Page 68 of The Boy Who Loved Wicked
Safrin turned in his seat, his onyx eyes pinning me and his perfect teeth flashing as he smirked up at me. “Well do tell us, oh-brilliant-one, what would make the community happy?” Pens dropped against notebooks in exasperation, and eyes rolled down the aisles.
Safrin and I were known for our competitiveness in Sebastian’s course, and Sebastian often allowed us to duke it out before intervening. He believed in giving the herd a voice. It was his approach to teaching. “Aristotle believed that happiness consisted of living a blessed life, a life that right-thinking people would admire and want to live themselves. It’s a belief steeped in living by example, and learning by it too.”
He shrugged and made a face that translated tomeh. “You still haven’t told me how that principle is to be applied. What example would you set for the community?”
“I’d live a life where happiness wasn’t an end that the means justified. People pursue wealth not because they want wealth, but because they want what they think wealth can buy. And ultimately that is—”
“Happiness,” someone shouted from the top.
“Right,” another student chimed in, “but happiness can’t be viewed as an end result of the means that got us there.”
I nodded. “So in essence nothing can make you happy. Nothing external at least. Not money, not fame—”
“Then that takes us back to the beginning,” Safrin interjected. “How do we get to a state of happiness if nothing of tangible substance can get us there?”
“By living a blessed life?” asked Martha.
Sebastian’s voice traveled through the vast room. “And how do we live a blessed life?”
Everyone turned to the person closest to them, hoping someone had the answer.
“Tonight’s assignment is to write a three-thousand-word essay on how to live a blessed life and why that is the ultimate path to true sustaining fulfillment. To happiness. Chapter twenty-nine in your textbooks should help. That’s all for today.”
“What if we don’t agree with Aristotle’s claim?” Safrin asked.
“Well,” Sebastian said, “as always, state your argument, Mr. Jamal.”
I packed up and moved through the emptying row, making my way to the stage and Sebastian’s podium. I waited out the short line of students asking for more direction on the assignment.
“Mr. Michaelson. How can I help you?” He glanced at the retreating backs.
I waited for the door to close, locking us into the cavernous space. “I wanted to talk to you about my essay grade on Plato’s ideas of political justice.”
“You got an A.” His brows tucked down.
“I got a ninety-five.”
He found humor in that. “Phoenix, a ninety-five is hardly something to frown at. You received one of the highest grades in the class.”
“I guess I don’t understand why I hadn’t received a perfect score.”
“Did you read my notes?”
I’d lost technical points. Small grammatical errors that added up. I knew that, so why was I here holding him up again?
“What’s really going on, Phoenix?”
I hadn’t been that young boy afraid to bare himself for some time now. But straddling the line of instinctively being who I was, while also treating Sebastian like he hadn’t had a hand on all my outside, and inside parts too, was hard. “I miss how it was having you as a teacher before.”
“You mean when the class was the size of a storage bin as opposed to a miniature stadium?” He gave a knowing grin. “When you had most of my undivided attention because the two of us were the only ones in the room with all the answers.”
“Yeah.” And although I wasn’t embarrassed to admit that, I did feel childish all of a sudden. We kept our distance. We made sure no one could accuse us of ever being more than what we were. Student-teacher. But it was tough enough not having a piece of him outside of these walls, I at least thought we’d have the same camaraderie as before while within them. Instead, I was simply another name on the roster vying for his attention with the other scholars in the room. Students who were equally as smart. Which, by the way, made me feel not so smart after all. “It sounds crazy to admit this out loud, but I thought I’d be the smartest person at Denwin University. At least in this area of my studies. That’s what you liked most about me. My brain. Now there’s one hundred great minds in here, and I no longer stand out to you.” I sounded like a sibling complaining that mom loved big brother more. And only last year would that thought have made me feel insignificant. Immature. Insecure. I owned my feelings now. They no longer held influence over making me feel weak for even having them. Moments of doubt didn’t equate to a lack of strength. There was power in acknowledging my humanity. “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“No, don’t. Don’t ever be sorry for telling me how you feel.” He looked around, double-checking that we were alone. “This isn’t a competition. Just because you’re not the only smart one in the room doesn’t mean you’re not smart. It’s your first semester. Don’t be so hard on yourself. And no one’s brain can compare to yours. Not ever.”
We remained there in the quiet having a moment.
“Yo, Phoenix, what’s taking you so long? I’ve been waiting in the hall for you,” Safrin said, sticking his head into the room. I flinched like we’d been caught in a compromising position, and Sebastian directed a stern look at Safrin for his rude interruption.
