Chapter 11: Those Good Old-Fashioned Values
The new sophomores flooded the halls on the first day back from summer vacation invigorated with new purpose. They had a sacred responsibility, or so they were told, to mentor the younger generation just as they had been mentored themselves. While they got to arrive at school late and act casually for a bit, as soon as the second bell rang, all bets were off. They looked no different than the freshmen: perhaps on average they were a bit taller, and spoke with deeper voices, but to the juniors and seniors, who also populated the halls with their own new purpose, they were still young and innocent. It was a simple binary in their mind: if a student were younger than they, they were cute, innocent, and naïve. If older, they commanded a grudging respect while they waited for them to graduate and clear the stage.
Frank, Alan, and Pranav had chosen to arrive early to debrief all that had occurred over the summer; walking as a group of three, they were stopped by one overzealous teacher by the parking lot asking if the young freshmen needed any help finding the theater before another teacher waved hello and rescued them from ignominy.
"To be young again," Frank laughed. They made their way past the locker rooms and up the ramp to the central courtyard, choosing a table that was not damp from condensation. As soon as they sat down, Frank pulled out folders from his backpack containing last-minute paperwork and notes.
"Why aren't the other club officers here? And why is this guy here?" Alan asked, pointing to Pranav, who Alan thought did not look at all like a sophomore.
"It's early, and I wanted to make sure the most important people were here," Frank answered, looking at Pranav knowingly. This was technically true, if not in the sense Alan thought: Alan was there so he would be suitably on-board with the club activities that day. Frank had neglected to tell Alan, and all the club officers in fact, that their club was grounded in a satirical text; he did not view this as an important detail. It was rare that clubs met on the first day of school, but a good person plans ahead, and Frank certainly wanted his first day to go off without a hitch. If his social media experiments were any indication, a sizable percentage of the "popular kids" were going to attend, either of their own volition or because their friends insisted. As to not disrupt Mr. T's bemused tolerance of the impending chaos, he had announced that membership would be capped at thirty members, with all meetings recorded on the off chance someone really had nothing better to do after school (Mr. T just so happened to keep expensive recording equipment in his cabinets of wonder). This announcement, made the night before school, prompted fast responses from people like Juliet and Behrooz, all gleefully announcing their intentions to be there. Frank woke up the following morning and forgot for a happy few minutes exactly what he had done over the last few weeks until he checked his emails to see a few anxious freshmen trying to reserve spots in the meeting. This is bound to be interesting, he thought.
"That doesn't answer my question: why is he here?" Alan did not like surprises, and with his belief that the draconian methods Frank had planned for that day were good person boot camp, any deviation from his conception of lunch that day was already a failure on his part, and Alan did not like failure.
"Pranav," Frank said, emphasizing his name with mild disappointment that Alan was being so bossy, "is a consultant. Yes, he's a consultant. He has extensive leadership experience, and has studied the text extensively. He's a mentor, in many ways, to me." Pranav nodded in approval, and resisted the temptation to chuckle. The plan was simple: Alan would be the only officer who knew of Pranav's involvement, and even he would be misled. Armed with his self-assured superiority, he would keep the secretary and vice president in line for Frank, Pranav, and all of their other friends who wanted to get in on the action. Pranav didn't even know the other club officers' names, and he suspected Frank didn't either.
"Cool. So, Pranav, what will you be doing during the meeting today?"
"I'll be in the back. Just watching, taking notes, consulting." Alan seemed disappointed. "I'll also be in charge of the ID cards. That sort of boring stuff which really should be handled by experienced people." They kept talking until more people started to show up and their secret meeting could not really be considered secret. Alan saw Behrooz walking up the ramp, and went off to greet him; Frank and Pranav waited for him to leave, then fist-bumped each other.
Behrooz smiled when he saw Alan, and immediately wanted to know how he enjoyed the lake. By then, the sting of not being invited had worn off, and Behrooz listened attentively while Alan described just how refreshing the water was, how comfortable the bedding was, and even how they had cooked real, adult meals.
"Sounds like summer camp," Behrooz commented while Alan kept rambling about how much fun everything was.
"Oh, no, I have bad memories of summer camp. This was so much better. So much more mature. The others even read books!"
"And were you one of these people?"
