Chương 13: Book 1 - Chapter 12

My other classes that week continued. Home Ec turned to pasta: making, cutting, serving, saucing. Art continued with a changing series of mediums. There were watercolors, oils, colored chalk, colored pencils and finger paints one fun Friday as we did Picasso style. Mr Archer's disdain of 'modern art' was clear. In Woodshop I finished my hand carved train, and began working on my bird house. I used the same techniques as the jewelry box. It went quickly, and held together well.

Coach had suggestions for reinforcing the floor of the birdhouse so that it could support the weight of the birds without collapsing. The required stool was the fastest project. A half circle seat, a pole, and a small rounded circle at the bottom of the pole. An instant one legged stool for gardening. Coach was dubious.

"That's not a stool." I set it on the floor, small circle down, half circle up.

"You've got two legs, so it's a three legged stool."

"Let me try it," he said, grabbing it, and carefully setting himself on it. A grin broke out.

"This is pretty cool." I watched him wiggle back and forth and spin side to side, "It's a natural chair," I explained, "My Mom is going to love using this in the garden."

"Ok, project passed. You gave me a design drawing for this right?"

"Yes, Coach."

"Great, I'm going to add it to the class project book. This really is a genius design."

"It's a pretty old concept, but I might get a design patent for the rounded base. If I do I'll send the school a free for noncommercial use license."

"What are you doing for your final project for Woodshop 2?" he asked.

"I want to do a puzzle box."

"Again, something I've never heard of," he said.

"It's a box that is a puzzle. You have to hold it certain ways and press certain spots to get it to open."

"That sounds pretty complicated," he warned.

"I've got a full drawing of all the pieces to show you," I said, pulling the papers from my backpack. He reviewed the drawings, then asked, "There's no glue?"

"No, all the parts fit together. See that piece? It's a gravity lock, when the box is upright, the release doesn't move, but if you hold it upside down, then the release lets that piece slide. That unlocks the top."

"What does this part do?" he asked, pointing at the drawing of two balls.

"Oh, that's the hard bit. It's a spin lock. The balls only move out of the way when you spin the box rapidly. Centrifugal force moves them to the sides, so the trigger releases."

"Why are you making it so hard?"

"It's for my Dad. He'll enjoy figuring it out," I told him with excitement in my voice.

"And it doesn't just come apart? There's a space inside to hold something?" he said examining the detailed plans.

"Right," I confirmed.

"I'm going to put a picture of our family inside for him to find."

"Okay, you've got approval. You've shown you've got the skills, so let's see if you can do it."

"I'm going to get started then," I told him, and began to draw it out on the provided wood. My next new class was Chemistry. I reported to Mr Hanson's room, looking forward to a new science lab course. He immediately presented me with a thick binder.

"Welcome back to the lab, Mr Cook," Mr Hanson said, his voice brisk.

"Your first task for today's Chemistry slot is to pass the comprehensive Chemistry safety test." I finished the safety test in fifteen minutes and handed it back. Mr Hanson glanced at the test to confirm my score, then gave a curt nod.

"Excellent. You're cleared for work. Given your pace, we've condensed the material significantly." He pulled out a schedule.

"This week will be non stop. you will be doing simple lab experiments—written descriptions and results all in your journal. I expect six full school days of experiments, followed by the Chemistry Final here on May 9th."

"Understood, sir," I replied.

"And what follows Chemistry?" He tapped the schedule.

"Organic Chemistry will be next. I think we have just enough time. Five school days of practical, experiment based work. If you finish we conclude with a final on May 17th, the second to last day of school."

"I'll prioritize those, sir."

"See that you do," he said, turning back to his desk.

"Failure to meet the lab requirement means no Final.

"You've already met the graduation requirements with two Science courses, so it won't stop your graduation. You just won't get the AP credit. Do you have enough total credits without it to Graduate without Summer School?"

"I believe so. I'll check with Mr Clarkson. He's tracking all of that."

"Good. The first experiment is short, so lets get to work." I began my simple chemistry experiments, documenting the results all in my journal. In my study hall class I did my Algebra 2 final on Tuesday, Social Studies (State Government) was Wednesday, and History (Ancient World History) was Thursday. Mr Clarkson proctored the Finals, and confirmed I was well on my way to having enough credits to graduate.

Excitedly on Thursday, my French workbooks arrived, so Friday morning I spent the entirety of study hall in the typewriter lab banging out my first novel, in French. I plagiarized heavily. Titled, 'Seul sur Mars' (Alone on Mars), it was mostly the book 'The Martian' originally destined to be written by Andy Weir. I wasn't worried about a plagiarism claim, he hadn't written the book yet, he was only 12. The story only needed minor modification.

