Teacher's Aide

White County Writer's Conference 1st Place Winner  Stranger Adventures Award

     Beverly Penobscott blew her nose loudly, glancing apologetically at the other patients in the waiting room. She wheezed a sigh of relief when the nurse called her name. Nurse Karen took her vitals while questioning her about symptoms. “It’s my seasonal allergies again. It’s worse this year. I’ve had terrible headaches.”

     “You probably have a sinus infection too. You should have come in earlier.”

     “I teach sixth grade at Driscoll Middle School. I can’t take off in the middle of the week. I’m just glad you are here on Saturday.” She sneezed and blew her nose again. Beverly gazed out the window at the grounds crew mowing and raking as she waited another twenty minutes for the doctor.

     Dr. Kline confirmed the nurse’s diagnosis. “Karen was right. You have a nasty sinus infection. I’m going to give you an allergy shot and then I have something for you to take so we can get started clearing that up right away.”

     Karen reappeared with a cup of pills on a tray. “These will get you started. There’s an antibiotic, a vitamin C, and a B-12. I’ll be right back with your prescriptions.” There was a loud pop. Something crashed through the window of the exam room. “Holy crap! Sorry. We’ve had mowers throw rocks before but, I’ve never had one actually come through the glass.”

     Beverly shrugged, too stuffy and miserable to care. She scooped up the four pills that had spilled on the tray and tossed them back with the cup of water Karen provided. “One of those was kind of big.”

     “That was probably the vitamin C. You swallowed them all at once?” Karen looked surprised.

     “Yeah.” Beverly shrugged. “I can take several at a time.” She finished the water and hopped off the exam table.

     Waiting in line at the drive-through pharmacy, Beverly felt dizzy. Her phone chimed. Her best friend’s smiling face greeted her. “Hey Silvia.” She put the device on speaker, placing it in the holder on the dash, keeping her hands free to dig for more tissues.

     “You sound awful.” Sylvia stated the obvious. “I was calling to see if you wanted to come to dinner tonight but …”

     “Yeah. Thanks, Syl but I’m gonna take my drugs and sleep all weekend. I got an allergy shot and prescriptions. Allergies. Sinus infection. Nurse Karen said I’m run down, like all the teachers they see this time of year. I’m at the pharmacy right now.” Beverly sneezed several times.

     “Feel better, sweetie. Call if you need anything.”

     “Okay. Gotta go. The line is finally moving.” She moved to the window.

     Beverly dropped her purse. She kicked her shoes in the general direction of the bedroom. Plopping on the sofa, she ripped the affixed pages from the pharmacy bag. “I don’t even care what the side effects are, as long as it works.” She glanced at the bottles. “Antibiotic, one every six hours. Take with food. Vitamin C, take two twice a day. B 12, one each morning. Huh. I thought there were four.” Beverly swallowed the pills, chasing them with a bottle of water. She dropped her pants and bra on the floor. Curling into a ball on the sofa, she pulled the quilt over her head.

     Beverly awoke with a start. “What?” She sat up. “Oh no!” She stood on wobbly legs headed for the bathroom, making it just in time to puke in the toilet bowl. “Wow. They really mean it when they say to take those things with food.” She rinsed her mouth.

     Disgusting. Humans are filthy with virus and bacteria. At least I can fix this. I hope this one has enough intelligence to understand. Is this translator on? Hello? Human?

     “Great. I left the television on.” Beverly wiped her face. “I don’t remember turning it on.” She plodded to the living room to find the television off. A cold chill ran down her spine. She tip-toed to the kitchen, peeked into the bedroom, and finally stuck her head out the front door in search of the voice she’d heard. “I must be losing my mind.”

     Do not be alarmed. You are not hearing voices. I am plugged in (for want of a better term) to your cerebral cortex.

     “What the …?” Beverly spun around looking for the source of the voice. She shook her head. “What kind of drugs did they give me?” She scrambled for the living room to find the discarded pages of particulars for the pills she’d swallowed. A few steps into the room, Beverly’s legs gave out. She tumbled to the sofa, paralyzed.

