sk.thewastelands-第30部分

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　　He　said；　she　said；　blah；　blah；　blah。　Jake　still　loved　them…he　was　pretty　sure　he　did；　anyway…but　other　stuff　had　happened　now；　and　these　things　had　made　it　necessary　that　still　other　things　must　occur。
　　Why？　Because　something　was　wrong　with　the　rose。　And　maybe　because　he　wanted　to　run　and　play　。　。　。　and　see　his　eyes　again；　as　blue　as　the　sky　above　the　way　station　had　been。
　　Jake　walked　slowly　over　to　his　desk；　removing　his　blazer　as　he　went。　It　was　pretty　wasted…one　sleeve　torn　almost　pletely　off；　the　lining　hanging　like　a　limp　sail。　He　slung　it　over　the　back　of　his　chair；　then　sat　down　and　put　the　books　on　his　desk。　He　had　been　sleeping　very　badly　over　the　last　week　and　a　half；　hut　he　thought　tonight　he　would　sleep　well。　He　couldn't　remember　ever　being　so　tired。　When　he　woke　up　in　the　morning；　perhaps　he　would　know　what　to　do。
　　There　was　a　light　knock　at　the　door；　and　Jake　turned　warily　in　that　direction。
　　〃It's　Mrs。　Shaw；　John。　May　I　e　in　for　a　minute？〃
　　He　smiled。　Mrs。　Shaw…of　course　it　was。　His　parents　had　drafted　her　as　an　intermediary。　Or　perhaps　translator　might　be　a　better　word。
　　You　go　see　him；　his　mother　would　have　said。　Hell　tell　you　what's　wrong　with　him。　I'm　his　mother　and　this　man　with　the　bloodshot　eyes　and　the　runny　nose　is　his　father　and　you're　only　the　housekeeper；　but　he'll　tell　you　what　he　wouldn't　tell　us。　Because　you　see　more　of　him　than　either　of　us；　and　maybe　you　speak　his　language。
　　She'll　have　a　tray；　Jake　thought；　and　when　he　opened　the　door　he　was　smiling。
　　Mrs。　Shaw　did　indeed　have　a　tray。　There　were　two　sandwiches　on　it；　a　wedge　of　apple　pie；　and　a　glass　of　chocolate　milk。　She　was　looking　at　Jake　with　mild　anxiety；　as　if　she　thought　he　might　lunge　forward　and　try　to　bite　her。　Jake　looked　over　her　shoulder；　but　there　was　no　sign　of　his　parents。　He　imagined　them　sitting　in　the　living　room；　listening　anxiously。
　　〃I　thought　you　might　like　something　to　eat；〃　Mrs。　Shaw　said。
　　〃Yes；　thanks。〃　In　fact；　he　was　ravenously　hungry；　he　hadn't　eaten　since　breakfast。　He　stood　aside　and　Mrs。　Shaw　came　in　（giving　him　another　apprehensive　look　as　she　passed）　and　put　the　tray　on　the　desk。
　　〃Oh；　look　at　this；〃　she　said；　picking　up　Charlie　the　Choo…Choo。　〃I　had　this　one　when　I　was　a　little　girl。　Did　you　buy　this　today；　Johnny？〃
　　〃Yes。　Did　my　parents　ask　you　to　find　out　what　I'd　been　up　to？〃
　　She　nodded。　No　acting；　no　put…on。　It　was　just　a　chore；　like　taking　out　the　trash。　You　can　tell　me　if　you　want　to；　her　face　said；　or　you　can　keep　still。　I　like　you；　Johnny；　but　it's　really　nothing　to　me；　one　way　or　the　other。　I　just　work　here；　and　it's　already　an　hour　past　my　regular　quitting　time。
　　He　was　not　offended　by　what　her　face　had　to　say；　on　the　contrary；　he　was　further　calmed　by　it。　Mrs。　Shaw　was　another　acquaintance　who　was　not　quite　a　friend　。　。　。　but　he　thought　she　might　be　a　little　closer　to　a　friend　than　any　of　the　kids　at　school　were；　and　much　closer　than　either　his　mother　or　father。　Mrs。　Shaw　was　honest；　at　least。　She　didn't　dance。　It　all　went　on　the　bill　at　the　end　of　the　month；　and　she　always　cut　the　crusts　off　the　sandwiches。
　　Jake　picked　up　a　sandwich　and　took　a　large　bite。　Bologna　and　cheese；　his　favorite。　That　was　another　thing　in　Mrs。　Shaw's　favor…she　knew　all　his　favorites。　His　mother　was　still　under　the　impression　that　he　liked　corn　on　the　cob　and　hated　Brussels　sprouts。
