The Ghosts of Lovely Women (The Teddy Thurber Mysteries) by Buckley Julia

Author:Buckley, Julia [Buckley, Julia]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery, suspense, women’s rights, sexism, the odyssey, female sleuth, amateur sleuth, high school, academic setting, romance, love story, psychology, literary, literature, Chicago, great books
Published: 2011-10-19T04:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

“Yes, I’m very tired. Soon now I’ll sleep.”

—Nora, A Doll’s House, Act III

Monday. By the time I reached my classroom via the back stairway, the tiredness had already hit me. I logged onto my computer, my fingers moving with appalling slowness on the keys. A shadow appeared next to me and I jumped.

“Oh, Javier, you scared me!”

“Miss Thurber, do you have some time? I need help with my thesis statement,” he said, wearing a ‘please don’t hit me’ expression.

I wanted to cry; I felt a sudden strong empathy for Javier. Who really knows his thesis statement? Who knows what they’re doing, what they’re proving? And, ultimately, what did it all matter?

“Of course, hon. Let me see what you have.” My hands shook slightly as I took his paper.

His sentence said, “I am comparing The Stranger to The Great Gatsby.” I sighed, then touched his hand. “I know where you want to go here, but your reader won’t really see it. The thing is, you have to put what you’re thinking down on paper. And get rid of the word I. What do the two books have in common?”

Javier rambled for a couple of minutes, trying to put his thoughts into words. He did a pretty good job, considering that he probably hadn’t read either book very carefully. “So what you’re saying, if I hear you right, is that both characters were isolated from their societies. Could that be the theme that you want to express?”

His face brightened. “Yeah. And they’re both, like, lonely and misunderstood. And they both die.”

“Okay, then. Three supporting points — perfect. So let’s make a tiny outline here. See? Now I want you to try to put these three points into a sentence. Do that now while I check my e-mail.”

Javier worked at a desk and I read some basic work e-mails. Nothing from Derek, thank God. I didn’t even know if he had come to school today. I had skipped my usual stop in the mailroom. I wanted to meet no one, talk to no one.

Javier came back and showed me his thesis statement: “Jay Gatsby and Monsieur Meursault are both isolated characters; this is evident in their loneliness, in the way they are misunderstood, and in the way that they die.” I looked up at him, shocked.

“Oh my gosh, Javier, I think you have a thesis!”

He clapped his hands. “Yes!”

“But let’s be clear: you are way behind. I want you to bring me the whole first paragraph by period five, and then try to have your first two points written out in a draft by tomorrow. I also need to see the notecards you’ve written up until now.”

“Okay. I will. Okay,” he promised.

“Javier?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you be a pal and run to the teacher mailroom? Tell them I forgot mine and ask them to hand it to you.”

“Sure,” he said. He left; minutes later he returned with a small pile of mail. There — problem solved. I wouldn’t have to see anyone for today. But what

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