     Sorry. That was me, plugging into your cerebellum. I did not mean for that to happen. Just relax while I contact all areas. The disembodied voice spoke to her.

     Beverly opened her mouth to scream. No sound escaped her lips. She gasped, unable to catch her breath. Her body twitched and her vision blurred. She descended into full-scale panic as her numbed body lurched to a sitting position, on its’ own.

     Just one moment. This has not been done before but I think it might work. And hello.

     Beverly found herself sitting on her sofa in a brightly lit room of white. There were holographic screens of flashing symbols to the left and right and a strange creature at the controls. She took a deep breath and screamed long and loud with all the hysteria she felt. The creature before her quivered. It touched some symbols and her voice was silenced. She experienced the sensation of screaming, but there was no sound.

     That was unexpected and oddly disconcerting for me. The voice seemed to come from the creature though Beverly didn’t see a mouth.   

     “For you?” Beverly’s voice returned. “You muted me like a television!” She glanced at her surroundings. “And where are we? How did I get here? How did my couch get here?”

     Your body is not here. This is a mental construct. You are safe on your couch. I am plugged into your brain. This is a representation of my environment.

     “You’re plugged into my brain! How? I feel like I’m losing my mind. I feel…I feel.” She took a deep breath. “I feel good. I can breathe. My headache is gone too.” She breathed deeply thorough her nose. “Or is this in my head? I’m confused. Either I’m so sick that I’m delirious or ... yeah, I must be having a fever dream.”

     You are not dreaming. Well, you are, in so much as this conversation is happening in your consciousness and not in the physical plane, but you are not hallucinating.

     Beverly looked at the creature in front of her. It was pale blue; a large round mass with hundreds of tentacle-like fingers protruding in every direction. It moved in a rolling motion using the tentacles alternately as hands, feet, and fingers. “I don’t think I could dream this up. If I’m not having a drug induced nightmare, then what?” She flopped back on the familiar piece of furniture.

     I have studied your civilization for hundreds of your years. I find humans and human interactions fascinating. When compressed, my observation pod is quite small. The lawn mower device propelled me through the glass portion of the building. My pod crashed on the tray in front of you and you ingested me along with your primitive medications. The compression makes repairs more difficult. I could resume my normal size but you would explode. Once the regulator is fixed I can exit safely. Dozens of tentacles danced across the holographic keyboard. You should begin to feel drowsy.

     Beverly yawned. “Great. I’ve got Marvin the Martian in my head. I think I’ll just sleep off this…whatever this is.” She fell back on the cushions, pulling the quilt over her.

     I am not from Mars. I am not an animated character, but I do understand the pop culture reference. You nap while I make repairs. When you awake, I will be gone. Probably.

     “Uh huh. Carpe diem, Marvin.” Beverly mumbled from under the quilt.

     “Bev? Are you okay?” Silvia tapped Beverly’s shoulder.

     “What?” Beverly stretched in her chair. “Did I fall asleep at my desk? Silvia? How did I get here? That was a weird dream.”

     “Wow.” Silvia pulled up a chair. “I know the last days of school are a lot but you’ve been all over the place this week, with the new hair and fashion choices. I’d say your new allergy meds need to be changed if they didn’t work so well.”

     “New hair?” Beverly glanced to the window for a peek at her reflection. Her brunette pony tail had been replaced with messy waves of hot pink held back with an enormous black bow. She snatched the offending hair decoration from her head.

     Silvia touched her hand. “Are you okay? I’m really worried about you. The final assembly has already started. Come on. We’re late.”

     “Final assembly?” Beverly stood, wobbling on her high heels. “Silvia! Wait. Why am I wearing heels?”

     “I’ve asked you that every day for a week.”

     “And?” Beverly stared with wide-eyed expectancy.

     Silvia shot her a side-eye. “And every time you said the same thing.”

     “Humor me. What was my answer?”

     Silvia put her hand on her hip and stuck her nose in the air, apparently mocking Beverly’s demeanor. “While impractical and ultimately damaging to this body, the lift and height of these shoes presents this area (she slid her hand over her derriere) at a most pleasing angle.”

     “That does not sound like me.”  Beverly leaned hard on her desk. She took a deep breath through her nose. “Allergies gone. Could Marvin be real?”

