In this episode of "The Scroll," Leslie's sense of reality is thrown out the window.
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The next morning found Leslie and Gray walking through the hallways of the high school. Gray held his new schedule in his hand. He stared at it blankly. “What does it mean?” he asked.
“You’ll be in all my classes,” said Leslie, “at least for now. Don’t worry. They’re all easy classes. Except science—I’m taking AP Chemistry. Sorry.” Leslie paused, but Gray didn’t say anything. She continued, “The school counselors want you to take some tests, see how smart you are, since they can’t find any records on you. I guess your reading comprehension will be low, since you can’t…read.”
Gray looked at her sharply. “I can read,” he snapped. “Just not this.” He slapped the paper in his hand.
“Sorry,” said Leslie. She threaded her earbud cords through the inside of her jacket and stuck them in her ears, letting her hair conceal them. Her music washed over her, soothing her.
Leslie watched Gray carefully in her English class. He sat up straight, listening attentively to the teacher. Every once in a while, he wrote in his notebook. Curious, Leslie peered over. Whatever he was writing, it wasn’t English. Lines of gibberish filled the page, all symbols no teacher would recognize. Leslie thought Gray was just trying to look busy, but when the teacher called on him he answered correctly.
The same thing happened in World History. Gray wrote furiously in his notebook, filling it with lines of scribbles. When Mr. Olson came over and asked what he was doing, Gray showed it to him.
“And what is this, Gray?” asked Mr. Olson.
“It’s my thoughts on what you’ve been teaching, sir,” he replied.
“And can you read it for us, please?” said Mr. Olson. “Because it doesn’t look like any language I recognize.”
Leslie shrunk lower in her seat. Mr. Olson was a teacher who never let things slide. You were likely to get punished if you were doing so much as doodling in the margins. And here Gray had pages of scribbles and doodles.
Gray sat up straighter. He took his notebook in both hands, cleared his throat, and began. “This is the first time I have learned about Hitler—” giggles and guffaws filled the room. Mr. Olson silenced them with a glare. Gray cleared his throat and continued. “—but I must remember him. It is men like him who would tear the world to shreds. Hitler was a great leader—no one can deny that. He united a war-torn country and brought it out of poverty. But he did so at the cost of human lives.
“How could someone do this—place one group high while demeaning another? How did he convince a blue-eyed blond-haired race that they were pure and everyone else was foul when he himself did not meet the physical criteria? How could he spawn such hatred in their hearts? And why did he?”
Gray hesitantly put down the paper. “That—that’s all I have.”
Mr. Olson gazed at Gray with something akin to admiration. “It says all that?”
Gray nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Why didn’t you just write it in English?”
“It is English, sir,” said Gray, looking at his paper. “At least, the English I’ve been taught.”
Mr. Olson placed an open book on Gray’s desk. “And what is this?”
Gray looked at the book. “Nonsense. I don’t recognize the symbols.”
Mr. Olson had nothing to say to that, so he went back to teaching.
Math looked like it was going to be Gray’s biggest hurtle. He stared, uncomprehending, at the equations the teacher wrote on the board. After the lesson, while everyone was doing homework, the teacher sat next to Gray’s desk. Leslie turned off her iPod and listened in.
“And what’s this?” asked the teacher, writing on a piece of paper.
“I don’t know,” mumbled Gray. “Can you read it to me?”
“Twenty-seven times four.”
“And what does it mean?” asked Gray. Leslie glanced over. Gray’s face was flushed. He gripped the pencil in his hand.
The teacher calmly said, “Twenty-seven groups of four.”
“Oh, so ‘times’ really means ‘times of.’ So this is ‘twenty-seven times of four.’ Do you mean multiplied? Four multiplied twenty-seven times?”
The teacher smiled. “Yes,” she said.
Gray laughed. “That’s easy.” He scribbled some symbols on his paper. “This is four where I’m from, and this is twenty-seven. This is the symbol we use when we multiply them together. And…” Gray tapped his pencil on his paper. “The product is one-hundred eight.”
The math teacher was entranced. “How many digits are in your number system?”
“Ten, including zero. And yours?”
“Ten, including zero.”
Leslie turned her iPod back on and tried to concentrate on her homework. Gray was smart. Even though he couldn’t read, he was smart. Except he could read, and do math, and all the stuff that was hard for Leslie—he just couldn’t do it in English. Or if it was English, it wasn’t with the same alphabet and numerals.
Gray was just as impressive in Leslie’s co-ed P.E. class. They were playing basketball. He’d never played before, but after a little practice he could dribble decently. He couldn’t shoot baskets, but he was quick. He stole the ball from the other team easily, and he passed the ball to his teammates without fail.
