Parallax

"She doesn't hate you, she's tired of you showing up to class late all the time." Irene said.

"Oh, shit, I forgot my stupid science book again!" Shari, disgusted, rifled through the contents of her book bag in search of her missing textbook. It was the end of another school day. Shari and Irene stood at Shari's locker like they did most days, talking. "Must've left it in the locker room again."

"Guess you better go check." Irene rolled her eyes. "Jack and I are going over to the Comet with Edith and her new guy later tonight. Wanna come?"

"Oh, Steve Hoffman!" Shari said. "He's in my 5th hour Earth Science class with Mr. Lundstrom. Sure, what time?"

"Around 7 or 7:30. I promised mom and dad I'd stay home long enough to eat mom's cooking for a change." Irene pulled a face, sticking her tongue out like she was gagging on something gross. Shari laughed. "See ya!"

Perhaps it was a little unfair to say that Shari was bad at sports. There were worse, more uncoordinated girls out there. And she'd even seen a couple girls in her class who flinched last quarter when someone spiked the volleyball too hard over the net. Easy as gym class was, she just wasn't interested in calisthenics, running laps, and organized sports. Although Shari lacked interest and skill in athletics, you'd never know it by the looks of her.

To say Shari Keefer is beautiful would've been an understatement. Simply put, Shari is an absolute knockout in the looks department. From stem to stern, she is the picture of fitness and boundless energy. Her diminutive frame boasted the toned curves of a semi-serious athlete. Shari looked a little younger than her 19 years with cascades of shining light blond hair, creamy fair skin, and full, bee-stung lips. Her gorgeous blue eyes always seemed to laugh even when she did not.

Like now.

Annoyed, Shari slammed her locker shut and headed down to the girls' locker room on the first floor. She probably could've shaved a few seconds off and tried the door through the main gymnasium, but it was Friday afternoon. School let out a half hour ago and the second floor hall was already empty. Varsity track would be practicing for the upcoming relays against North Haskell, but they'd be outside somewhere between the tennis courts and the ball diamond. The gym was probably locked already. The other door might be locked too, but Shari needed her book for an assignment due Monday. She had to check.

"I gotta stop forgetting things." Shari grumbled softly. "Better get my gymsuit while I'm in there too."

When Shari exited the stairwell, she was relieved to see that the door to the girls' locker room opened when she tugged the handle. She dashed down the main aisle and turned right. She stopped at a bank of lockers near the back wall and let her book bag fall to the tiled floor. Seeing her locker, she sat on the wood bench and fiddled with the padlock. "34-22-36..." There came the satisfying sound of a click. "Great!" Her Earth Science text was right where she'd left it when she was getting ready for gym class earlier, buried underneath the gym suit she'd taken off and hastily threw into the locker along with her shoes, an extra pair of socks, a small mirror, and a hairbrush.

"Huh...what's this?"

There, on top of the bunched up gym suit, was an envelope. It wasn't there when she went to gym class. She would've remembered it. Shari reached in and picked it up. It wasn't sealed. On the one side was her name andHappy Birthday! written in a familiar cursive. Shari turned 19 on this second week of May. If the card was from Irene, she would've said something, Shari was sure of it.

She opened the envelope and pulled out a card with a picture of a beautiful, slim girl with long blond hair. She wore a short and colorful A-line dress and she was strumming a guitar. Up top, it said:Hope Your Birthday is the Grooviest! Shari opened the card. Inside, written in that same familiar cursive:"To the girl who already has everything." And just beneath that was a smiley face drawn neatly in pen."Have a little fun this weekend--but not too much. --Miss Blount." And that wasn't all. A crisp, new looking 5 dollar bill had been put inside. Shari's mouth fell open.

"How could she..."

Shari grabbed her textbook and stuffed it into her book bag along with her gym suit. For a few seconds, she sat there on the bench, holding the card with the 5 dollar bill. She turned it over and over in her hands while staring at her open locker. It was smaller than the hall lockers. Each vented compartment was about 15 inches with a recessed hasp, secured with a school issued padlock. The vents themselves were too small to push anything through. But then Shari's eyes were drawn to a metal keyhole slit under the handle. It was hidden behind the padlock, but when she moved it, the realization came.

Like every other teacher in the building, Miss Blount had a small set of keys she always carried with her. She'd fish them out of her pocket to open doors. Usually it was the door to the main, or the smaller, auxiliary gym. Other times she needed the keys to unlock the concession area outside the main gym, or the pool. But once in a while, someone would forget their combination number, or the locker was just hard to open, and one of the gym teachers had to come down and open it for them.