"No, of course not." Behrooz felt a bit better knowing that were he invited, he wouldn't have enjoyed it at all. As soon as the bell rang, they went immediately to their classes, not wishing to be trampled by all the freshmen who didn't know any better.
John distracted himself talking to Ms. Baldwin, who he saw talking to an overly eager freshman and desperately wanted to end the conversation. She pointed the freshman toward one of the club's advertising posters across the hall and nearly shoved him out of her classroom before she turned to John with a smile. They exchanged the usual pleasantries about their summers, and John let himself be swept along in the tide to Mr. T's classroom for English. Mr. T's classroom was decorated in the same way as it always was; he popped the skull of his skeleton from its spine and held it in front of him, mockingly remarking "Alas poor Yorick, I knew him well" before reattaching it. The only new decoration John noticed on first glance was yet another club poster, this one taped on the door as to give every student leaving a reason to come back later. John was happy to see Beth in his class again, lukewarm about Juliet, and let out a visible groan that Mr. T quietly noticed when Regina walked in immediately after he did. John performed some quick mental arithmetic and came to the conclusion that Beth plus Juliet were better than Regina alone, and decided to sit next to them. It would be temporary, anyway, and they were all happy to see him, which made John feel better. Far better that, he thought, than sitting with people who disliked him.
Mr. T waited for everyone to sit down and get their first-day jitters out, then began in his usual casual manner:
"Welcome to advanced English! Some of you may know me as your health teacher, but I wear many hats around Heller, and you'll see me most as an English teacher. If any of you are taking AP Government or Japanese, you may also have me as your teacher. Nobody? Oh well. Anyway, these seats that you're sitting in now will be your seats for the rest of the school year, assuming no major issues come up. I hope you know your compatriots well, and if you don't, there's a first time for everything."
"Isn't this great? We're all going to be best friends!" Juliet whispered to the three others, although John assumed that comment was directed at him. John's attention was firmly on Mr. T, however, and he did not pay her comment much heed.
It took John the better part of English class to realize that Beth and Regina were not the consummate intellectuals they were at the lake, or at the very least, their seeming passion for reading did not extend to literary analysis. Regina he could understand: it was blindingly obvious in retrospect that she had not yet shaken her crush on him, but Beth? She could simply be a casual reader, he supposed. But a worse possibility existed, one that took a few seconds to reveal its elementary logic to John: was Beth flirting with him too? It seemed a strange possibility that two attractive girls could be interested in him, but if one was, did that not open up the floodgates for more? The marginal probability of attraction presumably did increase after the first; if one were ugly, and John had been told by others (namely Regina) that he was attractive and sure to attract a lot of female attention, naturally most would be superficial and not exhibit attraction. But if one were attractive enough for one person, who knew how many silently stood behind them? What if he had once again misinterpreted something more for mere kindness? But anyway, John was daydreaming again. He could hold himself together until the bell rang.
"Oh, before I forget: during lunch today, either come quickly back here or watch the live-stream of the inaugural How To Be A Good Person Club meeting. Frank has been working hard to deliver everything he promised you all last year, and we're expecting a high turn-out, so I hope to see you all there," Mr. T said to conclude class, and all of his students bubbled with speculation.
"Are you coming?" Beth asked John, who looked at the posted flyer with unfamiliarity.
"Oh, yes, I would love to. Thank you for inviting me."
"You know I'm definitely coming," Juliet beamed. "It would be the epitome of neglect for me to disappoint my Instagram followers. Regina, you should join us too."
"Such fancy vocabulary, Juliet, you sound like a real intellectual. I'm impressed," Regina responded, carefully avoiding making a binding commitment.
"Why thank you! I try my hardest. A person's vocabulary reflects their education and intelligence." Beth was not looking forward to attending a club where everyone talked with such a similar air, but it was the first day of school, what else would she do?
The three of them reunited during lunch, and encountered a crowd of people massed around Mr. T's door. They saw that people were being let in one at a time, wherein they were given a piece of paper to write their name and grade and then had a photo solemnly taken against a white background.
"I feel like I'm in a prison lineup," Beth said to Regina, and the two of them laughed.