     “Who’s Marvin? Forget that. We have to get going. The assembly started a few minutes ago.”

      “The final assembly isn’t until the last day of school, next Friday.” Beverly’s eyes grew wide. “Year-end progress reports. Final grades. What did I…?” She took a deep breath and did her best to swallow the panic squeezing her chest.

     Silvia chuckled. “Now you’re teasing. You finished your year-end paperwork a day early. And I have to admit that your efficiency suggestions helped me get done in record time.”

     “Today is the last day of school? I missed the whole week!”

     “I feel that way every year. The last week is so hectic. We just have to get through one more assembly.” Silvia pulled Beverly after her. “Now come on.”         

     “Sil, you said I’ve been all over the place this week. What did you mean?” Beverly teetered after Silvia on four inch heels.

     “I’ve been preoccupied with year-end stuff, too. When I mentioned how frumpy we all looked in our tired teacher garb, you did this.” She gestured to Beverly’s outfit. “I’m pretty sure Mrs. Watkins is wearing her pajamas today, and I haven’t shaved my legs in two weeks. But you show up in a pencil skirt and hot pink platform heels. And, I have no idea where you got the courage for that dye job, but your students love it.”

     Approaching the gym, they could hear the roar of the assembled students, applauding recipients of the academic awards. A young girl with tragically rainbow colored hair hooked her arm with Beverly. “Thanks again for what you said in class. When you reminded everyone how lucky we are to have choices, and fashion is a form of self-expression, I felt like you were talking for me. Thanks Ms. P.” Beverly smiled at the girl with no recollection of the comment.

     Beverly stood to the side of the stage with Silvia as the principal took the podium. “Now for our Teacher of the Year Award. We have such a great staff here at Driscoll. All of our teachers are exceptional, but in the last week one went above and beyond. This person is not only a first class educator, but also found time during the most chaotic week of the year to assist other teachers with their year-end reports and write a compelling grant proposal for the new science department. She also helped the robotics club complete their project.”

     Silvia elbowed Beverly. “What do you know about robotics?”

     “Who, me? Nothing.” Beverly whispered. “Why?”

     “Because he’s talking about you.” Silvia had to raise her voice as the assembly broke into applause.

     “What?” Beverly was jostled by a crowd of students urging her toward the podium.

     “Beverly Penobscott!” The principal called her name loudly.

     Beverly straightened her blazer and stumbled to the podium. She looked out over the hundreds of smiling faces, shouting in unison. “Ms. P.! Ms. P.! Ms. P.!”

     The principal pushed her towards the microphone as he said, “Ms. Penobscott has prepared a few words.”

     The crowd chanted, “Ms. P! Ms. P.!”

     Beverly’s mouth went dry. She fidgeted with the microphone and nervously stuck her hands in her blazer pockets. From her left pocket she pulled a folded paper. She scanned the document which appeared to be in her own handwriting while the crowd was shushed. There was a long, awkward pause before she leaned toward the mic. “Sorry. I had to look over my notes. I’m surprised. Well, not surprised because I’ve prepared notes. Obviously I knew this was coming. It’s been a busy week. I think I’ll just read it.”

     She smoothed the paper on the podium and read the words she did not write. “Thank you for this great honor. I can think of no undertaking nobler than educating and training the youth. Humanity has come so far in the last one hundred years. These are the minds that will shape the next one hundred years. In the short time I have been here, I have found the middle school to be a microcosm for this part of the Earth. I have seen humans at their best and worst. I have witnessed violence, prejudice, and hate. All too often fear and anger walk hand in hand. But I have also seen kindness and sacrifice. The bonds of friendship are strong. There is more joy here than avarice, more hope than despair. The potential is limitless.”

     The student body burst into applause, hooting and shouting. After a moment, they quieted. She continued. “Recently, a friend said to me, carpe diem. That is Latin for ‘seize the day’. It is a beautiful and powerful sentiment. It means take chances. Push your minds to the limit and beyond. Do not be confined by old ideas. Create. When society learns to celebrate the differences and revel in the multitude of choices afforded them, humanity will take a monumental leap forward. These bright, beautiful, creative minds are poised to usher in the next age of humankind.”