　　〃Please　tell　them　I'm　fine；〃　he　said；　〃and　tell　my　father　I'm　sorry　that　I　was　rude　to　him。〃
　　He　wasn't；　but　all　his　father　really　wanted　was　that　apology。　Once　Mrs。　Shaw　conveyed　it　to　him；　he　would　relax　and　begin　to　tell　himself　the　old　lie…he　had　done　his　fatherly　duty　and　all　was　well；　all　was　well；　and　all　manner　of　things　were　well。
　　〃I've　been　studying　very　hard　for　my　exams；〃　he　said；　chewing　as　he　talked；　〃and　it　all　came　down　on　me　this　morning；　I　guess。　I　sort　of　froze。　It　seemed　like　I　had　to　get　out　or　I'd　suffocate。〃　He　touched　the　dried　crust　of　blood　on　his　forehead。　〃As　for　this；　please　tell　my　mother　it's　really　nothing。　I　didn't　get　mugged　or　anything；　it　was　just　a　stupid　accident。　There　was　a　UPS　guy　pushing　a　hand…truck；　and　I　walked　right　into　it。　The　cut's　no　big　deal。　I'm　not　having　double　vision　or　anything；　and　even　the　headache's　gone　now。〃
　　She　nodded。　〃I　can　see　how　it　must　have　been…a　high…powered　school　like　that　and　all。　You　just　got　a　little　spooked。　No　shame　in　that；　Johnny。　But　you　really　haven't　seemed　like　yourself　this　last　couple　of　weeks。〃
　　〃I　think　I'll　be　okay　now。　I　might　have　to　re…do　my　Final　Essay　in　English；　but…〃
　　〃Oh！〃　Mrs。　Shaw　said。　A　startled　looked　crossed　her　face。　She　put　Charlie　the　Choo…Choo　back　down　on　Jake's　desk。　〃I　almost　forgot！　Your　French　teacher　left　something　for　you。　I'll　just　get　it。〃
　　She　left　the　room。　Jake　hoped　he　hadn't　worried　Mr。　Bissette；　who　was　a　pretty　good　guy；　but　he　supposed　he　must　have；　since　Bissette　had　actually　made　a　personal　appearance。　Jake　had　an　idea　that　personal　appearances　were　pretty　rare　for　Piper　School　teachers。　He　wondered　what　Mr。　Bissette　had　left。　His　best　guess　was　an　invitation　to　talk　with　Mr。　Hotchkiss；　the　school　shrink。　That　would　have　scared　him　this　morn…ing；　but　not　tonight。
　　Tonight　only　the　rose　seemed　to　matter。
　　He　tore　into　his　second　sandwich。　Mrs。　Shaw　had　left　the　door　open；　and　he　could　hear　her　talking　with　his　parents。　They　both　sounded　a　little　more　cooled　out　now。　Jake　drank　his　milk；　then　grabbed　the　plate　with　the　apple　pie　on　it。　A　few　moments　later　Mrs。　Shaw　came　back。　She　was　carrying　a　very　familiar　blue　folder。
　　Jake　found　that　not　all　of　his　dread　had　left　him　after　all。　They　would　all　know　by　now；　of　course；　students　and　faculty　alike；　and　it　was　too　late　to　do　anything　about　it；　but　that　didn't　mean　he　liked　all　of　them　knowing　he　had　flipped　his　lid。　That　they　were　talking　about　him。
　　A　small　envelope　had　been　paper…clipped　to　the　front　of　the　folder。
　　Jake　pulled　it　free　and　looked　up　at　Mrs。　Shaw　as　he　opened　it。　〃How　are　my　folks　doing　now？〃　he　asked。
　　She　allowed　herself　a　brief　smile。　〃Your　father　wanted　me　to　ask　why　you　didn't　just　tell　him　you　had　Exam　Fever。　He　said　he　had　it　himself　once　or　twice　when　he　was　a　boy。〃
　　Jake　was　struck　by　this；　his　father　had　never　been　the　sort　of　man　to　indulge　in　reminiscences　which　began；　You　know；　when　I　was　a　kid　。　。　。　Jake　tried　to　imagine　his　father　as　a　boy　with　a　bad　case　of　Exam　Fever　and　found　he　couldn't　quite　do　it…the　best　he　could　manage　was　the　unpleasant　image　of　a　pugnacious　dwarf　in　a　Piper　sweatshirt；　a　dwarf　in　custom…tooled　cowboy　boots；　a　dwarf　with　short　black　hair　bolting　up　from　his　forehead。
　　The　note　was　from　Mr。　Bissette。
　　
　　Dear　John；
