Grayson's Body

Mental

"Why?" I asked as I set my pen to the page.

He glanced at me and just shrugged.

"I don't know, Needy. You're the shrink," he said, and I felt him look at me again as I began to write my name and the date at the top of the page.

I wasn't a shrink.

I opened my mouth to tell him that he probably needed to take some magnesium before he went to bed to relax his muscles, and therefore relax his mind, when Mr. Williams came in. He closed the door behind him softly and I turned towards the board.

He was an older teacher: hair whiter than a Minnesota snow, laugh lines deep around his cheeks, eyes this sad gray shade that made him look depressed all the time, even when he wasn't. He was one of my favorite teachers since he was so relaxed about being in the class if you know what I mean. He was very predictable. You always knew what was going to happen far in advance with him.

Mr. Williams had this look of total loss on his face, though. He looked like he was uncomfortable to be even up there in front of us. I could tell he didn't want to be there. Everyone in the room got quiet as he sat his dark leather bag onto the long black table that he taught from. I watched as he moved his office chair to sit but he stopped, hand stilling on the thick black plastic.

I could see him move slightly as he looked at us. He seemed to search the room with his eyes. There wasn't a face that he didn't pause at. He released his hand from the chair and stood up straighter.

"This is a dark, dark day for Kettle. And believe me, I have lived through some-"

He was going to say dark days, I just knew it.

-"pretty heavy stuff."

There was a pause. I watched as he leaned against the table, hands sprayed out on the top.

"We lost eight precious students. Including Ahmet from India, several parents, and our beloved Spanish teacher."

"No way, Senorita Erikson ate shit?" Grayson said. I turned to him, my mouth partway open. He had whispered it, but he was smiling, leaning back against the seat, arms crossed.

"Now, more than ever put aside your teenage concerns about who's a cool dude, who's got it going on." He said that with air quotes.

He paused and looked at us.

"We can't let that damn fire win," he said finally, sternly.

"It already won," I heard Grayson whisper. I couldn't let my eyes off him. I had the sudden urge to punch him. I mean, I wanted my fist to be thrown against his nose in a destructive manner.

"God bless you kids," he said with a sniffle. I just watched as Grayson's mouth formed into a smirk as he went through the lesson.

After class Grayson and I parted ways. He went one direction to History, and I went the other.

Chip was at my shoulder as I passed her classroom. She had been waiting for me.

"No band practice today," she said, sounding disappointed.

She looked like she was in the depths of it: her face pinched, her bloodshot eyes looking into my brown ones.

"There's no anything today," I said because it was true.