The Second Trial (21 page)

He scanned the banners above the lists:
Grade 7, Grade 8
and
Grade 9.

He stroked the worry stone in his pocket and hovered on the edge of the crowd gathered in front of the Grade 8 list. Students discussed their room assignments.

“I'm in Mr. Thompson's class!” “Oh my God, who's Ms. Nguyen?” “Why did I end up with Mr. Sota?!” “We're together!” “We're
not
together!” “This sucks!”

The bell rang. Eight-thirty. The kids scattered like startled birds. A short, slight man stood in the middle of the hall, directing students to various rooms.

Now alone in front of the lists of names, Danny couldn't put off looking for his.

“Can I help you?” Danny turned around. “I'm Mr. Ishii,” the man said, “the school counselor. You must be new here. What's your name?”

“Uh, David…Mayer.”

“And what grade are you in, David?”

“Eight.”

“All right. Let's see where you are.” Mr. Ishii ran his fingers down the list until he found Danny's name. “Here you are. Ms. Nguyen's class. Room nine. You're in the portable outside.” He paused. “Why don't I walk you there?”

“Don't need to,” Danny said as he brushed by.

Portable nine was on the tarmac right outside the door. Shouts and laughter drifted from the open windows. The second bell rang as he mounted the steps. When the classroom door creaked open, all heads turned. He slid into the nearest empty seat.

A petite Asian woman stood at the front. She'd bleached her short black hair to an uneven orange and gelled it to stick straight out from her head. She looked so young Danny wondered if she could really be the teacher. She smiled at him.

“Welcome to my class. My name is Ms. Nguyen –” she pointed to her name written in green marker on the whiteboard. She pronounced it
‘noiyen
.' “I know my name looks hard to pronounce. I'm going to do my best to say all of your names correctly, and if I don't, please tell me. And I want to know what you like to be called – Beth instead of Elizabeth, or whatever.”

She walked back and forth. “I am
so
excited to be here,” she said, her smile showing a straight line of white teeth. “This is my first year as a teacher, and you're my first home room class.

“So it's a special day. And it's even more special because –” she pointed to the ground “– this was my elementary school. I grew up here, just like you. So, even if I don't know any of you, I might know your older brothers or sisters, or maybe even your parents.” Several students turned and whispered among themselves.

“And we're going to have a great year.” She made eye contact with each student as she handed out papers. Danny rubbed his palms across his thighs when she approached.

“Looks like you're new here too,” she said. “Welcome.” He took the pencil and papers without meeting her eyes.

“Please fill in these sheets and I'll take attendance.”

He looked down. Every school year started with names, but Danny had never seen this type of question sheet before.

My name is _____________ and I like to be called _______________________.

I am _____ years old.

Last year I went to __________________ school.

I live with __________________________.

My favorite subject is ________________.

My least favorite subject is ____________.

Is there something special about you I should know?

_____________________________________________.

Ms. Nguyen.

Danny stared at the page as the teacher called names and each hand went up in turn.

“Aaron Abrams. I bet you're always at the front of your class. Belinda Bischoff. Linda? Okay, Linda.” She made a note. “William Chin? Bill? Sure thing, Bill.” Another note. “Natalie Franco… Andrew Johnston…Su-Min Kim…David Mayer…” Ms. Nguyen looked up. “David Mayer? Not here? Anyone know David Mayer?” Her eyes scanned the room and came to rest on Danny, who was staring vacantly at the paper.

“David? Are you David Mayer?”

Danny looked up. Several students had turned to stare.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Okay,” she replied with a smile, as if there were nothing unusual in his answer. “Darlene Morningstar…”

Danny dropped his chin. He took the pencil, scribbled a few answers, flipped the paper face down, and slapped his pencil on top. He leaned back and crossed his arms.

“Chad Zane,” Ms. Nguyen finished. “Well, that's everyone, from
A
to
Z
,” she said, her smile making her eyes crinkle.

“Everyone please pass your paper to the person in front.”

The heavy-set boy seated in front of him made a point of reading Danny's. He turned all the way around and snickered. He stuck his feet into the aisle and looked down his nose at Danny. His small eyes puckered into a chubby face.

“Great,” he sneered. “Competition.” He turned back.

Danny looked down.
Chad Zane,
Danny thought.
He's going
to be fun.

“All right,” the teacher said, “we've got a lot to cover before the mid-morning break. Let's check timetables.”

He half-listened as Ms. Nguyen made announcements about classes, options, teachers' names. By mid-morning, the warm room already smelled of nervous students and scented deodorant. The school bell startled Danny.

“Okay!” Ms. Nguyen called over the sudden clatter of students charging from their desks. “Ten minute mid-morning break! Everybody outside! Bathrooms and water fountains are inside!”

Danny was the first one out, but then had no idea what to do. He jabbed his hand into his pocket for the worry stone. He refused to make eye contact with anyone. He drifted around and tried not to be noticed.

Inside, Ms. Nguyen sipped from her water bottle and started alphabetizing the papers. She paused when she came to Danny's.

My name is Mud and I like to be called
____________________.

I am 105 years old.

Last year I went to I don't remember school.

I live with My dog .

My favorite subject is TV .

My least favorite subject is School .

Is there something special I should know about you?

I think life sucks .

He'd crossed out the happy face and replaced it with a skull and cross bones.

Ah, sighed Ms. Nguyen.
David. A challenge.

The bell rang and students trickled in. The boys cuffed each other as they found their seats. Danny trailed behind. The rest of the morning dragged while papers pooled on Danny's desk. Textbook sign-out sheets, subject outlines, curriculum guidelines. Handouts like
Plan for Success!
and
Successful Study Strategies
. An assignment for Wednesday –
What I did on my Summer Vacation
. Finally, lunchtime.

