Lost in the System by Nancy Jo Wilson

Author:Nancy Jo Wilson [NANCY JO WILSON]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Morgan James Publishing
Published: 2021-06-14T22:00:00+00:00

IV

I hear them coming in, but don’t bother to look up. I am so not in the mood. I ignore the heathens and keep banging away with my pen. The unmistakable screech of a metal chair being dragged across the floor grabs my attention. I glance up. I’m going to have to acknowledge the little punks soon anyway.

The room has been transformed. One student has repositioned two desks, so that he can sit at one while propping his feet on the other. A group of girls have arranged their desks in a circle. One kid is sitting cross-legged on the floor with his back against the wall. The odd seating configuration isn’t the only break with normal class protocol. Several students are slurping sodas or crunching chips.

Since all the students are involved, not just one rebellious kid, I have to assume that Keith’s usual rules don’t apply. I decide on a quick test.

“What is the rule about food in my class?” I bark at a nearby girl.

She pauses mid-munch and says, “Only if we give you some.”

“That’s right,” I answer with a chuckle.

She hops up and shakes a few nacho chips free from her bag onto the desk. To my surprise, several other students follow her lead. Soon I have a smorgasbord of junk food—three kinds of chips, some popcorn, and a cookie. This is an excellent hustle. I’m kind of proud of Burnsey.

Obviously, this class is different. Why? I look at the schedule. Last period is listed as Creative Writing. The words cause a slight panic. I had only checked out the one lesson plan. It didn’t occur to me that Keith would teach more than one subject. Between the Exhaustive Lexicon and my own experiences spinning yarns, I know quite a bit about fiction. But I don’t know what aspect they’re covering in class.

“What happened to your hand?” asks a perky girl in the aforementioned circular gaggle of females. Whew. I’m saved by a well-timed question.

“That’s today’s assignment.” I smile. “I’m going to write several explanations for this injury on the board. Choose the scenario that most inspires you and write that story.”

I write out all the excuses I’ve been using all day, from home repair accident to Reaver attack. Surprisingly, no one asks what a Reaver is. Either they already know, or being creative, they’ve painted a description from their own imaginations. I think I might actually like these kids. I hear gasps and grunts, the auditory expressions of their storytelling gears grinding to life. Even without looking, I know they are excited about the assignment.

When I finish writing out the story prompts, I turn to find several already hunched over their notebooks, some paper and some digital, writing. Others are gazing off into space as they mentally work out the story. One boy tilts his head from side to side, lost in his own internal conversation.

Seeing their little minds whirring as they eagerly approach an assignment I gave them is a rush. This must be why Burnsey does it.

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