Slow Dance in Purgatory

Maggie knew she had Dyslexia – she’d been told so by a conscientious teacher in second grade who had tried to help her learn to read better. It was at that point that her dad revealed that he too had Dyslexia, and they had started reading together at nights. After a while, she had actually come to enjoy reading the simple stories they had conquered together.

Then her parents died, and Maggie’s progress came to a screeching halt. She was never really anywhere long enough for people to realize she had a learning disability. She was always quiet and well-mannered. She always worked really hard and never complained. Everyone was so relieved that they didn’t have a problem child on their hands that they never realized the child had a problem.

Mr. Marshall seemed to hone in on her disability the very first day and was constantly asking her to read this or that. He seemed to take great pleasure in correcting her when she mispronounced a word or when she hesitated for a few seconds, trying to visually herd the letters into order. However, today they were measuring several different solutions into beakers of varied sizes, and Maggie welcomed the break from the norm. She removed her glasses and pulled on the required protective goggles - she was far-sighted so she should be okay - and hurried to assemble her equipment. Her partner hadn’t shown up for class so she was doing double duty.

“You all have a handout in front of you. You will be conducting the experiment as outlined on pages 5 and 6,“ Mr. Marshall instructed without preamble. “You will then need to compare your results with the findings discussed on the first four pages and take the quiz on pages 7 and 8. Please proceed,” he intoned. Stepping away from his lectern, he sank into his chair and spread the newspaper across his desk dismissively.

Maggie snatched up the hand out and flipped to pages 5 and 6. The words swam dizzily on the paper. Breathing deeply, Maggie removed her goggles and slid her glasses back on her nose. She could do this. She would just have to do it slowly like she did all her other assignments. Slowly might mean she didn’t complete the experiment in the time allotted, but without a partner she didn’t have much choice.

“I’ll read, you measure,” Johnny’s voice murmured softly near her ear, and Maggie jumped, his sudden proximity creating an instant hum of awareness under her skin. She jerked her glasses off her nose so she could see him. He laid his hand lightly on the small of her back, and the hum became a full fledged song.

“Slide the handout closer to me, and put your goggles back on.”

Maggie stepped away slightly so she could concentrate. When he was close she felt like curling around him like a sleepy snake. That could get her in trouble, especially considering no one else could see him. She snapped her goggles into place and gave a quick thumbs-up.

“Before this very moment, I would have said there wasn’t a girl on this planet who could pull off protective glasses,” Johnny’s face was serious but there was laughter in his voice. “How is it that you look absolutely delectable in those ugly things?”

Maggie grinned up at him and tapped the handout he was supposed to be reading. She would have to concentrate now; the temptation to converse with her invisible partner was incredibly strong.

“Work, work, work,” Johnny sighed and cuffed her lightly on the chin. He started at the beginning, and Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she would make it after all. With Johnny reading the instructions, and Maggie doing exactly as he said, they were making excellent progress through the assignment. Then Mr. Marshall decided to intervene.

“Miss O’Bannon,” he raised his voice imperiously. “You aren’t even consulting the handout. I’ve been watching you for the last five minutes, and you haven’t looked at it once.” Mr. Marshall rose from his desk and approached her workspace. “This isn’t ‘Make Your Own Potions 101,’” he said sarcastically. “You actually have to follow the instructions in the handout.”

“I r-read it before I started, Mr. Marshall,” Maggie stuttered awkwardly, noticing that the other students had ceased working and were tuning in to the confrontation.

“Oh, really?” Mr. Marshall snatched up the handout that lay on the table in front of Johnny. “Take me through the first steps in the experiment.” Mr. Marshall was very smug – apparently he had been watching her. She hadn’t been reading, and now he was looking forward to nailing her to the wall.

In a flash, Johnny stood behind Mr. Marshall, looking over his stooped shoulder. “Tell him the first step says to fill the largest beaker with two parts water, one part vinegar.”

Maggie repeated Johnny’s instructions word for word.

“Tell him part two says to fill the smallest beaker with the sodium solution.”

Maggie did exactly as he said, never breaking eye contact with the scowling teacher. Johnny fed her the instructions, word for word until she’d reached the conclusion. Mr. Marshall tossed the hand out down on the table with a sniff.

“You’ve done this experiment before – perhaps at your old school? You should have informed me as soon as you realized. I could have found an alternative experiment for you to do. No credit will be given to cheaters.”