“Just leave your stuff on your desks for now,” Ms. Nguyen said. “Who from last year would like to lead the tour? How about… you,” she pointed at a girl. “Linda, isn't it? And Andrew. Here's the list.”

Linda and Andrew grabbed the papers and hustled out their classmates.

Classrooms, bathrooms, offices, gym, library, staff room, snack machines, photocopy room, cafeteria. Returning students clustered to discuss holidays, boyfriends and girlfriends, clothes, and teenage life.

“Hot lunch program in here,” Linda announced. “Just give your name to the lunch ladies – but they get to know you pretty quick – and sometimes the food is even good.” She spoke casually, as if a hot lunch program were part of every school.

“Hey David!” It was Andrew. “You in the program?”

Danny nodded.

“Me too. Come on, let's go in. You play soccer? Hockey? The basketball coach is great but don't bother with football, man, the team sucks.” Andrew led him into the cafeteria. He slid a tray from a stack and ambled down the line. Danny followed closely.

“You get kinda tired of the food after a while, but every second Friday it's McDonald's,” he said. “And in the winter there's hot soup. You'll like it after being in the portable. We can take our trays out, as long as we bring 'em back.”

Andrew used his bum to push open the door and they sat on the tarmac. “You like sports?” Andrew asked again.

“Yeah,” Danny replied. He thought of the ribbons and trophies he'd left behind in his bedroom, then speared a piece of chicken with his fork.

“Live round here?”

“Yeah. Across the hill.”

“Been there long?”

“Couple a weeks.”

“Watch out for the guys that hang out at the mall. They like to have a go at new guys. Chad's one of 'em. Likes to get other people into trouble, push 'em around. Gets 'em to lift stuff from the store for him. 'Specially the girls.”

“Yeah?”

They finished their meal in silence and returned the trays. A couple of boys angled over when they saw Andrew.

“Hey, Andy? How's it goin'?”

“Hey, Rico! Where's Tom?” Andrew turned to Danny. “See ya 'round, David,” he said, and then joined his buddies.

“Sure,” mumbled Danny. He spent the rest of lunch sitting on the portable's steps. The warning bell rang, and he pretended to clean his fingernails while classmates climbed the steps beside him.

A foot bumped Danny's leg. Startled, he looked up.

“
Sorry, loser,
” Chad smirked. “Didn't see ya there.” Chad loomed over him for a moment. Danny glared back, but Chad had already brushed by.

They squeezed five classes into three periods. The gym had once been a decent size, but it had been divided in half with a cinder block wall, and neither side was big enough for a proper game of floor hockey. A bored photographer snapped school ID pictures underneath drooping basketball hoops.

At the end of the day, Ms. Nguyen handed each student an agenda book. It reminded him of the day planners his dad used to have. But the cheap cardboard cover on his copy had already been bent back.

“Bring it to class every day,” Ms. Nguyen said. “When we meet in home room, I'll check that you've written up your homework and kept track of assignments and tests.”

On his way home from school, Danny threw his in the trash.

Chapter 12

Danny dumped his stuff on his bed and scooped up Buddy's leash. Mom and Julia were already home. Danny ducked his mother's questions. He felt burned out. He ate in front of the TV and then trudged to his room for the rest of the evening.

Three dull days passed before Ms. Nguyen asked for his agenda. He shrugged and said he'd lost it. When she asked for his summer vacation assignment, he said the dog ate it. Other teachers started assigning homework, but he abandoned it on his desk or left it in his unopened backpack. Andy had asked him to play dodge ball a couple of times and although he wanted to, he felt himself stiffen up and found excuses not to. After that, he avoided Andy. Ignoring others was one thing he was already good at. Soon everyone avoided him.

On Friday, when Danny arrived home, his mother was wearing shorts and a T-shirt despite a cold north wind that raised goose bumps on her arms and legs. She was the gardener in the family. At home, she'd put out bedding plants and kept the yard tidy. She'd planted the short, fat carrots that Danny preferred, and snow peas, butter lettuce and red potatoes.

His mom pointed at their new ‘garden.' “I've planted tulip, daffodil, and narcissus bulbs,” she said. “They'll look beautiful when they come up in the spring.”

“I thought we didn't have money,” he snapped.

She hesitated. “David, I need this bit of earth…and so do you. I'm very careful with our money. But planting this garden is an investment in our future – Julia's, mine, and yours. We have to plan for our future or we won't have one.”

“Plans! Look where all your plans have got us
so
far!” He swept his arm around. “This!
This
is where it got us! This piece of
crap
!”

She straightened and thrust out her chin. “You're right, David!” she snapped back. “
Nothing's
turned out the way I planned. So should I just give up? Stop living? Is that what you'd have me do?” She planted her fists on her hips. “Well, I
won't.
I
enjoyed
planting the garden today. And I'm going to
enjoy
those flowers when they come up. Sure, I could do nothing and be miserable –” she pointed at Danny “– just like you – but I won't! It's time to move on! Nothing's going to fall from the sky and fix our lives!
This
is it! And it's up to each of us to do something with it!”

Danny pressed his lips together until they were just a narrow red line. At that moment, he hated her.

The next day, Susan reattached the dog's engraved tags – ‘Buddy. 21 New Haven, Winnipeg. 204-623-1961.'

By the end of the second week, Danny's teachers started asking him to stay after class. Each time it was the same. “You haven't been handing in your homework.” “I don't see you making much of an effort.” “I've looked at your marks from your last school, so I know what you're capable of.” “What's wrong?” “You seem to be having some problems.”