YOU NO LONGER NEED THIS PAGE

Here’s a short story for you as thanks for visiting my website. I hope you enjoy it.

Personality Test

by djr

Angela woke up late for school not realizing she was going to be late.  Yet.

Ike, her dog, was sitting on her chest.  A small, happy, little, white mop.

Angela smiled sleepily.  “G’morning, Muffin,” she said and stroked the dog’s head.

Ike barfed on her chest and ran off.

She looked down at the lump of fur and partially digested dog food sitting there, still warm on her chest. 

“Oh!   Oh…ew…” She couldn’t throw the shirt out; it was her favorite nightshirt.  She carefully wiped it off, slipped out of it, tossed it on the floor, finally noticed the time, and began to move quickly! 

She grabbed some clothes and raced to the bathroom for a short shower.

As she opened her bedroom door, she looked over to her little brother Drew’s bedroom.  He was just opening his door as well.  Their eyes met.  Like two gunslingers at high noon.   

One bathroom. 

Morning showers. 

Drew smiled and darted for the bathroom door to which he was much closer than Angela. 

“No!” she shouted to the now closed and locked bathroom door.  “I have to be at school earlier than you, you little creep!”  She heard the shower start. 

Drew’s muffled reply slipped out with the noise of the hot water.  “What?  I can’t hear you above the noise!  I’ll talk to you when I get out of the shower!”

There was no time to talk.  She simply had to go.

Despite the barf and the shower and the lateness of the hour, it was not going to ruin her day.  Today was going to be great.

It was the last day of school.

The very last day.  Senior year.  Last day of finals week.  Though, she’d have to spend it smelling faintly of dog barf. 

No shower.  She moped back to her room vowing to herself that her last day of school will not be like the previous 2,324.

Her phone buzzed.  Text from Chrissy.  “Are you ready for Maxwell’s final exam?!”

“Maxwell Maxwell.  Ugh!” she said out loud.  “I refuse to allow his test to prevent me from graduation,” but all she texted to Chrissy was, “yup”.

On the kitchen table was Mom’s “office”.  All her notes and receipts and lists for the graduation party.  Relatives coming in from out of state.  Caterers.  Tent rentals.  All of it. 

On the counter was Angela’s study area—where she did all her homework. 

Empty. 

It had been for months.  She just shook her head and worried anew about the test—no English credit, no graduation.  She noticed the Seeds of Queasy growing in her gut.

The closer she got to school, the more her nausea increased.  Maybe Ike had a little doggie test he was nervous for.

Seniors had a half-day—three classes, three exams.  She was exempt from two.  English was the last class of her day.  The only final.  The final final.  The last dragon to slay. 

Nobody was pulling into the parking lot but her.  She checked her watch—the bell had just rung…or rang—she didn’t know which (it’s rung), but she was thankful the exam would not be on grammar.  Out of habit, she was about to get out of her car and race to class. 

No.

Not today.  She was looking for an excuse to stay out of the building.  Any excuse. 

A song just started, and she decided to listen to all of it and then go in. 

“Freebird”.

Nine minutes and nine seconds.

She saw two juniors race into their parking space and run inside.

One of them saw her and motioned her to come with them, pointing to her watch.

Angela just waved. 

When the song was over, she got out, distractedly walked toward the entrance, but suddenly turned and walked to the back of the building and watched the sun crest over the track.  The sky was brilliant orange and blue.  She’d never looked before. 

She turned and leaned on the fence and looked back at the school in the soft, Golden-Hour light.  “Pretty building,” she thought.  “Too bad I never learned anything in it.” 

She was out of excuses.  She couldn’t wait for high school to end, but now she didn’t want to face it.  “Make up your mind, girl,” she said to herself.

She walked in. 

She stopped in the office, got her pass and slowly made her way to what was left of first hour Health, which was a drag as she had no friends in the class.  No one to distract her.  To ease her mind.  She sat in the back corner.  Quiet as a mouse. 

A B+ mouse.

The minutes crept by and her nerves began to twitch like the sparks from a just-lit sparkler—only a few sparks to start, but it quickly lights up the dark.  She wondered if her sparks would fade, then kick out a last gasp before the test.  Then she recalled when she was eight and threw her sparkler up in the air to watch it like a firework and instead of making a golden display in the night sky, it came down on the roof of the neighbor’s convertible.  She would have reminisced about the trouble she got in for that one, but the bell rang.

