I felt like walking out.
The class blinked: fourteen eyes, fringed bees. Thank you Ann, I said slowly.
I’m tired of all the other choices, Lisa said from her seat. Show me how to do your dad.
I cleared my own throat and turned away from her. Wrote 20 11 on the board.
So class, I said. What do you do if you have a zero in the ones place?
Lisa had a small epileptic seizure in her chair.
Like that? she asked.
John raised his hand. You borrow, he said.
That’s right, I said. Borrow what? I kept my voice steady Lisa slumped on her desk and her eyes sagged and mouth drooped.
Or this, she slurred.
1 Take the two to one, John said. I slashed the two on the board and wrote a small one above it. John nodded.
2 Lisa was now wheezing shallowly. Or maybe this, she panted. I could hardly stand to look at her.
When do I get to go for Numbers and Materials? asked Mimi.
I turned to Mimi brightly. How about right now, I said. Lisa lolled her head off her chair and groaned.
Of Since the parents’ enthusiasm on Back-to-School Night, I’d made Numbers and Materials a bigger focus of the week. Even Ann seemed to be coming around, bringing in a 100 made from rhine stones, on a stickpin, which she’d said was a gift. Terrific! I’d said, pinning it to my blouse. I will live forever, I’d thought.
But I have to get it back by the end of the day, Ann had said.
It’s a day-long gift. Sure enough, at the end of the day she’d approached me with palm out. I took it off, but I wasn’t really bothered until I saw that she didn’t put the stickpin away but instead brought it over to another teacher, the art teacher, who then put it on with equal happiness. I was annoyed simply because I am the math teacher and I didn’t understand why it was appropriate for anyone but me to get a stickpin with 100 on it.
Once called on, Mimi went to her purple backpack and removed a plastic bag. Lisa raised her head to watch. But when Mimi opened the bag, before I saw a thing, I smelled it first, wham, transport, and the taste of acid sizzled in my throat.
Wait, Mimi, I said suddenly. On second thought, I said, let’s do something else.
What? Mimi said.
I wondered if I might vomit all over the carpet.
Word problems, I said. Mimi, share that at lunch. Ann had seven heads Mimi face froze. I want to share my Number and Material! she said. I’ve spent all week on it!
Bring out your workbooks, I said.
The whole class started talking all at once. You can’t stop in the middle! they said. This is Numbers and Materials! This is NUMBERS and MATERIALS! Danny stood, I walked to the back of the room. Elmer dove under his chair. Lisa stared at me.
Mimi’s eyelashes were birthing tears.
The smell in the room was so thick I had to plug my nose. Which helped a little.
It took hours and hours! said Mimi. Her voice snagged on the words.
I put my other hand on my stomach. Kept my nose closed. Danny had grabbed up a handful of rubber bands, and was finding the heaviest and thickest, the one that had once held broccoli together, and Lisa Lisa Lisa now had her own hand pinching her own nose, and when I saw that I wanted to burn down the school so took another step back and nodded at Mimi. Said Go. Now.
Two tears dripped down her face.
Lisa kept staring at me. I didn’t look at her, but took my hand off my nose and opened up the throat. Within seconds, Lisa had dropped her hand too. I felt an unexpected whale of loathing for her.
With utmost care, Mimi reached down into her backpack and brought out a huge 9 made of soap. I don’t know where she possibly could’ve found such an enormous piece of soap, but the 9 was as tall as my forearm. Just the sight of it made my stomach seize.
Danny put down the rubber bands. Mimi brushed her cheeks dry.
I leaned on the far wall.
Do your thing from there Mimi, I said, keeping my nose passage plugged. I’m just going to stand here, I said, and see if you’re talking loud enough.
So Mimi, still sniffing, shouted her whole presentation, telling us about how 9 was her favorite number because it was how old her older
sister was and also her bedtime and she said it all so loud that most of the kids had to clamp their hands over their ears. She continued by doing some subtracting on the board, in her curly girly handwriting, and finished by telling everyone that before lunch they could wash their hands with her 9.
We will subtract from it more, she said.
She looked up at me, eyes clear. She’d prepared that sentence all week.
She passed around the 9 and the class was especially nice, pretending to shower with it, and before the bell rang I kept a hand near my mouth and assigned Danny next week’s Numbers and Materials.
I could hear the class sigh with relief, that it wasn’t all over.
Yes! Danny said. I know exactly what I’m going to bring. He gloated at Lisa.
When class was dismissed, I went straight to the medicine chest and took a stomach pill. Found an empty bathroom stall and knelt in front of the toilet. Held my arms around my waist. It was as if a ghost had entered the classroom, invisible but focused, arms warm, snaking around my waist, lips like wind on the neck. My body waking up, in math class, the wrong place to be woken up.
And sickened. And awakened. And nauseous. And distracted.
I stayed in the bathroom for five minutes. My stomach heaved a couple times but nothing came out. When I could stand to go outside, I straightened my legs, and for just one second my fingers crept inside my shirt and rode the skin of my stomach up and found my breast and held it. So swift, soft, and there was my breast just sitting there, handless, waiting for me to do that.
All my skin rose up to meet me.
I flushed the empty toilet and went outside for recess duty.
I looked for the science teacher, wondering what would happen if I saw him right then, right then, or right then.
On the yellow plastic bench, I breathed in the mild afternoon air. After a few minutes, Lisa, wearing her IV. as a belt now, ran over and sat next to me. It’s the last day of bench time, she said. Will you tell me when fifteen minutes is up? I checked my watch. Across the playground, Danny was sitting on the orange plastic bench, kicking his legs. Ann was on the blue plastic bench, arms folded. Lisa sat quietly next to me. I asked her if she remembered why she was benched and she said yes, she was benched because her mother had cancer.
No no, I said, that’s not it at all, Lisa, it’s because you shoved Danny and Ann on Monday, remember?
Oh yeah, she said vaguely.
John kicked a home run. I kept deep-breathing. Lisa asked if I was okay. She said I looked pale and flushed.
You were awful today, she said. You can’t ever take away Numbers and Materials, she said.
She studied the kick ball game for a while. Elmer missed the ball four times in a row.
I didn’t much like your fake cough either, I said.
Lisa filled her cheeks with air, popped them, then turned her head and looked at me.
Sorry I spit on you, she said.
I looked back. Pieces of sleep were parked in the corners of her eyes, and her face seemed small and seven years old.
I won’t take away Numbers and Materials, Lisa, I said.
She turned her eyes away, fast, and I saw them fill with water, brief and bright.
You know, she said after a bit, some people like to keep it secret and maybe you shouldn’t tell all the other kids, but I am different and I would want to know.
Want to know what? I asked.
When you got cancer, she said.
My shoulders sank a whole level lower. I almost smothered Lisa, I felt such a quick and crushing wave of love for her.
I just had a little stomach problem, I said, but I’m better now.