"Factoid! Harriet Beecher Stowe produced what controversial book in 1852?" There was a pause as Mr. McCoy turned from the whiteboard and back to his class. "Any takers?" A goofy smile split his lips. "Come on gang, it's the one book last night's chapter even talked about."
Anna didn't see the hand raise from her new front-row seat, but instead saw Mr. McCoy spot something and then point. "Uncle Tom's Cabin?" Asked a little voice.
"Right on the money, Andrew." McCoy underhand launched something small into the back of the room then faced his board again to fill in the title of the book in thick black marker next to its date and author. "Best-selling book next to the bible. Some even say it was one of the sparks to light the great powder keg that was the Civil War. The plot follows a slave named Uncle Tom as he is 'sold down the river,' the river in question being the great Mississippi River. At the time it was held as a fate worse than death for slaves kept closer to the North. Back then it was common knowledge that the further down South you were taken -"
Anna heard the words her teacher was saying, felt them bounce around in her head, then drip out of her sagging mouth. Her eyes were so glazed over she wondered if she blinked if some sort of newly formed skin would crinkle and fall off her eyeballs. Despite the unyielding - unceasing boredom that was U.S. history, she couldn't quite bring herself to fall into a casual doze like she could in her other classes due to the small marble of hate she felt in her gut.
She wasn't surprised when she turned up to class that day and found Taryn Smith was already there, sitting in her seat by the windows. The fumes alone from the shit-eating grin she gave Anna when she walked in was almost enough to melt the paint off the surrounding walls. Normally, Anna wouldn't pay such an obvious bitch the time of day, it was all just over a stupid seat anyway, but it was the fact the other girl was just so damn smug about it. The bitch had gotten what she wanted. She got in her face and kicked her bag yesterday, and now here she was sitting pretty in the window seat. Anna had faced bullies before plenty of times, but she had something now she didn't have then - powers.
Anna didn't know when or how she would do it to Taryn. Maybe during lunch, while she's holding court over her little clones Anna could just poke her in the back of her head with a bare finger and watch her go lights out into a pile of mashed potatoes. Another idea was to pretend to apologize to her, offer to shake hands, and when they connect watch her go limp in front of everyone. One of her more admittedly sadistic ideas was to graze her as she was going down a set of stairs. Even a little zap from her skin would likely be enough to make the other girl's legs go numb, then Anna could watch Taryn's pretty little face take a tumble between the second and first floors.
Evan Anna had to admit the last of her ideas was a little harsh, but damn if it didn't make her feel good to think about. That, along with a bunch of other scenarios that involved Taryn falling off high places with nothing but one of Anna's faintest touches.
"Anna! How about you?"
Anna blinked, and when no new skin fell from her eye, she saw Mr. McCoy looking back at her expectantly. "Huh?"
"Anna…" McCoy put his hands on his hips. "Come on, girl. You should be paying the most attention. You've got some catching up to do. The Factoid was: 'What did the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850' mean for existing slaves?'"
"Right…" Anna looked down at her textbook, its glossy pages lightly lacquered with a thin puddle of spit. "Uh, fugitive slaves…"
"I can answer, Mr. McCoy!" Anna looked and saw no other than Taryn Smith raising her hand across the room.
"I'm sure you can, Taryn, but let's give Anna a chance. You've answered plenty of 'Factoid' questions today."
"Uh," Anna glanced down at her open textbook. "Fugitive slaves, fugitive slaves -" she mumbled, careful to navigate her finger past the globs of spit that had apparently dribbled out of her mouth and onto the page. "Uhhh"
"I'll give you a hint." Anna looked up into her teacher's face, her eyes wide. "It leads up to the Dred Scott Decision in 1857."
"Yeah." Anna scratches her chin and looks back at her book. "That helps a ton." She runs her hand over her hair. "Look man, I don't know."
"Okay, let's try it this way." Anna looked back up at McCoy, and despite his huge frame, he seemed somehow a little less broad than he had a moment before. His sharper features seemed to round and his great white grin gave way to a warmer, more accommodating smile. "What is a fugitive slave?"
"A, uh, slave who is in trouble?"
"Why would a slave be in trouble? Rather, what would a slave want, that the owner wouldn't, that would put the slave in trouble?"
"Well, freedom."
"Exactly. So a Fugitive Slave is someone who wants freedom. Where would they go to find freedom?"
"North?"
"You got it. So now, let's pretend you're a slave owner. Your Fugitive Slave just ran away and went North. Well, you're going to want your slave back, right? So you go to your government and tell them to get your slave back for you. And, in this particular scenario, you're a power-hungry white man appealing to other power-hungry white men, so they make an Act that will help you get your slave back." McCoy holds his hands to his side with his palms facing up. "What would this Act be called, Anna?"
"The… Fugitive Slave Act?"
"And what is the Fugitive Slave Act?"
"An Act that makes the North give slave owners their slaves back?"
"Factoid get!" Suddenly something small materialized in McCoy's palm and he launched it underhand at Anna. It takes all she has to both catch it and stay in her chair. She heard herself emit a shallow squeal. "Oh! Sorry, Anna! Are you okay?"
Anna uncoils herself from her clenched ball form, she could feel her face radiating heat from the embarrassment. "Yeah, yeah! I'm-" She looked down at her hand and found she caught a small box. "Raisins?"
"That's right, earth's candies!" McCoy says with a proud little nod. "Sweet, and keeps a body healthy! A perfect reward for a perfectly answered 'Factoid!'"
Anna rolls her eyes and lets the little box of raisins fall out of her hand onto her desk with a shallow-sounding plop.
