How to Eat An Elephant

A tap on my shoulder breaks my focus.

“Jasmine,” Malachi’s face is all scrunched up, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I’m just–” I glance at the page in front of me. Somehow, it’s not the fashion I’ve been imagining for days. It’s the English homework Ms. Jackson assigned today and I’m nearly done.

What the . . .

“I happened to me too. I tried the trick that lady,” he gestures toward the front of the room, “taught us and my homework was done before I even realized what was happening.”

“No shit.” I shuffle my sketch back up to the top and add a second layer of cross-hatching.

Malachi leans over. “But the weird part is I didn’t want to do my homework. I wanted to paint.”

Just then the door slams shut and Ms. Sass rushes in and places a cage on her desk.

“Pardon my tardiness.” Her eyes squint like she’s smiling, but it’s not like I can see her mouth behind the mask. “As you know I was a science teacher in my last post, so today I brought a special guest as part of an object lesson.”

That doesn’t sound right. Wasn’t she an English teacher like Ms. Jenkins?

She plunges her arm into the enclosure.  I can’t tear my eyes away from her pale hand absentmindedly stalking a washed-out blur of green and brown. But then her fingers squeeze it like a vise. Shiny mucous coats her hand as it wriggles in her fingers. A frog. I want to run up. Set it free, but I’m stuck in my seat.

“What do you mean you didn’t want to?” I whisper to Malachi.

“I couldn’t help myself. It was like I couldn’t stop until it was done. Every time I tried, my heart felt like it was going to explode.” The emotion in Malachi’s hushed voice yanks my attention back. His eyes blink rapidly, but this close, his pupils look huge. Like the hazel brown around them is barely visible now.

“Eyes up front,” Sass admonishes. “Would anyone like to touch him?”

Through the corner of my eye, I see the rest of the class shake their heads collectively. It happens so fast that for a split second I don’t even recognize my head shaking too. But Malachi doesn’t budge. He’s still leaning over the edge of his desk toward me, both of his elbows propped up at most six inches away.

But apparently that’s not close enough. He scoots the entire chair and desk closer to mine, dragging the dull metal feet on the floor. The screech makes my eardrums itch.

“Frogs are really fascinating creatures, and tasty too.” A sparkle glints in her eye, but it must be a trick of the light. “Frogs learn to adapt to their environments. When there’s no water, they live on land. When you are in a stressful or difficult environment you must radically change your approach to–”

Ms. Sass is still speaking but Malachi doesn’t quit. “The numbers just kept pouring out like vomit spilling all over my paper,” he continues, “I–”

“Malachi!” Ms. Sass’s voice sends my heart to my knees. “Do you have something you’d like to share with the class.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to. I just can’t stop.”

Malachi rises slowly, his whole body quivering. He falls back and the desk tilts. Its legs strike the floor loudly as they settle under his weight.

A chill races down my spine. I didn’t notice before, but he doesn’t look good at all.

“Class, fill out those worksheets for a ten minute next sprint. The instructions are at the top.” Ms. Sass spins around her computer and hits the space bar before furiously scribbling something.

But I can’t focus on my paper, not when fear flickers in Malachi’s eyes and sweat covers his brow. He tugs at my shirt, but it’s so weak it’s like a breeze.

I clear my throat. “Mal what is –”

“Dissension will not be tolerated.” Sass’s fist bangs against the desk, the sound booming in the silence. “Malachi, if you cannot focus I have to ask you to leave.”

He cautiously straightens and limps out of the room, tremors still rattling his limbs. I don’t think he even realizes the contents of his backpack are all over the floor next to his desk.

I can’t believe this shit. He obviously needs help. Why is no one helping?

Why is everybody else so quiet?

I look left and right and everyone’s just working away on those silly worksheets like this is normal. This isn’t freaking normal.

That’s when I notice Ms. Sass’s eyes on me, and only me.

I tuck my head down and even though every urge inside of me says to scratch ‘Fuck you’ into the board, I can’t bring myself to do it. Instead, under the power of her gaze, I do what I’m told.

But there’s a tiny whisper in my brain, barely discernable. The frog . . . she had it a second ago. Where did it go?