It was early June, the last day of school at J.F. Barett Memorial High. The students had already left, emptying out lockers, strewing paper in the hallways, anxious to be free to do nothing all day or accompany families on vacations that were no longer fun. The sun shone hotly in the azure sky, bees lingered lazily over dandelions on the green manicured lawns outside. Mostly everyone had gone, the principal on his way to his favorite lazy boy in front of his television, the secretaries back to the kitchens to make potato salad or marinate chicken for a barbeque, going back to regular lives.
On the far end of the school, past the gym, in the physical education office, there were still two people.
One of them was a gym teacher, Mr. Michael Fielding. The other was his student from fourth period, Natalie Garcia.
He was twenty-five, and very handsome. It hadnt been an easy thing, teaching. He'd applied for a spot in the Science department, but the high school needed a p.e. teacher and he because he needed the money, Michael took the offer. He started teaching soccer, tennis. basketball indoors on rainy days. He was in the Marine reserves, and loved to run. He ran with the kids on their weekly mile. They liked that. None of the other P.E. teachers particpated. They were all old and grumpy, watching from the sidelines at this young, virile teacher, playing forward in soccer, quarterback in football, pitcher in baseball. The boys wanted him to start coaching, but his time on the weekends were taken up by the reserves. He hardly scolded anyone, encouraged them instead, let them turn the stereo on in the gym (partly because Michael loved music too.) He lifted weights with the boys, played volleyball with the girls.
Oh yes, the girls.
Michael had all the attention. Handsome Mr. Fielding, with his golden, glowing skin, his wheat colored hair neatly shaved. His eyes were blue-green that sparkled electrically. He was tall, and muscular, and (oh!) so dreamy, and the girls watched him doing jumping jacks and layups.
On the far end of the school, where it was deserted now, in the office of Mr. Fielding, there were still two people.
Natalie was fifteen, a sophmore, and she loved Mr. Fielding, though she never said. She'd walked into P.E. that September, sure she was going to have a relic of a teacher again. And there he was, wearing, gym shorts and sneakers, an Ipod clipped to the waistband, the ear buds hanging down the front of his shirt. He looked like he'd just been working out himself.
Hello all, he said, to the class outside on the tennis court. In one hand, he held a class roster.
Im Mr. Fielding, Im the new P.E. teacher here.
No shit! Someone shouts. Everybody laughs.
Except Natalie, who couldnt take her eyes off of him. No boy she had ever seen at school or anywhere in town that looked like Mr. Fielding. He was a priceless piece of art she could only admire and never come close to touching. He was young by teachers standards, she supposed. Even the teachers who might have been in their thirties acted older.
Mr. Fielding laughed at that, No shit. He scanned the class. He was only twenty-five, he felt much, much older than these kids, even though he'd been sitting there in the same spot less than ten years ago.
After a couple of weeks, the heckling stopped. Mr. Fielding had proven himself a kind and capable teacher, someone young enough to still be considered cool and old enough to listen to and respect. Besides, Mr. Fielding was a Marine, and they liked that. Micheal was an excellent teacher.
He'd joined the Marine Reserves after his wife, Tina had had thier daughter Emily. She was a gorgeous pink baby with his eyes and her mothers smile. He met Tina in college, had married her a year later. She was studying to be nurse, came from a rich family, who looked down on MIchael because he hadnt.
Micheal's father never held a steady job. His mother left them when he was nine. When he was old enough to work, he got two jobs, still went to school. Had won grants to help with college. He was the first to graduate high school, first to be in college. He wanted to be a science teacher. He loved science, loved to teach others. In the library of the university, he met Tina Gracey. She needed help with her homework, had no idea how blood flowed or pumped continously for the heart to go on. Her mom always taught her to just smile and be pretty, and she smiled and batted her eyes at Micheal because she knew he could help her and he she wanted a baby with those ocean colored eyes. He helped her halfway through training, because then Tina had become pregnant and they had gotten married.
Tinas mother hated Michael for it. Her parents had politely invinted him to their house, to finally see for themselves this man that Tina had raved about, the man that had infected their daughter with his lower class genes. Her mother had been revolted at the idea, at seeing Tinas belly swell more and more, but she would love her granddaughter anyway.
Michael knew this. TIna knew this. He could feel her mothers eyes on him, judging his Honda Civic, his use of financial aid. Tina never once worried if she could afford school, never had to buy a used textbook all highlited already. Tinas parents visited their apartment once, before Emily came. He could see the contempt in her mothers face at the cement stairwells, the loud neighbors, the swimming pool in the middle of the complex. It was all they could afford. TIna stayed home and Michael worked night at electronics store while he was still in school during the day.
Her father was indifferent. He didnt care if Tina married a lawyer or a science teacher, as long as he wasn't a bum or a criminal. Her mother silently scorned them both, Michael mostly, for turning Tina mediocre, let her become aquainted with the common. It made her sick.