     The gymnasium erupted with cheers and applause. Beverly smiled. Caught up in the revelry, she took a bow. Bending low, she spied a small tattoo just above her left ankle. “That’s new.” Marvin the Martian blinked from under his Roman helmet. Block letters below his sneakered feet read CARPE DIUM.          

    

Midnight in the Garden of Yellow Fever

White County Writer's Conference 2nd Place Winner  Gimme the Creeps Contest

     “Okay, we’ve had the best crawfish and jambalaya in New Orleans. What now, Jed?” Kith walked arm in arm with her cousin. His friends Deacon and Marjorie accompanied them down Basin Street.

     Marjorie rolled her eyes. “Since you’re the tourist, what would you like to do? It’s almost midnight. We could make our way over to the House of Blues.”

     Deacon narrowed his eyes. “She can go clubbin’ any time. St. Louis Cemetery number 1 is not too far from here. If you like tourist-y stuff, it’s the oldest graveyard in New Orleans. It dates back to the 1700’s.”

     Kith squealed. “Oh, let’s do that! Can we Jed?”

     “Sure. It’s fine. Hey, Deacon. How is it that you know so much about the old cemetery?”

     “I spent a summer doing tours. You’ve seen those open buses that look like street cars. The guy up front pointing out stuff; that was me. I had to memorize a bunch of historical facts and such. It’s really interesting. New Orleans is an old city with a lot of history.”

     Despite the late hour, the Quarter was bustling with revelers. The foursome strolled leisurely down the sidewalk. Deacon continued with his history lesson. “St. Louis #1 is just outside the Quarter. It filled up in the early 1800’s because of a yellow fever outbreak. That was some nasty stuff. Fever, jaundice, black vomit, and then you die. Probably. A lot of people did. Anyway, you know it’s closed to tours now. We’ll be on our own.”

     “All the better.” Kith laughed. “You can be our guide.”

     “I didn’t do cemetery tours but I do know we need to be careful. This place is old and some of it is crumbling. Watch your step and do not get separated.”

     “Why didn’t you do cemetery tours?”

     “Well, Kith, they make you wear period costumes for the walking tours and honestly, that shit’s hot. You try wearing a three piece wool suit in the Louisiana summer. To be historically accurate, someone of my particular complexion would be a slave or laborer. No thanks”

     “What about the ladies?” Marjorie hooked her arm with Deacon’s. “The girls have to wear those long dresses and petticoats.”

      “I’ve seen people dressed like that.” Kith skipped ahead. She pulled to a halt at the front gate, pointing to the weathered sign on the wall. “Visitors are welcome but enter these premises at their own risk.” Kith rolled her eyes. “That’s not ominous at all. I think it’s closed.”

     “I coulda done told you dat.” Jed’s accent dripped with Cajun sass. “There’s another gate around yonder.”

     Kith sprang in the direction he indicated. “I’ve got it.” She took off at a pace.

     “It’s probably locked too. We gonna have to hop the wall.” Deacon called after her.

     “Come on then.” Kith rounded the corner. The side street was dimly lit. “This way.” Kith ran toward a low point in the wall where construction outside the cemetery had built up the pavement. She pulled herself up and over the six foot wall expecting a six foot drop on the other side. “Shit!” Kith uttered one word as she dropped eight feet before crashing through the roof of a dilapidated mausoleum.

     Jed rounded the corner, peering into the gloom. “You hear dat?” He called to Deacon and Marjorie. “Come on, now. She done found a place to hop dat wall.” He paused a moment for Marjorie and Deacon to catch up. “Dat girl is fast. Y’all hurry up.” He sprinted ahead. “Kith! Where you at?”

     Kith rose gingerly from the pile of rubble, shaking dust and gravel from her hair and clothes. “Oh crap. I don’t even want to know what this is.” She picked her way out of the mausoleum. Don’t want to do any more damage than I already have. Kith emerged in the aisle, illuminated only by the ambient light as there were no street lamps nearby. She dusted herself thoroughly. “Jed? Marjorie?” She called timidly.

