Elvis

I’m late. I’m late. I’m late I’m late I’mlateI’mlateI’mlate. If I’m late for Mr. Garden’s chemistry class one more time, I’m going to get after-school detention. Musical auditions are today, and if I miss them because of something stupid like a tardy, Carly is going to kill me.

I run down the hallway, backpack hitting against the top of my butt with every step. Some of the slacker students look at me as I pass. I look at my watch. Six seconds. Six seconds until the tardy bell rings. Six seconds. All I have to do is round the corner, and then I’m a few steps from the classroom. I can do this.

Bam!

I vaguely feel pain in my shoulder and the books that are in my backpack poking into my side as I stare up at the ceiling.

Brrrrrring. Crap.

“Are you alright?” A head peeks into my view. “You went down pretty hard.” I look up at the boy with the shaggy brown hair and tan skin. He holds out his hand, and I grab it. He lifts my five-foot-three, one-hundred-and-twelve-pound frame off the floor with ease.

“Yeah,” I say answering his question as I grab onto my shoulder. “I’m good. Did I run into you?” I look him over. He doesn’t seem to be hurt.

“Yeah,” he said as he rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “But I think I hurt you more than you hurt me.” And I can see why. He’s easily got a foot on me, and his shoulders and arms are broad. This dude’s a wall compared to me.

“Who are you?” I ask bluntly. Coffeeville’s a very small town. Everyone knows everyone’s name. And for a high school that holds barely over two-hundred students, I should have at least seen him somewhere.

“My name’s Jayesh Bhadia.” He holds out his hand. I go to take it slowly as his name catches me off guard.

“Isn’t that a Muslim name?” He puts his hand down by his side and stares at me, his brown eyes big circles as he doesn’t know how to respond. “I’m sorry,” I said. My embarrassment is obvious as I ignore his gaze and twist the ring on my right middle finger. “We just don’t get a lot of… well… Jayeshes around here.” And then I’m really embarrassed. Probably more embarrassed than I’ve ever been. Because he laughs.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I understand. That was my first thought when I saw the ‘Welcome to Coffeeville’ sign said the population was 871.” I let out a relieved sigh. “I was wondering if you could tell me how to get to Mr. Raynor’s class? I have band first period, and I’m lost.”

“It’s on the other side of the school,” I say, glad to be through with our previous conversation. “You’re going to go out the double doors. The music hall is its own separate building.”

“Miss Davis.” My eyes widen as I look at Jayesh whose gaze travels above my head. I slowly turn around to meet the gaze of Mr. Garden. “Are you ready to join class, or do I need to let you finish this conversation with your new friend in detention this afternoon?”

Jayesh walks past me and gets in between me and Mr. Garden. He sticks his hand out. “Hello, sir,” he says. “It’s my fault. I’m new here, and I got lost. She was helping me.” Mr. Garden looks down at Jayesh’s hand, but he doesn’t move his own.

“Do you know where to go now?” Mr. Garden asks with a brash tone.

“Yes, sir,” Jayesh answers as he slowly puts his hand back down to his side.

“Then I suggest you get there.” Jayesh turns around and walks past me with his head down, ignoring the small supportive smile I try to give him. “And you, Miss Davis. If you’re not in my classroom in two seconds, you’ll have detention for a week.”

“Yes, sir,” I say quickly as I shuffle my feet and hurry into his classroom. “Sorry.” I hurriedly sit in my seat towards the middle of the classroom right in front of Carly.

Mr. Garden walks in and slams the door, making everyone in the room jump. He makes his way to whiteboard and starts writing down some vocabulary words. “Everyone get out a piece of paper,” he says. “Pop quiz on your vocabulary.”

..:::..

“How do you think you did?” Kale asks as we exit Mr. Garden’s classroom. “I think I aced it.” He shrugs his shoulders as if it’s no big deal.