"Don't smile! This isn't a football game!" Alan told Juliet, and she tried her hardest to not blink due to the camera flash. The desks were spaced out in an even grid, and Frank stood ready in the corner, sternly watching those who came in. When exactly thirty people were seated, he gave a signal and the door was closed, leaving a few disappointed students outside. Frank walked up to the podium and began:
"Today, all of you will begin the hero's journey, from the shameful little brats you are now to proud, intelligent, and most importantly, good people. You have taken the first step by coming here, and for that you should be proud. That makes you automatically better people than those outside, with their faces pressed up against the door—do you see them? They were late! They were tardy! And as all of you will know with great intimacy, they are losers! We live in a cruel world. Those who are weak, perish. Those who are not weak, thrive. Shakespeare wrote: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them! Starting today, we will be thrusting our greatness upon you, and with great vigor at that! Alexander Hamilton wrote that energy in the executive branch is of utmost importance, and I wholeheartedly agree with him. Now, are you leaders or followers?"
Most of everyone seated shouted that they were leaders.
"Correct. Stanley, please escort that kid who said he was a follower outside. We don't need any negativity in here." Stanley did what he was told and dragged the freshman out, ignoring his frantic apologies.
"As leaders, we must be role models for those unenlightened. All of our actions need to be precise, in accordance with the highest code of conduct we can possibly maintain. Given that goal, we are not going to spend today lecturing on philosophy or theory. People learn best by doing. Alan, please sit down at that empty desk. Now, stand up!" Alan stood up like a rocket, posture straight, and saluted Frank with a sharp "Yes, sir!"
"At ease," Frank commanded, and Alan sat down. "Now, etiquette is of utmost importance. You are to address myself, the other club members, and any faculty with these new standards. We are all equal here. Understand? Now, everybody, stand up!" The club attendees imitated Alan's positioning, and Frank walked with the other officers and corrected their form, moving hands gently to people's sides and cautioning those whose gazes were not firmly forward to avoid sloppiness.
"Sitting is also an art. Keep your spine straight, hips facing forward, hands clasped together unless you are writing something. Imagine you are posing for a portrait. Very good, Juliet. Stand! Sit! Now, the walk. Observe how I walk with my elbows at a sharp right angle, my feet straight, and my hips forward yet again. One foot up, one foot down," Frank explained as he paced in front of the class. "And you will see that with practice, this becomes quite natural, and with practice you will find your speed increasing until you reach an appropriate demeanor."
John found himself learning these new positions quite quickly, marveling at how he had been doing everything wrong his entire life. He found comfort through routines and habits, as following those freed up his conscious thought processes for more interesting topics. He hummed along to the military march Frank played to teach them proper walking rhythm, and he knew for certain that he had made the right decision in coming.
"It is also of utmost importance to correct your classmates when they inevitably make errors. Now, you may find yourself thinking: 'Frank, why should we try to convert the simpletons to our side? Didn't you just tell us they are of inferior moral constitution, full of nasty habits like drinking bubble tea, and actively scheming to destroy American society as we know it?' But what each and every one of you must understand is this: we are good people. We are altruistic—do you know what that means? It means that we know that society is only as strong as our weakest link, and that when one of us fails, we all fail. Where we go one we go all. Look at these sheets carefully that Alan is handing out. Frequently, throughout the day, you will engage with your fellow club members here, as well as any who are watching online. If you observe any violations of etiquette, journal them as the sheets instruct. Also fill out evaluations for yourself if you think you've erred, otherwise you won't improve. A good person never makes the same mistake twice. Now, I am a nice person, I'm not some wannabe totalitarian dictator—nobody is going to be punished here. Just remind them nicely to be better people, and if their conduct is so seriously improper that it reflects on our club as a whole, we can have a little chat and see what can be done, how about that? I hope I can trust all of you to keep each other, and yourselves, honest, and as long as each and everyone of us in attendance does that, we shall have an unified front against those scary people out there. This is a brave new world, indeed, but I am not scared. And I hope none of you are scared either. It is unreasonable to expect that when we live in such a vast ocean as this, that those out there not on our side will easily be converted. In fact, it is a childish instinct that drives them to reject our wisdom—but we must expect such petulance. Eventually, as we bide our time, they will unconsciously begin mimicking our actions, and we shall overcome all obstacles in our way." This was fun! Frank saw that there were only a few minutes left in the period, and decided to wrap things up.
"Typically, we will begin every meeting with this, but as you are all adjusting to these new rhythms of life, I wanted to ease you in. Everyone, stand up, hands over your hearts. Face the flag. I pledge allegiance to the flag..."
