Sinister - 3. Chapter 3

Sam was stunned. Naomi, Ruth and Noah were looking at him. “Where is Adam now? Where’s he talking from?”

Ruth put down her chalk and walked over to Sam. “He’s over the state line, in Califoregon. It’s not like here in Utizona. Lefties are legal there. It’s even illegal to discriminate there. And it’s only fifty miles away.”

Naomi leaned back in her chair. “There are places we can go. There are sanctuary churches. They welcome left-handers and help them get a new start.”

“We’re making a plan,” Glen added.

“A plan? What kind of plan?” Sam was having trouble taking this all in.

Noah rolled his eyes. “An escape plan. Duh.”

Naomi swatted him. “Cut him some slack, Noah. Give him time to adjust.”

Sam’s mind was retreating to its defaults. “You’d better wash that chalk dust off your fingers, Ruth.”

“Of course. I’m not that stupid.”

Noah chuckled. “Cut him some slack, Ruth.”

Sam brain was on overload. “I have to go home. I’m late.”

“You can come with us, Sam.” Glen’s voice was reassuring, which was all the more disturbing.

“How did you know about me?”

“I saw you drawing one day when you thought nobody was watching.”

Had he really been so careless? “I have to go home.”

“Same time next week?”

Sam avoided looking in their eyes. “Yeah, maybe. Bye.” He rushed out the door and pedaled home as fast as he could.

Lydia and Judy were sitting at the kitchen table. Sam smiled at the contrast between them: Lydia with her straight dark hair and her insistence on wearing black or brown or dark green, and Judy’s unruly blonde wisps and unquenchable thirst for pink and purple clothing.

Sam’s mother was pulling food out of the freezer. “How was your day in school?”

“Okay. Um--”

“Um what?”

“I’m going to change one of my classes. I think I need a note from you.”

“Oh? Which class?”

“I’m going to drop art class and take something else.”

Mrs. Swift stopped and looked at Sam. “You’re dropping art class? I thought you really wanted to take that.”

“It, um, didn’t really turn out to be what I was hoping.”

Lydia looked up from her homework and appraised Sam critically.

Sam turned to Judy. “Hey, Judy, I can listen to that song now.”

Judy jumped up from her chair and dragged Sam to the piano. She was only seven but she had been taking lessons for two years and was finally able to play some things worth hearing.

Dinner was almost ready when Sam’s father arrived. Sam wished he hadn’t mentioned changing classes before. Now he had to bring it up again. When they were all seated and grace had been said, he said, “Ma, Pa, I need a note for school from you.”

His mother explained, “Sam wants to drop art class.”

Sam’s father was, if anything, pleased. “Well, probably better that you take something practical. What are you planning to take instead?”

“I don’t know. Maybe metal shop. Or choir. It depends on what I can take without changing my whole schedule.”

“Why exactly are you dropping art?” Lydia cut in.

Thanks, Lydia. “Personality conflict with the teacher.”

“What does that mean?” Judy looked up at Sam as she re-mashed her potatoes with her fork.

“The teacher doesn’t like me.”

Now Sam’s mother was the one regarding him with a sharp eye.

“Why?” Judy persisted.

“I guess we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Which foot is the wrong foot?”

Sam’s mother’s voice had an edge of irritation. “Judy, eat your potatoes, don’t play with them.”

“Teacher says the left hand is the wrong hand. Is the left foot the wrong foot?”

Mr. Swift frowned. “Judy, listen to your mother. Eat your dinner.”

Judy pouted and chewed a bite of potato.

Lydia said, “Sam doesn’t like anyone to watch him draw anyway.”

You’re not helping, Sam thought.

“Sam’s best pictures are his alone pictures,” Judy said through her mouthful of half-chewed food.

Sam’s father looked at him and was about to speak. But Sam’s mother said, “Well, we all need some alone time sometimes. Now Sam, you said you needed a note?”

“Yes, just write that I have your permission to take another elective. Probably the elective of my choice. I’m not sure what will be available.”

Mr. Swift addressed his pork chops. “Metal shop would be good.”

************

Sam picked up a class change form from his counselor, Mrs. Lee, just before school and arranged to come back to discuss available classes. When Sam brought the form to art class, Mr. Price signed the withdrawal and dismissed him without a word.

As he walked to the office, Sam thought about signing up for a shop class. He would constantly be using his right hand for unaccustomed tasks. The likelihood of injuring himself was high. He should look for something else.

Mrs. Lee had him sit down in her office. “Well, Sam, have you thought about what class you’d like to take instead of art?”

“Ideally I don’t want to change my schedule too much. What’s available during this period?”

“There’s metal shop.”

“How about choir?”

“No, that’s sixth period.”

“Oh. Anything else?”

Mrs. Lee looked at the schedule. “There’s ASL with Miss Sinclair.”

“I thought she taught history.”

“She does. But she also teaches sign. It counts as a foreign language credit. The class has eighteen students at the moment, so she should be able to fit you in. ”

Anything, Sam thought. “Okay. What do I do?”

“Go to room 409 and have her sign the class change form.”

Miss Sinclair welcomed Sam to the class with no questions. The only thing that made him feel uneasy was that both Glen and Ruth were in the class. It was still early enough in the year that Sam could catch up with learning what the others knew. And Miss Sinclair spent some of the period talking about how she had learned sign, growing up with deaf parents.

Glen cornered him after class. “Hey, are you switching to ASL from art class?”

“Yeah. I wanted something that was at the same time.”

“So what happened there exactly? Did Price catch you?”

Well, why not tell him? Glen knows my big non-secret anyway. “He accused me of having someone else do my homework. He wanted to watch me draw something else as good. So I did. With my left hand.”

“Whoa! Right in front of him?”

“Yeah. He ripped it up.”

“Listen. You can get in on our plan if you want.”

“I can’t talk about this now.” Sam looked around; anybody could be watching.

“Monday. Science Club. See ya.” Glen walked off. Ruth glanced at him briefly before turning away. Wondering if I can be trusted, Sam thought. Well, I’m wondering the same about you.

************

At the end of the school day Sam dropped off his change form. As he left the school office, Rachel North approached him. “Hey, Sam, I’m sorry about yesterday. Gabe can be kind of a jerk sometimes.”

“Well, I didn’t have to go to the hospital or anything.”

“I don’t believe all that stuff about hexes. I know you’re not really, like, a southpaw or anything, but even if someone were, I don’t think they should be treated like that.”

Is she trying to trap me? Trying to get me to admit it? “I only know what they say in church.”

Rachel hesitated. “Yeah. Well, anyway, sorry.”

As Sam walked away, he saw Gabe approach Rachel, look suspiciously at Sam, and begin what looked like a heated discussion with her.

The distraction almost led to another collision, this time with Jesse Davis walking with his arm around Toby Marsden. Sam stopped short before impact.

“Hey, Swift,” Jesse said.

“Not too swift,” Toby snickered.

Jesse chuckled. “I hear you tried to start something yesterday with Gabe.”

“I didn’t start anything.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

The couple moved on. Toby muttered, “Pervert,” as they passed, and they laughed.

Sam couldn’t get away from school fast enough.