Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
“Sorry, that wasn’t an order that you come see me. More an invitation.”
“Oh…” He seemed puzzled by my comment.
“I was very impressed with your answers. Your writing was good, but it was also a really passionate reflection on Lucifer and Adam and Eve as God’s cast-out, neglected and abused children. Why create if you’re going to judge, punish, and abandon? And why would anyone have any loyalty to such a Maker? I think you missed an opportunity to tie it all back into ‘Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven,’ but didn’t seem you were as interested in quotes as meaning.”
He still eyed me peculiarly. “Wait. You said you wanted to see me so we could chat about a book we’re reading in class?”
“I am an English teacher. I do enjoy talking about texts, but I was intrigued by your discussion, aside from maybe feeling a little conned by someone who’s actually already finished the poem. Clearly, you had strong feelings about Michael seeming to have more sympathy for Adam and Eve’s fall than the one who created them, which wasn’t something you would have said if you were halfway through.”
“Well…I read fast.” The conceit was written all over his face.
For being a kid who rarely brought to class more than some folded sheets of paper, a pen in his pocket, and the required text, it definitely seemed more a show than he let on with his too-good-for-school attitude.
“And you liked Milton’s epic poem?”
“There was a lot of blah-blah-blah shit I wanted to skip over, and you’re not going to convince me that anything needs to be written in verse, but it was cool. I felt like I got it.”
“I definitely think you did. And that blah, blah, blah is probably the stuff that makes it art.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
I laughed. “No, you certainly don’t, Mr. Forsythe. But I have a feeling you might find the next few assignments kind of rudimentary for someone who’s already finished the text and has as many thoughts about it as you have, so if you’d like to, you can feel free to write me your own thoughts about the book as a whole. I find your perspective refreshing.”
“So…because I’ve already read it, I have to do more work?”
“Only if you want to. You can do the same assignments as the rest of the class. I would think that’d be a waste of your time, but it’s totally up to you.”
His brows tugged closer together. “You’re a strange egg, Big Man.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I winked, and he continued eyeing me in the strangest way.
I checked the clock. Fifteen minutes until first period.
“Anyway, kids will probably be lining up outside the door soon…”
“So that’s all you wanted? To tell me you liked my work and that I can write whatever I want for the next assignments?”
“Yeah, and if you keep reading ahead like that, we can do it that way for the rest of the year.”
“And I’m free to go?”
“I don’t imagine a guy like you needs anyone’s permission to do what he wants.”
He snickered, but mostly seemed as stunned by our chat as Simon had been. I knew my methods weren’t exactly the norm for most teachers, but they seemed fairly common sense to me.
“You’re a strange teach,” he said, shaking his head as he stood from the desk and started for the door.
“I’ll take that as a compliment as well,” I called after him. He headed on out, not seeming to care much about my cheeky reply.
There was something special about Kyle Forsythe, and I was eager to have an entire year to find out just how special.
6
James
I sipped my black coffee as the last guy read his poem on the black platform the café had set up for the event. He trembled so much, the leather-bound notebook in his hand jerked furiously about behind the mic stand.
There were three writers in total, so what had initially been a reading of three poems had turned into six, then nine… At some point, the host even asked me and the other guy who had come with his wife if we had anything we wanted to share, which we both respectfully declined.
Fortunately, I had attended more than my share of these sorts of events, enough to be pleasantly surprised when they didn’t turn out to be a disappointment like this one. It was always fairly hit or miss, but as a teacher and patron of the arts, it was my job to turn up and support local artists. And even though this time I hadn’t been able to pull any of my students out, there would always be more opportunities. Although, I found Wyachet to be sorely lacking in the local arts department, especially compared to Kensington Heights, where even a small-time event like this one would have had at least six other audience members.