Page 13 of Dahlias, Sapphires, and Cool Autumn Dusk
I took a deep breath.What is going to happen now?
4
“Fine. Mr. Lent, what is the capital of Mozambique?” She lifted her eyebrows in challenge.
Phoenix rocked back on his feet. “I’m betting you don’t know the answer unless you memorized it for this kind of thing. It is Maputo, pronounced from the Portuguese.”
I blew out a breath, impressed despite myself. He made it through science and geography, but how much further would she push him? I essentially caused the whole mess. On his own, he would have probably put her off with just a nod, not caring if she thought he was stupid, but I just couldn’t let it linger.He is too. . .important.
She placed her palms on her desk and gazed at him. “Give me a metaphor from something you’ve read. Make it something important.”
He rubbed his eyes. “I’d love to know how you define important but okay, fine, we’ll useRomeo and Juliet.By calling Romeo the sun, Shakespeare emphasized how important Romeo is to Juliet. It’s a met-a-phor.”
He spoke the last bit slowly.
She stalked closer to him. “So, perhaps you don’t belong in this class? Maybe you are just lazy. Maybe you think you don’t have to pass classes. Maybe you’re just a bad person, or perhaps you think we’re all supposed to feel sorry for you because you were kidnapped as a child. Do you think we should feel bad for you, Mr. Lent?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. Only I stared at him, since everyone else diverted their eyes.
I took a step in front of him as if I could physically bar her from doing more damage. “That is the worst thing I’ve ever heard anyone say, and I’ve heard some really awful things,” I said to her.
She ignored me. Phoenix very slowly smiled at her. “Sure. I think you should feel sorry for me. I’m a total fuck up because I was kidnapped. I’m just a problem, and I need your tender guidance. How else will I ever make it in the world?”
He sunk into his chair but not before he added, “If you ask me all those questions again, I’ll get them all wrong. Every last one of them. I’m staying in this class. Sorry. You’ll have me all year.”
She breathed hard but rounded on me. “You. The new girl, Alatheia Winder.”
I met Phoenix’s gaze across her shoulder, but I braced myself. It would be bad, but it was my own fault and I would do it again, given the chance.
I could feel Phoenix’s gaze on me. The whole class stared, actually, but only his mattered to me. “That is me.”
“Do you know what your name means?”
Did she? “Truth.”
“Yes. And truthfully, I don’t think you belong in this school. I don’t know how you got in at all, honestly. You failed every class last year.”
She wasn’t wrong, but in my defense, it was hard to care about grades when my aunt’s boyfriend tried to rape me and then I got the shit beat out of me because he wanted me. I wasn’t telling her that, though, so she could just judge.
I didn’t comment. She didn’t actually ask me a question. Meaning I didn’t owe her a reply. I was there, so the how and why were really none of her business. Her petty, mean nature shined through as she glared at me.
“I bet you would say it’s because you’re dyslexic.” She said the last word like it tasted bad.
That wasn’t why I failed, but honestly it would be sufficient explanation if I wanted to use it as an excuse. Then again, she might know already why I actually failed. Everyone else seemed to, as I had predicted. She might even bring it up, so I steeled my spine for the hit.
“I don’t believe in dyslexia,” she said then shook her head. “It’s a made-up excuse.”
Phoenix leaned forward, crowding into her space. “I don’t think it’s the kind of thing you get to decide whether or not it is real. It exists. Your opinion on the subject is not interesting to any of us, since it is fact.”
She ignored him, keeping her eyes trained on me. After a few moments, she strode to her desk and came back with a book. Never breaking eye contact, she handed it to me. “Read it. Aloud for the whole class.”
I might as well be naked, I realized, and blew out a shaky breath. It would be less humiliating than me trying to read aloud. I didn’t bother to reach for the pearls, since I could be brave for Phoenix but not for myself.
It wasThe Bell Jarby Sylvia Plath, and I loved the book. For a second, I smoothed my fingers over the familiar cover.
“Read it. Aloud,” she repeated sharply. Somewhere in her file, she probably already read that it would be a huge problem for me.
I cleared my throat. “Okay, the thing is, I can read really well silently. I love to read. I’ve read this book, actually, but aloud is a different thing entirely for me. I think that you know that, and you’re trying to make me feel bad.”
