Roman à clef (cont'd)

Lyn’s crying form met him at the department’s lounge when he came up after finishing his cigarette. Coming from the general area of the teachers’ cubicles, she ran past him without even a word, with her tears running down her cheeks. The doors to the department closed heavily behind her, her misery apparent over her loss. Since Rey had seen the same expression of misery thousands of times before, he knew better than to stop her and ask. They always wanted to be left alone for a few minutes. He remembered one of his batchmates, who had cried quietly at the foot of the spiral staircase when her adviser told her that she missed the honor roll by only a few hundredths in her grade. The woman’s friends had surrounded her then, in order to comfort her, but she softly asked for a few moments of solitude first.

The battle’s not yet over, Rey swore to himself. The cavalry has just arrived. Clenching his fists in determination, he fanned the flames of his fury over what he considered as Miss Bea’s supreme act of stupidity. He stomped away from the lounge, passing the numerous cubicles in search of the dragon’s lair. Fighting with Miss Bea had become as natural as breathing to him, after hours of practice in the arena of their classroom. What set this encounter apart was that he didn’t have Trevor’s writing skill for armor this time around. To hell with Trevor, Rey thought. I’ll defeat the dragon lady all by myself if I have to.

His footsteps echoed across the narrow corridor as he walked past the empty cubicles that sat abreast of each other. In his eyes, each room that he passed bled with its capricious teacher occupant’s numerous sins, to the point that he heard the tormented moans of the ghosts within. The restless souls, whose translucent forms hardly bore any color or outline, had begun to climb out of the cubicles’ walls, bearing the faces of the countless students who had begged and pleaded for their life in front of their teachers. Rey felt the biting chill of terror nearly overwhelm him when the spirits’ howls grew louder, until they immersed him with their lamentations and entreaties for leniency and consideration with their grades.

This shit isn’t happening, Rey reminded himself. This is just another version of the movie “The Sixth Sense”; I just have to reach Miss Bea’s room and it will all be over. His trembling feet waded past their fumbling and frosty fingers, as the miserable and dreadful apparitions of the students began surrounding him in the corridor. Only when the appalling specter of a young man knelt before him, with a look of horror on his face and crying out “Please don’t give me a five, sir! I’ll do anything you want; I’ll even…,” did Rey stop in his tracks and squeeze his eyes shut against the swarm of phantoms that besieged him.

Rey opened his eyes a second later, only to find himself staring at the bare floor. A quick inspection of the corridor showed only the gray cubicles and their gray walls, without a trace of the phantoms that had accosted him. He shook his head vigorously to clear out the remnants of his frightful vision from his brain, remembering his roommate’s suggestion that it was time for him to start taking medication.

Rey found Miss Bea at her desk, reading a sheaf of student papers. Surrounded by a set of illustrations, straight from Dostoyevsky’s novel “The Possessed”, which were tacked on to decorate the plain drabness of the cubicle walls, the busy dragon appeared confident and regal in her element. The shelf behind her packed numerous books and folders; on the table in front of her stood a tall pile of student essays, marked English 4, and a small box of brownies, half-finished. The fight would be extremely difficult, Rey figured, since fighting a dragon in the classroom was hard enough already. Fighting a dragon without Trevor’s mighty Excalibur was bad enough; fighting a dragon in her own lair was tantamount to having a death wish. With a small bitten-off brownie in hand, Miss Bea appeared completely absorbed in reading the paper in front of her, such that Rey’s arrival fully escaped her notice. Only when Rey knocked gently on the doorframe did she acknowledge his presence.

Quickly swallowing the food in her mouth, Miss Bea waved and gestured towards the two chairs in front of her desk. “Have a seat, Mr. Avicenna,” she asked, in a gentle voice very much unlike the splintered rasp that she often used in class. To Rey’s surprise, the dragon lady even smiled, baring not the familiar fangs, but rather a friendly set of pearly whites. Unaccustomed to the display of kindness, Rey gingerly took the seat nearest the door, as a safety precaution in case he needed to escape quickly from a melting blast of dragon breath.

Rey’s first reaction was one of surprise; then, with their former adversative relations in mind, a sort of pity. Before choosing to resolve the inconsistency of his teacher’s behavior, he asked about her health up front. “Good afternoon, Miss Bea. How are you feeling? Do you feel... uhm… ill or something?”

