A Special Assignment
The birds sang. Through the window, bright lights up from high in the clouds, the quiet room, still dark from the quiet night, was now filled with light. A lush strong tree shaded blocked most of the sunshine. The outside of the window was a room. A girl's room, but there was no cuddly stuffed animals or blankets with unicorns on them, no.
The floor was covered with a brown furry rag that covered the entire floor. A single bed, with a fine wood frame, beautifully burnished and shiny. A simple desk at the right of the bed side. A simple lamp and an alarm clock, with a worn "snooze" button. Set to ring every 6:00 a.m. morning. Hiding the bare walls were shelves filled with books, with worn out covers. In the bed, was a sleeping young woman in her senior year.
Loud knocking and banging shook her door. "Samantha!" A motherly voice yelled, continued to knock persistently. "Wake up! Your alarm is broken! Don't you remember?" She began tossing and turning. She lay still, groaned as her eyes opened wide and alert. She kicked the blanket off. She glanced at her alarm clock. It was 6:16 a.m. as she began biting her bottom lip in anger. So she bitterly raised up and quickly got dressed.
From up stairs, she could already hear the clattering of the dishes. She rushed down the stairs and joined her mother and father for breakfast. The father at in his seat he always sits in. He read the newspaper as he ate his breakfast, wearing a blue dress shirt and tie like always. And mom, at the kitchen sink, doing the dishes as she stared out through the window, smiling happily. Same old family, great old day, Samantha smiled.
Her dish was already set. So she dropped her school bag at the side of her chair and grabbed her fork and started eating. It was a typical breakfast, two eggs, three sausages, a small hill of ash-browns, and two pieces of bacon. And on the side, two buttered French toast. When it was all gone and her plate polished a cold glass of orange juice was set to top left of her plate. It was sweetly refreshing.
As the mother was done, quickly taking off her apron. She sat next to Samantha on the table, happily smiling at her. "The school called today," She smiled, "Principal Pickman wants to talk to you about something." She winked. Samantha pressed her brows together, but still looking happily. She was going through head; I wonder what the news is? It's probably another university that wants me. She smiled.
Taking her napkin, she wiped her mouth. She stood up, grabbing her school bag as well. Which, weighed quite a lot since it was filled with several schoolbooks. "Well, see you two in the evening," she chuckled oddly, "I'll be late coming home, me and Kelly will be studying at her house tonight." She casually made her way to the door, carefully slipping on her shoes. "So don't wait up!" And she was out the door.
Outside, leaning on the front gate was Kelly. In her black denim jacket, black long fine hair, and black eyeshadow. She stood there, staring down at the walkway as she took a heavy puff on her small cigarette. As she exhaled, she looked quite satisfied with it. Samantha humbly and quietly approached her, holding her school bag over her left shoulder.
"I keep telling you," She held her one hand, and waved her finger back and front like a clock. "Those things will kill you before they make you beautiful." Kelly glared at her, displeased. Samantha only smiled. Soon both shared a small laugh. Kelly shook her head to and fro. Not bothering to dignify that with a response and merely started walking to school.
The two good friends walked down the sidewalk. Kelly gazed at Samantha's feet. She was wearing ordinary dress shoes with a boring black. She had white socks stretching up to her small smooth knees. Her bare legs ended at her gray mini-skirt. Tucked under her mini-skirt was a small white dress shirt. Over her white dress shirt and final piece to her boring wardrobe was a nicely fitting light brown, denim jacket.
She gazed deeply at the features of the face of Samantha. Her face was smooth and small. Her sandy brown hair was long. Her eyebrows shared the same color as they ran over her eyes in almost a straight thin line. Her eyes were dark as they were hidden under the bridge of her nose. And her nose was a small nicely proportioned. With her shape, she was utterly perfect.
Kelly smiled. "I don't get you Samantha, I don't," She paused to gaze at her body. "Look at you, your smart, and you have a fabulous body. If I were you, I'd playing all the boys!" She laughed at her small little joke. Samantha laughed a little, as her face became horribly grim.
"I can't Kelly," She sighed, "that's not me." Her gazed dropped.
"I'm Samantha Danson," She started, "I'm very busy person Kelly. You know that. I'm too busy with all my studies and my future. I can't just drop everything to flirt and pretend I like some mindless yet hot football jocks. I can't, I won't drop everything for it." She looked hurt as she finished, Kelly noted. Poor Samantha, she thought sincerely.
It was loud, and every one was pushy. The halls were packed with talking by everyone. Everyone was bunched up chest to chest, back to back. Everyone was looking colorful and styling. All the social groups shared a certain style, like the preps, the jocks, nerds, Goths, the wannabe musicians. There was everyone in the school at the early stages of their life and who they want to be.
The bell rang. Everyone opened their lockers, grabbed their books and headed to their classes, almost like robots. And as always, Samantha was last in getting to her class. So she calmly grabbed her books. As the national anthem came on, she froze. For a few minutes she stood still, since there were hallmonitors everywhere. But when it stopped the first thing the principal announced.