So after Emily was born, Tinas parents bought them a house, a nice one, in the new developments on the north (rich) side of town. Micheal protested it, the house. They would be indebted to Tinas parents for life, and probably in the hereafter. He never asked Tina what she had told her parents about him. Assumed she had said he had no mother, had a father who been a jack of all trades to feed and clothe his son. Probably told them he lived all over town, in the shoddy forgotten parts, went to public school, had really needed that financial aid.
Tinas mother also bought them a mini-van. Micheal let Tina drive that. He still loved his Honda. Then out of the blue, he announced he was joining the Marines. He wanted to get into shape, wanted to be stoic and self-disciplined before he was too old. TIna begged him not to join, her mother rolled her eyes. How lower-class American. To appease Tina, he enlisted in the Reserves instead, so he could still be a soldier and teach and be with her and Emily. After he came back from training, he started teaching p.e. at J.F. Barrett Memorial HIgh School.
Natalie smiled at him. When Mr. Fielding called her name during roll, she always caught his eyes. Yes Mr. Fielding, Im here. She never missed class. He smiled back. He didnt smile at anyone else like that, for being such a nice guy. The other girls had crushes on him too. They talked about him endlessy. She heard his name in snippets of different conversations through the halls.
He's married, with a baby.
That Mr. Fielding, he so cute.
Cute? He's handsome.
The older girls, the seniors, they said,
I want to screw Mr. Fielding
I wish I still had p.e.
I saw him checking me out, ya know?
And Natalie would blush at the idea of anyone being naked, especially with a teacher. She hadnt even been felt up. She couldnt even spend the night at friends, if she had any close ones. Her mother was strict, and Natalie had only one girlfriend anyway, Sarah Moseley.
Sarah had Natalie just happened to meet one day in detention. Sarah had slapped another girl for calling her a slut. Natalie had been caught smoking cigarettes behind the cafeteria. They were the silent ones with pretty faces no one paid much attention to, not in high school anyway.
Sarah loved cigarettes too. They smoked them before school, in the far off dugouts during lunch, on their walks home. Sometimes Natalies mother worked long hours into the night at the glass factory. Her dad often went to bed early, and she would go for walks, loving th freedom, even though she had no place to go, just walking and smoking cigarettes (Marlboro 's in thered and white box, mediums, please.) Older men or boys would buy them for her.
Freshman year hadnt been too bad, she did well in her classes, pleased her mom and dad with average grades. What a good little girl, her mother would say, patting her on the head.
She hated her mother.
On the far end of the school, past the gym, in the physical education office, there were still two people.
One of them was a gym teacher, Mr. Michael Fielding. The other was his student from fourth period, Natalie Garcia.
He was twenty-five, and very handsome. It hadnt been an easy thing, teaching. He'd applied for a spot in the Science department, but the high school needed a p.e. teacher and he because he needed the money, Michael took the offer. He started teaching soccer, tennis. basketball indoors on rainy days. He was in the Marine reserves, and loved to run. He ran with the kids on their weekly mile. They liked that. None of the other P.E. teachers particpated. They were all old and grumpy, watching from the sidelines at this young, virile teacher, playing forward in soccer, quarterback in football, pitcher in baseball. The boys wanted him to start coaching, but his time on the weekends were taken up by the reserves. He hardly scolded anyone, encouraged them instead, let them turn the stereo on in the gym (partly because Michael loved music too.) He lifted weights with the boys, played volleyball with the girls.
Oh yes, the girls.
Michael had all the attention. Handsome Mr. Fielding, with his golden, glowing skin, his wheat colored hair neatly shaved. His eyes were blue-green that sparkled electrically. He was tall, and muscular, and (oh!) so dreamy, and the girls watched him doing jumping jacks and layups.
On the far end of the school, where it was deserted now, in the office of Mr. Fielding, there were still two people.
Natalie was fifteen, a sophmore, and she loved Mr. Fielding, though she never said. She'd walked into P.E. that September, sure she was going to have a relic of a teacher again. And there he was, wearing, gym shorts and sneakers, an Ipod clipped to the waistband, the ear buds hanging down the front of his shirt. He looked like he'd just been working out himself.
Hello all, he said, to the class outside on the tennis court. In one hand, he held a class roster.
Im Mr. Fielding, Im the new P.E. teacher here.
No shit! Someone shouts. Everybody laughs.
Except Natalie, who couldnt take her eyes off of him. No boy she had ever seen at school or anywhere in town that looked like Mr. Fielding. He was a priceless piece of art she could only admire and never come close to touching. He was young by teachers standards, she supposed. Even the teachers who might have been in their thirties acted older.
