~*~

The whole class groaned, and I groaned with them. I was maybe the groaniest groaner of all, because, after all, I had a reputation to uphold. For jocks, groaning at homework assignments is mandatory.

 “I know, I know. This homework stuff, right? It just sends you over the edge sometimes doesn’t it?” Mr. Thorpe shook his head in sarcastic sympathy. He waited  for the class to shush and then continued seriously. “However, you might actually find something you like. Anything is possible after all. Don’t know about you, but I think blogs can be pretty interesting. I want you guys to go to blogger and browse around. You’re gonna find one or two blogs that interest you ,” He paused to let that last bit sink in before going on. “...and write a little summary of what you read. That’s due Monday. Got it??” His head swiveled around, stabbing a few different kids with piercing dark eyes. Those eyes somehow made an ordinary homework assignment seem like something that held your whole destiny together. I was hoping to escape without them sticking into me, but some strange, secret part of my soul sensed that I wouldn’t. So when Mr. Thorpe dismissed the class without glancing my way, I was surprised. The rustling of books and papers and juicy gossip gobbets flying about set my heart to beating faster. One class down, only four to go until I was free for the weekend. Something about that first class being over always makes my backpack feel a little lighter.

  “Dude, do we have that extra practice tonight or tomorrow?” Denny asked as he jingled his keys. Denny never bothered with a backpack. Probably because he never brought any books to school. Instead he’d just pick a victim, usually some really cute, studious girl, and peek over her shoulder at her book. Doing that somehow earned him straight A’s in all his classes. Denny always pretended not to care about his grades, but one time he’d been home with pinkeye for two weeks straight and he got an F on a math test his first day back. It was the only time I ever saw him cry, even though I’d known him since first grade. He always claimed that it was just the pinkeye making his eyes water. But I know crying when I see it.

 “I think tonight.” I replied. We started for the door.

 “Dang. I was hoping to hang at Ally’s tonight. She’s having a party.” I noticed he said it like he hoped I didn’t know. Of course I knew. Ally Anderson hadn’t had a party without inviting me since we were in middle school.

 “She said we could stop by after practice if we wanted. I guess kids’ll be there pretty late.” I said, shrugging indifference. I watched his face and saw obvious annoyance. Pulling out a water bottle, I stifled a smirk and started chugging. If we were going to have practice tonight, I’d need to start hydrating now, before it was too late, and I wasn’t going to waste energy teasing Denny about Ally Anderson.

“Nathan,” Mr. Thorpe said suddenly from behind me. Shoot. I thought. I’m not going to get off easy after all. And here I was thinking I’d just get the look, not an actual talking to.

“Uh, yeah what’s up Mr. T?” I glanced at Denny for moral support but the coward fled the room before our teacher could rope him into the lecture too. Everyone else in my class was gone, and for some reason the sophomores were taking their time coming in.

I approached the teacher chair at the front of the room where Mr. Thorpe sat in front of his computer, hands loosely folded in front of him, staring at the ceiling. I knew from experience that he was thinking of just the right way to say what he wanted to say to me. So I waited, not sure what to expect.

When he finally spoke, he didn’t say much:

 “I want you to do this assignment. Really do it. I think you’ll enjoy it if you let yourself.” He took his eyes off the white-washed ceiling and stared deeply into mine with that dark, probing gaze that seemed to hint at the knowledge of things unspoken. I nodded, feeling somehow that this was the single most important piece of instruction that I would ever get in high school.