"Good job, Anna! Now -" McCoy looks at the board behind him and points at some text with his capped maker. "Factoid! The Kansas-Nebraska Act as innacted when and by who?"
Anna looked over her shoulder and spotted Taryn looking right back at her. She had another dumb-ass grin stretched over her too-perfect face with two little thumbs held up on either side. She mouthed the words 'good job' back at Anna. Anna gritted her teeth so hard she could feel her eye beginning to twitch. Anna turned in her seat to better face the other girl and mouthed: 'I'm going to kill you.' She then made a jerking motion with both hands, miming snapping a person's neck.
Taryn rolled her eyes and made a show of looking out the window and sighed with mock contentment. Anna felt a low growl rattling the back of her throat. She didn't realize it was making a sound till she heard a loud throat clear. She turned to face the front of the room again and found her teacher, far taller than she remembered, standing over her desk. "Anna, the front of the room is this way."
"Well, yeah but -" Anna looked back at Taryn whose nose was now conveniently buried deep in the textbook. She could feel her blood boiling in her veins as she squeaked her neck back forward. "Sorry," Anna said through bared teeth and stared forward till the wall that was Mr. McCoy had eventually walked out of view. She stayed that way, locked into position staring forward at a scarcely used wall-mounted pencil sharpener till she heard the bell ring what felt like hours later. When it finally did, she was all to fast to shove all her belongings in her backpack, and make use of her close seat to the door… when she heard her name called.
"Anna. Would you mind staying an extra minute into your lunch please?" Anna didn't need to look to know it was McCoy. Anyone could hear or recognize his voice from a good football field away. Halfway out of her chair, she eased herself back in and let her hair cover her face as the others walked by. She didn't need to see to feel Taryn's beady little eyes staring at her as she passed by and walked out the door right next to Anna's seat. The door she was so close to running out of.
Once the clattering of shuffling feet had ceased, she felt before she heard McCoy take the seat next to her. "I know Taryn is difficult to deal with -"
Anna dropped her backpack onto her desk. "Then why didn't you stop her?"
"I will, but I felt it important to talk to your first since you were the one mouthing 'I'm going to kill you' over and over with a fun little gesture to accompany it."
Anna drooped her head and looked at McCoy in the seat next to her. It was almost comical the way his over-muscular frame just manage to squeeze behind the plastic desk. Despite the chair's little give, McCoy leaned back. The fabric of his soft blue polo shirt strained at his muscles. "You're angry. Which is more than understandable. Changing schools - changing lives is far from easy."
"You don't know the half of it, and don't even pretend like you do." Anna looked at her balled fists resting on the top of her backpack before her. She tightened her fists tighter and tighter till her muscles strained. "I'm not some 'troubled youth' or just some 'angsty' teen - okay? I'm dealing with some real shit. Some shit even you couldn't handle. The last thing I need is some bratty bitch giving me a bunch of flack."
"I hear you." McCoy leaned forward in his little desk, rested the weight of his great arms on the table, and looked forward. "I know a little bit of the 'real shit' myself. A lot of kids come through here, with what to them is drama, but in the grand scheme is just a bunch of nonsense. Breakups, broken friendships -" he gestured with his hand. "None of it is easy, but it's all pretty light considering. But then" - McCoy inhaled - "some are saddled with a burden way beyond their years. Then, with those burdens weighing them down, they are still asked to meet everyone's insane expectations."
"If you only knew." Anna stretched and spread her hand, and watched the muscles under the fabric under her glove flex at her command.
"It helps to find an outlet. Mine was sports." She saw him point to the little trophy on his desk. "All-time running back for high school and college back at home in Austin. They called me 'The Beast.'" He snickered and then looked at the whiteboard filled with dates and names. "Then to answer the questions 'why' and 'how' and even 'what next,' I looked to history."
"How the hell are you supposed to find 'what next' by looking backward?"
"You'd be surprised by how many of the answers we seek have already either been addressed or solved in the past. There have been many brilliant minds and impassioned souls that have walked this earth." He nodded towards the whiteboard. "Revolutionaries like Frederick Douglass, who I think it's safe to say, there wouldn't be freed African Americans without his bravery and dedication. Or Harriet Stowe, a white woman who wrote a book on slavery that got a nation full of whites to empathize with those they sought to enslave. The world may look different now, but many of the things they faced, we still face today in many ways. Their philosophies, their words, and examples are still something we can learn plenty from even today."
"If you say so. I think it's all just a bunch of words and numbers, but-" Anna shrugged her shoulders.
McCoy looked back at her and slowly a smile played over his face. He reached into his breast pocket and produced a pad of paper and a pen. "I'd like you to do some research and write me a short paper on a fellow I think you'd like a lot."
"What? You're punishing me? What did I do?"
"Calm down, this isn't a punishment. Consider it extra credit. Do this, and the next test you flunk I'll bump you up to a C."
"Wha- I haven't even had a chance to take any tests for me to fail them!"
McCoy looked at her, teeth poking out from under his grin. "Yeah, but that glazed look you were giving me most of this class, I'm not giving that first test high hopes." He handed the scratch paper over to her and she snapped it up.
"Abraham Galloway…" She looked back at him. "Think you wrote the wrong 'Abraham' here teach. I think you're thinking 'Lincoln.'"
"No, I wrote the right one." McCoy tucked away his pad of paper back into his shirt pocket and stood. "Everyone knows Lincoln, that's too easy."
"Great, not only have you given me homework, you gave me hard homework." Anna stood and shouldered her backpack.
"Trust me." McCoy held open the classroom door. "You'll like this guy."