“Woah,” said Anne, a girl who sometimes pretended to be Leslie’s friend. “Who’s the new guy you came in with? He’s cute.” Anne popped her bubble gum loudly between her teeth.
Leslie shifted uncomfortably. “He’s Gray. He’s kind of my new foster brother.”
“Brother, huh? Means he’s open for me.” Anne skipped off to stand next to Gray. He smiled politely, but otherwise ignored her.
The last class of the day was AP Chemistry. This was the one class Leslie never hid behind her music for. She loved anything related to science. The teacher, Mr. Jones, was teaching about atomic structure. “Now, when the atom gains energy, the electrons get excited and jump to a higher orbit, further away from the nucleus. When the atom loses energy, the electrons fall, releasing that energy as heat or light. Now, this happens to electrons in the highest energy shell for that atom, not for the ones below it. Does anyone know why?”
Leslie raised her hand. “Because while the electrons are attracted to the nucleus, they are repelled by the other electrons. If an electron in a lower shell tried to jump to a higher energy state, it would come too near another electron. Hey—could the lower electron still jump to a higher state, but force the electron above it to a higher state as well?”
Mr. Jones rubbed his chin. “Hmm…I can’t recall. I don’t believe so, because the lower electron would be more strongly attracted to the proton than the higher shell electron, so it should stay in its energy level. That’s a very good question. Tell you what—I’ll look it up and tell you next time, okay?”
Leslie beamed. She turned to Gray to share her happiness, but he was gazing at the teacher with a look of utter stupefaction. As the teacher continued to talk, his eyes glazed over.
A little disappointed, Leslie started to turn forward. Something sticking out of Gray’s backpack caught her eye. It was the strange cylinder that Gray guarded so carefully. She wasn’t the only one. Idiots come in all shapes, sizes, and I.Q.s, and the AP Chemistry class had one of the most idiotic. Brent, the boy sitting behind Gray, snuck the cylinder out of Gray’s backpack and said loudly, “Hey, I wonder what this is.”
Gray’s eyes flashed open. He leaped to his feet, throwing his desk out of the way. Wordlessly, he lunged for the cylinder. Brent jumped backwards, scrambling over desks and students to get away from Gray. Kids yelled and shrieked. Gray grabbed for the cylinder.
Brent dodged and swung a fist at Gray. Gray caught Brent by the arm and threw him over his shoulder.
Several girls screamed. Brent’s friends jumped up, lunging at Gray. Gray dodged and blocked all their blows easily, landing a few punches in the process. Gray pushed through the crowd of teens and jumped over a desk, landing in front of Brent.
“Give it to me,” growled Gray.
Brent dropped the cylinder and ran out of the room.
Mr. Jones yelled, “Class dismissed. Go to your lockers or anywhere on school grounds until the bell rings.”
Students scrambled for their things, stuffing books and notebooks into their backpacks. Leslie and Gray started to pick up their backpacks. “Gray, Leslie, you stay here,” said Mr. Jones. Wordlessly, Leslie and Gray sunk back into their seats.
Mr. Jones righted one of the toppled chairs and sat in it, facing Gray and Leslie. He laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on Gray’s desk. He sighed. “Gray, I understand you’ve been going through some rough times. With your parents’ deaths and going to a foster home, going to a new school with new kids and strange customs, it’s no wonder you’re frustrated. But did you really have to fight?”
Gray looked at the cylinder in his hands. “He threw the first punch.”
“Yes,” admitted Mr. Jones, “and I’m not saying Brent was in the right. Now, I was told that you come from somewhere that’s a little different than here. I don’t know if this is true there, but here we don’t pick fights in the middle of a classroom. We try not to pick fights at all. We try to take a higher road—one that doesn’t include violence. Do you understand?”
Gray bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Mr. Jones pushed back from the desk and stood up. “Now, I’m going to get the principal, and we’re going to have a chat because there are always consequences for our actions. Wait for me here. Leslie, you make sure he stays here.”
Mr. Jones left the room, leaving silence in his wake. The silence stretched on. Leslie stared at her desk, wondering why she was being involved in this. She could hear the clock ticking the seconds off one by one.
“He told me to protect it with my life,” said Gray.
Leslie glanced over. Gray was staring at the cylinder in his hands. He gripped it so hard the wood creaked. “He told me to protect it and deliver it, and I can’t do either without making a scene.”
“Where do you need to deliver it?” asked Leslie.
Gray shook his head and stood. He walked to the classroom window, gazing outside. “I was given one task. One. Success means life, and fail—”
Suddenly, Gray scrambled away from the window. “Get back,” he yelled to Leslie. She tried to get up, but she was stuck between her chair and the desk.
