To My Dearest Roseanne- Chapter 3
It was always difficult for Roseanne to describe her looks. She didn't perceive herself as particularly beautiful or exceptionally ugly. Still, she enjoyed looking feminine and doing all the girly things that other 16-year-old girls do, such as fidgeting with make-up, eyelashes, and nail polish. Mr Orville, a teacher of English–and one of her favourite teachers, in fact–once said to Roseanne that she looks like Nikita from Elton John's music video. Roseanne blushed at the compliment, but she didn't notice any resemblance. The only common things between her and the fictional Nikita were a military uniform and a good standing posture. Indeed, Roseanne prided herself upon having a good posture. It was a big advantage that singled her out in PE lessons.
From the bus stop, Roseanne just had to cross the street and she was already at the entrance of her high school. It was a big, modern building, so at least the classrooms were clean (the same cannot be said about many post-socialist schools in the Land of Po). The girl was already late as it was quarter past seven, so she ran up the stairs and grabbed the handle of a classroom 203.
Mr Orville was sitting by his white desk, completely consumed by the activity of scribbling something on paper. He lifted his head at the sound of the opening door, and he immediately smiled upon seeing Roseanne.
"Good morning, Mr Orville!" Roseanne said with a happy-go-lucky enthusiasm.
"Good morning!" he said, emulating her elation.
"I apologise for being late."
Roseanne sat in the front row and prepared her coursebook. There was nobody else in the classroom because rarely anyone would come to school at 7 am on Thursday when the students had to endure six hours of harsh PE one hour later. Mr Orville was initially disheartened by this slacking attitude of Roseanne's classmates, but he never let his irritation get the better of him. In fact, Mr Orville relentlessly encouraged students to attend morning hours, rewarding early birds with commendations in the school log and activity points. Still, what Roseanne liked the most about Mr Orville was not just his peace of mind, but overall cheerfulness and kind-hearted attitude. He wasn't as stuck up as the rest of the teachers. He would never punish anyone for making a mistake during a lesson, misplacing homework, or fearing to read an assignment out loud. It was quite the contrary. He believed in positive reinforcement that would encourage students to engage in the process of learning English. Although he looked old-ish and tired for 30 years of age, this guy could put up a wonderful smile through his reading glasses. For Roseanne, he was like an uncle with whom she could chat about anything... as long as it was in English.
"So..." Orville started saying when placing an additional chair next to him, "Since, you are the only one in the class. It's time for a hot chair session, Roseanne."
"But of course, sir!"
Roseanne gladly sat on a red chair next to Mr Orville. The teacher devised the so-called 'hot-chair' sessions to help students get used to having prolonged and spontaneous conversations in English. Many hated this activity, but Roseanne absolutely loved it. In this manner, she could show off new words she learned, and also gossip with Mr Orville.
"I have to tell you Roseanne that this was like the first time when nobody came at 7 am sharp." Mr Orville initiated the conversation.
"I know. I'm very sorry I was late, but I have to honestly admit that I overslept."
"Were you cramming for some important exams?"
Roseanne rolled her eyes and her cheeks contracted gently.
"Well... if by cramming you mean watching a ton of horror films last night, then yes!"
Mr Orville couldn't help but let out a loud roar of laughter.
"Thank you for your candour, Roseanne. I always appreciate that."
"Oh! You won't believe the kind of dream I had!"
Roseanne quickly summed up her sprint in the dark alley, and Mr Orville listened attentively.
"Honestly, Roseanne. I'm not surprised. Your brain just processed all those horrible images from last night and tried to set your body into anxiety mode. Personally, I am not a fan of horrors and I avoid such movies at all costs. I just don't want to feel scared. However, I have no idea how Roy Orbison cropped up in your dream."
"I know, right? My dad does not even have any of his songs. The last time I heard him was years ago on Spotify."
Mr Orville hesitated for a brief moment, but he gently leaned over to Roseanne, as if wanting to tell her something in secret (although nobody was listening because the classroom was empty).
"Perhaps I shouldn't tell you this, but I also had a strange dream last night."
"Oh, really! Do tell!"
Mr Orville sighed, "Well... I was here, at school, in front of our classroom, and... I saw you walking down the corridor."
"Me?!" Roseanne shouted in surprise.
"Yes, we greeted each other as we normally do, but I noticed something was wrong... something was different. When I looked at you again, I noticed that your uniform is blue."
