Part 6 (1/2)

It had been bigger and more important for her when she was their age. As a teenager Genevieve Raton had looked at another blackboard in another town and saw the positions of the stars and planets, crop circles, the pyramids of Egypt, the topology of a mountain range. The straight-edge for her held the principle of order. From the compa.s.s flowed grace, symmetry, even mystery.

Teaching was probably just not rooted in her blood though, she thought. Descartes was. Physics was. But why should that make all the difference? It hadn't to her. Her own high school teacher was no genius at teaching. It was the subject subject that hooked her, not the man. Mr. Boorman always had yellow sweat stains circling the armpits of his starched white s.h.i.+rt, for G.o.d's sake. that hooked her, not the man. Mr. Boorman always had yellow sweat stains circling the armpits of his starched white s.h.i.+rt, for G.o.d's sake.

At least she had her youth going for her. It was only her second year at this, still pretty much fresh out of college. So the kids could relate to her a bit on a personal level. And the boys could relate to the fact that she was pretty.

They just couldn't relate to geometry.

Apathy abounded.

She sighed and immediately regretted it. You had to be upbeat with kids no matter what.

”Okay, so who can tell me what a scalene triangle is?”

”Three unequal sides!”

That was Jack. Jack again. Her single truly attentive geometry student - who couldn't help but blurt it out. Thus making him immediately the object of major scorn from the rest of the cla.s.s. Brownie. Brownie.

”That's right. But didn't we forget to raise our hand on that one, Jack?”

”Sorry, Miss Raton.”

But he wasn't. The little guy was grinning. A bit embarra.s.sed by his own enthusiasm, maybe, but not sorry. In a way she had to admire his pluck. The courage of a true nerd, born and raised. It didn't seem to bother him at all that Eric Durdaller was snickering at him one desk behind.

Eric and his buddy Gary Franck seemed interested in one thing only in her cla.s.s.

Her t.i.ts.

”All right. What other kinds of triangles are there? Name them for me.”

Silence. Vast and deep. Only Jack's hand in the air. Come on you guys, you Come on you guys, you know know this! this!

There was no way she was going to Jack for an answer. Maybe Peggy Cleek, she thought. Peggy had started off the year as one of her best students. But she'd fallen off considerably since. She still had her good days but now, you never knew.

She walked the aisle. Caught Tommy Barstow staring at her legs.

Peg seemed to be doodling in her notebook.

”Peggy? Taking copious notes, as usual, right?”

She was going for a wry tone here, not a mean one. But she wasn't entirely sure she'd pulled it off. It had been an exasperating day so far. She was having a lot of them. And the look on Peggy's face was almost pained. pained. An overreaction, she thought, in any case, even if she did sound a little mean.

”Ummm....just some notes, yeah...”

”So, what other kinds of triangles are there, Peggy?”

She looked around as though the answer were written on the walls somewhere.

”Scalene?”

And Genevieve guessed that the rest of the cla.s.s had been paying more attention than Peggy had at least because that drew a pretty good laugh. Peggy flushed. Then clutched her stomach. Dear G.o.d, Dear G.o.d, she thought, she thought, is this girl going to get sick in my cla.s.sroom? Over a is this girl going to get sick in my cla.s.sroom? Over a triangle? triangle?

”Please. May I be...?”

”Yes, Peggy, you may. Sure.”

The girl was out of her seat and out the door in a matter of seconds.

And then the whole cla.s.s fell hushed for a moment. All you could hear was the door slamming rattling the gla.s.s window and then the uncomfortable shuffle of feet. What was going on here? She'd guessed menstrual pains at first. Now she wasn't sure. Did the cla.s.s know something she didn't know?

It was Jack who broke the silence.

”Isosceles. And equilateral. Right?”

”Right, Jack.”

As she walked back to the blackboard past his desk she was tempted to pat him on the head like the good little doggie he was. She resisted that temptation.

When the cla.s.s broke for recess Peggy still hadn't come back from the girls' room. Genevieve went to her desk and opened her folder, flipped a few pages. Notes, doodles, the usual. She stopped at a drawing. It was not a bad rendering. Done in black felt-tip pen. A small house, like a dollhouse - but empty - within a small, equally empty room. Something canted in the angles of each.

She closed it just as Peggy came in, head down, hands shoved into the pockets of her oversized hoodie.

”You okay, sweetie?”