistband of his pants and yanked upward, showing the old bully how it really felt to be a pain the butt.  Mr. Marshall shrieked and grabbed at the seat of his pants in mortification.  Johnny released him, and with a little bump, shoved him back into his chair and scooted him into his desk as if the whole incident had never happened. Then, leaning down very close to Mr. Marshall’s ear, he spoke loudly and distinctly.  Maggie marveled that she was the only one who could hear him.  His voice practically reverberated through her head.

             
“You owe Margaret O’Bannon an apology.” 

             
Mr. Marshall rubbed frantically at his ear and stuck his finger into the opening as if a bug had flown into his ear canal.  His eyes met Maggie in stunned disbelief.  She didn’t know if he had actually heard Johnny, but on some level the message had been received.  Johnny resumed his place by her side.

             
They finished the experiment and the attached quiz in silence.  As the class came to a close, and the students filed out, Maggie hung back, waiting for the room to empty.  When Mr. Marshall saw that she remained behind, he scampered out, as if fearful that the whole embarrassing episode would repeat itself.

             
Johnny sank down on a stool and looked at her stonily.  He knew she was going to scold him, apparently.

             
“You can’t defend me from the whole cruel world,” she said softly.

             
“True.  But I can defend you in my tiny corner of it.”

             
“My knight.”

             
“My lady.”

             
Maggie smiled at his rejoinder.  “Just…please… be careful.  What if people start to talk?”

             
“About what?  Ghosts?  I’m not worried about that, Maggie.”

             
“Please don’t do that again.  I almost felt bad for that awful little man.”

             
“That awful little man has been pulling stuff like that for decades, and his father pulled similar stuff for decades before him.”  Johnny stood and captured her hands in his.  “I can’t stand by while people are cruel to you.  I can’t watch you suffer and do nothing.  Don’t ask me to.”  His expression was fierce and unyielding.  They locked gazes for several long seconds.  Maggie surrendered first.

             
“Will you kiss me, please?”  Maggie whispered, lifting her hands to clasp them against the nape of his neck and pulling his glorious face to hers.

             
“Someone could walk in.”  His mouth hovered just above hers, his breath tickling her parted lips.

             
“I don’t care.”

             
And at that moment, neither did he.

13

“
PRETEND”

Nat King Cole - 1953

             
The next few weeks passed in a blur of stolen moments and secret rendezvous, and Maggie grabbed every second with both hands and held on tight.  When the early mornings and evenings weren’t enough, Johnny would attend her classes with her.  Sitting in an empty chair or perched on her desk, he would contribute his thoughts on the various subjects, unbeknownst to her teachers or the other students around him.  Maggie wondered how often he had done this very same thing over the last years.  He could probably write a book on all her subjects or at the very least, teach the class. 
             

             
Maggie had the difficult task of acting like he wasn’t there, though she hung on his every word, his every thought, and his every expression.  His mere presence made her glow with happiness, and more than once, she had to make up an excuse for speaking out loud or giggling with, what appeared to be, her imaginary friend.  In Math, Johnny would kneel by her desk and help her with her geometry proofs.  In English, he would assist her with her reading, and in Chemistry he frequently helped her decipher complicated concepts and instructions. Maggie was thrilled to have her own personal tutor, and her grades had never been better. 

             
Johnny seemed as enamored with her as she was with him, and every once in a while he would forget that he blocked the aisle alongside her desk, tripping and bumping unsuspecting passers-by.  Those unlucky students would look around in confusion, wondering what they had stumbled over.  Sometimes they thought it was Maggie who had stuck out a foot or jostled them as they passed.  She got more than her share of dirty looks and often found herself blurting out awkward apologies for things she hadn’t done. 

             
A few kids in Senior English started poking fun at her one afternoon, after she slipped and replied to Johnny’s comments out loud in a very quiet classroom.  They were supposed to be silently reading Jane Eyre.  Johnny was reading it out loud to her, making the whole assignment a million times easier.  Plus, Johnny had to get very close in order to see over her shoulder and make it appear as if she were the one reading.  Close to Johnny was close to heaven in Maggie’s world.

             
The story had started to take shape, and Maggie lost herself in Johnny’s voice and the romance between Jane and Mr. Rochester.  Maggie could relate to the orphaned Jane who had so little.  She was aghast when Jane discovered Mr. Rochester had a crazy wife hidden in the attic, and she was completely devastated when Jane decided she had to leave Thornfield Hall.

             
“But she loves him – she can’t go!”  Maggie whispered.  A few heads turned her way and then, shoulders shrugging, resumed their own reading.

             
“But he isn’t free to love her the way that she deserves,” Johnny replied gently.