Page 3 - Asheville NC Revised2

revulsion. “I’m trying to save Jim from being hurt.”
“You’re not monitor right now,” she said. “You just eat those prunes, for me.” “Looking at those wrinkled gallstones with tragic woe, my face scrunched in
massive rejection. I dutifully chewed on one and gagged noisily and genuinely. The other kids looked on hopefully.
“He’s gonna blow!” yelled Kiefer.
But instead a siren blew, moaning loudly in the background.
“Duck and cover,” commanded Mrs. Birmingham.
The Cuban Missile Crisis was still fresh in our minds so all eyes popped extra
wide. We jerked underneath the long table, knocking heads and spilling trays. Things got starkly quiet almost instantly — except for the wail of the World War III warning. Until I remembered the prune and began gagging again.
“He’s dying of radiation poisoning!” Kiefer yelled.
“Spit out your prunes,” commanded Mrs. B.
I found an empty spot between all the crouching kids and coughed out prune
puree, then bumped my head trying to escape it. Kiefer laughed louder than my howl of pain. Giggles erupted mysteriously from all the deserted and trashed tables around the room.
“Hush!” hissed Mrs. Birmingham. “These could be your last moments on Earth.”
The room again became an empty quite accompanied by the searing siren. My face got hot from the satiric grins of Kiefer and the other kids. After long moments of claustrophobic humiliation I closed my eyes, put my hands in the prayer position, and used that hand arrow to point to the table bottom and beyond ... to Heaven. Then I pointed to Kiefer hoping he’d understand that this Armageddon might be due to his sins. He must have because his faced changed dramatically from a devilish wide grin to a little round pout.
“This was a test,” our school principle soon said over the loud speaker. “You may now continue lunch.”
We strained from under the table and resumed our chatter and what was left of our meals as if the World War III rehearsal was just a game of hide-and-seek.
***
Anyway, I strove to obey. Thus it was not surprising that the first real girl I
loved, I loved because she was well behaved and scored best on tests. Soon I was worshipping this Jenny. For long intervals I imitated her every movement. She’d hold her pencil just so and concentrate, sticking her tongue out. I’d doing the same.