Part 2

Decided to give some time in between parts... well let's get right into it.

Part two of "Untitled Short Story"
By Chris Walker

Matt took his planning period to get a snack. The teachers’ lounge was down two halls. Matt has had a nervous walk his whole life. The thought of others watching him made him feel nauseous so he kept his head down. When he walked he counted his steps and tried to avoid stepping on the larger than normal spaces between tiles. In forty steps Matt entered the teachers’ lounge. He approached the vending machine and watched the dull metallic coil unwind to release his potato chips. He dropped down to pick up the bag then arise, turn about, and leave, but he found in front of him the principal Mrs. Erin Miller.

“How are you this fine afternoon, Mr. Whelchel?” asked Mrs. Miller with the most professional tone she could conjure.

“Oh, I can’t complain,” said Matt as he was straining to meet her eyes.

Mrs. Miller strayed past Matt to the coffee-maker to pour a cup. With a provocative voice she then stated, “I’m very happy you agreed to substitute for a second week at our academy. The faculty has had no complains; usually a few of our more snobbish faculty always find something to complain about. All I have heard about you was that you’re a ‘good listener’. I suppose I should then inform you of a position opening next year in our English department. It would seem that Dr. Kendall is retiring. Say this next week could be a good opportunity to prove your worth.”

Matt stood amazed. His expression showed interest, but his eyes didn’t show much. He was fixated on the pantsuit that Mrs. Miller wore. Her clothes turned her into a powerful figure that seemed more than human. Matt remained speechless as Mrs. Miller walked out the door with mug in hand. Matt left as well. Back at his classroom he sat behind the desk and drew up plans for the quiz he would hand-out tomorrow.

To himself he tried to estimate the scores of his students. The two football players in the corner of his first class would both get eighty percent; they were both smart but not smart enough. In his second class, Emily, a smart girl who reads excessively, will lead the pack with a ninety-five percent. Abby will get a perfect.

Matt’s day was mundane throughout the rest of his classes. He led discussions that got off topic regardless of his efforts. He could be blamed for a portion of movie debates, but he still was able to lecture and give notes about Hemingway’s life. Ah, Hemingway’s life was simple poetry, similar to his writing. Matt stayed after class for only a few minutes before driving back to his apartment. He made himself some soup and sat in front of his television. His apartment was minimally decorated, only his own bedroom had any posters. His living room had an enormous entertainment center with ten separate video game systems. The television set was an impressive liquid crystal display high definition screen that stood above forty inches. Matt could spend days sitting in his recliner escaping into the digital world video games created for him. He unlocked the gate to a new universe with the press of a few buttons. Sometimes he merely opened good book though.

Today the world was inescapable. When he went to wash out his bowl his cell phone rang. The caller was an unfamiliar number. He didn’t mind answering because of the possibility of an emergency. When he answered his face exploded with a look of shock but not dread. He knew the voice immediately. Abby was on the other line. Matt cleared his throat and began pacing. He felt light and unbalanced but the footsteps kept him grounded.

“Hey Mr. Whelchel,” Abby greeted Matt with perky sound.

“Hey Abby, you are welcome to call me Matt now. School is done for the day and I get tired of formalities,” Matt mumbled into the receiver end of his phone.

“Oh, okay then, well, I just wanted to know if you were really coming to my party Saturday and if so, then you should know that we’re having it at the recreation center at my church, St. Michael’s off of Third Street. Do you know where that is?”

“Yes, I will be coming and yes I know where that is. Quick question though, where are you calling me from?”

“This is my cell phone; I know it must sound noisy because I’m at work. I work as a hostess at the new Applebee’s they opened up last month.”

“Wow, all those extracurricular activities and a job. I’m very impressed.”

“Whatever keeps me away from home. Anyways, Matt, my break is over, try and show up around three on Saturday. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, bye!” Abby made sure to add extra emphasis to his name before hanging up in a rush. Her last sentence made Matt feel young again but not in a good way. He opened and closed his flip phone a few times before saving Abby’s number with a few button presses. The only words that deeply shook Matt to his core were Abby’s statement about avoiding her house, but the thought didn’t dwell on his mind too long. His inner high school student was telling him to prepare for a date on Saturday. Sure it was only a party dragging him out on Saturday, although Abby personally invited him. That was the key.

