Mrs. McConnal XXVI

Note From The Editor: The writer of this very nice story sent it to me and asked to remain anonymous. However, I have his e-mail address, so if you want to tell him what you think about his story you can email me ([email protected]) and I will make sure he gets your comments.

Chapter Twenty Six: The Dance and Afterwards

The dance was fantastic. We lost the ball game, we usually did. It was with our rival, about 30 miles away, Glenn Oaks a larger school. We hadn't beaten them in anything in several years. It had almost ceased to matter any more. But Dianne looked great on the field.

After the game we met up with Alvin and Sharon, and Dave and Tricia, some of Dianne's friends that often gathered for lunch with us. It dawned on me that night that they had become my friends, too. And that was a new experience; having friends so close to my own age.

The band was good. [Note to younger readers: In those days we actually had live bands at all our dances. DJs were on the radio, not at dances.] Dianne and I danced a lot and I did real good, never tripping over my feet or stepping on her's even once. We swapped up several times and while Dianne danced with either Alvin or Dave, I danced with Sharon and Tricia. And they didn't dance with me because the HAD to but because they WANTED to, which made me feel even better.

I saved the slow dances for Dianne, though. Holding her close, feeling her moving slowly against me, having her head on my shoulder and my cheek against her silky black hair , , , oh I was in heaven. I actually managed to keep from ramming a hard on up against her tummy, which I thought was quite an accomplishment. I assumed that would not have been a turn on to her. Maybe; whichever, I didn't want to risk it.

After the dance we all walked to Dianne's house, where Mrs. Nobel had prepared some snacks and Cokes for us. The weather was still warm enough for us to sit in her back yard and talk for a while; winding down before the rest of us went home. Mr. Nobel drove the other four home while Dianne and I spent a little time alone, reliving the evening.

I helped her clean up outside and went in to thank Mrs. Nobel again for having been so nice to us. Dianne stepped out on her front porch with me to wish me 'good night'. I couldn't resist her. I gently put my arms around her again, just as I had when we were dancing, and kissed her on the lips - not a deep grown-up kiss, but still a tender caring kiss. I couldn't believe I had done that. Was she going to push me away? Please don't.

She just looked at me and smiled. I hugged her more and kissed her on the cheek. And then, as much as I hated to leave her, went home.

I could barely get to sleep that night, what with the thoughts of holding Dianne, dancing with her, even kissing her, racing through my mind. She must really like me, was all I could think. She must really like me.

Next day, of course I couldn't wait to tell Mrs. McConnal. I didn't tell her about the kisses nor about how good it felt to hold Dianne close to me.

But I was bubbling over with, "She LIKES me, Pretty Lady! I think she REALLY likes me!"

"Of course she does, darling." Mrs. McConnal beamed back while hugging me. "Of course she does."

"I mean we danced and I didn't do anything real stupid. And we went to her house with Alvin and Sharon and Dave and Tricia, and they're my friends now too, and SHE LIKES ME. She really, really likes me. I don't think she's fooling. I think she really likes me." I couldn't contain myself.

We spent the afternoon in her garden, doing some early autumn work for putting the flowers to rest for the winter. I kept telling how about the evening and how well it had gone.

When I thanked her for everything she and Gloria had taught me, and how they had taught me just right, I mean it must have been just right because Dianne really likes me, Mrs. McConnal told me, smiling, "Jeremy, she doesn't like you because of what Gloria and I taught you. She likes you because of YOU, and because you like her, and because you care about her. And because, once you finally let your guard down, you're as delightful a person to be with as anyone could ever be."

"Really?" I asked, in all seriousness.

"Once you let your defenses down." she said, somewhat sternly. "Until that time you're so intimidating that no one feels comfortable being in your presence."

"Really?" no one had ever said that to me before. "I don't mean to be."

"Of course you mean to be." she stated flatly. "No one's that intimidating without meaning to me."

"But Mrs. McConnal, I've never hurt anybody." I pleaded. "I've never been violent or anything."

"You don't have to be." she told me. "All you have to do is let that cold curtain fall over you and people are afraid to approach you. And you have hurt people with that."

"I've never hurt you have I?" this mattered to me.

"No, I understood, when you were younger, that I have to be very gentle in letting you get to know me and letting you decide for yourself that you didn't have to do that with me." Then she added, "But you do that with plenty others. Your teachers are intimidated by you, so you can imagine how the students feel."

I was dumbfounded to be hearing that. I guess I knew it at some level, but I really felt like I was just protecting myself.

Then she went on, "Your teachers are afraid that if they say the wrong thing to you you'll make a fool of them in front of their own class, and they won't be able to do anything about it. Hell, they know how smart you are. They know they're not teaching you anything. They know you glance through the book and never need them to tell you anything again. They know a week into the class they could hand you all the tests for the year and you'd have all A's for the year by the end of September. How would that make you feel as a teacher, having someone like that in your class?"

"I'd feel like it was one less kid I had to teach." I said honestly.