“Never felt better,” Miss Bea replied, while she reached for another brownie. She moved the box of brownies to Rey’s direction, in the classic Filipino expression of generosity in the matters of food. “Have a brownie?” Poisoned brownies, Rey supposed, and he eyed the offer with suspicion until his natural love of chocolate took over. With a meek “thank you”, Rey took a sample and let his teeth sink into the rich chocolate. Tasted good, he had to admit. The dragon lady could be quite human sometimes.

Rey noticed the twinkle of pride in Miss Bea’s eyes over her latest creation, as she disclosed her secret. “Baked them myself, Rey.” And although he had prepared himself for a bloody battle earlier, Rey realized that his visit so far looked more like a social call than a courtroom case. He wondered whether he had not somehow stepped into a looking glass, and whether the lady who now offered him brownies and called him by his first name was not the same teacher in his Critical Writing class who had hurled vitriolic comments about his lousy study habits, and had called him by “Mr. Avicenna”, always with at least half a pound of irritation. He had earlier taken Lyn’s observation that Miss Bea liked him to be a joke; now, with Miss Bea’s unanticipated kindness, her words did not seem so far from the truth. He also realized that he could use it to his advantage.

Miss Bea swallowed the rest of her brownie in one gulp before asking “What can I do for you, Rey?” When she finally posed the question, Rey steeled himself for the end of the friendly preliminaries and the start of the bloody debate. The heartbreaking sight of Lyn’s tears when she rushed past him earlier ran through his head over and over, and his features hardened at the campaign that lay before him. He knew that, unless he wins the dragon lady over, Lyn’s tears will haunt him for the rest of his life. The first difficulty presented itself soon enough. How the hell do I start this? Rey asked himself.

“Uh… I came over because I… uh… wanted to ask about a classmate of mine, Lyn Pascual.” With measured words, Rey began his defense of Lyn, and he knew that his opponent would not set up her defenses immediately if she did not identify him with his client. “I kinda heard rumors that you… uh… gave her a removal exam.” That’s it; put as much distance between you and Lyn as much as possible, Rey reminded himself. Attribute everything to rumor, the mysterious and inexplicable force that put e-mail, the worldwide web, and other information technology to shame.

“Yes, I gave her a removal exam. In fact, she just passed by a while ago to submit her paper. I plan to submit the results of her removal exam on Monday.”

Rey acknowledged the fact with the casual look of indifference. “Oh, so she was just here. Wow, I didn’t know that. There’s no way I could have known that.” Way to go, dumdum, Rey scolded himself once again for potentially revealing the connection between him and Lyn. He carried on with his strategy of feigning ignorance. “May I ask why she received a removal exam?”

“Well, I think that she plagiarized her last essay.” Miss Bea, after noting the turn that the conversation was taking, dropped her smile for the moment, and assumed a more professional tone. “Why do you ask, Rey?”

“Oh, nothing really.” Rey’s left cheek twitched unconsciously when he smiled to relieve the rising tension. “I was just curious, that’s all.” Pull yourself together, you dumbass, Rey reproached himself. “Uh… why do you say that she plagi-whatsit her last essay?”

Miss Bea propped up her arm on the desk to support her cheek. “Well, she started making errors that she shouldn’t have. I thought that she had already learned her lessons when she submitted the draft, because the draft contained far fewer errors than her previous drafts. When I checked the final version of her essay, I noticed that she started making the same errors all over again. Therefore, I considered the possibility that she could have plagiarized for the draft of the last essay, which explains why her errors disappeared for the time being. Are you okay, Rey?” She asked the last question upon seeing the sudden look of realization and enlightenment on Rey’s face.

So that’s what styli-thingamajiggy means, Rey thought with relief over the latest addition to his limited vocabulary. Miss Bea’s explanation also confirmed Lyn’s theory as to the reasons for her taking a removal exam.

He then wanted to scream out: Please don’t risk her honors standing just because she asked for help from her cousin, Miss Bea! But Rey knew that the most effective line of attack did not come head-on, but from a more oblique angle. His nervousness faded away at the surge of newly-found resolve within him. “What if she had her friend edit the draft? That would explain why she didn’t make that many errors that time, right?” he suggested, for the purpose of introducing alternatives.