Only a few highlights of any importance occurred between that day and Saturday. Matt woke up every day to drive to the academy badly drumming on his steering wheel, waiting for a warm greeting from Abby. He did receive one every day, some warmer than others, His walks through the halls still forced him to keep his head down. One day he mistakenly wore pants that were too short and taught the class sitting down. That day was particularly appalling because as he was exiting the building he spied Abby talking to an equally impressive student to herself named Jeffrey Bennington. The situation wasn’t aided by the fact that Jeffrey was quite a handsome young man. So, no surprise should arise when Matt spent several hours trying to find the perfect gift to give to Abby the next day.

Matt’s gift made him feel prepared. Saturday was his day to bask in the glow of Abby’s welcoming presence. She would want to spend every second of her birthday with him. Matt’s driving was hurried; he was extremely anxious to arrive at St. Michael’s and see Abby. When he did arrive he parked far out in the more remote regions of the parking lot so as to not fight for a close space. Much like his driving, Mat’s walk was hurried. He looked up to see the banner and balloons: Abby Is 17! Celebrate!

He immediately noticed the color of the balloons. All of them were green and brown like Abby’s eyes and hair. Matt could hear the festivities from several yards away, and if there were a particular scent for fun he could have smelled that too. As Matt approached the door he felt a tremble shudder down his spine. His newly familiarized uneasiness was making reappearances. Matt wanted to turn back, but more of him wanted to see Abby.

He reached the point of no return. His hand clenched the door handle, and he entered. Matt immediately took notice of all the people at Abby’s party. He knew she was a likeable person but did not truly know what to expect. More signs of nervousness ripped through Matt’s body. His right leg began to shake, and he was forced uncontrollably to place his right hand in his pocket. Matt shouldered Abby’s present and marched through the building with a bowed head. Although few noticed him, Matt saw quite a number of his students. Matt mostly had trouble finding adults, even when he did, the adults he found were well past his age. Matt felt further and further out of his element. He went straight to the gift table, he set his gift with the others, and he went straight to an empty chair at an empty table to sit.

Be sure to leave comments or find any typos or just leave questions or predictions.

Preview of the short story

So, I kept talking about posting my short story on here. Well, truth is my addiction has gotten the better of me and I have yet to actually type the entirely handwritten story. Ideally, I wanted to type the entire story and proofread the piece when I was done. I may still but I wanted to keep the blog somewhat updated every now and again so I had to put something. So now, is the first part of my short story. This is the first two pages. It is a work in progress as anyone can tell because I haven't bestowed a title for this work. Please be sure to leave lots of comments and expect the next part in some time. Enjoy...

"Untitled Short Story”

By Chris Walker

Matt couldn’t carry a beat. Well, for the first two seconds the sound resonated mirroring a simple tune, but shortly thereafter the minute song would fall to shambles. This did not deter Matt from drumming aggressively on his steering wheel while awaiting his coffee and bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit in the drive-thru. Matt was always a late sleeper and never much of a morning person. He couldn’t even be described as remotely awake until the engine of his royal blue 2002 Subaru was on and his Radiohead CD streamed out of the speakers.

Matt dressed appropriately for his job, a long-sleeved button-up shirt with matching tie. Khakis adorned his legs covering dress socks inside of dress shoes. This was professional attire for a substitute teacher. He loved his job – well enjoyed would be more accurate. In fact, whenever someone asked Matt about his career-choice he replied every time by saying, “I can’t complain.” Matt thought he received more joy from his job than most, and he would be correct. However, the monotonous feeling of sitting at someone else’s desk seemed to increasingly make his time as a teacher feel hollow.

For now, the drive-thru didn’t stir much emotion until he realized his car had been idling through three songs on his CD, not moving a foot. Matt reclined. He tended to think more than he spoke. People have complimented him more than once on his ability to listen. Maybe teaching attracted him because a great teacher can both speak well and listen equally well.

While reclining Matt could observe the morning scene. The sun had yet to rise on this cold November day. No trees were around to share their different autumnal colors. All Matt could witness was his own face in the side-view mirror of his car. Matt could neither be described as ugly nor sexy; he’s somewhere in between. He has been clean-cut ever since his sophomore year in college. Since turning thirty years old though he could barely keep from having a five o’clock shadow. His thick eyebrows made him look menacing but his eyeglasses gave him an intellectual appeal. All-in-all, he was complacent with his look.