A name change to Watley, the Viking II probe for restoring communication with Earth and a huge adjustment to reduce the profanity. Neither the high school nor my Mom would have tolerated it. I calculated it would take 13 hours of typing to complete, averaging around 120 words a minute. 212 pages of single spaced text. As I nearly reached page sixty, Principal Endicott walked in. He watched me type for a while, marveling at my speed. When I came to the end of the page he explained why he was there.

"Mr Cook, Ms Peters told me about this French novel you're working on," he said, holding up the thick stack of my initial pages.

"A hundred thousand words in total, is that right?"

"That's the goal, sir," I confirmed.

"I'm working on the first sixty pages this morning, so I can turn it in for the Final today." He nodded thoughtfully.

"The typing lab is locked over the weekend, and you need that French keyboard head. I'd like to see this project finished before school ends." He gestured to one of the Selectric typewriters on the desk.

"Take that French modified Selectric home with you. Bring it back when the book is done."

"Thank you, sir," I said, already visualizing the hours of work I could complete at home.

"That will make all the difference." My English teacher tracked me down in the middle of Home Ec.

"John! There you are," Mrs Hershey said. I set my work down.

"Hello Mrs Hershey. How can I help you?"

"I heard about this French novel you are writing. If you submit an English version I'll waive all the remaining writing assignments for all your English courses remaining."

"That's an intriguing offer," I told her.

"Mr Endicott said to keep the typewriter at home until both are finished. He also said that he left an English print head in your mailbox at the office so you can switch back and forth."

"Excellent. I think that just fully booked my weekend," I said. That evening Mom started reading the finished pages in French.

"This is quite good Johnny," she told me as I worked at the dining room table, the big dictionary from the library under me so I was at the proper height to type. Dad looked as I pulled another completed page from the typewriter.

"Any chance of an English version for me?" he asked.

"That's the plan," I told him, taking a moment to stretch.

"I'll finish the French version, swap the print head and immediately start on the English version. I plan to work on this all weekend."

"Well don't hurt yourself, but I'm looking forward to it. I've been enviously watching your Mom gasp in excitement as she read what you have so far." I smiled and returned to writing. Saturday evening I started the English version. Dad assisted by standing behind me and reading over my shoulder as I wrote. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

"I'm making you a big breakfast again," Mom announced Monday.

"And taking you to school. That typewriter is too heavy for you to carry."

"Thanks Mom."

"I put the two versions of the book in protective folders as well. They are in your backpack. Please have the office staff make a copy first thing so we can add it to your Dad's library."

"Okay. I'll do that." Dad gave Mom a quick kiss before heading out the door to work. He turned to me.

"That was an excellent adventure. We should send it to a publisher or find an agent," he suggested.

"Good idea, Dad. Have a good day at work."

"Bye Daddy!" Mattie added, running to give him a hug before he went out the door. At school Mom carried the typewriter in as I headed to the office.

"Good morning, John, Mrs Cook. How can I help you today?" Ms Avis asked.

"I finished my French and English writing assignments. I'd like to get a personal copy made before turning them in."

"Certainly. Is that the typewriter Principal Endicott let you borrow?" she asked my Mom.

"It is. It was too heavy for him to carry it from the car with his schoolbag."

"Just set it on the counter, I'll get it returned," Ms Avis instructed. I pulled the French print head out of my bag, setting it on the counter next to the big machine. The two folders went next to it.

"Excellent, we don't want to lose the print head," Ms Avis said, taking it and setting the small box on her desk.

"Come back before school is out to get your copy, John. I'll have them ready for both versions. I'm sure I'll need to make a few extras as well. People have already been discussing it this morning."

"Thank you, Ms Avis," I told her. Mom leaned over and gave me a light kiss on the forehead.

"Have a good day as school, Johnny. Remember to bring home a copy of both versions."

"Thanks Mom, I will." Ms Avis showed up at the end of Study Hall.

"Here are your copies John," she said setting the stacks of papers in my original folders on my desk.

"Can I get a copy?" Mr Clarkson asked. She nodded.

"Principal Endicott had me use the big Xerox 9200 for duplicates. There are a hundred English language versions available to pass around to read."

"Wonderful. I'll grab my copy after this class," he said with excitement.

"Can you place the originals in Ms Peters and Ms Hersheys box?" I asked.

