Brightest in the Class

Eileen was intelligent. Everyone agreed. Her parents, her teachers, and her peers had told her since she was small. It had never affected her in the sense of inflating her ego. It was merely a fact. Had they told her she had dimples or swam well or was tall, the affect would have been the same. But it did have at least one advantage. Schoolwork was easier. She could finish her homework in time to watch TV before bedtime. But beyond that, Eileen had never seen any advantage to being intelligent.

At times it was a distinct disadvantage. A stern reprimand might include the phrase, "anyone as intelligent as you should know better than that." Or the teacher would always call on her to answer the toughest questions. And sometimes the other kids resented her because she always knew the answers. It was nothing overt - no one ever said anything to her. But there was that sense of distance. One day she decided to take matters into her own hands.

Her opportunity came when the teacher asked the class the name of the fifth President of the United States. No hands rose. She asked several pupils. They did not know. Finally she asked Eileen.

"George Washington," she answered immediately.

The class laughed and the teacher looked startled. Eileen smiled smugly.

"Surely you know better than that, Eileen." The teacher frowned at her.

Of course she knew better. She knew, in fact, that James Monroe was the fifth president. But she merely stared blankly at the teacher. Over the next week, Eileen never volunteered an answer and responded inappropriately if called upon. Out of frustration the teacher called Eileen's mother.

Although her mother did not mention the matter to Eileen, she did propose an outing for the following Saturday.

"How about a trip to the mall?" she asked her daughter.

"Oh yes!" Eileen loved prowling the mall with her mother.

"On the way I want to stop by to see an old friend. It won't take too long. Okay?"

"Sure." Mother's friends were usually boring, but she could put up with almost anything if it meant a trip to the mall.

Saturday came and they were on their way shortly after breakfast.

"Who's the friend, Mom?" It had not occurred to her to ask earlier.

"Her name is Kathy. I went to high school with her."

Her curiosity satisfied, Eileen stared out the window. She frowned as her mother turned off the thoroughfare. Dilapidated houses and weed-covered vacant lots lined both sides of the street.

Eileen glanced at her mother. "I don't think I've ever been over here."

"Probably not." Her mother brought the car to a halt. "We're here."

Eileen looked dubiously at the house. The front porch leaned drunkenly to the left. What remained of the paint, a dirty white, was checked and peeling. Window screens were torn and dead leaves filled the gutters. A tire swing hung from a branch in a large elm tree, weeds brushing the bottom of the tire. The picket fence, which had once been white, was only partly standing and the gate hung by one hinge.

"Let's go." Her mother smiled.

Eileen followed her mother to the door. The sound of a TV was audible. A loud knock brought Kathy to the door. She smiled in greeting. She was a large woman and wore a green and red floral patterned dress and a red kerchief over her hair.

"Doris! So great to see you again." The two women hugged. "And this must be Eileen."

Eileen curtsied and immediately felt awkward.

"Come in. Come in. Forgive the place." She laughed. "It's a mess."

"Don't worry," Doris replied. "We came to see you, not the house."

"It's a good thing!" Kathy laughed again.

Eileen looked wide-eyed at the living room. The furniture was worn. A basket of laundry sat on the couch. A boy of about twelve slouched in front of a black-and-white TV.

"Turn that TV down, Jimmy!" Kathy shouted.

There was no response. "Right now! Or I'll pull the plug on it and you!"

The youth turned off the TV and left the room without looking at his mother or the guests."

"I swear. That boy is more trouble." She shook her head. "Sit down. Sit down." She returned her attention to Doris and Eileen. "Here." She removed the basket of laundry from the couch.

The two sat down and Kathy dropped into a chair across from them.

"So how have you been?" Kathy asked.

For the next half hour, the two women chatted. Although Eileen never said a word, she listened intently. Much of the discussion centered on mutual friends, whom Eileen did not know. Interspersed in the conversation were facts about Kathy's situation. Eileen learned that Kathy worked fulltime as a receptionist in a car dealership and part time at Walmart. Her husband usually worked but was currently between jobs. They had two other children besides Jimmy. Kathy had no idea where the other two were. Her husband was at a ballgame with his friends. They were renting the house. One of their three cars did run.

Doris glanced at her watch. "I'm afraid we've got to be on our way."

Eileen sighed mentally in relief.

Goodbyes were short and they were soon on their way.

"You went to high school with her?" Eileen asked as they drove away.

"That's right."

"Was her family really poor?"

Her mother shook her head. "I think her family was better off than mine. As I recall, her father was an engineer."

"Then why do they live so differently than we do?"

"There's one reason."

"What's that?"

"I was the brightest one in my class." Doris smiled at her daughter. "I got a scholarship to go to college. She didn't."

Eileen did not respond and her mother turned the discussion to the mall.

The following Monday, the teacher asked the class how many Great Lakes there were.

Eileen immediately raised her hand.

"Yes?"

"Five. Huron, Ontario, Michigan, Eire, and Superior," Eileen responded rapidly.

"Very good, Eileen. Very good indeed."

Eileen smiled. An observer would have called the smile cold.

Don Stockard's background includes growing up on a homestead and working as a commercial clam digger, a miner and a geophysicist. He spent ten years in school studying math and science at Carnegie Tech, Dartmouth and Caltech. He has also spent quite a bit of time bike touring in Europe, mountain climbing and sailing. Over the last four years he has accumulated over one hundred eighty credits, a hundred forty of which are short stories. Some recent publications are: Raskolnikovâ's Cellar "Dark Horse" Fall, 2001 Once Upon a World "Karmic Trap" Fall 2001 Armchair Aesthete "Frozen Monk" inter/Spring, 2001. In addition Softspin Press published a collection of his short stories in 1994.

Email: Don Stockard

Return to Table of Contents