Caught in a Crossfire

Chapter 8

"My lovely little seeds, please answer me this question: how are one of your characters dealing with the conflict at hand since you began to read? Can one of you tell me what the problem is?" Mr. Daniels asks the class, wearing a top hat and moving with a black cane.

After the first week of school falling by smoothly, I realize through occasional glances from my desk, that Mr. Daniels loves making the room laugh with his costumes. He gets them from the drama class, or from his own home.

"Anyone care to speak?" Thump thump goes his cane, and I hear it reaching the row where I sit. Spencer's in front of me, head straight. His hair looks black and disheveled. He is tense, even when he sat down today.

It's my fault, I know it. I keep my head down, and keep drawing circles on my blank piece of paper. Mr. Daniels doesn't give us homework except for the assignment that is due at the end of the school year. Classwork is basically working on the project and participating in class discussions.

"If it isn't the delightful season of all, Autumn." Mr. Daniels says brightly. I freeze. I can smell his strong cologne wafting over my desk. My face becomes like molten lava. "Autumn, our lovely season, care to tell us what how your character is dealing with the conflict at hand?"

The pencil drops from my hand, clattering to the desk. I feel like I am underwater, watching as bubbles disperse from my lips and to the surface. I shiver in my seat, feeling eyes latch on to me. I bite my tongue. Blood is a familiar flavor in my mouth. "I . . . I . . ."

"What's wrong, Audumb, cat got your tongue?" Wade, a kid with green hair says with a chuckle.

"That's not what I heard in 5th period last week." Darren adds, and there are snickers across the classroom.

"Enough of your teasing, gentlemen." Mr. Daniels says, loud and harsh. "Autumn, are you doing okay?"

Without warning, he places a hand on my shoulder, gentle pressure. I cringe at his touch. He moves his hand quickly. "What happened to your shoulder?"

I instinctively put my arms around myself. "I bumped into my door leaving the house," I whisper.

Mr. Daniels accepts my lie, but I see Spencer shift in his seat. Our teacher looks at him. "Spencer, my boy, care to explain since your partner is not able to?"

"Of course, Mr. Daniels." Spencer agrees, turning in his chair. "Our character is dealing with the conflict-a thing I do not know yet-by keeping herself closed off and hardly communicating. She made at least one friend, but just won't tell us exactly what is bothering her."

Mr. Daniels raises his bushy eyebrows up to his graying hairline. He's obviously impressed. "Excellent observation, Spencer."

"Thank you." Spencer says, turning back and keeping to himself.

"Anyone else care to talk?" A few more hands raise, and he calls upon them. "Autumn, I'd like to have a word with you after class."