Heather Improves Her Grades (For Real!)

Susurrations of rumors and innuendo fill the classroom as students talk amongst themselves, anxiously awaiting their teacher’s arrival. Parties are planned, dates scheduled. A few young girls bury their heads in books, not wishing to join in on the adolescent chatter.

Heads turn as Heather walks into sixth period, her wide smile captivating all and sundry despite the long, hard day. On the surface she looks no different than any other student with her jeans and Lone Star jacket. There’s just something about her, though that defies description.

“Hey Tanya!” She waves to a fellow student as she takes her place in the back of the room.

Her classmate waves back, a little confused by the greeting. It takes her a moment to realize she’d never seen this person before. It’s her first real encounter with Heather that doesn’t involve shoving past her in a hallway or some muttered ‘watch it!’ to the stranger with the hangdog face.

“Hi.” Tanya waves sheepishly.

Heather takes her place in the back row, putting on a happy face despite the struggle of having to peer over a fellow classmate’s head. Her earnestness garners her more than a few suspicious looks from some of the more worldly teens among her, suspecting her of being high or just plain dumb than an ordinary optimist.

Mr. Doe walks in on cue, clutching his briefcase in his right hand. Heather steals glimpses of an disembodied hand writing on a blackboard. She twirls her pen, waiting for the lecture to begin.

“Anyone read chapter 9?”

Dead air.

“Anyone?”

A hand shoots up among the mass of students, fingers waving eagerly.

“I did, Mr. Doe.”

The rest of the class groans.

“Ms. McBride. Have anything to share?”

“I just thought that the part about uh…what’d they call it again?”

“Strategic hamlets.”

“ ‘Dem strategic hamlets.” Heather mulls the term over. “Like, did we really do that to ‘dem? It sounds like they’d been rounded up in concentration camps or somethin’. I thought we were against that sort of stuff.”

“You’ve really given some thought to this.”

“I have.”

“Well, the truth is complicated, Ms. McBride.” Mr. Doe sighs. “The United States intended for the villagers to be resettled in areas away from the Communists, but things have a way of taking a life of their own. In this case, the local government—the South Vietnamese—proved incompetent and corrupt, and were little better than thugs, extorting money from villagers in exchange for raw materials and food.”

“But why would we allow such a thing. It’s…its un-American!”

“A lot of things happen that we don’t know about. Initially. Next question?”

The class moves on as a handful of hands shoot up, students struggling to put their observations into words. Heather scribbles the observations in her notebook, filing them away for reference. The rest of the class is a blur as she tries to keep up. But the change in her personality is notable so far—her own teacher is struck by the new her.

As the class is dismissed, she hangs back, filing her textbooks in her bag.

“Somewhere you have to be?” Mr. Doe points at her notes.

“’Naw. Just gettin’ ready to go home.”

“You were impressive today. I expected some sort of change but…this is nothing short of inspiring.”

“’It’s nothin’.” She shrugs. “You’re the one that inspired me, remember?”

Heather can practically smell the musk of his scent. She thinks back to the other day. The laughter. The excitement.

The promise of something more.

“I was thinkin’.” She brushes away a stray lock of hair. “I know the next report’s due. Any way I could do it on this?”

“On what.”

“Our discussion, silly.” She smiles. “This Vietnam thing got me interested. Think I can do that?”

“Sure.” Mr. Doe shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

“Let’s make it…special.” She juts her chest out, just in case he doesn’t pick up the innuendo.

“Oooh. That would be perfect.”

“I’ll do it just like you want. Double-spaced, 1-inch margins. Though I’m hungry for something a little…lengthier.”

“I’m busy right now.” He glances through the window, making sure no one is looking in. “Tell you what. Why don’t I call and set up a time and place. I’m sure you can use a little help with your…research.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She waves at him as she leaves. “See you whenever.”