My next class was journalism workshop. I had been on the paper staff at both of the junior high schools I had attended. I didn't think I was that good at writing news copy, though. I enjoyed writing, especially the little stories that I made up. I had only taken the classes because Mother said that a skilled writer was a well-rounded person. That was her reasoning any time we disagreed about things she thought I should do. I had to admit, she was always right. Once I started doing whatever it was, I usually enjoyed it.
Mother and I got along pretty well. She was always very proper and formal about everything. She was a true lady at all times. She never lost her temper, and she never, ever, raised her voice. I knew she loved me, though. I was her number one priority in life. I was one of the few kids left in the world with a stay-at-home mom. I told her once that I heard another woman refer to herself as a "domestic goddess". She just laughed and told me that she still preferred the name "Mother."
My journalism instructor turned out to be my English teacher as well. She told me that my previous school had sent a glowing report of my abilities. She was obviously the nosy type of teacher who had to know everything about all their students before they met the class. This meant she had dug through the files in the office and knew everything that it said about you. She then would bore the class to tears and embarrass you to death by talking about all of it in front of everyone. I had dealt with plenty of them in my time. I gave them no trouble and just smiled and nodded a lot. She did tell me a few things of interest, though. She knew I had played chess at one of my schools, so I found out when the chess team would be meeting. She also told the class that I had been in a play the previous year, so she told me and anyone else interested when the tryouts for the fall production of the theatre club were to be held. She had certainly done her homework on me. I always felt kind of sorry for teachers like her. They would get their hopes up for me and what I would do for their school, then Dad would get another transfer and away I'd go.
Chess and theatre were my two favorite extracurricular activities. I couldn't help myself. I enjoyed the thrill of becoming someone else if for just a little while. Even when I played chess, I imagined myself as the king, defending my domain from the evil empire across the field of battle. Besides, acting was the easiest way to get to know people quickly. It is amazing how many people suddenly recognize you after they have seen you on stage. I never really made friends, but at least I became more familiar and comfortable with and to them.
I left journalism class for a study period. I used the time to go to the office and sign up for the chess team and the theatre club. I was strangely excited to see that Cole had already signed up for the chess team as well. I spent the rest of my class time thinking about the strange phenomenon I was experiencing. I had actually been thrilled to learn that Cole liked chess as well. I had been instantly pleased that we would have more time together. I could not remember ever feeling that happy to see anyone before, unless maybe it was my dad.
Dad and I got along great. He was the closest thing I had ever had to a best friend. He taught me to play chess. He was outgoing and fun loving, where Mother was calm and quiet. He was a great hugger, too, and gave them often. Mother's hugs were rare and special treats. It wasn't that she wasn't good at them, or that she didn't like them, she just wasn't as showy about her affection as Dad was.
The more I thought about Cole, the happier I felt. I tried to remember that I probably wouldn't be around long enough to get to know him. I tried to force him out of my head. I was just starting to concentrate on school stuff when the bell rang. I looked down to pick up my notebook and saw that I had written the name Cole all over the page. I wasn't concentrating as well as I thought. I headed for the door, only to see him walking in it, looking for me. He flashed a big smile when he saw me and I felt a funny catch in my breathing. This was really strange.
We walked to English together and I was relieved and fascinated to see that Mrs. Lachney had another student to humiliate with "glowing reports." I was fascinated because her new target was Cole. I learned through her that Cole's father was a science professor at the local university and his mother was the newly appointed hospital administrator. I already knew that he was trying out for the chess team, and that he was on the freshman debate team. According to Mrs. Lachney, he excelled at both. The one thing he was not gifted in was English, but the teacher suggested that with a good study partner he would do fine. He pointed to me and said that he had one. That started her back gushing over me again. Cole seemed to have the knack for humiliating me in front of the whole class. If we were to become friends, I decided, I would have to break him of that habit.
That class finally ended, and Cole rushed me to the cafeteria for lunch. When he had said he wanted us to eat together, I didn't know that he intended to buy my meal. Granted, he was soon apologizing for that as well. The small number of upper classmen in the lines should have tipped us off. Cafeteria food is the same at all schools. YUCK! I told him not to worry about it, though. I probably would have made the same mistake anyway. He had kept me from wasting my own money.
We left the cafeteria headed for our Civics class. It was the third subject we shared. This instructor, Mr. Jones, was also Cole's teacher for debate. Once in class, we also learned that he was the faculty advisor for the chess team. He was excited that we had signed up. When we asked about the tryouts, he laughed.
"Counting the two of you, gentlemen," he told us, "the team now consists of four members. You passed the entrance test by having the fortitude to sign up." He went on to tell us that the team met every Wednesday after school. Cole's face twisted as if he were in pain.
"Is there a problem with Wednesday afternoons?" Mr. Jones asked him.
"Yeah, a big one," he answered. "Both of my parents work late on Wednesdays. I have to ride the bus home that day. I can't stay after. I guess there will only be three on the team."
"Don't give up yet," I told him. "My mother doesn't work. She'll have to come pick me up anyway. I'm sure she would give you a ride."
"That would be great, Cotton," he told me. "I really want to be on the team, and I hate the idea of riding the bus." As he turned to go Cole said, "See you in Biology."
"Don't remind me," I whined. "The thought of dissecting things makes me sick."