　　Bonnie　Avery　told　me　that　you　left　early。　She's　very　concerned　about　you；　and　so　am　I；　although　we　have　both　seen　this　sort　of　thing　before；　especially　during　Exam　Week。　Please　e　and　see　me　first　thing　tomorrow；　okay？　Any　problems　you　have　can　be　worked　out。　If　you're　feeling　pressured　by　exams…and　1　want　to　repeat　that　it　happens　all　the　time…a　postponement　can　be　arranged。　Our　first　concern　is　your　welfare。　Call　me　this　evening；　if　you　like；　you　can　reach　me　at　555…7661。　Ill　be　up　until　midnight。
　　Remember　that　we　all　like　you　very　much；　and　are　on　your　side。
　　A　votre　sante'
　　Len　Bissette
　　
　　Jake　felt　like　crying。　The　concern　was　stated；　and　that　was　wonderful；　but　there　were　other　things；　unstated　things；　in　the　note　that　were　even　more　wonderful…warmth；　caring；　and　an　effort　（however　misconceived）　to　understand　and　console。
　　Mr。　Bissette　had　drawn　a　small　arrow　at　the　bottom　of　the　note。　Jake　turned　it　over　and　read　this：
　　By　the　way；　Bonnie　asked　me　to　send　this　along…congratulations！！
　　Congratulations？　What　in　the　hell　did　that　mean？
　　He　flipped　open　the　folder。　A　sheet　of　paper　had　been　clipped　to　the　first　page　of　his　Final　Essay。　It　was　headed　FROM　THE　DESK　OF　BONITA　AVERY；　and　Jake　read　the　spiky；　fountain…penned　lines　with　grow…ing　amazement。
　　
　　John；
　　Leonard　will　undoubtedly　voice　the　concern　we　all　feel…he　is　awfully　good　at　that…so　let　me　confine　myself　to　your　Final　Essay；　which　I　read　and　graded　during　my　free　period。　It　is　stun…ningly　original；　and　superior　to　any　student　work　I　have　read　in　the　last　few　years。　Your　use　of　incremental　repetition　（〃。　。　。　and　that　is　the　truth〃）　is　inspired；　but　of　course　incremental　repetition　is　really　just　a　trick。　The　real　worth　of　the　position　is　in　its　symbolic　quality；　first　stated　by　the　images　of　the　train　and　the　door　on　the　title　page　and　carried　through　splendidly　within。　This　reaches　its　logical　conclusion　with　the　picture　of　the　〃black　tower；〃　which　I　take　as　your　statement　that　conventional　ambitions　are　not　only　false　but　dangerous。
　　I　do　not　pretend　to　understand　all　the　symbolism　（e。g。；　〃Lady　of　Shadows；〃　〃gunslinger〃）　but　it　seems　clear　that　you　yourself　are　〃The　Prisoner〃　（of　school；　society；　etc。）　and　that　the　educational　system　is　〃The　Speaking　Demon。〃　Is　it　possible　that　both　〃Roland〃　and　〃the　gunslinger〃　are　the　same　authority　figure…your　father；　perhaps？　I　became　so　intrigued　by　this　possibility　that　1　looked　up　his　name　in　your　records。　I　note　it　is　Elmer；　but　I　further　note　that　his　middle　initial　is　R。
　　I　find　this　extremely　provocative。　Or　is　this　name　a　double　symbol；　drawn　both　from　your　father　and　from　Robert　Brow…ning's　poem　〃Childe　Roland　to　the　Dark　Tower　Came〃？　This　is　not　a　question　I　would　ask　most　students；　but　of　course　I　know　how　omnivorously　you　read！
　　At　any　rate；　I　am　extremely　impressed。　Younger　students　are　often　attracted　to　so…called　〃stream…of…consciousness〃　writing；　but　are　rarely　able　to　control　it。　You　have　done　an　outstanding　job　of　merging　s…of…c　with　symbolic　language。
　　Bravo！
　　Drop　by　as　soon　as　you're　〃back　at　it〃…I　want　to　discuss　possible　publication　of　this　piece　in　the　first　issue　of　next　year's　student　literary　magazine。
　　B。　Avery
　　P。　S。　If　you　left　school　today　because　you　had　sudden　doubts　about　my　ability　to　understand　a　Final　Essay　of　such　unexpected　richness；　I　hope　I　have　assuaged　them。
　　
　　Jake　pulled　the　sheet　off　the　clip；　revealing　the　title　page　of　his　stunningly　original　and　richl