"I delivered them already," Ms Avis said.

"They are quite pleased you finished so quickly."

"Thank you Ms Avis. You really do make everything work around here," Mr Clarkson complimented. The final two weeks of high school went by fast. In Home Ec pasta became breads, followed by pastry then a surprise final of a meat and cheese stuffed puffed pastry recipe using all the skills learned at that point. It was a delicious, perfectly baked A! The Tuesday after turning in my novel, I checked in briefly with Mr Clarkson at the start of the day. He was reading his copy, but set it aside when I came in.

"Good morning John. I think you might have a best seller here," he said, tapping the manuscript.

"Thank you, I'm checking in on the final academic schedule for these last two weeks," I said.

"I've finished the major writing assignments, and the Chemistry finals are set for the 9th and 17th." Mr Clarkson pulled up my massive checklist on his clipboard.

"Very good. That just leaves the heavy lifting in math and history. I'm glad you asked."

"I was wondering about the sequence for the final math requirements."

"We'll tackle that this week," he confirmed, tapping the board.

"I'll lead you through Trigonometry and Pre Calculus on Wednesday and Thursday. We'll save Calculus for early next week."

"Perfect. That gives me time to focus on the History finals this week too." He nodded, running his finger down a list of subjects.

"You've completed four of the classes: Ancient History, State Government, US Government and Geography. You have three remaining: Modern History 1900 to the Present, and International Relations." He paused, finger tapping in thought.

"Plus, the final assessment for the Human Biology class, which acts as our Health requirement. I have the tests ready when you are for those finals, John. That should round out your Social Studies requirements.

"Where are you at with French 3? I have a note that you got an A for French 2."

"Ms Peters confirmed that translating The Old Man and the Sea will suffice for that. I have until the end of the year, but I was hoping to get it done today." He looked at the clock.

"You are officially in the home stretch, John. Will you be at the Typing Lab this morning, then?"

"That's my plan. I wasn't sure if there was a Final planned for today," I confirmed.

"No Final today. Will you be ready for Trigonometry tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes, and Pre Calculus on Friday or Monday, and Calculus the Thursday after." He checked his notes, and added an item.

"I've got it scheduled. Be sure to have any questions you have ready tomorrow before you take the test. We can spend first period doing a review.

"Mr Hanson is handling your Chemistry and Organic Chemistry finals in his class still?"

"He is. Thank you, Mr Clarkson."

"Go get to work, John," he said with a smile.

"Just remember to come back here when you finish." The translation of the first 80 pages of the Old Man and the Sea for Ms Peters completed French 3. I ended up doing the whole book, finishing up on my lunch break, as it was only 67 typewritten pages. Crafting the puzzle box pieces, I made two sets of each piece. When I finished, I had two identical puzzle boxes. One as a thank you gift for Coach and one for my Dad.

Sixteen miniature artworks in 16 styles and mediums plus two new large artworks for the school satisfied Mr Archer. I walked with the senior class at the afternoon graduation ceremony on May 18th, 1984. Mom bought me a new suit to wear, and my Grandparents surprised everyone when they showed up for it. After the ceremony there were lots of hugs, handshakes, and fellow students wanting to take a picture with me. There were also big hugs from Grandma Beth and Grandpa Joe.

"The school is holding an open house. I want to show you where I worked and studied!" I told my Grandparents taking them by the hand and pulling them from the school theater. The study hall still had my desk with it's sign in place, but stacked on top of a table next to it were all the books and course I had completed that year, 3rd grade through 12th.

"This is a massive pile, Johnny," Dad said as he examined the text books. The whole room was turned into a collection of achievements. The chalkboard showed the dates of all my high school final exams, and a score of 100% next to each of them. Mom was carefully examining my 17 piece artwork collection hanging on the back wall of the classroom. Another table held my Woodshop projects.

"It's kind of ridiculous that they built this shrine to my high school career," I told Grandpa Joe.

"It was a lot of work though."

"Yes, lots of work and much for us to talk about now that you are headed for college," he told me.

"I hope you're ready for a nice vacation, Johnny, I'm treating!" Grandma Beth told us all.

"What is the news mother? You insisted that Ray take a week off work," Mom asked Grandma Beth.

"Not here dear, let's get to the hotel first," she said, her eyes twinkling. After a further tour of the school rooms and cafeteria where they had drinks and cookies waiting, I led the family back to the study hall where I collected the finished woodworking projects.