“I had a hard time on valence electrons, but I think I got most of it,” Carly responds just as positive as Kale. We all stop at my locker so that I can put my books away and grab my paper for my next class. “What about you, Mary?”

“I dunno,” I say. I have a thought and quickly turn to my two friends as I’m still digging around in my locker. “Do you think Mr. Garden’s racist?”

Kale and Carly’s eyes go wide. Kale puts his hand over my mouth and Carly looks around to make sure no one heard me. “God, Mary,” Kale says. He lets go of my mouth just as quickly as he put his hand over it. “Why don’t you scream it from the freakin’ rooftops? You can’t just run around asking if someone is racist. It could ruin his reputation.”

“Well,” I said as I quiet my voice. “Do you?”

“Absolutely not,” Carly says positively. “There’s no way.”

“How do you know?” I ask her.

“Well,” Kale starts. “Michael’s in our class. And he’s black. And Mr. Garden really likes him. Mr. Garden likes everyone.” I give him a skeptical look. “Well, except you. But that’s just because you’re always late.”

“You can like black people and still be racist,” I say slowly as I struggle to shut my locker. I use my foot to push the books, papers, and other random objects that are threatening to spill out back in, eventually succeeding. I put my papers and books in my bag and put it on my back. “Black people aren’t the only ones someone can be racist toward.”

“Where is this coming from?” Carly asks as she puts her hand on my shoulder. Carly has always been motherly to me ever since my mom died a few years ago. All of my friends have sort of been taking turns being there for me since then. I appreciate the effort, but sometimes it can be a little overbearing.

“There’s a new kid in school,” I say. “I met him this morning, and Mr. Garden was kind of mean to him.”

“So?” Kale says. “How does that make him racist?”

“His name is Jayesh.” A look of understanding comes across their faces. We slowly start to walk down the hallway further away from Mr. Garden’s room toward our classrooms where I have English, Kale has Trigonometry, and Carly has Advanced Art. Before Carly signed up for it, I didn’t even know you could be advanced in something like art. But that’s Carly. She’s good at literally everything. And Kale is only a junior and taking all advanced classes. Technically, trigonometry isn’t even supposed to be offered to juniors, but here’s Kale, taking and acing it. All of this just make me blatantly more aware that all of my classes are regular except my remedial math class, and my two extra-curricular periods are both study halls. Go Mary. The underachiever.

Kale waves goodbye to Carly and me as he breaks off to go down a different hallway toward the math wing of the school. “I think it’s neat,” Carly says as we stop by my English classroom. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a Muslim student before. Well, I’ll see you at auditions, right?”

“What about lunch?” I ask. “Kale is tutoring, Damian and Tilly are practicing their band music, and B has yearbook. You’re leaving me alone?” I can’t stand being alone. And my friends know it. They even worked out their schedule so at least one of them is with me in every class except Remedial Math.

As soon as Carly puts her hand on my shoulder, I know she’s going to ditch me for something. “Jessica called an extra practice during lunch.” Jessica is the cheer captain. She’s pretty, and she’s very nice. She just schedules more practices than an Olympic team would even need. Carly waves goodbye as she goes to her classroom across the hall.

I sigh as I walk into the classroom, mentally preparing myself for the lonely lunch I’ll be having in a couple of hours. I go to the far side of the room and sit in my desk in the front corner, right beside B.

“Did you hear?” B says. “There’s a new student.” She looks around like she’s about to tell me missile launch codes. “And he’s Muslim,” she whispers.

“I know,” I say. “I ran into him this morning.” Literally.

There’s an eerie vibe through the room as the whole class goes quiet. At the sudden lack of
sound, I look up. And there, headed right toward me, with a big smile on his face, is Jayesh. “Hey, Davis,” Jayesh says as he sits in the seat right behind me, completely ignoring all the stares. “Sorry again. About this morning.”

I smile back at him. “It’s fine,” I say. “I was the one running. It’s my fault.” I look around at the room. Some noise has come back, but it’s mostly whispers and looks in our general direction.