Something crashed through the window, sending glass flying. It rolled into a crouch. Leslie shook glass from her hair and peered over the rows of desks.
It was a young woman in her early twenties, dressed in a sleeveless tan shirt, tan pants, and tan shoes. Her brown hair was tied in a messy pony tail. She stood. Her lips turned downward in a snarl. “Give me the scroll,” she demanded.
“What do you want with it?” said Gray.
“Give it to me!” the woman yelled. Then she changed.
Her arms lengthened and her legs shortened. Her clothes seemed to melt into her, becoming a part of her, as golden fur rippled over her body. Her body and head smoothed and lengthened, as if made of putty. In a matter of seconds the woman was gone, replaced by a full-grown mountain lion, 5 feet long from head to tail and 110 pounds of pure muscle.
Leslie shrieked. She fell out of her chair and scooted backwards between the rows of desks. The mountain lion’s ears twitched her way, but it remained focused on Gray. It screamed, the sound echoing through the classroom, and lunged towards Gray. Gray picked up a chair and threw it at the mountain lion. It caught the chair in midair, clawing and biting at it. Chair and lion slammed into the floor. The mountain lion scrambled to its feet. It leaped at Gray again. He lifted a chair, hoisting it like a lion tamer.
“Leslie, catch,” yelled Gray. He threw the wooden cylinder at her. She barely caught it, fumbled it for a moment, and brought it to her chest.
The mountain lion whirled around. It screamed. Its ears lay flat against its skull. With wide dilated eyes, the mountain lion leaped over the rows of desks in between it and Leslie, landing in front of her. It hissed, stalking closer. Leslie scooted backwards, kicking desks and chairs into its way.
With a wild yell, Gray threw another chair at the mountain lion. The lion dodged, hissing at Gray. Gray hastily unbuttoned his shirt, tearing off many of the buttons in the process. Underneath, he was wearing the strange brown-green shirt Leslie found him in.
Gray kicked another chair at the mountain lion. “Leslie, run!” he yelled as he kicked off his shoes.
Leslie scrambled to her feet. She turned to run. The mountain lion jumped onto the desks in front of her, cutting her off. Leslie fell back onto the desk behind her. The mountain lion shifted, getting ready to pounce.
Suddenly, a black blur flew through the air, slamming into the mountain lion. Roars and screams tore through the air. Leslie fell into a curled ball and peered out from under her arm. An adolescent black leopard, a little smaller and leaner than the mountain lion, landed in a crouch with its back to Leslie. It snarled, turning as the mountain lion tried to circle behind it. A thin leather band was draped over its neck, and a small carved stone dangled from it.
“Gray?” Leslie said, disbelief catching in her voice.
The panther turned, fixing Leslie in its gaze. Leslie’s world slowed to a standstill as she stared into its yellow eyes. Her heart thudded in her chest. Blood rushed through her ears, and she could feel herself beginning to faint.
The mountain lion leaped at the black panther. Gray dodged, and the lion’s claws tore into his side. The panther roared in pain and swiped at the mountain lion with one large paw. He leaped at the mountain lion, and she dashed away.
The two large cats fought, tearing up the classroom. Desks and chairs went flying as the cats lunged at each other, biting at their throats. Beakers and test tubes shattered as the mountain lion and black panther slammed into the shelving. A bottle of sulfuric acid, left out after a lesson, tottered on its shelf. The panther threw the lion into the wall, and the bottle fell, shattering on the ground. Sulfuric acid splashed across the floor, hissing and foaming. Some landed on the mountain lion’s shoulder. It yowled in pain and dashed for the broken window. It jumped from the window ledge to the tree outside. The black panther followed.
Leslie crawled forward, carefully moving across broken glass and splintered desks. Her hand hit something small and smooth. She looked down. It was Gray’s necklace. The leather band was snapped, though it was still attached to the small black stone. Leslie lifted it to the light. The stone was carved into the shape of a panther. Absentmindedly, Leslie pocketed the necklace. Shakily, Leslie stood.
Footsteps thundered down the hallway. Mr. Jones and the principal burst into the room. “We heard noises—” Mr. Jones began. He stopped cold.
“What happened here?” the principal whispered.
Leslie tightened her grip on the wooden cylinder and stared out the broken window. “Gray went after the mountain lion,” she mumbled.
And we have official entered the realm of high fantasy. Only there do you encounter shape-shifting ninja attacks through glass windows at a high school. ;->
ReplyDeleteAs a side note, have you ever seen the anime series "The Twelve Kingdoms"? Based on the story so far, especially this segment, I think you might like it.
Haha! Ninja attacks! I didn't think of it like that. I'll look up "The Twelve Kingdoms."
ReplyDelete