Anton's Odyssey by Andre Marc

Author:Andre, Marc [Andre, Marc]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-11-07T23:00:00+00:00

Mr. Fox asked me to stay after class. I figured he was going to reprimand me for not paying attention, but the conversation that ensued took me completely by surprise.

“Have a seat,” he said gesturing to a vacant desk on the front row. I complied and sat down.

“Your teachers and I, we noticed your grades have improved.”

“I’ve been studying.” I said.

“You should be proud of yourself,” he explained. “Earlier in the semester you were failing. Now you’re hardly an honor student, but you definitely could graduate high school and might even gain admission to a vocational school.”

“Gee, thanks, I guess.” It was a peculiarly phrased compliment, but I could tell Mr. Fox’s intentions were good.

What followed was an awkward silence that lasted several seconds. Mr. Fox lightly touched the side of his head and asked, “What do you think about my hair?”

It’s really creepy, I thought. It fits you like a crash helmet and makes you look like a villain in a D-rate action flick. “It’s okay, I guess,” I said. “Style is a bit old fashion, but at least you’re not going grey or bald.” His hair was unnaturally red. I guessed it was a cheap implant, or that he dyed it. Patches of grey would be an improvement.

“Yes, I assure you I am not bald.” Mr. Fox said with conviction.

“Well, that’s good, I guess.”

Another long awkward pause, “your brother —”

“Is he causing trouble I asked?”

“No,” he said, “I was going to ask you if he ever said anything about my hair.”

“Actually he did.” I said.

“Really?” Mr. Fox said, concerned. “What did he say?”

“He said it looked good.” I lied.

For some reason Mr. Fox seemed relieved. There was a third long awkward pause, during which I was really beginning to feel creeped out.

“Your father?” he asked. “Does he work on this ship?”

So that’s what this is about, I thought. “My mother’s single. “ I said getting right to the point so that Mr. Fox would dismiss me.

Mr. Fox smiled. I didn’t like the guy, but my mother could do much worse. He seemed the type to stay sober, and although he might scream and shout, I doubted Mr. Fox would ever hit Cotton. I really hoped he wasn’t going to ask me what my mother thought about his hair.

This time I broke the silence. “It’s lunch time. Can I go now?”

“Oh yes, you are dismissed.”

It was tense in the mess hall. Hammond, Allen, and Ellen traded nervous glances waiting for me to say something funny or lighthearted to indicate that the fiasco from the previous evening was either forgiven or forgotten. Cotton munched on a chalupa, either indifferent or oblivious.

A joke, I thought. Allen’s momma’s so charred by neutrinos she smells like barbecue. “Allen’s Uncle’s moustache so thick, he made a walrus jealous.”

The joke was pretty feeble, but everyone laughed anyway.

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