she walked too close, as if mere proximity would mean catching the freak disease from which she so obviously suffered.
Each day she came in, dressed in her usual Lord of the Rings T-shirt and stretch pants, sat down and scowled at everyone who entered, waiting to be provoked so she could display her talents of being a real smart-ass. I never would have guessed this is what she was really like. I mean, Iâd heard of her, had caught sightings of the infamous Tanya Bate before, but had never really observed her up close. Ironically, for being the
most unpopular kid in school, everybody knew exactly who she was, but nobody could stand her. So I was kind of looking forward to having a class with her to see what she was all about. The first thing I noticed was how some kidsâthose who, like me, had never had a class with herâwould come in, spot her, and stare at her with quiet intrigue as they slowly walked to an empty seat a safe distance away. I think they were scared she might bark and growl at themâwhich considering the stories, was not completely out of the question. Other students would groan and shake their heads as soon as they saw her. I soon learned why.
Tanya Bate is the kind of person who is aggravatingly incessantâincapable of shutting her mouth when she believes she is right, which is always. That pisses everyone off and makes them hate her more because she isnât playing the game. She isnât going by the unwritten high school rules that state if youâre a geek or a freak, you have to shut the hell up unless spoken to and call as little attention to yourself as possible. But since Tanya was off on her own, I guess she didnât know the rules, or just didnât care about them. For example, at the beginning of that year, Mr. Blitz told the class that we would write our own poems in the form of âTheme for English Bâ by Langston Hughes.
âCan we do it in the form of a sonnet?â Tanya asked, peering at him through her thick glasses. This would become a constant question throughout the rest of the year as we all learned of Tanyaâs apparent obsession with Shakespeare and the English Renaissance. Everything she wrote had to be in the form of a sonnet. We all
stared at Tanya and her frizzy hair that was parted down the middle, and consequently sprouted on either side of her head like two wiry puffs of teased wool.
âIâd rather you didnât. I want you to capture the same feel and tone of Hughesâs poem,â Mr. Blitz answered.
âSo you want us to write who we perceive ourselves to be, as long as we do it like someone else, Hughes specifically?â
He looked up as if he were waiting for a thought bubble above his head to produce the answer. âWell, yes, I suppose thatâs right,â he said after a moment.
âIsnât that kind of oxymoronic?â
âNo, Miss Bate. Itâs actually quite simple. And Iâm sure youâre quite capable of understanding the meaning of the assignment,â Mr. Blitz replied calmly.
âBut it seems to be contradictory,â she immediately countered. âSeriously, does no one else see this?â Tanya was, if nothing else, tenacious. She went beyond the point that was fun for the rest of us to watch. Whereas most classes kind of had that teacher versus students element to it, any class with Tanya usually turned into teacher and students unite to take down Tanya.
âJust do it and shut up!â yelled Kris Keller, our school track star.
âYouâre over thinking this, Miss Bate,â Mr. Blitz called from his desk.
âBut . . .â
âShut it!â Kris yelled.
âBut . . .â
âJust do it, Bate,â another student called out.
âIâm just saying. How can you all NOT see this?â
Exasperated groans and sighs filled the room.
Mr. Blitz, smug and pleased, said, âThe class has spoken. Just do the assignment, Miss Bate.