Sperm---(… the teacher says to the class…)---are white for a reason.
Eventually, his eyes arrive in my
direction.
(… when his eyes meet mine…,)
His expression reveals a
vulnerable spot (…the admission that few or none ever meet his gaze…).
Maybe this is how he tests all the
new kids…?
I look scientifically upon those
seated around me. They seem representative of the fear he had expected
from me.
My expression, however, is
chiseled from marble. Unlike the others, I am capable of studying his
definition.
The tension between us creates a
vacuum that pulls Nature’s sounds into the room (… through the open window…).
In his weakening eyes, I notice a
moment of recognition (… that his future will not always be as he
thought…). The world of his upbringing---(suddenly too hot)---is poised
precariously above a tub of cold water (… the promise of a plunge that will
forge molecules like the regrouping of burnt skin…).
Knuckles rap gently on the
translucent window of the classroom door.
With the glory of his moment lost,
the teacher pretends importance in the direction of this distraction.
The classroom door rattles
opened. The torso of the school principal leans in. Pardon the interruption, he says (… his
eyes scanning the classroom for a particular student…).
When he finds me, he looks back
over at the teacher. Can I borrow
the new kid for a few minutes?
The teacher backs up, positioning
himself on the edge of his desk. His gaze falls to his feet. Sure, he says.
My desk’s legs make a screeching
sound on the tile floor as I stand up (… drawing the principal’s attention my
way…).
I smile.
The principal opens the door
wider and steps into the room.
Our eyes lock (… my smile
diminishing like the smoke of a burst bomb…).
The teacher looks at the principal
as he speaks to him. I was just
about to explain the reason why sperm are white.
The principal admits to a
grin. His lips part (… as if he is about to speak…).
He answers the teacher: Good. We’ll get out of here---(… his
hand motioning for me to follow…)---so
you can continue explaining for the rest of the class....
I close the book on my desk,
bundle it and my bag in my arms, and walk down the aisle. Past the last
desk, I turn the corner (… thinking that it will likely take a long time for
people at this school to grow accustomed to my prep-school posture…).
As I pass the teacher, he says, I wanna see you after class---(…
winks…)---so I can repeat my explanation
for you.
Without so much as a misstep, I
stroll right past his gaze, but speak loudly enough that my words will trail
over my shoulder. No need,
sir. I already know plenty about sperm.
Here, I stop and turn (… to
address him…). Sperm are white
because they’re composed of molecules that reflect all wavelengths of light.
(… turning to address the class….)
Another
interesting fact about sperm: they have no eyes, so they use heat to
navigate a woman’s pathways.
(…facing the teacher again….)
So---(…
in addition to being white…)---don’t forget to tell them that sperm are also
blind.
My new teacher’s face is flushed
(… set to refill with anger…).
The principal stands dumfounded as
I open the door even wider and walk past him (… into the cool breeze flowing
down the hallway…).