Mr. Fielding laughed at that, No shit. He scanned the class. He was only twenty-five, he felt much, much older than these kids, even though he'd been sitting there in the same spot less than ten years ago.
After a couple of weeks, the heckling stopped. Mr. Fielding had proven himself a kind and capable teacher, someone young enough to still be considered cool and old enough to listen to and respect. Besides, Mr. Fielding was a Marine, and they liked that. Micheal was an excellent teacher.
He'd joined the Marine Reserves after his wife, Tina had had thier daughter Emily. She was a gorgeous pink baby with his eyes and her mothers smile. He met Tina in college, had married her a year later. She was studying to be nurse, came from a rich family, who looked down on MIchael because he hadnt.
Micheal's father never held a steady job. His mother left them when he was nine. When he was old enough to work, he got two jobs, still went to school. Had won grants to help with college. He was the first to graduate high school, first to be in college. He wanted to be a science teacher. He loved science, loved to teach others. In the library of the university, he met Tina Gracey. She needed help with her homework, had no idea how blood flowed or pumped continously for the heart to go on. Her mom always taught her to just smile and be pretty, and she smiled and batted her eyes at Micheal because she knew he could help her and he she wanted a baby with those ocean colored eyes. He helped her halfway through training, because then Tina had become pregnant and they had gotten married.
Tinas mother hated Michael for it. Her parents had politely invinted him to their house, to finally see for themselves this man that Tina had raved about, the man that had infected their daughter with his lower class genes. Her mother had been revolted at the idea, at seeing Tinas belly swell more and more, but she would love her granddaughter anyway.
Michael knew this. TIna knew this. He could feel her mothers eyes on him, judging his Honda Civic, his use of financial aid. Tina never once worried if she could afford school, never had to buy a used textbook all highlited already. Tinas parents visited their apartment once, before Emily came. He could see the contempt in her mothers face at the cement stairwells, the loud neighbors, the swimming pool in the middle of the complex. It was all they could afford. TIna stayed home and Michael worked night at electronics store while he was still in school during the day.
Her father was indifferent. He didnt care if Tina married a lawyer or a science teacher, as long as he wasn't a bum or a criminal. Her mother silently scorned them both, Michael mostly, for turning Tina mediocre, let her become aquainted with the common. It made her sick.
So after Emily was born, Tinas parents bought them a house, a nice one, in the new developments on the north (rich) side of town. Micheal protested it, the house. They would be indebted to Tinas parents for life, and probably in the hereafter. He never asked Tina what she had told her parents about him. Assumed she had said he had no mother, had a father who been a jack of all trades to feed and clothe his son. Probably told them he lived all over town, in the shoddy forgotten parts, went to public school, had really needed that financial aid.
Tinas mother also bought them a mini-van. Micheal let Tina drive that. He still loved his Honda. Then out of the blue, he announced he was joining the Marines. He wanted to get into shape, wanted to be stoic and self-disciplined before he was too old. TIna begged him not to join, her mother rolled her eyes. How lower-class American. To appease Tina, he enlisted in the Reserves instead, so he could still be a soldier and teach and be with her and Emily. After he came back from training, he started teaching p.e. at J.F. Barrett Memorial HIgh School.
Natalie smiled at him. When Mr. Fielding called her name during roll, she always caught his eyes. Yes Mr. Fielding, Im here. She never missed class. He smiled back. He didnt smile at anyone else like that, for being such a nice guy. The other girls had crushes on him too. They talked about him endlessy. She heard his name in snippets of different conversations through the halls.
He's married, with a baby.
That Mr. Fielding, he so cute.
Cute? He's handsome.
The older girls, the seniors, they said,
I want to screw Mr. Fielding
I wish I still had p.e.
I saw him checking me out, ya know?
And Natalie would blush at the idea of anyone being naked, especially with a teacher. She hadnt even been felt up. She couldnt even spend the night at friends, if she had any close ones. Her mother was strict, and Natalie had only one girlfriend anyway, Sarah Moseley.
Sarah had Natalie just happened to meet one day in detention. Sarah had slapped another girl for calling her a slut. Natalie had been caught smoking cigarettes behind the cafeteria. They were the silent ones with pretty faces no one paid much attention to, not in high school anyway.
Sarah loved cigarettes too. They smoked them before school, in the far off dugouts during lunch, on their walks home. Sometimes Natalies mother worked long hours into the night at the glass factory. Her dad often went to bed early, and she would go for walks, loving th freedom, even though she had no place to go, just walking and smoking cigarettes (Marlboro 's in thered and white box, mediums, please.) Older men or boys would buy them for her.
Freshman year hadnt been too bad, she did well in her classes, pleased her mom and dad with average grades. What a good little girl, her mother would say, patting her on the head.
She hated her mother.
desertlord:
What's up, Mexicana Coconut? 