Slow Dance in Purgatory(41)

Mr. Marshall rolled out of his upended seat in shocked bewilderment and, rising on wobbly legs, attempted to right his chair. As he leaned over, Johnny grabbed the waistband of his pants and yanked upward, showing the old bully how it really felt to be a pain the butt. Mr. Marshall shrieked and grabbed at the seat of his pants in mortification. Johnny released him, and with a little bump, shoved him back into his chair and scooted him into his desk as if the whole incident had never happened. Then, leaning down very close to Mr. Marshall’s ear, he spoke loudly and distinctly. Maggie marveled that she was the only one who could hear him. His voice practically reverberated through her head.

“You owe Margaret O’Bannon an apology.”

Mr. Marshall rubbed frantically at his ear and stuck his finger into the opening as if a bug had flown into his ear canal. His eyes met Maggie in stunned disbelief. She didn’t know if he had actually heard Johnny, but on some level the message had been received. Johnny resumed his place by her side.

They finished the experiment and the attached quiz in silence. As the class came to a close, and the students filed out, Maggie hung back, waiting for the room to empty. When Mr. Marshall saw that she remained behind, he scampered out, as if fearful that the whole embarrassing episode would repeat itself.

Johnny sank down on a stool and looked at her stonily. He knew she was going to scold him, apparently.

“You can’t defend me from the whole cruel world,” she said softly.

“True. But I can defend you in my tiny corner of it.”

“My knight.”

“My lady.”

Maggie smiled at his rejoinder. “Just…please… be careful. What if people start to talk?”

“About what? Ghosts? I’m not worried about that, Maggie.”

“Please don’t do that again. I almost felt bad for that awful little man.”

“That awful little man has been pulling stuff like that for decades, and his father pulled similar stuff for decades before him.” Johnny stood and captured her hands in his. “I can’t stand by while people are cruel to you. I can’t watch you suffer and do nothing. Don’t ask me to.” His expression was fierce and unyielding. They locked gazes for several long seconds. Maggie surrendered first.

“Will you kiss me, please?” Maggie whispered, lifting her hands to clasp them against the nape of his neck and pulling his glorious face to hers.

“Someone could walk in.” His mouth hovered just above hers, his breath tickling her parted lips.

“I don’t care.”

And at that moment, neither did he.





13


“PRETEND”

Nat King Cole - 1953





The next few weeks passed in a blur of stolen moments and secret rendezvous, and Maggie grabbed every second with both hands and held on tight. When the early mornings and evenings weren’t enough, Johnny would attend her classes with her. Sitting in an empty chair or perched on her desk, he would contribute his thoughts on the various subjects, unbeknownst to her teachers or the other students around him. Maggie wondered how often he had done this very same thing over the last years. He could probably write a book on all her subjects or at the very least, teach the class.

Maggie had the difficult task of acting like he wasn’t there, though she hung on his every word, his every thought, and his every expression. His mere presence made her glow with happiness, and more than once, she had to make up an excuse for speaking out loud or giggling with, what appeared to be, her imaginary friend. In Math, Johnny would kneel by her desk and help her with her geometry proofs. In English, he would assist her with her reading, and in Chemistry he frequently helped her decipher complicated concepts and instructions. Maggie was thrilled to have her own personal tutor, and her grades had never been better.

Johnny seemed as enamored with her as she was with him, and every once in a while he would forget that he blocked the aisle alongside her desk, tripping and bumping unsuspecting passers-by. Those unlucky students would look around in confusion, wondering what they had stumbled over. Sometimes they thought it was Maggie who had stuck out a foot or jostled them as they passed. She got more than her share of dirty looks and often found herself blurting out awkward apologies for things she hadn’t done.

A few kids in Senior English started poking fun at her one afternoon, after she slipped and replied to Johnny’s comments out loud in a very quiet classroom. They were supposed to be silently reading Jane Eyre. Johnny was reading it out loud to her, making the whole assignment a million times easier. Plus, Johnny had to get very close in order to see over her shoulder and make it appear as if she were the one reading. Close to Johnny was close to heaven in Maggie’s world.

The story had started to take shape, and Maggie lost herself in Johnny’s voice and the romance between Jane and Mr. Rochester. Maggie could relate to the orphaned Jane who had so little. She was aghast when Jane discovered Mr. Rochester had a crazy wife hidden in the attic, and she was completely devastated when Jane decided she had to leave Thornfield Hall.

“But she loves him – she can’t go!” Maggie whispered. A few heads turned her way and then, shoulders shrugging, resumed their own reading.

“But he isn’t free to love her the way that she deserves,” Johnny replied gently.

“He’s crazy about her!” This time a few people snickered, but Maggie was totally unaware of them. Johnny laid a warning finger against her lips. Maggie looked up from the page into his beloved face, and all thoughts of Jane Eyre fled at the sadness in his gaze.