"With liberty and justice for all," Behrooz concluded solemnly. His leadership meeting unfortunately overlapped with the club, but nevertheless, he could not miss out, and he watched the video live from his phone. Ms. Foster gave him an approving look. "Good on them for doing the pledge. People start crying about civil liberties when us teachers do it in class, so I'm glad that someone has taken up the torch."
"This week has somewhat of a special schedule, so because of that, I won't see all of you assembled after tomorrow until next Friday. There is no homework tonight besides practicing discipline, but after the next meeting, I will expect all of you to have read How To Be A Good Person. There will be a quiz. The Navy SEALs have a saying: it pays to be a winner. While I cannot grade you, as this is a club, you will have the opportunity to earn Frank-Bucks. Think of them as brownie points or little merit badges. The most commended members here will earn a prize at the end of the semester. Now, go enjoy your last few minutes, and practice all those terms of proper conduct that we went over today. The philosophy starts tomorrow."
Frank thought it miraculous that all of the thirty-odd people who showed up at the beginning of the meeting stuck around until the end. At the end of the meeting, everyone stood up in unison as previously instructed (and modeled by the plants in the audience) and thanked Frank before dutifully filing out and signing their names. They couldn't wait to come back tomorrow to receive their ID cards and learn more about the fundamentals of being a good person. Alan left quickly, as his next class was on the other side of the school, and so Frank and Pranav did a final clean-up; surprisingly enough, everyone had taken the initiative to pick up their litter.
"Have we met before, Pranav?" Mr. T asked, now finally standing up from his desk to break the illusion that he wasn't listening the entire time.
"I don't think we have. In any case, you'll be seeing a lot of me here, assuming we don't get shut down within a week."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, in any case," Mr. T said as he extended his hand. "Any friend of Frank's is a friend of mine."
Frank walked into Mrs. Huang's class a celebrity. Regardless of if they cared, it was impossible for anyone else in the class not to have noticed at least one person besides Frank walking as if they were in the Marine Corps, greeting their fellow club members with salutes and everyone else with a dismissive sneer. A few mockingly saluted Frank as he walked toward his seat, a gesture he returned with a smile.
"How many people came?" Mrs. Huang immediately asked him; Mrs. Huang valued her lunch periods too highly to willingly spend them with students she did not know, or else she would have done this reconnaissance herself.
"We had exactly thirty in Mr. T's classroom, and I was told we had a hundred watching from the library. I was not disappointed."
"You see," Mrs. Huang gestured toward the rest of the class, "this is how you become a leader." She gave Frank a salute jokingly, and she began her lecture without any further distraction.
"This year, we are only going to speak Chinese in class, understand? You are advanced students; all of you are extremely intelligent, and if you want to do well on the AP test next year, it is imperative we begin now. We are also going to begin weekly cultural tests! To learn a language, you must know the culture! We are going to start by learning about tea. All together, read out loud: tea is China's traditional drink..." The less proficient students looked at their papers with confusion while everyone around them read flawlessly, if unenthusiastically. How was this supposed to help them? They all drank tea at home, and beyond knowing which teas they liked or disliked, it seemed unnecessary to be able to explain the fine artistry inherent in different types of tea leaves. Many were not used to only speaking Chinese, and even Frank was somewhat reluctant to speak in class, despite his usual enthusiasm. But by the end of the period, most were comfortable with the new scheme of things, and those who weren't went to the administrative office to drop the class.
The last thing Ernest needed to overhear was two freshmen in the hall talking about how fun the club meeting was. It was enough to hear Mrs. Huang gush about it in front of the entire class, despite knowing nothing about it but its name and progenitor, but now he had proof that the contagion had spread beyond the more radical elements of the school. Granted, he knew nothing about what happened in the meeting, although if he had known most of it was Frank connecting a good person's moral foundation to walking single-file and standing up on cue, he would have collapsed more than he did when he ranted to his parents after school. Earlier they had read the manifesto after hearing about it from another parent and, like Mrs. Huang, thought it accurate if a bit harsh. They considered his worries overblown and his attitude uncharacteristically paranoid, but Ernest knew he wasn't crazy. The worst part about it was that Frank seemed to be doing relatively little to market the club at this point; his cronies had taken care of all the hard work for him already. Even after only one meeting, word of mouth was infinitely more effective than anything one person alone could muster. So, in essence, he was not only a cult leader but a lazy one too.
