Mrs. Crabapple, the 7th Grade History teacher, placed the report face down on Zammie’s desk. He had been waiting all week to see his grade on this history assignment. His palms were sweating and his mouth was dry.
Zammie was a bundle of nerves as he slowly flipped the report over to see the big red letter on the front.“A. Good work!” it read.
“Yes!” Zammie said, pumping his fist in the air.
After school Zammie couldn’t wait to get home and tell his mom about his report, but first he had to brag to his cousin, Kyla. Kyla, at eleven years old, was a year younger than Zammie and was always having to hear about his self-described “amazing” school accomplishments. The two cousins walked the couple blocks home from school every day talking about all the important topics generated by life at Rosemont Middle School.
“Did you get the highest grade in your class?” Kyla asked him.
“No. Julie Peris got a perfect score.”
“Really? I like Julie, she’s nice.”
“Yeah,” answered Zammie, “but I got the highest grade among the boys and that’s all that matters.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Kyla.
“It means . . . you know, she’s a girl so it really doesn’t count.”
“Doesn’t count?” Kyla had heard Zammie say such things about girls before.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. What do you mean, Zammie?”
“I mean girls are good at remembering answers and writing ‘em on a test, but they don’t really understand what they’re writing.”
“What?!”
“They don’t have good original thinking skills.”
“That’s so wrong, Zammie! Are you saying girls can’t come up with their own good ideas?”
“Nevermind.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?”
“Do you think I’m just a girl, too, who can’t have good ideas?”
“No, Kyla, I didn’t say that. Just . . . I don’t wanna argue about it.”
“Hi, mom, I got an A on my history paper!”
“Oh, congratulations!” said Zammie’s mother. “Hello, Kyla. Are you two hungry? I made miki.”
“Auntie, Zammie’s saying bad things about girls again.”
A sheepish grin covered Zammie’s face when his mother looked over at him. Zammie and Kyla sat down at the kitchen table and dropped their colorful backpacks on the floor next their chairs.
“Zammie, is that true?” his mother asked him as she sat a bowl of steaming miki noodle soup before each child.
“No, not that bad,” Zammie replied.
“You said Julie Peris’ high score didn’t count because she just memorizes answers. And that she doesn’t really understand what she’s writing.”
“It was a fluke,” said Zammie.
“And then he said I couldn’t have any good ideas either, Auntie.”
“What? I did not,” said Zammie.
“I’ve warned you about talking like that, Zamuel,” said his mother. “One of these days you're going to say the wrong thing in front of the wrong girl and then you’ll be in trouble.”
“No way,” said Zammie.
“Girls are just as smart as boys, Zammie!” said Kyla.
Zammie just smiled at his cousin while slurping up a long miki noodle then began laughing.
“You’re crazy,” said Kyla. “Auntie, remember when you were deciding on how to decorate the TV room?”
“Yes,” said Zammie’s mother.
“And I tried to give you some suggestions, but Zammie told me my ideas were useless,” continued Kyla.
“Don’t be such a baby,” said Zammie.
“Both of you need to relax. No yelling, please,” said Zammie’s mother.
“Sometimes my ideas are as good as yours, Zammie,” said Kyla in a lowered voice.
“Then I guess ‘sometime’ hasn’t happened yet,” said Zammie. His dry sense of humor was in fine form.
Kyla was about to respond when there was a knock at the front door which was still open.
“Hello?” An old East Indian man with snow white hair poked his head inside. “Anyone home?”
“Hello, Ramesh! How are you doing?” asked Zammie’s mother.
“Good, good. I brought you some more guava from our tree.”
“Oh, that’s so nice,” said Zammie’s mother.
Ramesh handed her a plastic grocery bag filled with light green guava fruits. “Mmmm. They smell good,” she said.
“They’re very tasty now. You’ll love ‘ em.” Ramesh noticed the children eating their soup. “Did I interrupt dinner time?”
“No, they’re just having a snack.”
Ramesh smiled at the children. “Hello, Kyla. Hello, Zammie.”
Both children replied in unison, “Hello, Mister G.” Ramesh told them simply to refer to him as “Mister G” since his last name of Gajmudaridan had been tricky for them to pronounce when they were toddlers.
“Zammie is celebrating an A he received on a big history report today,” Zammie’s mother said.
“Ahh, a history student! That’s wonderful. What part of history was the report on, Zammie?”
Zammie wiped the rich broth from his mouth with a paper towel before answering. “Ancient Greeks.”
“The Greeks? That’s great. Did you cover the part where they tried to invade India?”
“No, sir” said Zammie.