“If Miss Pascual asked a friend to edit her draft, why didn’t Miss Pascual’s friend edit the revision as well?”

“Well… what if Miss Pascual’s friend went back to America?”

“What’s going on, Rey?” Miss Bea stared at him doubtingly. She set aside the paper that she had been reading before Rey’s arrival. “Besides, if Miss Pascual can’t write good critical essays without the help of her friend, then that means she didn’t learn anything in my class. Do you think that I can give a passing grade to students who don’t study for my class? Her previous essays weren’t well-written, either. Since she didn’t do any better, I gave her a kwatro. I won’t flunk her. I’m gracious enough not to flunk a graduating student. But I also cannot give her a higher grade. Her efforts were simply not good enough.”

Rey cursed under his breath upon hearing Miss Bea’s verdict. The kwatro was plainly unacceptable; Lyn needed a minimum of 2.5 in her Critical Writing class to get her cum laude; she had worked on this for four, really long years just for them. You know that she wouldn’t risk her honors standing now that she’s just a semester away from graduation, right? Can’t you give her a better grade? All you have to do is erase the mark on your record book, and that’s it, right? Please, Miss Bea?”

Miss Bea leaned back on her chair, her smile returning. “You like her, don’t you?” she observed, to Rey’s blushing embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Rey, but the rule is the rule, no matter how highly you think of her. I like you a lot, and I think that you’d make a good writer, but I still can’t do that for you, and you know it.” Since Rey’s arrival, she had displayed no signs of acting like the indefatigable dragon lady of his nightmares. Her latest acknowledgement answered some of Rey’s questions and added others. The harsh glare which replaced the hopeful sparkle in Rey’s eyes prompted her to ask “What’s the matter, Rey? Is anything wrong?”

“You like me? Come on!” Rey’s sudden protest filled the paper-crammed cubicle as Miss Bea withdrew with sang-froid during her student’s abrupt fit. I don’t want your approval, and I don’t even deserve it, Rey argued in his head, all I want is justice. Fighting Miss Bea’s mellow rationale had proved even more difficult than fighting her vicious tirades. Unclenching his quivering fists, Rey stood up and voiced his harangue through gritted teeth. “I’m the shittiest student in this university, can’t you see? You can’t like me; you want to tear my guts out, remember? How come you permit a bastard like me to pass this subject and yet let that poor woman suffer for something she didn’t do? It’s so unfair!”

Undaunted by Rey’s outburst, Miss Bea ignored the menacing expression of the student in front of her, as she took another brownie from the box in front of her. “Rey, please understand that I didn’t castigate you in class because I hated you personally. Teachers don’t reprimand their students for what they are; they reprimand their students for their unscholarly conduct.” She munched wistfully on her food before continuing. “As long as a student writes good papers, he or she will pass my subject. That rule applies to you, to Miss Pascual, and to all of my other students. Tell me, is that unfair?” Her smiling face retained their composed features while she once more offered up the box of brownies to the hopefully placated Rey.

The teacher and the student fixed their gaze upon each other, unsure of the other’s reaction, as the box of brownies hovered above the tabletop between them. After hearing his teacher’s sensible explanation and kindly offer, Rey’s frenzied features settled down, and he turned to look at the tempting squares of mouthwatering goodness before him. A moment of blessed silence reigned before Rey murmured softly “Miss Bea, did I get a grade above 2.5 in your class?”

Lowering the brownies to the table, Miss Bea pulled out a wooden box from beneath her desk and started rifling through the deck of class cards within. “Yes, I think so. Let me get your class card, Rey.” Rey inhaled deeply, preparing himself for his final plea, in the unique way that he knew best. Miss Bea’s confirmation was all that Rey needed to hear; he stood in silence, contemplating the execution of his next act of insanity.

Rey’s barrage of long and drawn entreaties for the reconsideration of Lyn’s case rent the prevailing silence and caused Miss Bea to look up from her search for Rey’s class card. “Miss Bea, I don’t deserve a passing grade from you! Please flunk me and give my grade to Lyn instead! She needs it more than I do! I don’t care if I flunk a thousand times; just let her get her cum laude! Please! Please swap our grades! Oh please, oh please, oh please…” To her bewilderment, only the illustrations on gray walls of her cubicle met her eyes, with no traces of Rey in sight.

