My Tale for 1001 Flat World Tales

I am part of a collaborative writing wiki; my students and I are working with S. Korea, Shanghai, Canada, Hawaii, and us, Colorado, to write our own tales imitating the Arabian Nights. We are writing our own tales in 3rd person and then editing and revising globally. This is my 1st draft of my tale. http://burell9english.wikispaces.com (see the World Students HS page)

Labeled – 1st draft

This is a tale about a time when a young student should have done more…

The story begins long ago at a junior high school (grades 7-9) one week before school began. The Athletics Department asked all students that wanted to participate in sports to attend a physical at West Junior High. Students donned their new blue jeans (even though the summer heat was in the 90’s) and lined up on the sidewalk. The embarrassing part was that for the physical, students needed to bring in a urine sample. Every student had gone to their doctor, gotten the plastic cup and had put the specimen in a brown, paper sack. Not one student. This student showed up holding a Sam’s Club (a large warehouse store where you can buy supplies in bulk) size pickle jar filled with urine! He did not have his specimen in a paper sack. Tom walked up to the line trying to find his place; students were in line alphabetically. You could here mean students saying, “Freak. He’s so stupid,” Whispers meant for him to hear. His face was beat red, which showed off his natural orange-colored mop on top. He hadn’t combed it that day, his pants were too short, he was overweight and already had a face full of pimples. This poor student was plagued with nerdiness from the second he got out of his mom’s car that day.

One student, a young girl, blonde pony tail, strawberry LipSmacker smeared on her lips, standing with confidence, noticed this boy trying to make his way into the line of sticky students.
“What’s your last name?” She asked him gently. “Mine’s Michele Hurley.

“Heald,” he said as he gave her an ugly look.

“You must be right in front of me, then.” Too many other students had made fun of him and he must have expected she was doing the same. Another glare even though she tried to smile his way; he didn’t notice.

“They’re just jerks,” she said.

He looked up at her and said, “Whatever.”

Offended at his rude comments, she couldn’t understand why he seemed mad at her. The hour unfolded; she got her physical as did he. But, he never joined a sports team. The girl understood why.

The school year started and this young girl entered her choir class excited at having a large choir (100+ students). The choir director welcomed them and told the class that they would have tryouts for parts over the course of the week, which would determine the choral parts. These parts would also determine the choir partners—the person you would share music with all year. Tryouts went as planned: the teacher at the piano while the nervous student stood next to her singing in front of 99 other students.

The choir director would comment curtly, “Too soft. Sing louder. Off pitch. Listen to the note.” But when, the young lady came up to sing, the students heard, “Goodness, best voice in years. Have you had training?”
“
No,” she said shyly, embarrassed of all the attention.

Next was Tom, the unfortunate student already described. He came up with an air of “Bring it on!” He hated everyone and already decided that he was a loner. It didn’t matter if all eyes watched him sing or not. He begun and like the young girl, the choir director loved his voice.

“Beautiful, Tom. Can you sing falsetto as well?” He could. Once his very high notes came trickling out of his mouth, the class erupted into laughter. Immature 7th graders weren’t prepared to hear a large boy with a high voice. Another mark against this already ostracized, young man.

“Whatever. At least I can sing,” he said as he glared at the students.

The next week, the director came in with armload of the choir folders. She named off the parts and the choir partners. Tom and Michele, for the next 3 years, were strange partners: Tom being a baritone and Michele a soprano. It was a lose-lose situation—this large boy crammed between the lanky, tall girls or a thin, blondy between awkward pre-teen boys.

Three years later, the partner duo continued in Biology and Chemistry. Tom’s angst continued as well.
“
Hi, Tom ,” she would say with a sincere voice. “How was your weekend?”

He’d roll his eyes and scoot his chair backwards as he sat with arms folded.

The Hello’s became fewer between Michele and Tom. She felt lik she was making things worse by talking to him at all. What was worse, was that Tom was trying to connect with her, in some way. He’d forget his text book, so they’d have to share. Bad breath and bad hygiene weren’t a good combo. One day the warm fish smell from his breath was too much for Michele to handle, she inched her way into the aisle between the chemistry tables with her textbook on her lap.

The teacher hollered Tom’s name and yelled at him as he walked to the front of the room, “Is it necessary to lean on her?! I know you don’t have friends, Tom but behaving this way isn’t going to get you any. And, Tom, put on some deodorant to start.”

Senior year, with graduation just 2 weeks away, Tom flicks a school picture at Michele. He quickly walked off. She picked it up noticing it wasn’t a professional photo, but simply the school picture company again. On the back, Tom had scribbled, “To my only friend.” Heart sunk and tears flowed again. All those years…could she have done more?