Getting Schooled (The Wright Brothers #1)(52)
“Hey princess,” he called, and I looked up, meeting his eyes. “Can you tell me if something sounds right to you?”
I nodded, then sat up a little further. “Yeah, sure.”
“Aiight. So… There’s no point in this work where the reader is allowed to be comfortable – and that feels purposeful. Givens draws you out of your comfort zone with elegant prose, and then plunges you into grief right along with the unnamed main character as she navigates the impact of her sister’s drug addiction on her own life.
Tee, the sister, gets a name. By leaving herself unidentified, the narrator leaves us with a sense that she’s distancing herself from the story, even though she clearly plays a part. But I don’t believe this is the only reason she allows herself to remain unnamed. Through various points in the story, it is clear that the narrator isn’t simply relaying the message.
She’s in the room.
The night Tee sneaks out of the bungalow and runs into the Street Kings, the night the father sneaks into the bed, Tee’s suicide attempt. The details are too vivid, the picture painted a little too clearly, for these to be secondhand accounts. There’s a level of guilt hanging in every one of these words, begging the question of if the narrator’s role in Tee’s ruin is more than she lets on. Maybe she leaves herself unnamed because she doesn’t feel she deserves one in Tee’s story.”
I was completely enthralled.
For those moments while he was reading out loud from his paper, I was wrapped up, remembering the very first of his words I’d read. This was no different – insightful commentary that was leaps and bounds better than a good three-quarters of the class. I knew because I’d read most of their first drafts.
“That sounds really good,” I said, sitting up. I was in one of his army tee shirts that I’d commandeered as my own after my shower, and I tucked it between my legs, concealing my nudity underneath. “Only a few people mentioned the narrator feeling guilty, which is actually a huge theme through this story, that not many seem to easily pick up on. So, I can tell you now that you’ll definitely get points for that. Mama will be impressed.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “She’s not going to think you coached me on that, is she?”
“Hell no. My mother knows me well enough to know I’d be turned right off by needing to coach you through this. You’ve been one of the strongest students from jump. She’ll recognize your work when she sees it.”
He nodded, then looked back at his laptop and let out a breath. “Yeah… I’ve got some stuff in here about the jealousy between the sisters, the abuse, the beating, all of that. How it led to Tee’s addiction. A speculation that the narrator may have indulged in a little “white horse” herself, based on some of those erratic passages. I think I covered everything I need to.”
“I think so too,” I agreed. “Your draft was really good, and it sounds like you’ve made it even better, so… I don’t think you have anything to worry about. But, you obviously are.”
He grinned, swiping a hand over his head. “Yeah, I am. This paper is weighted heavier than all the others this semester, and after that low B on the first one, I need this shit to hit hard.”
“And it will,” I laughed. “Don’t stress it. And don’t tell anybody I told you this, but… at the end of the semester, she offers a chance to improve the grade on your lowest-scored assignment. You’ll get a chance to pull it up – if you even need it.”
“Yo, are you serious?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Yes. Why would I make something like that up?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, I have to ask with you. You know you like to sneak-attack. As a matter of fact… Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you today? You haven’t made any slick comments, no insults, nothing. What’s up?”
My hands went up to my necklace. “Just… a weird feeling, after this morning. Thinking my necklace was gone really messed with my head.”
And then that accident, I thought, but didn’t say out loud. I didn’t want to be dramatic, and still being shaken up about the necklace was bad enough. Jason closed his laptop and then came to the bed, leaning to give me a soft kiss against the lips.
“Well lets go to sleep them. Maybe tomorrow’ll be better.”
I nodded, then flopped back on the pillows as he left the room to get into the shower. I was half-asleep when he came back to bed, sliding under the covers with me and pulling me close. The warm comfort of his arms made it easy to drift off, into a deep sleep. But I was drawn from it suddenly, violently, by a loud, booming, rumble of thunder.
I sat up, realizing that my forehead was soaked in cold sweat. I extricated myself from Jason’s hold around my waist, trying not to wake him. As soon as my feet hit the cold hardwood floor, unwelcome memories rushed to my mind. The screech of tires, screaming, the helpless limbo as the car spun out of control, and then, the sickening crunch of crushed metal and shattered glass.
I sucked in a breath, trying to bring the air back to my lungs, but it didn’t feel like it was working. A flash of lightning, another monstrous peal of thunder brought back the merciless squeal of the wiper blades on the windshield, trying valiantly to keep the window clear. My father, cursing. Not because I’d called him to come and get me, because of the weather. Because of the storm that had cropped up out of nowhere.