Sundays With Ingrid (2)
The history teacher didn’t show up Wednesday morning, which meant one: a sub, in this case Mr. Porterhouse, gym and health teacher, and two: an automatic extension on the Whiskey Rebellion paper, a lucky break for Ingrid who’d forgotten all about it once, remembered in the picnic area at the falls, and then somehow forgotten again.
“What,” said Mr. Porterhouse, reading from a note card, “is the significance of the Boston Tea Party?”
No hands went up.
“C’mon, you sports,” said Mr. Porterhouse; he called everyone “sport.” “The Boston Tea Party – dawn’s early light, rockets’ red glare, big big big.”
Ingrid, who thought she’d had a pretty good grip on the Boston Tea Party until that moment, now wasn’t sure.
Still no hands. Mr. Porterhouse fingered the whistle that always hung around his neck. Was he going to blow it? “Know what they say about them that – those that forget history?”
“They’re totally – “ Mr. Porterhouse stopped whatever he was going to say, backed up. “They’re in the cra – in the toilet, is what.” He paused to let that sink in. “So, Boston Tea Party, significance of.”
Brucie raised his hand. Mr. Porterhouse didn’t see him. Brucie waved his hand around like a red-carpet celebrity. He was invisible to Mr. Porterhouse.
“’Kay,” said Mr. Porterhouse. “Baby steps. Where did it happen?”
Where did the Boston Tea Party happen? Was that what he was asking? Ingrid sat up: this was starting to get interesting.
Mr. Porterhouse suddenly whirled and pointed straight at Dustin Dratch, sitting beside his twin brother Dwayne; easy to tell them apart – Dustin had the cauliflower ear. They were the biggest kids at Ferrand Middle by far, partly because they were fifteen, having been held back twice despite the social promotion rule in Echo Falls schools.
“Tell the people, Dustin,” said Mr. Porterhouse.
“What people?” said Dustin.
Dwayne made a snorting noise, its meaning unclear.
“These people, Dustin,” said Mr. Porterhouse. “Your fellow scholars.”
Dustin looked around the room, squinting a bit, as though trying to spot something cleverly hidden. “Tell ‘em what, again?” he said.
“Whereabouts of the Boston Tea Party,” said Mr. Porterhouse.
From where Ingrid sat, she could see Dwayne nudge Dustin under desk level, and maybe whisper something quickly too, although they might have just relied on twin telepathy. Whatever the message, Dustin passed it onto the class. “They had it in a restaurant,” he said. “Like, where else?”
(From Into the Dark)
Tags: Echo Falls Series
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