United We Stand, Part III
December 21, 2005 by Douglas · Leave a Comment
“I understand you know what happened to the classes’ American Flag.” I played dumb. “American Flag? Oh, that! No I don’t.”
His face turned red. His big fat face, and I swear I remember foam coming from the corners of his mouth. He stood up and grabbed me by the arm. “Where’s your locker?” He marched me into the hall, with my restricted arm showing the way. The bell had just rung, and the hall was filling with students. This was mortifying, being dragged to my locker by this psycho, I was panicked that I felt so defenseless – but was at the same time reassured…
He demanded that I open my locker. Theresa walks up (locker neighbor who I had known since grade school) and assists me in my plight.
“What’s going on Doug?” “HE thinks there is a FLAG in my LOCKER!” I stated emphasizing the words I knew would get students to notice. I wasn’t enjoying his attention, but was going to enjoy the contents of my locker even more. “WHY would he think THAT, DOUG?” She used my same exaggerated tones – smiling. “I don’t know!” My answer was short and sweet, lacking in oomph, but I hit the last number and I pulled my locker open.
He slid things around and pushed my coat out of the way. There was no Flag. I did not think his face would have gotten redder than it had been in class – but boy was I wrong. He stuck his finger in the middle of my forehead. “I want that flag back tomorrow!” With each word his finger poked its way down to my chest. It hurt. More so as I noticed the other students, not gathering, but stopped in their tracks watching this transaction. He turned and stomped back to the class, my ears got hot and my head felt like it was going to burst. People went about their business and I had to hurry back to my previous class to grab my stuff I left behind.
Theresa watched me close my locker, but didn’t say a word. “Who would keep a flag in their locker?” I said sarcastically, faking a smile.
The next morning Senora Eide was back to fill her role as teacher. Was Potu brought in just to sniff out the bandit? She left for her coffee, and I slid into the room. I laid the flag right in the middle of her desk, wrapped in a black garbage bag, like a chopstick ninja. I turned to leave – I had done what needed to be done. I darted out but ran smack into her as she re-entered the room… no coffee.
I made it to first period – didn’t say a word to anyone the rest of the day. During my Spanish class, the flag hung behind her desk, and I couldn’t stand to look at it. She never asked me anything about it – or acknowledged that I returned it… it was like the event that suddenly didn’t happen. It remains a talking point at my parent’s house when family gathers and we talk about old times. Reflecting back on my high school days, I have to admit – I’d do it again.