"Alright," I announced, setting down the items, "before we head home, I have some gifts from Woodshop." I first handed the smallest item to my little sister.

"Mattie, this is for you." Mattie carefully took the box.

"Wow, a box! It has my name on it!"

"It's a jewelry box," I explained.

"I carved your name right into the top, and it's built with joinery—no nails." She immediately put her finger over the carved letters, wordlessly spelling out her name.

"I love it, Johnny!" Next, I held out the odd, one legged seat.

"Mom, this is the garden stool." Mom picked it up and immediately tried balancing on it.

"I've seen this before! Oh, John, this is going to save my back when I'm weeding. Thank you so much." I handed the brightly painted house on a stick to Grandma Beth.

"Grandma and Grandpa, this is for your atrium garden in California. I painted the bird house in art class." Grandma gave me a kiss on the cheek as a thank you. I then retrieved the small train engine and cars.

"Mom, this is the final project from Woodshop 1. It's the train I made, safety checked for small kids."

"It's beautiful," she said, running her hand over the smooth wood.

"I know exactly who you made this for, your new baby cousin in Illinois. I'll make sure it gets shipped out right away." Finally, I presented the most intricate piece to my Dad.

"Dad, this one is for you. The puzzle box." Dad turned the box over in his hands, examining the smooth pine and the lack of visible seams.

"A puzzle box? You actually figured out how to build one of these?"

"I think you'll like it. You have to hold it certain ways and press certain spots to open it."

"I accept the challenge," Dad said, tucking the box securely under his arm.

"I'll have this figured out in no time." I kept the sign with my name, taking it from the front of the table holding my old school books. I reached out and touched the pile of books, as I gave them one last farewell. Leaving Study Hall, we were cornered by the two Principals and the Superintendent. They had waited specifically for me.

"John, congratulations," Principal Lewiston said first, extending his hand.

"I'm so proud of you. I'm so happy that taking all those tests in my office paid off so well."

"Thank you, sir," I replied, shaking his hand firmly. Principal Endicott nodded.

"We just wanted to shake your hand one last time and wish you the best of luck." Superintendent Clayton extended his hand next, his expression serious.

"It's been quite a year, son. You've set a record we won't see broken anytime soon." Dr Thompson walked over to join the group.

"Ah, John, I was hoping to catch you before you left," Dr Thompson said, smiling warmly.

"I wanted to let you know in person that we've received your final scores."

"Yes, sir?" I prompted.

"They are, quite frankly, spectacular," Dr Thompson confirmed.

"Because your high school test results have been so exceptional, the University has decided to drop the ACT requirement entirely."

"Does that mean I'm fully accepted?" I asked.

"You've met all the conditions of the scholarship, John," he confirmed.

"Your place at TU is assured regardless. We still recommend you take the test next month—it's always good practice—but it is no longer a requirement for your admission."

"That's wonderful news, Doctor," Mom said, stepping forward.

"Dr Thompson, can you please explain why it's abbreviated TU, when it's called University of Tulsa on all the paperwork?" I asked.

"Simply because UT is the University of Texas, so we are TU," he explained.

"Don't worry, I'm still taking Johnny to take the ACT test," Dad told Dr Thompson. Grandpa perked up at the mention of the scholarship, but I shook my head to let him know not to bring it up. Dr Thompson held out a page worn manuscript.

"Do you think you could sign my copy of your novel?" I signed as Grandpa watched, then he asked, "Can I get a copy of that?" Principal Endicott responded.

"Sure, I've got a few extra in my office. I'll get one for you." When he returned, Grandpa Joe wanted his autographed too, "And be sure to put today's date on it," he added. Eventually, we headed back to our house. Mattie and I elected to ride with Grandma and Grandpa. When we got home I discovered that we all had packed suitcases just past the entryway. Mom gathered everyone together.

"Okay, we are all going on vacation. Your Grandma and Grandpa have rooms for us at Fountainhead Resort. We will be there for a week.

"No school work," she said, pointing at me.

"No work, work," she said, pointing at my Dad.

"We are going to relax," she said, pointing at her Dad.

"We are going to eat out every meal, not trying to save money by bringing sandwich fixings and cereal," she said, pointing at her Mom.

"Now who's capable of having fun like me and Mattie?" she asked.

"Party time!" I started cheering. The rest followed. We did a quick bathroom run, then piled the luggage into Dad's car. As Dad put the last bag in the back, Mom decided, "Johnny, the car is too full. You and Mattie can ride in Grandma and Grandpa's car. It's only a thirty minute trip to the hotel."