"You would." she sighed. "The problem with that is that you then spend October through May sticking pins and needles in your teachers and classmates just to pass the time of day. I know you do it because you're bored. But they think you mean it, Jeremy."

She added, "And you also do it in order to keep them from getting close to you. You're still afraid that anyone who gets close to you is going to hurt you." She paused and thought for a moment. "Or leave you. I hope Dianne can help you get over that.

"But when you're ice cold to everyone in the class and the only comments you make either go right over everyone's head or sounds condescending, of course you make them all feel like idiots. So, of course your teachers are afraid to engage you in any kind of conversation. And if they're afraid, just imagine how your fellow students feel."

She continued, "Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Wilkerson both would have blistered your fanny plenty of times if they weren't so afraid of you. You do know that, don't you."

"No. I didn't know that." and I honestly didn't.

"You've made them both feel incompetent more times that anyone can count." Pretty Lady was sounding a little irritated with me now. I heard what you did to Mrs. Wilkerson the other day. She should have snatched you up before you even finished and paddled your bottom while the whole class watched. She's never been anything but kind to you and you've hurt her feelings every chance you got."

"I never meant to." I said, still being truthful.

"No," she pointed out, "you didn't mean to make them feel incompetent. You meant for them to go away and leave you alone. But they're your teachers, and you're in their class, so they can't go away and leave you alone. And they know you're sitting there thinking that they're all morons, and that YOU could make a case for them all being morons. The one certainty the live with every day is that, sometime, probably when they least expect it, you're going to tell them that they're all morons . . . AGAIN. And they won't be able to refute it."

"I don't mean to do that." I pleaded again. Mrs. McConnal evidently decided that, when I was feeling the best about letting my guard down was the time to tell me flat out how hard I could be to be with when I had my guard up.

"Like hell you don't mean to." She was emphatic about that. "Jeremy, darling, I know you're just playing a game in your own mind. I know you're bored out of your skull in school and that tormenting people in this way is just your way of getting through a day. But plenty of your teachers have made an effort to become your friend, and you have turned a cold shoulder to each and every one of them."

"Not you." I begged you recognition of that, at least.

"No, not me. For one thing you know I'd wear you out in a minute if you did." she admitted. "But how do you think Mrs. Wilkerson felt when you wouldn't even attend the induction ceremony for the honor society? How did she feel Thursday when you tossed her off like a used napkin?"

"Mad?" was what I expected.

"She was HURT, dammit!" Mrs. McConnal made clear. "She made special arrangements to get you inducted while you were still in the 10th grade. She came to me asking my advice on how to handle you and I THOUGHT I had given her good advice. You knew I wanted you to join them. And what did you do? You just didn't show up! But as soon as you knew you'd missed the assembly you came on in. How do you think that made her feel? Have you ever even thought about it?"

"No, ma'am I haven't." It seemed like it was time to start calling her 'ma'am' now. "But I never meant to hurt her, Mrs. McConnal. I just didn't want to be shown off in front of the whole school." I was begging her to see my point also.

She softened immediately, "I know darling. But you really should have explained that to her. She would've understood. As it is she feels like you've rejected her and her society, and that you even look down on them. Which you do. But there's no reason to make a point of showing it."

"You think maybe I should talk with her?" I asked.

"It wouldn't hurt." she said. "Just don't wind up making matters worse than they already are by being your usual cold and intimidating self."

"And I really like Mrs. Johnson." I said. She made my heart flutter.

"I know you do." Mrs. McConnal said. "That's why you're scared of her. So you wrap up in your cold curtain and you ascorbic wit and tell her that she's a moron, too."

"I never told her that!" I protested.

"No, darling, but she felt like you did." Mrs. McConnal was trying to get me to see how my actions were read as opposed to what my intentions and motives really were.

"How do you know all this, Pretty Lady?" I had to ask.

She looked at me as if to say, 'How can you be so dense?'. "Because they TOLD me, Jeremy! Teachers talk to one another, too, you know."

"Oh, yeah."

"Your teachers are always asking me how in the world did I develop such a close relationship with you. I tell them to be patient, and then when they are that's how you reward them. I probably should have told them to go ahead and paddle your butt when you get to acting that way. They may never get close to you, but maybe you'd ease up on them."

Then she thought a minute. "No . . . you'd probably only get worse."

"I'll try to be nicer to them." I said.

She chuckled, "Maybe for a day or two you might."

Then she switched to her jovial demeanor again. "But, you little rascal, if you would just lighten up and let people get close to you everyone would love you as much as Dianne and Gloria and I do. Didn't you feel good last night?"

I beamed again, "Yeah!"

"And don't you feel good when we're together and you don't feel that you have to put up any pretenses?"

"Yeah," I must have looked like a contented puppy to her at that moment, "I do, Pretty Lady. Until I met Dianne you're the only person I really felt comfortable with."

She came closer to me, stroked my head and gave me a gentle hug. "Remember that feeling, darling. The world is not always a terrible place filled with people who want to hurt you. And people you love dearly don't always vanish without warning."

The End