Chess, Crap, and Gum

I tapped my pencil on the desk, staring at the paper. There was nothing on it, and I had a feeling that turning in a blank page wouldn’t go over well with the teacher. Still, as much as I tried to write, no words would come.

I sighed, put my pencil down, and stared up at the ceiling. The paint job wasn’t that good; there were a few smudges of gray and-I frowned-a spot of clustered gum. I followed that spot down to see the teacher, sitting in her chair and browsing Tiktok. Every so often, she’d spit out some gum and throw it on the ceiling. Thwack!

Smart for a grownup, I thought, turning back to my paper. I glanced back toward the teacher (still on her phone), slipped out a pack of Trident, unwrapped a stick, and popped some spearmint in my mouth. It tasted like crap, but at least it was crap with sugar.

“Hmmmm,” a voice said to my right. “Should you be doing that in class?”

I shrugged, trying to hide my smile. “Should you be talking to me right now?”

She slipped into the chair next to me, and I neglected to mention that seat was taken. “Well,” she said. “Neither of us should be doing what we’re doing, and yet we still do anyway.” she paused. “Why is that?”

“Cause deep down, we despise ourselves and secretly wish we were better and as a result, we self-sabotage ourselves to satisfy our inner prediction that we are lousy piles of shit,” I answered. I held out a stick of gum. “Want some?”

She took one and popped it into her mouth. I stared.

“What?” she asked.

“You ate the gum wrapper.”

She stared at me, but her alarm soon melted into confidence. “Whatever,” she said. “Turtles eat metal.”

“Yeah,” I said. “And then they die.”

She grinned. “Exactly.”

My mouth twitched as I spat my gum into my hand, nose wrinkling at the glistening lump of green. I tossed it up on the ceiling, but it fell down (curse gravity) and landed in her hair. She looked up with a start. “Did something fall on me?”

“Nope.” I said.

“Alright.” She continued writing, and I looked away from the green blob clinging to her hair.

We were silent for a few minutes, and then she said, “So, guess why I came here.”

“Why I came here?” I guessed.

She pressed her lips into a frown. “That’s not funny, you know.” she said, trying to keep a poker face and failing. “Do you see me smiling?”

“Yep.” I smiled.

She flushed and looked away. “Anyway, I came here to tell you to stop being racist and sexist.”

I glanced up. “I’m racist and sexist?”

“Yes.” Her eyes were bright, and I could tell she was in a mood to argue.

Since I wasn’t, I said, “Alright, state your case.”

She cleared her throat. “In our most recent game of chess,” I looked up. “You moved your queen 4 times, as opposed to moving your king 1 time.” She looked at me. “What do you have to say about that?”

“Well,” I said. “I have to move my queen, you know. It’s not really being sexist…”

She scowled. “Fine then, be like that. But you’re still horrible and I will never talk to you again.”

Oh, if only. “Alright,” I said. “Go right ahead.”

She frowned and cleared her throat. “Anyway,” she said, determined to finish her speech. “you need to stop fighting.”

“Huh?”

She straightened. “You need to be peaceful. Like Mahatma Gandhi.”

I rubbed my eyes. “Who’s that again?”

She spontaneously combusted. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” she shouted. “DO YOU NOT KNOW WHO HE IS?”

Heads turned, and the teacher looked up. “Hmm?” she asked, pushing up her glasses. “Who’s that?”

“A special guest speaker,” I said. “She’s lecturing us on Indian culture.”

The teacher shrugged. “Alright.”

“She’s gonna show us porn.”

“Alright.”

“She wants to play rap music.”

The teacher jumped up, looking like someone had called her dog ugly. “What?” she screeched, and we clapped our hands over our ears. “No! I’m not allowing that sin in this classroom!”

“You heard her, random stranger.” I said, revealing a smile. “You’ll have to hold that lecture another time.”

The teacher sat down, satisfied, and she sat down and crossed her arms. “I hate you.” she said. “You should have just said that I was excited to learn about Ancient China. Now she’s gonna hate me.”

I looked up. “And you care about that?”

She thought a little. “No.” she said. “Yes? Kinda…I dunno, man. It’s 2:15. I can't do this anymore.”

I nodded and, against my better judgement, tried to cheer her up. “So, what was that you were saying again? About being peaceful?”

She lit up, and I smiled. “As I was saying,” she began. “You keep on trying to fight against my pieces and kidnap and torture them.” She leaned closer with a glint in her eyes. “Is it because they’re black?”

I blinked. “No?” I said. “Isn’t that the game? You attack the other side?”

She scowled, but it was just for show. “So you’re blaming your prejudice on societal pressures?” she said. “Not cool, man.”

I wondered when class would end. “So, what do you want? You want me to just abandon playing chess?”

Yes.” she pronounced. “You should just resign from our current game.”

Suddenly, it all pieced together, and I laughed. “You’re just trying to win.” I said. “Our current game. Isn’t that it?”

She reared back, but her shock was just a little too much. “No!” she said. “I’m a social justice warrior, man. Trying to get representation of all cultures.”

I squinted, wondering if I needed a trip to the otolaryngologist.

“I’m serious!” she said. “For one thing, in chess there’s on;ly black and white people. What about brown people?”

“Huh?”

“As an Indian, I feel slighted by this lack of representation,” she declared. “This is horrible. I feel whitewashed. Erased!”

“Can you erase a human?’ I asked blearily, staring at my eraser. “Say, you?”

“No, because that’s a violation of human rights.” she said. “Duh.”

I nodded wearily. “Don’t you have work to do?”

She smiled. “As a matter of fact, yes, I do.” She stood up, finished, and started packing up her things. I watched her, and then remembered something.

“That’s Jack's.” I said. “You’re in his seat.”

“Not anymore.” She opened his pencil case and peered inside. “Damn, where’d he get so many pencils?”

I shrugged helplessly. “Are you just gonna steal Jack’s stuff?”

She looked up. “It’s not stealing, it’s requisitioning, stupid.” She picked up Jack’s stuff and saluted. “See ya!”

She walked off, and I stared after her for a few seconds before returning to my worksheet, shaking my head.

After a few seconds, Jack slipped into his seat. “So, did I miss anything?”

I looked up. “The hurricane arrived.”

“Oh!” He glanced toward her, then leaned close to me. “I didn’t know you had a crush on her.”

I flushed. “I don't know what you’re talking about.”

Jack grinned. “You should ask her out.”

“Yeah, and then I should blow my brains out.” I said. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m fine.”

Jack sighed deeply. “Oh, look at you. Spurned by your crush, with a broken heart. How will you ever cope?”

“By murder.” I said, without looking up from my paper. “I’ll become a serial killer.”

“How tragic.” Jack said. He took out his paper and reached for his pencil, but it wasn’t there. I watched as he dug through his pencil case and then looked up, surprised. “Hey, all my pencils are gone. Do you know where they are?”

I looked at her, smiled, then looked back at Jack.

“No clue.”