Mathematics for Orphans

“I’m telling you the truth,” Araceli shouted. “Because I’m a bad kid, you don’t believe me, right? But even bad kids don’t always lie.”

Miss Ellis shushed Araceli as both stood on her classroom’s threshold. The students worked on their math posters about integers, constructing number lines and reciting the rhyme:

Same sign add and keep,
Different signs subtract.
Take the sign of the larger number,
Your answer will be exact.

“Araceli, you realize what you’re accusing Dr. Cleveland of?” Mrs. Ellis lifted her eyes to the clock. But a change of class wouldn’t sidetrack Araceli Ventura, the self-proclaimed “worst girl in the seventh grade.” She claimed that the uniform colors at the alternative school were far better than the black and blue of the school she called a jail.

“Yeah, but Dr. Cleveland was standing right under that sign. The one that says ‘no bullying zone’. So how could I forget! She said no one would believe me.” Her hand rose and fell limp in a gesture of futility. “And now she’s right!”

The single use of that four-letter word in the presence of a student was sure to result in a disciplinary action against Cleveland, a woman who’d earned her doctorate just months before. Ellis took Araceli’s hand in hers.

“Look, I’ll talk to her, Araceli. She’ll say she’s sorry. Tomorrow, this will be over.” Ellis forced a barely audible chuckle past the lump in her throat. “It’s not like you haven’t said that word a few times, right? I mean, you said it to me a few weeks ago…” She shrugged, lifted her hands, and checked the clock again.

“I’m sorry, Miss Ellis. It’s just that I lose it sometimes.” Araceli hugged Ellis as students lifted their heads. Ellis patted Araceli on the back and took a step away.

Araceli’s eyes glazed over. She tipped her head down and focused her gaze on the hall’s broken radiator. “I hate math, but you’re my favorite teacher.”

Ellis playfully polished her nails on her shirtfront, then admired them and nodded. “I’m everybody’s favorite teacher, Miss Ventura.” She needed to keep that just-playing edge right in place. “Now get to class before the bell rings, OK? You’ll get me into trouble big time if you’re wandering the hall.”

Araceli’s mocked her with a cringe and wide-eyed terror. “Watch out, Miss Ellis.” She wagged her finger. “And no cursing, sí?”

“Sí, chica.” Ellis watched Araceli go to the doorway down the hall without pausing. When the bell rang a minute later, students rushed to put away materials and leave on time. Ellis wished her students a good day, stepped out in the hall, and directed traffic as best she could.

At lunch, Ellis sat next to Cleveland at the teacher’s lunch table. Since Cleveland’s doctorate, she’d rarely spoken to masters’ degree candidate Ellis. But the Doc, as she was now wished to be called, rested her chin, her elbow poised on the table as Ellis related Araceli’s allegations.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Cleveland commandeered a student. “Bring me an apple when you have a chance, Craig.”  When she spoke again, her words came with a genteel andante only a music teacher could perfect. “You don’t believe her, Miss Ellis?”

“I told her you could apologize.” Ellis collected their trash on a tray as Cleveland’s face fell. After taking the apple she’d requested, Cleveland told the student to return to her seat. The doctor bit hard into the fruit but chewed delicately. Ellis put down the trash as Cleveland motioned for her to sit back down.

“I’m not saying ‘I’m sorry’ to Araceli Ventura. I don’t curse. I never use foul language.” Cleveland lifted her chin, tilting her head in Ellis’s direction as her voice went from shrill declaration to conspiratorial whisper. “And even if I had, how many times has she said that word to teachers in this school?”

“You’re right,” Ellis committed herself to a slow, understanding nod of the head. “I’m sure it’ll blow over.”

Ellis worked until five p.m., her concentration diverted by the political ramifications of disclosing what she believed to be the truth about someone who was the darling of her principal.

The next morning, Ellis sought Araceli at her usual corner of the cafeteria, but she wasn’t there.

Her friends Eve and Jenni knew why. “Araceli’s getting transferred to the Alternative School tomorrow. She cursed out Doc Cleveland. Araceli said calling Cleveland a liar made her feel good.” Eve peeled her banana and hit a two-pointer into the trash. “I guess we won’t be Ari and Evie anymore.”

The girls grew silent, sad. “She’ll do OK at the alternative school,” Miss Ellis said. “Maybe she’ll like school better with other teachers, right?”

“Nope. Doubtful.” Araceli’s friend Jenni Delgado popped her gum and pulled it back into her mouth with sticky fingers. Eve scrunched her nose to make room for her pouted lips.

“You’re disgusting, Jen,” Eve replied.

“Oh well,” Jenni said. “I want a good math grade. So I’m showing you I remember what we did yesterday.” The girls clapped the rhythm to the integer-addition rhyme a few times. Miss Ellis applauded right before Eve and Jenni stopped.

“The biggest one always wins. Understanding this stuff is easy.” Eve said.

“Yep, it’s that simple.” Miss Ellis left the cafeteria to its noise and bustle. She swore she heard someone curse, so eyeballed the table as she strode past to her room, to her desk. Araceli’s many leftover math papers didn’t fit neatly into the interoffice mail envelope.

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author bio:

Embe’s first two books, Beloved Dead and Sparks, have been published by Kellan Books. Her shorter work has been published in over thirty online journals and in print. She teaches English as a Second Language in an Atlanta-area high school. She loves writing like a pig loves corn.