leah shorty

Towards the middle of the semester, Mrs. B. devised an assignment where we had to act out a soliloquy from any Shakespeare play. I chose Marc Antony’s “Friends, Romans, Countrymen” speech from Julius Caesar. As we had to be in costume for extra credit, I brought a flat sheet to school to fashion into a toga of sorts. There was a supply closet in the front of the room where people could change. Boys would pretend to peek in the closet when girls were changing. There wasn’t much to see for the most part, as girls might throw a long night gown over their clothes to play Juliet. The door locked on the outside when closed completely, so the few kids with major changes could do so with some privacy.

Mrs. B. was very different, though. Our class only met once a week, but there were times when she and I would cross paths in the course of a day. I noticed that either she must have changed her path to avoid me or averted her gaze when we did cross paths. She did not appear to be her usual ebullient self. She was noticeably absent from her office during times I would usually drop in to say hello. I guessed the experience was not the life changing event for her as it was for me.

The fight continued in that fashion. Over and over again, Abner charged Reiss, only to be soundly beaten and hurled back. He’d hit the ground and slowly get to his feet, often while reciting some motivational quip that made Noah roll his eyes. The young man’s tenacity was admirable, but Noah wished he would stop screaming about the merits of determination and friendship. He had a rule against taking pleasure in the suffering of others, but was letting this fight continue for his amusement in seeing Abner getting knocked around. Even for an ancient spirit like Noah, the young man’s unrelenting “put me in, coach!” energy was aggravating, and he wanted to see his spirit break.