     Down the lane she saw a figure walking toward her. “Who’s causin’ such a ruckus?” The woman chastised Kith. “You should not be here. It’s not safe.”

     Kith launched into an apology. “I know. I’m so sorry.” She noted the woman’s long dress and apron. ”I didn’t mean to interrupt your tour.”  

     The woman squinted at her as she approached. “My tour?”

     Kith stretched her aching back. “I’m really sorry. I think I hit harder than I thought.” She took a painful step and almost lost her balance. The woman stepped back.

     “Back pain? Headache?” She looked concerned.

     “Well sure. It’s like ten feet and then right through the roof. So, yeah, my head hurts too. Do you think I have a concussion?” Kith took a deep breath. A wave of fatigue washed over her. “I really don’t feel well.”

     The woman stepped closer. “Follow me.” She turned down the lane, disappearing in the darkness.

     “Can you hold up? I need to call my cousin.” Kith fished in her pockets for her phone. “Of course. It’s dead.” She made a face at the blank screen and shoved it back into her pocket.

     The woman returned. “Please. This way. Come with me.” She beckoned Kith to follow her.

     “Okay. Just show me the way out of here.” Kith trailed after the lady in period costume. As the two wove around the statues of Saints and angels Kith felt light-headed. She stumbled and lost sight of the woman.  She paused beneath a stone chair perched high on the façade of a large mausoleum. “I wish that chair was down here. “Hello? Lady?” Kith called after the guide. “I’m just so tired.” She leaned on a grave. “No disrespect, but I need to rest here for a moment.”  She closed her eyes for an instant.

      A chill breeze gave Kith a start. She opened her eyes to see a procession of somber faces file past. I must have drifted off. What’s going on? There were men, women and children of different ages. They each wore or carried fragrant blossoms in bouquets or wreaths around their heads. No one spoke or seemed to notice Kith. She observed as a young woman plodded past with a baby in her arms. Suddenly, a quiver ran up Kith’s spine. The silence of the ashen faced parade was unnatural. There were no coughs or whispers. Even the infant remained mute. The gravel in the lane did not crunch as they trudged past.

     At the end of the procession the lady from earlier brought up the rear carrying an old fashioned oil lantern. She wore a wreath of gardenias around her tightly braided hair. She stopped in front of Kith. Kith’s stomach lurched with nausea from the sickly sweet scent of the flowers. Uh oh. My crawfish may be coming back up.

     “You should go.” The woman’s voice was faint.

     Kith leaned in to catch what she said. She turned toward the receding crowd. “Should I follow you guys?”

     “No.” The woman whispered. “You aren’t supposed to be here. You should go before the fever takes you too.” She pointed down the lane to Kith’s left. Without another word she turned to follow the silent procession, already swallowed by the darkness.

     “Before what takes me?” Kith called after the woman, but she was gone. She turned down the lane in the direction the woman had indicated. She stumbled more than once in the darkness with only the monuments and graves to guide her way. Her stomach cramped and her head ached. I may really have a concussion. Kith doubled over and vomited in a pile of rubble. Jambalaya is not the same coming up. She heaved again, empting her belly in a splat of greasy dark ooze on the bricks. She spat and wiped sweat from her forehead. Up ahead she saw twinkling lights coming toward her. They got brighter and Kith swooned, almost tumbling into a pile of debris.

     Jed’s strong arms caught her. “Hey Cuz. Are you okay?” He steadied her, holding his phone up to shine the flashlight on her face. “You are sweatin’, girl. In this light, your eyes look yellow. Come on.” He put his arm around her waist to help her down the lane. “Deacon is right up here.” He spoke soothingly. “I found her.” Jed called to Deacon.

     Kith’s body ached and her empty stomach continued to churn. Deacon and Jed hoisted her up to the top of the wall. Marjorie helped her down the other side. Kith sat down hard on the sidewalk. The boys easily hopped the six foot section.

     Once outside the wall, Kith instantly began to feel better. Her stomach settled. Her headache began to fade. She pulled back her damp red curls, feeling the kiss of the breeze on her sweaty neck. She sighed deeply. “I think I’ve had enough adventure for one night. I’m ready to go home.”