Students weren’t agreeing. Today was Matt’s third day teaching junior English at a privileged private academy on the east end of town. The tuition and standards of the institution were ludicrous. Matt could’ve cared less because his pay for this week was going to be more than he had ever received in the past, and the teacher he was covering for was expected to be out for next week as well. His real complaints came from the students’ inability to hide their snide remarks about his appearance.

Matt gave up on his hopes of getting his breakfast in order to make the trip to work on time. Teachers had to be in the classroom much earlier than students in order to prepare schedules, read mail (both print and electronic), and make handouts. Matt was excited because his classes were almost through with Ernest Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms. One of the more appealing aspects of his job was the opportunity to see a glimpse into the mind of tomorrow’s America by being in the front row of literary discussions in his class. Ernest Hemingway was Matt’s favorite writer, so he felt more than average excitement, but he also knew that he need to ask questions that Sparknotes couldn’t answer.

The first class of the day was nothing spectacular. Too many kids in high school stayed awake too late and, like him, seldom eat breakfast. This, of course, leaves the mind too weak to discuss Hemingway’s simplistic story-telling or how A Farewell to Arms is more autobiographical than the average reader may know, unless the student researched more than necessary on Sparknotes, or if the student is Abby Wooldridge.

Abby Wooldridge was Matt’s favorite student. She was the smartest, brightest student Matt had the pleasure of teaching. She was involved in Beta Club, National Honors Society, Spanish Club, Book Club, Quick Recall, and a few others. Through all of that, she could maintain a four point zero grade point average and walk into class with a great figure and smile. Matt had only wish he was in high school still so his boundaries were a little more open to her. She never made rude remarks about; Abby just greeted him with a warm smile and a pleasant, “Good afternoon, Mr. Whelchel.”

Matt appreciated Abby’s presence in class and recognized her for her delightful poise after class. “Hey Abby, I would just like to say thank you for keeping the class discussion on track today,” he said standing up from behind his desk. She turned around, her books in her arms. Matt immediately noticed her exquisite brunette bangs overlaying one eye, complementing her emerald irises. Matt felt a little uneasy, almost as if choking on air. Flashbacks beat his brain like a drumming recalling his less than gloried days in high school. Nervousness had never left him, but now was different because he was now cooler, older, and vaguely powerful – mysterious even. “Hey, that’s a nice sweater,” he expressed reclaiming his calm.

Abby beamed a bright smile. She gave a microscopic curtsy and replied, “Oh, thanks for noticing Mr. Whelchel, it’s an early birthday present from my friend Rose. She can’t make it to my party on Saturday because she’s going to be out of town all week starting today.”

“I see,” Matt said surprisingly. “Your birthday is coming up… seventeenth?”

“Yes sir,” she confirmed followed by a giggle. Suddenly her tone became much deeper with a hint enticement. “Ya know,” she began while swaying with girlish charm. “You can come to my party on Saturday.”

Being polite and maybe a little flattered mixed with just a touch of excitement Matt thoughtfully said, “I would be honored to attend the party of my favorite student.” Abby was overjoyed; to hear not only an acceptance but to be called Matt’s favorite student was worth more to her than any amount of money could be appraised. Nearly skipping out the door, Abby walked away with a piece of paper on which seven numbers were written – Matt’s cell number. Maybe Matt could’ve waited until their next class together to get the specifics of the party, but he may have wanted to know sooner or he may have thought of Abby as “special” enough to call his phone and the two of them could talk. Matt did know that if his reason was the latter, he should reevaluate his thoughts. The only problem was that each time he considered the situation his mind was trapped on Abby’s beauty. Her emerald green eyes, her brunette hair, her ruby red lips, her womanly figure were all seductive to his mind. Age or professional problems didn’t even cognate. Matt was left sitting behind his desk with his mind aflame. Obviously, he knew what he had just done and how his appreciation of a simple invitation was receiving too much recognition. Somehow the awkwardness of a high school boy flooded back in a rushed haze. He felt unbalanced, paranoid, and skittish. Everything was unfamiliar, so he focused his thoughts. His mind summoned up images of Abby. Quickly he found himself at ease knowing that someone wanted him. The awkwardness faded. Abby became a double-edged sword.