016. Questioning

"James, please see me after class."

Jim looks up sharply at his Galactic Studies teacher. What had he done wrong this time? He sighs and nods in acknowledgment. Great. First his Montressan History teacher chewed him out in front of the whole class for failing the homework assignment . . . but come on, can he help it if it's so boring? So, maybe history just isn't his thing. Mr. Gregorian doesn't need to make a spectacle about it . . . droning on and on about how important it is to do your reading and know your planet's history and clean your room and do your homework on time and not slack off and get good grades and end up with a good paying job like him and bore hundreds of kids to death.

And now Ms. Preguntas wants to talk to him, probably about his grades as well. Hey, at least she wasn't doing it in front of the whole class.

The class time passes slowly as one big dreadful hour before the bell rings and students start filing out to their next class. A couple guys smirk as they pass Jim on their way out. One's bluish, has spikes for hair and a couple extra arms. The other's got too many freaky looking eyes and a long tail. "Tough luck, ponytail," says the blue one, giving Jim's braid a little yank.

Jim reacts quickly, smacking the arm away from his head and shoving the guy in the chest. "Ya wanna say again, pointy?" Jim growls through clenched teeth.

"Boys, enough. Get going, I'm not writing late passes." Ms. Preguntas narrows her eyes at the scuffle. The two guys mutter and make their way out of the classroom, looking back and glaring at Jim as they go.

Jim sighs and throws his book bag over his shoulder before trudging to the teacher's desk.

"James, can I ask you a couple questions?"

"Shoot."

"What do you do for fun?"

Jim cocks his head slightly. Why in the world does she care? "Uh . . . solarsurf."

"Do you have any friends here at school?"

"Friends? You mean do I talk to anybody? No, not really." This conversation doesn't seem to be heading in a good direction.

"What about at home? Who do you talk to?"

"No one, really."

"Not even your mom?"

"My mom runs an inn. She's pretty busy. I mean, I help her out, so if that counts as talking-"

"What about your dad?"

Dad. Yeah, even if he was here, he wouldn't talk back. Just grunt and say "go play with your toys," or something. Jim looks up at Ms. Preguntas. "He left a couple years ago."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"It's not a big deal."

"James, I think it is," she's looking at him with concern. Like what his mom would do when he leaves the house to surf. He hates that look.

"Look, I'm saying it's not, ok? Why do you care, anyway?" Jim's getting sick of this little interview. Go ahead and visit the Benbow, why don't you?

"I care, Mr. Hawkins, because you are failing your classes and you don't seem to give a Serpantid's tail."

"So? Do I have to care? Isn't it my life? I'll do what I want, if I make mistakes, that's on me." Jim's getting tired of this real quick. Nosy teacher.

"You should care. James, there are hundreds of kids who wish they had half the brains that you do. I've seen what you can do when you try, you are absolutely brilliant. But brilliance doesn't help if you don't care, if you're not putting any effort. The only reason I'm telling you all this is because I care, James. With a mind like yours, you can do incredible things. And I'd be sad to see you settle for something less."

Jim's got his arms crossed like he's just waiting for this to be done. Which is exactly what he's aiming for. But he's also taking in every word Ms. Preguntas is saying. He may not want to do anything about it yet, and he probably doesn't exactly know how, but he's definitely flattered by the fact that she thinks he's "brilliant," so he'll at least give it some thought.

"Sure. I'll think about it," Jim starts towards the door.

"Let me write you a pass first. Where are you heading now?" she pulls out a scrap of paper.

"It's fine, I have lunch now."

"Oh, well then plenty of time to think about this. And James, if you ever need any help, I'd only be happy to assist. Alright?"

"Right." He'll probably never take her up on that offer, but it's a touching gesture. No one but his mom and Doppler have done anything like this.

"Thanks for your time, James," Ms. Preguntas smiles kindly at him.

"Yeah, no prob. And . . . well, thanks," Jim gives a small smile in return and heads off to the cafeteria.