"Blue?"
"Exactly. So I asked you, 'Roseanne, why is your uniform blue?' and you turned and replied to me, 'Mr Orville, I'm no longer a member of the military class. I'm a student of the police class.'"
"Holy crap!" Roseanne burst into laughter. "This is like the greatest offence anyone told me!"
"I know and I'm sorry for my silly brain conjuring up such a ridiculous scenario, but it's not the end."
"It's not?"
"The dream ended when I asked in utter shock, 'Roseanne since you switched classes, does that mean we're no longer going to have English together?!'"
"Oh, that's so sweet!"
"I guess I really can't handle losing one of my most diligent students." Mr Orville said and this remark made Roseanne fill up with pride. "You'd make a good police officer in an alternate reality."
"Come to think of it, it's an interesting idea... having alternate lives. I would have never enrolled at a police class, but the prospect of attending a different high school, meeting different friends, and different teachers sounds intriguing. Our lives are so dependent on choice."
Mr Orville smiled.
"I couldn't put it better myself. But I think our fascination with alternative realities stems from the influences of popular culture. Avengers Endgame, Spider-man: Into the Spiderverse, and Everything Everywhere All at Once really changed the perspective among moviegoers who were living in the mentality that our lives are one, big... fuzzy ball of predestination. I sometimes wonder what other job I could perform apart from teaching."
"Perhaps you could become a philosopher." Roseanne smiled cheekily.
"No way, Jose. I'm not going to replace tea with hemlock as my daily beverage. But what about you? Is the military your dream job for sure?"
Roseanne thought carefully for a while.
"I would say, yes. Back in primary school, I wanted to become a photographer, but I just didn't have enough points on the entry tests to get into a high school that had this particular learning profile."
"Therefore, the winds of circumstance brought you here."
"At least English doesn't suck."
At that moment, the door opened again with a large impetus and a tiny figure entered the classroom.
"Good morning!"
"Good morning, Emily!"
***
Emily was Roseanne's closest friend in school. Their encounter also happened by circumstance. Initially, they were hanging out with different girls, but one day it turned out that all the seats were taken in the classroom, and there was only one desk left, so they sat together. One word led to another, and they became inseparable. Emily appeared to be the complete juxtaposition of Roseanne, not only in terms of height (there were 4 inches of difference between them). She wasn't feminine, she didn't have a good posture, and she didn't like girly things. If anything, she embraced her inner masculinity. She was always chewing gum and wearing pants. What is more, she used to get to school on a motorbike. The only feminine feature she cherished was her long, brown hair.
In terms of personality, however, Emily was quite an agreeable person and a good listener. Whenever Roseanne wanted a leading ear, Emily was there for her. But things rarely worked the other way around. When, for instance, Emily was boasting about a tweaked engine in her Kawasaki Ninja or that she spotted a Dodge Challenger on a street, Roseanne had to force herself to listen to these rustbucket curiosities. Nevertheless, Emily liked to joke a lot, and she had this uncanny habit of displaying affection to Roseanne by relentlessly beating her friend and peppering her arms and legs with bruises in the process. Of course, Roseanne made sure to return the favour.
Although Roseanne was more determined to learn English, which was recognised and appreciated by Mr Orville, Emily already had a greater grasp of the language, so she could communicate more effortlessly with the teacher.
Her loyal friend grabbed a chair and joined them in English conversation.
"Dear Emily, why are you so late today?" Mr Orville asked.
"Yeah, where have you been, you fake ass bitch?" Roseanne emphasised the question.
"To tell the truth..." Emily said with her crystal voice, "I ran out of gas on the way to school, so I had to refill the tank at a petrol station."
"Admit it! You overslept. Just admit it!" Roseanne said joyfully.
"Having classes at 7 am is the stupidest idea ever!" Emily blurted out, "I can never get up on time."
The trio fell into the abyss of philosophical ponderings about getting up early for school. Granted, Emily lived on the outskirts of Bydgoszcz, so she had to endure a longer distance than Roseanne, but it was not an excuse for her oversleeping. Mr Orville rushed to point out that he commutes every day by bus from a neighbouring city and in spite of traffic or unforeseeable road accidents, he always makes an effort to be here for the students. To him, getting up early and being on time was a virtue of responsibility.