“Hi,” B says as she shakes Jayesh’s hand. “I’m B. What’s your name?”

“Jayesh,” he says. While the stares are starting to make me even more uncomfortable, B and Jayesh completely ignore it. I can feel my heart start to beat faster and faster. “Are you okay, Davis?” Jayesh asks. “You’re sweating. Are you sick?”

“Mary?” I hear B’s voice say. She makes her voice as low as she can. “Is it your anxiety? Do you need to take your medicine?”

I shake my head. “No,” I sputter out. “I’m fine.” I look around the room again. Less stares. But they’re still looking at me. Why are they looking at me? “Why are they looking at me?”

I look to B who just shakes her head and looks to Jayesh, who seems to be completely confused. “I don’t think they’re looking at you, Mary,” B says. She looks at Jayesh sympathetically.

“They’re not,” Jayesh says comfortingly as he puts his hand on my shoulder. Just like Carly does. “It’s okay. They’re looking at me.” I start to calm down as I hear the tardy bell ring and the door shut.

“Good morning,” says the substitute teacher of the day. Or, as B and I like to call it, the STD.

Mrs. Teal is the Junior English teacher. She had a baby and is now on maternity leave. She’s been out for a month, and I actually miss her. I really enjoy English, and I like the way she taught it. Sometimes I can’t understand when these subs are trying to explain.

As the STD begins roll, I wait for the inevitable. I put my chin on my hand and look out the window as a few names are called, but with my last name starting with D, I’m obviously at the top.

“Elvis,” the sub says. And people snicker the way they always do, making my heart, once again, speed up. I keep quiet. “Elvis Iola Davis.” I snap my head up. They’ve never said my middle name before.

I sheepishly raise my hand and say, “Mary,” while B turns around and silently threatens the students laughing at me. And then I hear laughing coming from directly behind me. I turn around to look at Jayesh who has a huge smile on his face as he looks right at me. And I thought he was nice.

“My apologies,” the sub says. “Mary.” She makes a mark on her paper, and she continues with the roll. Only after almost everyone’s name has been called does she look pointedly at Jayesh. “And you are?”

“Jayesh,” he says with a smile on his face. Does he ever stop smiling? It was comforting, but ever since he laughed at me, it’s begun to get annoying. “Jayesh Bhadia. I’m new, so I won’t be on the list, yet, but I can show you my schedule.” No sooner than he reaches into his backpack does he take out a pristine sheet of paper with his classes on it. As he makes his way up to the front of the room, and as some of the whispers I desperately try to ignore start up again, I whip my head around to peek into his backpack. He has mostly folders. And everything is clean. I mentally think about my own backpack with crumpled pieces of paper and my lunch in it that’s probably squished between my chemistry and English books. A novel whose paper cover has been bent back. It’s a train wreck.

“No plans were left for me today,” the new substitute says as she sits down at Mrs. Teal’s desk. “So you can study for other classes.” I look up to see Jayesh making his way towards B and me. I use this opportunity to take out by beaten novel and start reading where I left off when I fell asleep last night.

“I’m sorry I laughed,” Jayesh whispers to me. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like I was laughing at you or your name.” I continue to ignore him. “I like your name, and, honestly, even though people have whispered about me a lot, I’m not quite used to it, yet. And I laugh when I’m nervous.” I turn my head to look at him. And he’s giving me a small, less annoying smile as before.

“I’m sorry everyone is whispering,” I said. “I know what that’s like, and I know it’s not fun.”

“Mary’s mom died,” B says, entering the conversation. I look at her, silently tell her to shut her mouth. We met this person eight seconds ago, and she wants to give out all of my information?

“Oh,” Jayesh says. “Well, at least you guys are nice. I’ve run into some not-nice people today.” I take another look behind me. No ‘I’m sorry your mom died’. No sympathetic looks. He’s the first person I’ve ever encountered to not make me feel totally awkward about the situation.