Her mind was…she just couldn’t focus.  Too much on her brain. 

            Ceramics was better.  Chrissy was in the class.  Ms. Rae was the best.  Easy A.  Angela’s final exam project was an impressionist clay sculpture of “sorrow”. 

She made a pathway of an elephant’s footprints that suddenly stop half-way down the path.  She titled it “The Last Elephant.” 

Ms. Rae cried.

Chrissy came in and they sat in back.

“How was the science test?” Angela asked.

“Breeze.  Ready for English?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?!  It’s in an hour!  If you don’t pass, you won’t—”

“—I know!  I know…believe me.  I know.”  She pulled her phone out and set it on the table. 

Stared at it.

She looked at Chrissy. 

She took a deep breath and leaned over and pulled her purse onto the table and began to rifle through it.  She glanced at Chrissy again.  Hesitated, then, “I can’t find my license,” and dove back into her purse.

“It’s right here,” Chrissy help up the phone.

“Hand it to me, would you?” and Angela began refilling her purse.

Chrissy held it out.

“No, just the license.”

Chrissy pulled the license from the case and looked the pic.  “Why can’t they have a professional photographer at the DMV?  Wouldn’t cost much.  We’d all appreciate it.”

Angela smiled.  “Notice anything unusual about it?”

Chrissy took a quick look and handed it over.  “Nope.”

“Read it.”

“Huh?”

“Read it.”

Chrissy pulled it back and began to read it.

Her expression quickly changed to horror.  “Oh, my god…”  She read more.  “You wouldn’t dare!”

Angela had created a duplicate of her driver’s license on photo paper.  Even laminated it.  Same picture and all, but the info was pure English final exam answers.  She planned to carry it right out in the open in her phone-case slot, nobody would suspect.  She even printed it to look like her license—right down to the organ donor info, though it made her wonder if she had only guts and no heart to donate.

Angela took the license back.  “No one’s gonna notice.”

“Of course, they will!”  Chrissy tried not to yell.

“You looked right at it.”  Angela smiled as she took it and slid it back into her phone case.  Guilt was still sitting heavy on her shoulders.  Fear kept shoving him off.

“Why didn’t you just do it the old-fashioned way and study?”

“Insurance.”  She pointed to her head, “Completely unreliable.”

“Don’t sit near me.  I don’t want to get caught up in the sting.”

“Thanks, friend.”

Chrissy just shook her head, pulled out her English notes and reviewed.

Angela opened her notebook, but the thought of reading more English notes made the nausea return.  She panicked.  Ike!  She whispered to Chrissy, “Do I smell like barf?”

Chrissy didn’t even look up.  “No, you smell like dishonesty.”

“Maybe they smell the same.”  A sideways glance was all she got as they sat in silence until the bell.

She wasn’t even sure she was going to cheat.  It was just her insurance card.  She could probably pass the test.  Probably wouldn’t be difficult.  She just didn’t have any more energy to give to high school.  But then, she didn’t quite have the courage yet to cheat either.  Perhaps ‘courage’ was the wrong word.  It connotes nobility and honor.  What word then?  Resilience?  Desperation?  Grit?  Too bad it wasn’t a vocab test.  Whatever quality it was, it took a lot of it to cheat for the first time. 

She made a mental list of all those she would disappoint if she got caught.  It was a long list.  And if she didn’t get caught, this was the scarlet letter she’d always recall when she reflected on high school—a diploma with a Shame Endorsement. 

Magna cum guilte. 

But not passing was not an option she could risk.

The bell rang and they began the last of the lasts.  It felt heavy—like a gallows walk.  Dead student walking!

Chrissy actually got behind her and pushed her the last few yards to Maxwell’s door.  But once in, Chrissy bolted, sat in the only open seat right in front.  No empty seats near her.

Angela nodded toward their usual seats near the window.  Chrissy just shook her head.

Angela’s walk grew heavier. 

In this crowded room, she had never felt so isolated.  Hell, she never felt this isolated anywhere.

She sat alone.  In her friendless seat.  Her heart reeking with guilt.  Even if she could donate it now, would anyone want it?

“Put away your notes and your phones.”

Holy.  Shit.

The phone policy!

Chrissy turned and smiled at her, but Angela was deep in an out-of-body experience.

