Chapter 2: The Wind Cries Scarlett

Chapter 2: The Wind Cries Scarlett1

The School day dragged on like it usually did. Nothing was really different. It was funny to think, that I had just divulged to my parents something that total strangers, who didn’t even know me, knew. Paramount High isn’t really what you’d call a great school, but it was the only Arts vocational school around, so we had to make due. Not to say that it was bad, not at all. It was just unique. The best thing about school is the teachers. Like my comp. and writing teacher, now there is a cool guy. Not cool like Steve McQueen, action hero cool, like beat poet, jazz club cool. He always wore a dark blue turtleneck, a purple beret, some shades, and a sported a soul patch. His name was Mr.Greensleeves, no kidding. He always said that his mother was so taken with music of the renaissance that she changed their family name to Greensleeves. He was my first period, which was good, because I didn’t really have to worry about being counted late, he himself never really showed up on time, he usually sauntered in about ten minuets after the bell rang, and said something like “Alright cats, time to get down” If you were in a regular school that would be translated to “Alright, now class is starting, I’ll take attendance while you get your books out” Today was no different. Mr. G talked about different techniques used in writing to convey emotion.2

“There are tons of famous cats that wrote emotional pieces, Poe for one” He paused to note that on the white board.3

“Poe was this crazy poet that was so emotionally depressed, and sad all the time, that he wrote some of the blackest vibes out there,” I chuckled to myself, I’ll have to remember that, Poe wrote some of the blackest vibes. I wrote it down in my notebook. He turned back to the white board and jotted down,4

The Wind Whispers Mary5

The Wind Cries Mary6

The Wind Screams Mary7

“You guys know what I just wrote on the board?” He asked. A few hands went up, mine included.8

“Umm, you, Erin” he pointed to a tall girl in the front row. Erin was here for the music program. She was nice enough, but kind of a snob. I once asked her why she liked music some much, just to make conversation; she said, “Why do I like music? Why do birds fly! Why do crickets chirp!” We haven’t spoken since then.9

“It’s lines from a Jimmy Hendrix song, The Wind Cries Mary” She replied, as if it was common knowledge, along with how to read and write, and do your ABC’s.10

“Perfect, she’s right, one of the greatest cats out there, Hendrix, anyone know why I chose these lines?”11

I spoke up this time, “Because it a repeated theme, The Wind ‘emotes’ Mary, it also show a change in words, to change the feel.” Okay, so maybe I’m a bit of a know-it-all when it comes to analyzing things, but I’m planning on being a journalist, so you can’t really blame me.12

Erin turned around and glared at me, “No, it’s about using the wind as a metaphor for society, the wind changes as the people do, first it whispers, then cries, and then screams” I rolled my eyes, and shook my head, “Jimi Henredix was so drugged up all the time I hardly think he could conceive such a complex plot, much less understand what he was writing at all” I said, I was in for it now, soon I’d have every music student in the building after my scalp.13

“Chill out girls,” Mr.G said, “You’ve just demonstrated perfectly what I was talking about. To you, Erin, The song is about the complexities of the social life because you study music,” She turned and smirked at me. He then turned to me, “And to you, Scarlett, the song is about form and style, because you look at it from a journalistic view point” I smiled back at her.14

“You see, guys and dolls, this is the essence of writing, but why are they different, why don’t we all interpret them the same?” Mr.G looked around the room and Erin’s hand shot up, “Because some of us are more educated then others” I take back everything I said about Erin before; she’s not nice at all, he’s just and outright snob.  I couldn’t believe it, she was directing snide comments at me!15

“That, wasn’t quite the answer I was looking for, anyone else?” He looked out, the only other hand up was that of Jerome Smith. Jerome Smith was one of those quiet kids that sat in the back of the class, “I think, it’s like what you said” He paused, as if he was not quite sure what Mr.G had said, “We all see it differently, because we are all different people”16

Mr.G smiled and nodded, “Spot on my man, we are all different, we come from different backgrounds, and have had different influences, good job Jerome” Jerome smiled proudly, as if he had just won the Pulitzer prize. He glanced up at the clock, and so did the rest of the class.17

“Alright so here is the homework,” Everyone groaned “Homework?” He continued, “Will be to analyze Poe’s the raven, and be ready to discuss it in class. The bell rung, and the class filed out. Erin walked over to me in the halls, “Look, O’Brien, I don’t know what your problem is, but I would appreciate it, if you would stop attacking my music” This is ridicules, “Look, I’m sorry if I ‘attacked’ ‘you’re’ music. I was mealy saying that you were reading too much into it. The man was a coke addict, I mean, your bound to get some weird stuff out of him” She got red, and clenched her fists and stocked off. I hated to do it, but it was true. Some people you just have to be firm with.18

Next was a generic English class. It was required by the school to take four years of English, no matter what your area of focus is. Mr. Ferdinand was a Brit. He was always dressed very sharply, all he was missing was a powdered wig, and he would look like someone straight out of Pride and Prejudice. Not up tight, but not loosey-goosey. But certainly someone that you would expect to be very, upper crust. For the last few weeks we’ve been going over Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’s my favorite play of his that I’ve read so far. Who knew he could go from writing tragedies like Hamlet to something as light and funny as A Midsummer Night’s Dream?19

“All right folks, time to get out the old books, and start reading” Mr. Ferdinand didn’t believe in reading aloud, he thought that it put too much pressure on the person that was reading. So everyday he’d just tell us to read, and then we’d discuss it after. I’d already read the part that he’d assigned, so I just flipped the pages of my book idly. I pulled out my phone and quickly sent a message to Alex, “Hey, what’s up?” I flipped some more pages and my phone vibrated. I pulled it, she wrote back “ Not much, Algebra 3-4, grrr” I smiled, and flipped a few more pages. “are we still on for lunch?” she sent, “Yeah, just pick me up outside the school” I wrote back.20

“Ms. O’Brien, since you seem to be enjoying the book so much, would you like to tell us what you thought of the section that we just read?” I jerked my head up.21

“Me?” I said hastily shoved my cell phone into my pocket.22

“Well, I hardly see anyone else that has been reading so fast as you have. It looks like you’ve even read a little extra I dare say” I looked down, I had ‘read’ the whole act, where as the class was only suppose to read the first two scenes.23

“Umm, well I think that it’s a good opening to the play, it gives you some insight as to what the background of the major characters are” I hoped that was what he was looking for.24

“Yes, O’Brien that’s true, good, anyone else?” Another boy raised his hand.25

“Ah, Mr. Thomas good of you to participate.”26

Justin Thomas, mostly just sat in the back and listen to his headphones the whole time, it was surprising that he actually wanted to be apart of the class.27

“Well, this Shakespeare dude, he like did a lot of cool lyrical work… right?” 28

Mr. Ferdinand smiled and walked out to the front of the room, “well that wasn’t really on topic but I suppose it’s a start, Yes Mr. Thomas, you could say that Shakespeare did a lot of ‘cool’ lyrical writing”29

Justin bobbed his head up and down, “Far out man, far out” and he put his phones back on.30

“Well, folks, I see that the clock is running out, home work is to read the rest of the act, but I suppose,” He turned to me, “Some of us won’t have to worry about that, all of you have a good lunch, and I will see all tomorrow, and hopefully you will be brimming with insight, like Mr. Thomas”31