Page 35 of The Surprise Play

“That’s okay.” Her voice is soft and sweet as she arranges her stuff.

I watch her fingers move as she opens her pencil case and carefully pulls out a pen, placing the cap on the end of it. She brushes her palm over a fresh sheet of paper before glancing at me, then picks up her notes.

Clearing my throat, I try to explain. “I only took this class because I thought it’d be easy, but it’s kicked my ass… just like everything else has.”

“You’re smart enough to pass this class,” she murmurs, reading over her notes.

I snicker and shake my head. “No, but?—”

“Yes.” She turns to give me a firm look. “Everybody can learn, Wily. You included. We just need to discover the way that you learn best.”

I blink at her, wanting to argue some more, but she starts talking before I can.

“Now, you’re obviously a physical person because you’re very good at sports, so I’m guessing the best way for you to learn is through hands-on things, which is whyyou probably excel in classes like PE, metalwork, shop, things like that.”

“Yeah.” I nod.

“And reading a book is challenging for you? I’m guessing you prefer graphic novels or movies, stuff where there’s more action and less words?”

I nod again, my chair squeaking when I shift on it.

“So, a book likeMoby Dickis a really hard task, and you shouldn’t be beating yourself up over not being able to manage it easily.” Her lips twitch. “Although, I get the sense that you didn’t try to manage any of it at all.”

My laugh is husky and self-deprecating.

“But if you want to graduate, you’re just gonna have to get over it and work with me.” Digging into her bag, she pulls out a plastic fidget toy. “You take this.” She places it in my palm, and my fingers immediately start flicking the switches on the cube, my thumb spinning the dial before I flip it over and see what else is on this thing.

While I’m messing around, she goes on to tell me all aboutMoby Dick.

Holding the book in her hands, she thumbs through the pages and describes the basic storyline. But she doesn’t use any of the language from the book—I can tell because she’s throwing out modern-day words that actually make sense to me, and by the time she’s done, I think I actually fucking understand the story.

“What?” I whisper when she gets to the end. “They all died?”

“Except for Ishmael.”

“But wait…” I shake my head. “That jackass Ahab destroyed everything over a whale?”

“Mm-hmm.” She smiles at me, her head bobbing. “So, based on that…” Her eyes sparkle with enthusiasm. “Which character do you think we should study?”

“It’s got be the Ahab guy. Holy fuck. I mean, he was obsessed. He was treating that whale like some ex-lover who burned him and took everything he had.”

Her lips twitch like she’s pleased with what I just said. “Well, Moby took his leg, so he was pretty pissed off about it.”

I run a hand through my hair. It’s dry now, so it flops right back over my forehead as I lean forward in my chair, tapping the fidget toy on the edge of my desk.

“What can you tell me about him as a person?” Satch asks me. “What kind of man was he?”

“I think he was seriously fucked in the head,” I answer quickly. “I mean, from what you’ve said, he let that whale dominate his life. What started out as simple revenge turned into a destructive nightmare.”

“Do you think he was a good captain?”

“Hell no.” I shake my head, thinking of our team captains and how they’d never lead us down some treacherous path like that. Coach Jones would kill their asses if they let personal vendettas get in the way of the game.

“So, then… what lessons can we learn from what he went through? Is there anything or anyone in your life that you can think of who might have destroyed something good because of anger or revenge? What can you take from the story that we could apply to society today? I mean, whale hunting is a big no-no, right? But are there any examples you can think of where people have taken payback a little too far? And how do we stop that from happening again?”

I blink at her, my brain scrambling to come up with something good. Because I want to be good for this girl. I don’t even know why, but every time I’ve answered her, she gives me this barely there smile or her lips twitch, like she likes what I’m saying. I want to see that look again. It’s driving me to think and come up with answers that are good enough.

“Sorry.” She winces. “That’s a lot of questions. Let’s take it one at a time.” Angling her pad, she writes down the first question, then gives me an expectant look. “What can we learn from Captain Ahab?”