She quickly focused.

Decision time!

She quietly pulled the license out of the phone case and put it on her desk.  All by itself. 

Her picture stared back at her with an expression that said, “Really?  This is the best you got?”

“The dumbest kids in this room know how to cheat better than you!” she thought.  She was about to put away her fake license, her crutch, her crucifix, and let the vampires of ignorance descend and destroy her future.  But she instead pulled out her car keys and put them next to the license.  Camo.

She began to sweat a little.  Was her guilt showing?  Did it activate the dog barf smell?  Help!  I need somebody.

“Who, pray tell?” asked Mr. Maxwell standing right next to her.  Apparently, she didn’t think Beatles, she said them out loud.

She didn’t know he was there and nearly screamed, but instead just shook her head.

He gave her an odd look and pointed at her keys and license.

And before panic could tie her tongue, she said coolly, “I’m out of here as soon as this test is done.”

He nodded, gave her a test.

Mr. Maxwell had moved on, but the adrenaline rush was still buzzing through her.

She finished the test early. 

Worried it would look suspicious, she pretended to check her answers and waited until a few of the smart kids finished, then approached Mr. Maxwell’s desk.  He used a phone-app and graded them on the spot. 

“Ninety-five.  Nice job.  You’ll pass after all.”  He looked her right in the eye and said, “Sorry you can’t take your keys and drive off into the sunset right now.  Gotta wait for the bell.  Oh, your keys…AND your license.”  He winked at her.

He winked. 

He winked!  What did that mean?  Did he suspect?  Did he know?  Mr. Maxwell wasn’t a winker.  Was he?! 

WAS HE?!

She was white as the freshly fallen Snows of Kilimanjaro as she melted back to her seat.  She’d have to wait out the last thirty minutes of Mr. Maxwell’s class while the tell-tale test beat louder and louder on his desk.  At least the stories resonated with her conscience.

But then her conscience finally stood up and made a statement: she threw up right on the floor.  Not a little bit.  It was a splashy affair.

Near the window. 

On the floor next to her friendless seat.

Day 2,325 was the worst of them all.

“Angela?”

Huh?  What?  Angela stopped.  She was all at once feeling an old guilt and a new confusion. 

“Angela?  Angela Rodriguez?”

“Mr. Maxwell?” She looked around.  How did I get here?  She wondered.

“Of all the places I’ve run into former students, standing on Michigan Avenue in Chicago may be the strangest.”

She was indeed on the Magnificent Mile.  “Mr. Maxwell!  I saw your face and I was suddenly drowning in high school memories.”

“Hazard of the job.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Vacation.”  He looked at her.  All grown up.  Professional.  City girl.  “You, however, look like a local.”

She was still a little out of sync.  Being thrust in a time warp back to high school was a shock to her brain.  “Yeah, I’ve been here for about three years.  Moved after college.”

“Where are you working?”

“Anderson’s.  Marketing.”  She pointed high up on the Hancock Building.  “Eighty-seventh floor.”

“I always knew you’d be a big success.”

“Mr. Maxwell, I cheated on your final.”

The memory came back to him.  He smiled.  “The license thing?”  He raised his eyebrows when he said it. 

She was speechless for a moment, then forced out, “You knew?!”

Eyebrows.  Smile.

“Why didn’t you bust me?”

 Difficult to explain.  He thought—really thought.  He wanted to ensure she had the best answer he could give.  “I guess, three reasons.  One, unlike many of your classmates, I knew you’d learn a lesson all by yourself, because it would gnaw at you for the rest of your life—apparently, it did.”

“Did not.”

“You haven’t seen me in years and the first thing you do is confess.”

Busted.  “I felt so guilty.  I threw up all over your floor.” 

“You said it was something you ate.  I secretly hoped it was guilt.”

“I always knew you were a closet meanie.”

He smiled that mischievous smile that grown up troublemakers smile.  “You all think we just sit behind a desk, grade papers, and get our summers off.  Don’t ya?  You’d be amazed at how well your teachers know you.  Your good days.  Your bad days.  Your social life.  Your friends.  Your love life.  Your deep, dark secrets.  Your mistakes.”

She stared at her shoes, but mumbled, “You know all that?”

“Me?  Hell, no.”  A laugh escaped her.  “Some teachers did.  Personally, I couldn’t give a shit about the gossip.”