"Samantha Danson, make your way to the main office, immediately," Principal Pickman talking in same old monotone voice. Samantha stared at the speaker-box for a moment. As she dropped her gaze, noticing all the hallmonitors gave her concerned looks. She bit down on her bottom lip as she now felt nervous and afraid what this might mean. So Samantha started down the hallway to the main office.
She thought fast and hard. What's going on? What did I do wrong? I did nothing wrong. But what if I been accused of something? It's happened before. I didn't do anything wrong recently. I know I haven't! But, what if I did? Okay, okay, whatever it may be. I know Principal Pickman knows me, and he'll protect me. Take a deep breathe and relax, you can do this.
She walked in the main office and looked around. There was a long table that stretched to both sides of the room. Behind the desk was many workers, answering phones, printing stuff off, typing out letters on the computers. One was calling someone to the office on the speaker. It was busy and everyone seemed fully emerged in their own duties of computers, records, paperwork, and phone calls.
One lady was taking on the phone, quickly glanced at Samantha and put her phone aside for a moment. "Samantha, Pickman is inside his office," she looked concerned also, "this way." She got up and made her way around the long desk and guided Samantha through the maze of work-desks and into the Principals office. She didn't go in with her, only poked her head inside and announced that Samantha was ready. Ready for what?
The door opened wider and the worker was gone, Samantha stood still outside Pickman's office. "Come in Samantha, come in," He beckoned, "Take a seat and make yourself comfortable, I'll be with you in a minute. I'm just finishing up some letters and documents." He leaned down to write in his papers with his fancy pen. He wrote with such precision and well needed attention.
Samantha glanced around, realizing she only been in here the once before. This is merely the second time she been inside it. The last time was when she was just starting. Pickman straightened her out good. There were a few green exotic plants in the corners. Navy blue painted walls that made the room very dark if not for the little light shining through the curtains. And his desk was in the center.
"Alright, all done," as he made the last mark to finalize it. "So let's get down to business shall we? Samantha, your great student and a great rolemodel to everyone in this school. And it pains me to tell you. There was a virus in our computer archives. It destroyed all our records, plans, and budget for our school." Samantha sat, listening intently.
"So what does this have to do with me?" Samantha asked solemnly.
Principal Pickman sighed. "The virus… it… destroy a few of our student records," he dreaded, "and we salvaged what we could. Your records were destroyed in the process. We restored what we could. I know grad is closing in. But you stand to come back next semester. You'll be short 3 credits, and most marks will never be the same."
Principal Pickman took a deep breath. "You'll have to come back to Jordan Markson High School. I'm sorry." Samantha froze in her chair, gripping the armrests.
Deep in her chest, it sadness swelled up. Her mind was stunned and began trying to deny it, but Principal Pickman was serious about it. She bit her bottom lip; her eyelashes fluttered uncontrollably as her eyes began to water up. She let out whimpering cries here and there as she tried to keep herself composed. She quickly jumped out of her chair and turned to the door.
A firm caring hand was planted on her shoulder. "Don't worry Samantha its going to be alright," his gently caring voice seemed to soothe her pain. "We have a program that will grant you graduation and a great college of your choice. You just pick any of the programs and you'll be fine. Now, go see the school councilor about it." Samantha took a deep breath, and hoped Principal Pickman would be right.
Moments later, Samantha was in another office, a smaller one. It was filled with a computer, desk, seat, binders filled with notes, and plenty documents laying everyone, even on the wall! She sat alone inside there. Abruptly, a skinny man joined her with glasses with a hair doe from the sixties! He looked at some papers, and handed them to Samantha.
The paper was filled with a lot of options. "So those are the programs and I examined your history," he smiled, "I think you'd be a shoe-in for the tutoring program. Since you're a top A student… at heart. You'll do great! You start today, just find yourself a student to tutor. Take this special assignment and you're going to be fine!" Samantha smiled faintly and she got up and left.
Soon after it was lunchtime, Kelly and Samantha sat together in the cafeteria. It was loud. A whole or a few branches of the cults that inhabit Jordan Markson High School occupied every table. There was clattering of forks, spoons, plates, and bowls. It was great wide room, and it was all jammed packed.
Kelly and Samantha bought lunch and their food on their trays. They both got the turkey soup; it was cheap, as were Kelly and Samantha with their money. They sat and ate their food. Both were daydreaming. But Kelly soon realized something was bothering Samantha as she looked more serious than usual.
"What's wrong Samantha?" Kelly asked politely.
Samantha left her dreamland as she heard her name. "Hmmm, oh its just," she sighed, "my records got erased and now I have to do this extra program just to make ends meet." Finishing as she sipped her hot soup. Kelly was oddly intrigued.
"And? And, and!" Kelly questioned more.
"I have to be a stupid tutor," She said bitterly. "Just I don't know who needs any help." She sulked as she ate more of her soup. Kelly thought momentarily and came up with a brilliant idea. She smiled happily, nudging Samantha to hear her out.
"Listen I know who will be perfect!" She said excitedly.
"Who?" Samantha lost in the excitement.
"David Mitchell… "She said with a big grinning face. "The one in our math class."
Samantha looked disgusted by her suggestion. "What? Huh, him! No!" She said angrily. She turned away, thinking hard, thinking of another possible solution. But none came, she knew no one in the school. Realizing her only friend was Kelly. All these people were complete strangers, and she was a no body. It was her only way.