“Oh. Well, don’t worry, you will. I’m glad you’re doing well in school. History can be a fascinating subject.”
 | |
| "The Last Great Battle" by Tom Lovell |
“You read manga, too, Zammie,” said Kyla.
“Only the good ones,” said Zammie.
“And you don’t think history’s boring?” asked Ramesh.
“No. It’s like stories to me. I like stories. Especially when they’re true.”
“That’s good. Unfortunately there are plenty of adults who think history is boring too,” Ramesh said with a chuckle. “They’d also rather watch movies. You know what? I have something at my house that I think you might like, Zammie. I’ll be right back.”
Ramesh quickly walked out the door leaving Zammie, Kyla, and Zammie’s mother all a little confused.
“He’s a very interesting old man,” said Zammie’s mother.
“What’s he going to bring you?” asked Kyla.
“Maybe a sword,” said Zammie.
“No, Zammie, no swords,” answered his mother. She began pulling guavas out of the plastic bag and putting them into the fruit drawer of the fridge when Ramesh came back into the house. He walked over to where the children were eating and placed a metal figurine of an ancient soldier with six arms on the table. The figure stood about a foot tall, and the arms were jointed and bendable. Two of the arms were holding an elaborate bow and arrow.
“Wow!” said Zammie.“What is that, Ramesh?” asked Zammie’s mother.
“It’s an old Arjuna doll,” answered Ramesh. “Arjuna was a great warrior, a wise student, and he had an amazing gift for concentration.”
“What’s that mean?” asked Kyla.
“It means he was good at paying attention,” said Zammie.
“That’s right,” said Ramesh. “Figures like this were thought to help the children of India with their studies or their training, but that was a long time ago. I’m not sure if anyone really believes in Arjuna anymore. But this doll also has historical importance so I thought Zammie might like it.”
“Why’s he got so many arms?” asked Kyla.
“A lot of the old Hindu heroes have many arms,” replied Ramesh. “It’s one of the ways they are different from normal humans.”
Zammie noticed that the arms were moveable and were connected to a series of small gears that could be seen on the inside of the figure. “How does it work?” he asked.
Ramesh pressed all six of Arjuna’s arms down to its side then twisted the figure at its waist. When he let go, the gears began to turn causing the arms to move around like tentacles.
“Cool!” said Zammie. “You’re giving this to me?”
“Sure. It’s supposed to help children learn about history,” said Ramesh. “It helped me do well in school when I was a boy. Maybe it will help you too.”
“How does he help?” asked Zammie.
“You just wind it up and let it run right before you do your homework, and then let Arjuna work his magic.”
“Magic?” asked Kyla.
Ramesh gave a small laugh, “Yes, magic. But you have to really concentrate when he’s moving. Look deep into his eyes, and when he’s done waving his arms you’ll be able to write even more wonderful papers about history.”
“Thanks!” said Zammie. “Can I go try it out now?”
“Of course, but be sure and share with Kyla too,” said Ramesh. “Maybe it will help her with her schoolwork as well.”
“Let’s go, Kyla!” Zammie grabbed the little Arjuna and took off to his room. Kyla followed close behind.
“You wanna do homework now, Zammie?” complained Kyla.
The two children ran into Zammie’s bedroom and closed the door. Zammie put the figure on a desk and both kids stared intently at it.
“I don’t want to do homework now,” said Zammie, “but I want to see if it makes me feel smarter.”
“Oh. Well start it up again,” said Kyla.
Zammie pressed the silver arms of Arjuna down just as he saw Ramesh do. But nothing happened.
“What’s wrong with it?” asked Zammie.
“Do this.” Kyla twisted Arjuna a half turn at the waist and suddenly the gears begin to whir and the arms begin to wave.
The two children watched the statue making its moves for a few seconds.“Do you feel smarter?” asked Kyla.
“Shhh. Concentrate,” replied Zammie.
The two cousins watched Arjuna closely until the little statue stopped moving. The room grew quiet.
“That’s it?” asked Kyla.
“I guess,” said Zammie. “Do you feel smarter?”
Kyla doesn’t answer.
Zammie looked at her. “Kyla?”
“…Zammie…” she whispered, “….look at its eyes.”
Zammie looked at the tiny almond shaped eyes of the statue and noticed that they were glowing bright red.
Suddenly the room began to spin causing both children to lose their balance and fall to the floor.
“What’s happening, Zammie?” asked Kyla.
“I don’t know,” answered Zammie, “but I feel dizzy.”
A bright white light blinded both Zammie and Kyla to the point where they couldn’t see anything.
Then everything went black.
To be continued in Chapter 2 . . .
TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4
TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4
KILLING FOR COUNTRY
TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2
A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD
TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3
WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for submitting a comment. We will review and post your comment as soon as possible.