She wondered which teachers, but then said, “Number two?”

“Two?  For the most part…high school doesn’t mean squat.”

That snapped her out of her befuddlement.  “Wait.  What?!”  Her brain was back.

“The most important part of growing up is becoming a good person.  Learning who you are and how you are going to live your life.  My real job is being a role model—I just happen to teach English.  When I could ditch grammar to really show you the way, I did it every time.  The subject matter?”  Shrug.  “Some of it is really great.”

“Some of it?”

“Who gives a shit if you know the difference between lie and lay?  Do you know the difference?”

Laughs.  She shook her head.

“Can you tell me when you use rang vs. rung?”

Embarrassed, she looked down.  “Maybe.”

“Computers check it for you anyway.  Ok.  Now, let me take you back to the Salinas Valley.”

“Salinas Valley?”

“Of Mice and Men.”

“Oh, Mr. Maxwell, I loved that book.”

He nodded, “Lennie sitting by the river.”  His voice got soft and slow like it did when he read it to them in class.  In the midst of the busiest street in the nation, she was suddenly standing next to a quiet, shady river.  “George approaches him.  Talks softly to him.  Talks of finally having the money to buy the farm and raise rabbits.  Remember that?”

She looked up.  “George and Lennie.  Oh, my god.”  As the feeling she had as a sophomore returned, her eyes got a little misty.  “I cried, Mr. Maxwell.  It was…” she trailed off.

That lesson still beat in her heart.  A lesson he helped teach.  He smiled.  “Computer can’t teach that.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, but she laughed and shoved him gently.  “You enjoy making students cry?”

“No.” He paused.  “I enjoy making you feel.”

She remembered Maxwell teaching that we know characters by three things: what they say, what they do, and what others say about them.  With his words, she suddenly saw Mr. Maxwell more clearly.  As though he was a character in a story she thought she knew; then reading the story again, saw him in a whole new way.  I enjoyed making you feel.

What they say and what they do…

She understood him a little better now. 

She did feel.  She did remember.  She smiled and wiped her cheek.  “What’s number three?”

“It was the last day of school.  Too much riding on it.”

“Too much what?”

“Commencement, grad party, college, parents, siblings…for what?  One test?”

“But I cheated.” 

“Who cares?”

She was still troubled by this.  She cheated.  He knew it.  He let her get away with it.  He gave her a full pardon, but she was rejecting it.  She needed more evidence. 

He said, “Look, when I was in junior high, I got into a fight in the locker room with Jeff Shaw after gym class one day.  Mr. Rajcevski pulled us apart and told us to knock it off.  Then he left.   He could have chewed us out, written us up, shipped us off to the principal’s office.  He didn’t do any of that.  He didn’t even bother to stick around to ensure we didn’t fight again.  I guess he figured we didn’t deserve all that for a stupid adolescent-boy scuffle.  He was right.  Great guy.  One of the best teachers I ever had.”  He let that sink in a minute.  “I’m just a guide helping you climb the mountain.  I can teach you how, but you still gotta climb for yourself.  One stumble shouldn’t send you to the bottom.  So, I grabbed your rope.”

“Did you overlook everyone cheating?”

That mischievous smile returned.  “Some kids need to learn that lesson the hard way.  And some are just assholes.”

Laughs.  “I thought you didn’t play favorites.”

Shrug.

Angela stood there in silence, reevaluating her world perspective. 

“Thought you had everything figured out, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

“That’s why I became a teacher.  I’ll bet you haven’t cheated since, have you?”

No.

“Don’t sweat it--I’ll take your secret to my grave.”  He checked his watch.  “I better go.  The wife will start worrying.”

She gave him a hug and said goodbye.  “I still cheated.  I—”

He stopped her.  “Just keep climbing.  I’m really happy for you.”

“I thought you didn’t give a shit about your students’ personal lives.”

Busted.

He put his finger to his lips.  Shhhhh…

She smiled.  “I’ll take your secret to my grave.” 

He winked, turned, and disappeared in the crowd. 

She was still a little shocked at her dark side being “discovered”, but, somehow, she was also very, very happy.  She didn’t know exactly why.  But it felt like the feeling you get when your dad is angry you were drinking at a party, then shows up at three a.m. to pick you up with only caring, loving words for you.

She’d learned a lot more in high school than she thought.

THE END