The heartbreaking litanies from beneath her table grew louder. “Miss Bea, you don’t understand! She didn’t plagiarize anything! You got the wrong person! I’m the one whom you’re supposed to flunk! It’s just a witch hunt, I tell you. The poor woman’s innocent, for crying out loud.” Miss Bea cautiously stood up and looked fearfully over her table, not really listening to the disembodied voice but trying to pinpoint its mysterious source. Taken aback by the outrageous sight that met her eyes, she gasped in alarm. “Jesus Christ, Avicenna! What on earth are you doing down there? Get off the floor! Now!”

Beyond her desk lay the prostrate form of Rey Avicenna, face down on all fours, begging and whimpering in agony like a lame dog en route to azucena. “Please, Miss Bea, have mercy! I’ll do anything you want if you’d take heart just this once! I’ll clean your lair for you! I’ll fix your doors for you! I’ll be a good student from now on! Just please give this woman a chance!” Rey’s groveling, far from moving her to pity, looked rather comical instead; under different circumstances, she would’ve laughed at the funny gesture of earnest supplication. As it were, she shuddered in horror upon realizing the scandal of their situation.

“You’re crazy, Avicenna! Stop it right now!” Miss Bea nervously scanned the hallway through her cubicle doorway, in case one of her fellow teachers caught sight of Rey’s startling and indecent display of submission. Totally beside herself in anxiety and humiliation, she helped Rey get off the floor before he made a complete and utter fool of himself. “Rey, I’m sorry,” she said, more in conciliation of Rey’s embarrassing lunacy than apology. “I already sent Miss Pascual’s kwatro to Tita Diane. There’s nothing that you can do about her grade anymore. Please calm down.”

Numb with shock over the futility of his efforts, Rey’s appeals simmered away, and he just stood there in front of Miss Bea without a word. Miss Bea met Rey’s blank stare with a look of relief over the end of the bizarre crisis. The dragon lady and the impulsive student shared their mutual gaze in silence, the previously unbearable tension between them dissipating over the revelation of Miss Pascual’s inevitable fate.

When Rey finally noticed the manifest commiseration in Miss Bea’s eyes, he couldn’t help but sigh in disappointment. “So, Miss Bea, she really won’t get her honors after all.” Unaware of the emotional tempest in Rey’s mind, Miss Bea nodded knowingly. “I told her a while ago that she should’ve worked harder during the semester. Especially since she was running for honors.”

“But she’s innocent, Miss Bea. She never plagiarized anything, I swear.” Despite the acceptance of his failure, Rey still felt the need to salvage, at least, his friend’s reputation. “I don’t understand, Miss Bea. Why do bad things happen to good people?” The sheer injustice of it all nearly drove him insane, and only when the dragon of the department took his trembling hand did he manage to get a hold of himself.

“Don’t you start again.” The tone of stern finality in Miss Bea’s voice told Rey that their conversation was over. Holding up Rey’s open palm, she gently pressed a class card unto it for his safekeeping. “Now take your class card and leave my cubicle. Before I change my mind about you. Good afternoon, Mr. Avicenna.” In vexation, Rey crumpled the class card in his hand and stormed out, while the imposing form of the dragon lady paid no notice and retreated behind her desk to continue reading the other student essays.

Dragging his feet down the corridor, Rey held up the crushed class card before him, ironing out its wrinkles. The grade marked on the class card made him nauseous; for all his unruliness in class, Miss Bea really did give him a grade fit for Trevor’s brilliant writing skill. While his blood pounded in his head mercilessly, he asked himself the same question that he posed before Miss Bea earlier: Why do bad things happen to good people? And why do good things happen to worthless bastards like him?

Taking opposite corners of the class card with his hands, Rey vented his pent-up rage over the injustice of it all, in one swift motion. There’s no way that I’m going to stay in this stupid course, he swore, there’s no way that I’m going to put up with all of this for the rest of my college days. The excruciating guilt that gnawed at his heart remained even after his class card’s destruction; only after taking a vow to swap courses with his roommate as soon as possible did the relentless pain within him subside.

The two halves of the class card fluttered in the air for but a moment, before finally coming to rest within the confines of an incidental garbage can.

"Roman à clef", part six

Roman à clef (cont'd)

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