Upon hearing this, Emily remarked, "Yeah, but I have a choice, whereas you don't."
Mr Orville froze for a moment until he exploded with laughter.
"Yes, Emily. You are very much right. Work and studying are not the same. Enjoy your blissful student days while you can."
***
After doing standard Maturity exam exercises, such as presenting oneself or describing a photograph and answering questions related to it, the classes were over, and Roseanne bid farewell to Mr Orville as she always used to in the same fashion:
"Have a nice day!" she said.
"The same to you!" he replied.
"Goodbye," that's the only bit Emily could muster up upon leaving.
The rest of the day consisted of a whole slew of boring subjects. Roseanne and Emily weren't massive fans of biology, geography, chemistry, and mathematics. The material resulting from the curricula was too over-the-top for them, but it was not their only worry. The teachers themselves usually were the riff-raff of stupid losers who barely could operate a computer, let alone conduct a lesson in an interesting way. It also wasn't helping that Roseanne and Emily were members of the military-profile class, so the students were trigger-happy teenagers with as sound judgement call as NPCs from Grand Theft Auto. As a result, socially-disabled teachers always collided with adrenaline-charged students, and the impetus of the ensuing confrontations was similar to those of meteoroids crashing against Jupiter's surface. Teachers would write in the electronic log as follows:
"Max is using the language typical of the social margin!"
"Włada is focused on a parlour game."
"Stanisław came to a class on the verge of exhaustion and fell asleep. He kept snoring all the time."
"Kacper tried to smear his colleague's belly with chalk."
"Fabian attempted to leave the classroom through the window."
Of course, Roseanne and Emily stayed away from the daily hustle and bustle cooked up by their classmates. When there was a subject they hated, they usually killed time on mobile phones. However, if a teacher was too strict, then they just pretended to listen. The worst thing for Roseanne was the time when tests were handed in.
"Juzynski! That's an F! How are you going to master geometry if you can't calculate angles properly?" the lady teacher said with hearable disdain.
"I'm sorry. Can I retake it?" Roseanne asked. Her heart increased its tempo and sweat mercilessly appeared on the forehead.
"Only at the end of the term."
After eight long hours, the friends finally made it through the day. Emily suggested they should hit the local McDonald's that was located in a shopping mall across the street. Indeed, nearby McDonald's was the Mecca for all the hungry students from their high school.
***
When the two grabbed their burgers and found free spots in a large, lifeless dining area, Emily immediately started the conversation.
"Today, I spotted a Corvette and BMW M5." Emily proudly presented pictures on her phone.
"Super..." Rosenne barely looked at vehicles she couldn't recognise.
"Am I annoying you, Rosie?"
"No, it's just that I am really tired today. That F from maths was a bummer. My dad won't be coming back from the road for another four weeks, so I have to do some shopping on my way home."
"Ah, okay. I also got an F and I'm crying over that."
For the next few minutes, there was silence. Roseanne was slowly eating her cheeseburger, whereas Emily was consumed by Tik-Tok videos of speeding Skyline R-34s.
"Uhm... today's lessons were a chore. Maybe I'll skip next Thursday altogether," said Emily without looking away from the phone.
Perhaps Roseanne was really too tired or too irritable, but she was struck by a sudden thought that her friend just doesn't give a damn about her. Well, why would she? Her father wasn't a truck driver and her mother wasn't a former factory worker living on social welfare. These were Roseanne's parents. Emily's parents, on the other hand, are so rich they turned her childhood into a fantasy island. She always had what she wished for, without a single care in the world to worry about.
"Banana baby," Roseanne muttered under her nose.
"Say what?" Emily looked from above the phone screen.
"You heard me. You are a Banana baby!"
In the language of Po, the insult "Banana baby" was the equivalent of a "rich, spoiled kid".
"What's your problem? You wanna fight me, bitch?!" Emily shouted.
"I could take you down with one slap! Look at yourself! You ungrateful little shit! Always me, me, me. You don't give a fuck about anything! You don't give a fuck about me! You don't give a fuck about military prep! Hell, you don't even give a fuck about English! You wouldn't even notice Mr Orville's absence had he not come to work someday."
"What the fuck are you saying to me?"
"Never mind. Go back to your mansion with golden handles and a backlit fountain in the garden. I'm outta here."
Having said this, Roseanne grabbed her backpack and stormed out of the mall.
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