He walked out into the street, knowing he should go home, not wanting to go home, not knowing what to do with himself. He wondered if he should go back to school the next day, realizing the next day was Wednesday, the 23rd, the day of the Christmas Assembly, knowing he should be there, but not much caring whether he went there or not, except that it would keep him occupied and give him something to do. He finally went home, and when he spoke to Dr. Bradley on the phone that night, the doctor advised taking Anne out of the hospital the next day because there would be a lot of visitors for the holidays, and he did not want to risk undue depression.
So Rick stayed out of school all day Tuesday, and he stayed out of school on that Wednesday, too, missing the Christmas Assembly completely, not knowing (and not caring, anyway) that Alan Manners filled in with his small part, not knowing that Alan Manners shared the few drinks, the few toasts, the few gifts, the big present with Lois Hammond after the assembly.
And not knowing that there was another present and that this present had been purchased for Rick by the cast of the show, and that Gregory Miller had personally supervised the collection of funds and the selection of the gift which was a black-and-gold-striped necktie.
Nor did he know that the boys had prepared a little skit of their own to accompany the presentation of the gift, or that they had — on a sudden whim — given the present to George Katz because Rick was not there and they hated to see the gift go to waste. Miller had protested strongly, wanting to hold the gift until after the holidays when Rick would return to school. But the boys voted him down, saying they’d get another gift and hadn’t Katz been a real nice Santa Claus, perhaps sincere in their desires to get another gift after the holidays, but never fulfilling their promise once the assembly had been forgotten.
Rick did not know anything about this, and he couldn’t have cared less. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he had finally broken through in one of his classes, and he felt things would be easier when he went back to school, but he didn’t think much about school now.
He took Anne home from the hospital on Wednesday the 23rd, and he didn’t think about anything but her on that day.
He didn’t go back to Manual Trades until January 4th, when the Christmas vacation was over, and by the time that Monday rolled around, everyone in the school had completely forgotten “The Fifty-First Dragon.”
It was almost like greeting his classes again for the first time. It was almost like a beginning.
It was almost exactly like starting from scratch.
13
The door to Room 206 was locked when Richard Dadier reached it for his fifth-period English class on January 15 th. He tried the knob several times, peered in through one of the glass panels, and motioned for Santini to open the door. Santini, sitting in the seat closest to the door, shrugged his shoulders innocently and grinned his moronic smile. Rick felt a sudden flow of anger, and then the anger gave way to the revulsion he always experienced lately before stepping into a classroom. He wondered briefly if Josh had felt this way, if Josh had...
Easy, he told himself. Easy does it.
He reached into his pocket for the large key, and then slipped it into the keyhole. Swinging the door open, he slapped it fast against the prongs that jutted out from the wall, and then walked briskly to his desk. A falsetto voice somewhere at the back of the room rapidly squeaked, “Daddy-oh!”
Rick busied himself with his Delaney book, glancing around the room, flipping cards over as he took the attendance. Half were absent as usual. He was secretly glad. He was always grateful for the cutters now, because the classes were easier to handle in small groups.
He turned over the last card and waited for them to quiet down. They never would, he knew, never.
Reaching down, he pulled a heavy book from his briefcase and rested it on the palm of his hand. Without warning, he slammed it onto the desk.
“Shut up!” he bellowed, thinking I’m beginning to sound just like Halloran.
The class groaned into silence, startled by the outburst.
Now, he thought. Now I’ll press it home. Surprise plus advantage plus seize your advantage. Just like waging war. All day long I wage war. Some fun.
“Assignment for tomorrow,” he said flatly.
A moan escaped from 55-206, and Miller, an engaging grin on his face, said, “You work too hard, Mr. Daddy-oh.”
The name twisted deep inside Rick, and he felt the tiny needles of apprehension start at the base of his spine. So that’s it for today, eh, Miller? he thought. Today you draw the line at Daddy-oh. Today you call me Daddy-oh and break my back that way.
“Quiet, Mueller,” Rick said, feeling pleasure at mispronouncing the boy’s name. “Assignment for tomorrow. In New Horizons...”
“In what?” West asked.
I should have known better. Rick reminded himself sourly. We’ve only been using the book since the beginning of the term. I can’t expect them to remember the title. No.
“In New Horizons,” he repeated impatiently, “the blue book, the one we’ve been using all term.” He paused, gaining control of himself, telling himself he lost control too easily lately. “In the blue book,” he continued softly, “read the first ten pages of ‘Army Ants in the Jungle.’ ”
“Here in class?” West asked.
“No. At home.”
“Christ,” West mumbled.
“It’s on page two seventy-five,” Rick said.
“Whut page?” Miller called out.
“Two seventy-five.”
“What page?” Levy asked.
“Two seventy-five,” Rick said. “My God, what’s the matter with you?” He turned rapidly and wrote the figures on the board in a large hand, repeating the numerals slowly. “Two, seventy, five.” He heard a chuckle spread maliciously behind him, and he whirled quickly. Every boy in 55-206 wore a deadpan.
“There will be a short test on the homework tomorrow,” he announced grimly.
“Another one?” Miller asked lazily.
“Yes, Miller,” Rick said, “another one.” He glared at the boy heatedly, thinking Don’t start up with me today, Miller. Just don’t, that’s all. Miller grinned back engagingly, safe behind the secure comfort of the arbitrary line he’d drawn. Goddamn you and your goddamned line, Rick cursed silently.
“And now,” he said, “the test I promised you yesterday.”
A hush fell over the class.
Quick, Rick thought. Press the advantage. Strike again and again. Don’t wait for them. Keep one step ahead always. Move fast and they won’t know what’s going on. Keep them too busy to get into mischief.
He began chalking the test on the board. He turned his head and barked over his shoulder, “All books away. Antoro, hand out the paper.”
This is the way to do it, he realized. I’ve figured it out. The way to control these bastards is to give them a test every day of the week. Write their fingers off.
“Begin immediately,” Rick said in a businesslike voice. “Don’t forget your heading.”
“What’s that, that heading?” Belazi asked.
“Name, official class, subject class, subject teacher,” Rick said wearily.
Seventy-two, he thought. I’ve said it seventy-two times since I started teaching here. Seventy-two times.
“Who’s our subject teacher?” Belazi asked. His face expressed complete bewilderment, but he could not quite hide the smile there.
“Mr. Daddy-oh,” West said quite plainly. He sat in his seat next to Miller, his stringy blond hair hanging over his pimply forehead. An insolent smile perched on his mouth, and Rick looked at the smile and at the hard luster of West’s eyes, and then he turned his attention to Belazi.