"He's perfect!" Kelly was so excited with her brilliant idea.
"But he almost never shows up for class," Samantha started. "He's mean, obnoxious, a foul-mouth kid. And when he's in class, he always has this tough cool guy persona. He sickens me. I refuse to even be seen with that man!" And she folded her arms as making her stand. Kelly smiled, completely amazed.
"Sounds like someone is in love…" Kelly giggled a little. Samantha looked at her shocked and quickly became red as cherry, blushing wildly. So she hid her face away. "Come on, just give him a chance. If it doesn't work out, I'll find a much easier candidate to work with. I hear he'll be in class tomorrow, so, what'ya say?"
Samantha sat there mad with her folded arms. "Okay, but the first sign, and he's done."
The rest of the day went by fast and completely uneventful. It was now the day of truth. Samantha sat in her desk, apart from Kelly's. They were in their Math class, and their man is running fifteen minutes late. Now, Samantha was growing confident that she wouldn't have to go through with it. But Kelly kept saying, "What he says, he does."
The class was quietly working on their math exercises, working with formulas for triangular prisms and area. It was now thirty minutes into the class as it was nearing its end. And just that second, he arrived. He pushed the door open, walking his heavy big arms swaying to and fro. He wore three pairs of jackets that looked like they came from a charity for the homeless.
One red and white checker button shirt that was left unbuttoned. Under the three jackets, was black shirt with a flaming skull on it. Over the checker shirt was a blue denim jacket. And what covered everything was black leather biker jacket. And also wore simple torn up jeans with leather gloves with the fingertips cut off. How original, Samantha thought, a true stereotype.
She looked deeply in his facial features. His short black messy hair bounced as he took another step. He had straight black thick small eyebrows. His dark eyes seemed to scream dangerous and aggressive. He had a strong jaw and nice smooth cheeks that seemed to oddly arouse Samantha. And his strong nose, that left his eyes, shadowy. He was really something to look at, despite his foul behaviour.
He walked to in his heavy work boots stomped the floor. "Mr. David Mitchell," the teacher spoke so highly of, "Glad of you to join us mister." David stopped to turned and glanced at the teacher from the neck done, smiling. The teacher was shaken by the odd stare.
"Well, I aim to please, Ms. Dutch," he said in sly tone, and on his face a smug look. And he turned to back to take his seat.
Ms. Dutch quickly gained her nerve back and was content in making an example out of this kid. "So, Mr. David Mitchell," She started in an angry tone of voice. "Since you don't find it important to come to class. Maybe you can show us some of your deep seeded knowledge that makes you think, you're above all of us." Again David stopped and turned.
Ms. Dutch held out a piece of chalk to complete a simple question on the board. David happily walked in the front of the class and rudely swiped the chalk out of the teacher's hand. He began writing something on the board and when he was done. The entire class broke out laughing, but Samantha, she didn't think it was funny. Strange, this is been the only time she ever realized David existed.
Ms. Dutch gasp in shock at what she saw. It was written on the board "Ms. Dutch is a rich spoiled loose cunt". The class laughed mockingly at Ms. Dutch for a good minute or two, before she began yelling at the class to stop laughing. She yelled louder then all the laughter and soon the classroom was again silent.
David stared at her unshaken by her evil glares. "That's why you aren't married or with any children, Ms. Dutch, Ms. Bitch," he smiled as he stepped toe-to-toe with the teacher. "You like it hard, deep, and fast, don't you teacher? I know your little secret you whore. Twenty-eight and still screwing around." Samantha watched intently as everyone else did. She hadn't realized how smooth and wonderful his strong voice sounded.
"How dare you speak to me like that you little snot nose brat!" Ms. Dutch snapped back.
"How dare me, what the hell is that suppose to mean?" He asked with such rage in his voice. "What goes on in that brain of yours that makes you think! Your any better than I am, huh!" And abruptly the bell rang loudly, filling everyone in relieve. Now, they don't have to sit this casual drama movie.
Ms. Dutch was muttering a few things to David and ran off. Everyone else was already gone. And David was standing there, unshaken by the young woman's petty threats. Samantha staring at him intently as she made her way near him. He began leaning against the edge of Ms. Dutch's desk, to the windows.
"Hello," she greeted as he turned to see her. "I'm Sa…" She was easily interrupted.
"Samantha Danson," he finished. "I know who you are. What do you want?" She stared at him as he continued to look away, refusing to look at her.
"I was wondering, I… I…" she took a deep breath. "I want to be your tutor." Now he turned to look at her, she was frightened by it. His classic glare. "If—f that's alright with you." He stood straight and went for the door. He stopped, slowly turned back and gave her a long look as he did Ms. Dutch.
"Sorry, not interested," He said politely, surprisingly. "If excuse me, I have an appointment with Principal Dickman. Seeya around, Ms. Danson." And he walked out of the classroom. And Samantha just stood there, staring at the door as it swung back and front. She desperately tried to make sense of the situation. She felt a strange feeling she never felt before. And she started to hear the birds sing.