After the Fourth Period Bell

"Well?" Mrs. Davis asked as she lowered her glasses down her nose to look at me. Her dark glasses made her seem scarier than she actually was.

My eyes looked at the big red clock ticking slowly. The seconds were getting longer and longer and the pressure that I was feeling kept crushing me further.

"Why did Henry the Eighth break away from the Catholic Church?"

I remembered reading over this last night. It was the page with all the drawings on it. I remembered thinking that Henry the Eighth was rather fat. I remembered that the page that the paragraph was on was two hundred and sixty. I remembered that I had accidentally scribbled in the margin with my pen. Mrs. Davis gave a short cough, but kept her gaze steady on me.

I swallowed and tried to look at someone across the room to see if they would try to whisper something. Everyone stood motionless. I was the dumb kid in the class, always had been. People had coined a new term: slower than Sammy. It wasn't my fault that I wasn't good at learning. Or maybe it was. Maybe if I spent more time in the library, the knowledge would be easier to absorb. I could see some of the other kids laughing.

"Shut it Jimmy," I said as I looked him dead in the eye. He made a face at me and then turned to Olivia Morgan, the sweetest girl in our class. She had tried to help me study a few times, but I told her I was too stupid to learn. She wasn't that pretty but she was a nice person. I looked at her to see if maybe she would mouth the answer to me so that I could get away, but Jimmy was keeping her entertained with something he was whispering to her.

"You'll get it," Olivia told me once as she gave a brilliant white smile, "it's not hard. You just have to figure out what works best for you."

"Naw Olivia, I'm just stupid. I don't think I could get this no matter how hard I try."

"You'll get it Sammy, ol' boy. You'll get it."

But the matter of the fact is that I hadn't gotten it. Mrs. Davis raised her eyebrows to the point where I thought they would mash together with her hairline.

"We really don't have all day here, Sammy," she said as her eyes focused on me.

Mrs. Davis was an alright person, I thought to myself. She was a bit mean at times, but she would bring us cookies on Fridays and if we were good she'd put a movie on for us. It was one of those educational documentaries, but I found them kind of relaxing. All the girls would squeal when it showed some scene of a guy having his head cut off by the executioner, but I didn't mind it so much. Sometimes Mrs. Davis would be harsh in her grading, especially with essays. I was a really bad speller-- I still am-- and she would take off dozens of points for all my spelling mistakes. She would say that my essay was decent, but it was all the spelling that made the grade worse than what it could have been.

I looked around the room, my eyes scanning the walls, perhaps thinking that she had a poster in her colorful classroom with the answer. I looked to my right to see Georgie Goodman pushing a piece of paper towards me with what I presumed was the answer, but Mrs. Davis caught him.

"George, Sammy can think for himself, thank you very much. Cheating is not allowed in my classroom. That is the room. Studying," she said as she shot me a glare, "however, is highly encouraged. Did you study Sammy?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I don't think you studied very well. What exactly did you study?"

"This lesson ma'am. About England and all."

"Did you only study the pictures?" she asked as the class began to snicker.

"No ma'am. I read over the lesson a few times. Took some notes."

"And where are these notes?"

"I left them at home accidentally. I wanted to grab them and read them over on the bus and then again before class, but I left them in the kitchen. I was running late, you see."

"And why is that?"

"I was up late studying and I woke up late in the morning." My stomach gave a growl and the class roared with laughter. "I didn't eat neither, ma'am."

"I think we all know that now, Sammy."

I nodded and hoped that she might call on someone else. I shuffled a few things around on my desk but still heard her clearing her throat.

"Sammy we won't be moving on until you give me answer."

"But, ma'am I don't remember. Honestly."

"I don't believe you, Sammy. Think harder."

I took a deep breath and tried to picture the page again. On the right side was a picture of England, the bottom had a section with fun facts, and the paragraphs were stacked like building blocks. The font was Times New Roman, size 12, double spaced. The bottom of the page showed Page 260: European History.

"Sammy, class is almost over, I need an answer."

I swallowed harder and felt tears sting the back of my eyes. I could feel everyone looking at me, pointing, knowing that I didn't know the answer. I felt them laughing, mocking, using my name for more jokes. I opened my mouth to talk but no sound came out.

Before I even had the chance to think again, the bell rang.

Everyone grabbed their bags and ran out the door to recess. Mrs. Davis walked back to her desk took her glasses off and sat down to drink the remainder of her tea.

"Mrs. Davis?" I asked as I approached her desk.

"Yes, Sammy?"

"It was because he wanted a divorce."

"What?"

"Henry, the king. He wanted a divorce."

She sighed and looked at me. "Sammy, why don't you answer me during class? You always come at the end and tell me the answers."

"I'm scared ma'am."

"Scared?" she said as she furrowed her eyebrows? "Scared of what dear?"

"If I get the answer wrong, then they'll know I'm stupid. But if I just don't answer, they might think that I knew it, I just didn't remember it."

"Oh Sammy," she said as she placed a hand on my shoulder, "why don't you go on to recess?"

"Yes ma'am," I said as I grabbed my backpack. I moved my way around the desks and towards the door of the classroom.

"Oh, and Sammy?" Mrs. Davis said as she came closer to me, "Have my lunch, I know you don't have one."