“We have Drama Club auditions after school,” B says in an inviting way. “Maybe you should audition. People can get to know you and you can make some more friends.”

“I’m open to anything,” Jayesh says. “I like making friends. I just need to tell my parents.” He brings out his cell phone, punches in a number, and starts speaking. Not in English. And he’s not being quiet about it. I look around, and people seem to be looking at him. That’s when Brandon stands up from his seat in the back of the other corner of the room and makes his way toward us. I watch as Brandon grabs Jayesh’s phone and throws it against the wall.

“Calling in a bomb threat?” Brandon says as he stares down at Jayesh.

“What’s your problem, dude?” Jayesh asks, standing up. I take this opportunity to look at the sub who is watching the scene, obviously unsure of what to do.

“We don’t want no terrorist in our school,” Brandon shoots back. “Go back to where you came from.”

“I’m from Iowa,” Jayesh responds. “I was born there, and I’ve lived there my whole life until now.”

“Whatever, Quran thumper.” Brandon grabs Jayesh by the collar of his red Polo.

“Stop it, Brandon,” B says as she gets in between them, making Brandon let go of Jayesh’s shirt. “Quit being a close-minded freak.” Brandon grabs B by the shoulders and pushes her out of the way. He tries to close the gap between him and Jayesh when everyone hears a voice.

“Stop right there, Mr. Greenwich.” During the fight, the sub must have left to get the principal. “In my office.” Brandon grabs his stuff and huffs his way out of the room. The principal, Mr. Tieg, makes his way towards us. “You,” he says pointing at me. “Mary. What happened?”

“Brandon’s a bully,” B says. “He pushed me and made racial slurs toward Jayesh.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Mr. Tieg says, not taking his eyes off me. “What happened, Mary?”

“Jayesh called his parents to ask them if he could stay for rehearsal,” I said, looking at a very interesting spot on my desk. I can feel my heart start to race and my cheeks grow warm as everyone looks at me. “Brandon threw his phone against the wall. And he pushed B.”

Mr. Tieg knows about my anxiety, and he seems to think he can get me to ‘come out of shell.’ Whatever that means. So he tries to get me to talk any chance he can. Mr. Tieg nods, believing my story, and makes his way out of the room past the sub. “Thank you, Miss Fields,” he says.

Everyone eventually goes back to whatever they were doing. “What an idiot,” B says. “Brandon needs some serious help.”

“It’s okay,” Jayesh says. “I’ve started getting used to it.” I turn back around to look at him. There’s that goofy smile again.

“How do you do that?” I ask him. “How do you not let things get to you?” Jayesh just shrugs and goes to grab something out of his backpack.

“My mom said I could go to rehearsal,” Jayesh says. “But I was wondering if you guys would want to come to Bible study with me tonight?”

“Bible study?” I ask. “You mean, like, Jesus and Christians and stuff like that?” I’ve had my experience in Bible studies. Kale and Carly are avid Christians, going to church all the time. I’m not sure if I’m a Christian. I mean, I believe in God and all, but I don’t really go to church. And to have Jayesh, the new Muslim student to ask me to go. Well, that’s a little bizarre.

“Yes,” Jayesh says, laughing. “Jesus and Christians and stuff like that. I’m a Christian. So is my family. We’re joining the church down the street on Sunday, but the youth meet on Mondays for Bible study, so tonight’s my first night. Do you wanna go?”

“I dunno,” I say. B also seems to be apprehensive about the subject. Carly and Kale have Bible Study tonight, too, so I’m sure they’ll be there. “I guess.”

“Great!” Jayesh says. He seems to be legitimately excited that me, little nobody Mary Davis he just met, would be going to Bible Study. The bell rings, and everyone makes their way toward the door. “See ya after school, Davis.” With a huge smile and a wave, he makes his way down the hallway.

“Yeah, Davis,” B says, poorly mimicking Jayesh’s voice. “See ya after school.”