Frank, who considered himself very much not lazy, happened to be walking by Mr. T's classroom after school on his daily patrol to make sure all the club posters were placed just so and none had been defaced. He didn't really expect that to happen, but he knew only the most notable of clubs would ever receive such special attention, and so if he noticed anything awry whenever he decided to conduct spot checks, he would know he'd made it. He checked Snapchat once more to see if anyone else had posted photos; Frank did not use Snapchat to communicate with others, ever, but he did frequently use it as a surveillance tool. He was supposed to avoid social media, but no good person would pass up having a live map of their classmates accessible at all times.
Someone tapped Frank on the shoulder, and Frank fumbled the stapler in his hands and turned around with a forced smile. Juliet laughed like they were old friends, and she and her friends saluted him with various degrees of crispness.
"Do you need any help with those flyers?" Juliet asked sweetly, adding a "sir" at the end in case it was required.
"Great meeting, by the way, I learned a lot, sir," Regina added, not wishing to be left out of the conversation. Regina considered first impressions extremely valuable, and unlike some, she was used to the idea of regimented drills and thought it no different than learning new choreography.
"I think I'm good on these, ladies, but..." Frank added as a seeming afterthought, not wishing to abandon the opportunity in front of him, "I could use a few more pictures for our Instagram account. Mr. T always sticks around after school, so if I could politely entreat you for a few minutes of your time, I would greatly appreciate it."
Surprisingly enough, Beth was the first to say yes; she and Juliet needed to stay at school for cheer practice anyway. Regina didn't want to be a contrarian—it would be very disrespectful to someone who had already volunteered so much of his time for them—and Juliet never said no to a reasonable request. And so Frank knocked with two sharp raps on the door and entered. Mr. T was an accomplished multitasker, and thus never minded pleasant students coming in to say hello at any time; as befitting his custom, and as they were distinguished students with many exemplary traits, he offered them miniature English trifles from his refrigerator. "Testing out a new recipe," he said. "I promise they aren't poisoned."
"This is delicious. Could you do us the favor of letting us take a few publicity photos in here? We'll be quick, I promise," Frank asked after tactfully swallowing his first mouthful; he made a mental note to Google a recipe and try making one himself.
"Go ahead, I trust your judgment. Maybe you could lecture to the three of them while they all lean in with curiosity, here, I can hold the camera," Mr. T suggested. "Try writing something on the whiteboard while one of you takes notes—Juliet? Thank you for volunteering. What do you think? Come on, we're at school, this isn't Playboy. This is what kids consider normal these days? Frank, you're fine with this? Well, if Fujiwara-sensei let them pose like that for Fashion Club, this can't be any worse—I have champagne flutes and sparkling cider if you think they'd add that classy aura. You're really pulling out all the stops, aren't you? Don't bump your head, Frank." As promised, a few minutes later, they finished, and Frank politely shooed them out of the classroom before he would be forced through obligation to follow them. Mr. T turned to him with a smile.
"You certainly have grown into your new responsibilities, Frank. Be careful, though; if you turn into Charles Manson, I'll get in trouble. I can't even imagine the paperwork. How well do you know them?"
"Not terribly well. I've talked to Juliet the most out of the three of them, but I've tried my hardest to prevent that from spiraling out of control. She certainly possesses an interesting temperament—have I mentioned to you before how she gave me the idea for my little manifesto?"
"You didn't, actually. And here I was thinking that you're the sort of person who spontaneously comes up with such outlandish ideas."
"I remember vividly our conversation that day. I don't know what put me in such an agreeable mood—I guess some of her energy rubbed off on me." Mr. T gave him a curious glance before Frank elaborated in greater detail.
"That makes it all the more surprising John wanted to sit next to them in English class. As a teacher, I'm used to developing first impressions extremely quickly, but there is more to some than meets the eye. You and he would get along quite well; you both have an interesting sense of intellectualism. And before I forget: what do you think your club will sell at the food fair next week?"
Frank knew exactly what Mr. T was hinting at, and burst out in maniacal laughter: "Kool-Aid."
Discussion Questions:
What are some commonalities we see between this chapter and the two introductory chapters?
Why do you think such emphasis is being placed on Juliet's compliance with the club? What does this say about her character?
What divides how characters present themselves in public and how they act in private?
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: Truyen247.Pro