Miss Blount must've used a master key to open the locker after the last bell rang and everyone cleared out.

The girl's lips stretched taut across her face, and her cheeks flared with a sudden rush of heat. Shari sometimes wondered if Miss Blount really had it in for her. She'd even joked about it in class a few times. Some days, gym class was okay, and admittedly, a little fun. But there were other days when it seemed like Miss Blount had decided that Shari Keefer was her special project. An uncomfortable rush of fresh warmth surged from Shari's face and down her neck when she thought about it.

It all started back in January, shortly after the Christmas break. Shari developed a habit of coming to class late. It wasn't intentional, but it couldn't be helped. The halls were always crammed during the 5 minute passing period. Everyone struggled like fish fighting to swim upstream to spawn, while trying to make it on time to their next class. If she was lucky, she'd manage getting out of her clothes and into her gym suit fast enough to rush into gym class just as the bell rang.

Sometimes, though, she wasn't so lucky. Shari recalled when, a couple weeks ago, her gym class started meeting outside at the tennis courts. An unplanned stop by a water fountain in the hall was the culprit (Miss Blount simply dismissed this as an excuse). Shari raced through the faculty parking lot and across the field where Miss Lusby's class had already started a game of softball on the diamond.

On the tennis courts, the girls in Shari's class broke up into small groups. A few of the better players already started while some others practiced serves across the net. Miss Blount stood by the chain link barrier, grim sentinel that she was. As always, she had her clipboard in hand, watching a pair of girls as they struggled to keep the ball in play. Shari, hoping Miss Blount would be too distracted to notice her arrival, tried to sneak on by behind the towering gym teacher. She went to grab a racket when the sound of a gym whistle sliced through the balmy spring air.Thweeeet!

"Keefer, I specifically heard you ASSURE me you wouldn't be late to class again!"

Shari's eyelids fluttered and she heaved a gusty, exasperated sigh. "God..."

A teacher's world was ruled by time. Minutes and hours were strictly budgeted, allotting so much time for arrival, so much for instruction, and so forth. Time was precious and not to be wasted, particularly when a good ten minutes or so of it was spent in the locker room and not in the gym, or in this case, the tennis courts. "God won't help you, Keefer," The towering gym teacher bellowed. "Not here."

"Ugh..." Shari groaned. She didn't mean for anyone to hear that.

To say Shari was embarrassed was putting it too lightly. She was mortified, even a little angry, that the gym teacher called her out during class like that. "I'm sorry--"

"Can it, Keefer!" That was one of Miss Blount's oft used retorts. She fished a pencil from her front pocket and started writing something in her gradebook. "Fifteen laps. Now." She raised her pencil, jabbing the sharpened tip in the air towards the fence surrounding the tennis courts.

"I said I was sorry, Miss--"

"And I SAID you owe me fifteen laps, Keefer!" The gym teacher snapped back. Her deep voice was crisp and abrupt, startling Linda Shaw who'd been standing a little too close. "You can run the perimeter of the courts this time." Shari's lips parted and she sucked in her breath. "Think twice, Keefer, or I'll be happy to make it twenty instead!"

Shari's brow furrowed and her lips mashed together as she grimaced. She said nothing, backing away, while a few of her classmates tittered, fighting the urge to burst out laughing. Another piercingThweeet! "Let's go, ladies!" Miss Blount shouted. "Back to what we were doing before!" And just like that, it seemed as if the world had forgotten Shari Keefer. She receded behind the chain link perimeter and started her laps.

But while she ran, she watched. Her eyes stayed, as much as they could, on Miss Blount. The tall, almost gaunt, middle-aged woman stood on the sidelines near the bleachers, back facing Shari, as she watched the others who paired up to practice forehand and backhand strokes across the net. At least twice, her feet double crossed her, causing her to tumble and hit the ground. Luckily, no one seemed to notice or care. Shari's face flamed with heat when she pulled herself up off the ground that second time. A stray pebble got underfoot. Shari slipped and nearly face planted. Lightning bolts of pain shot upwards through her legs, starting at her knees. And when she stood back up to assess the damage, she saw her left knee covered in a muck of dirt and fresh blood.

The blond beauty's eyes narrowed and her train of thought lost its way as she stared at Miss Blount. The slim, middle aged woman turned and went for the empty bleacher seats before sitting down. The sunlight glinted against the short, blunt locks of her bowl cut. The light hue, sandy and almost ginger, held Shari's gaze while Miss Blount jotted something else on the clipboard sitting on her lap.

It was often during times like these when Shari stole glimpses of her gym teacher. Sometimes the glimpses were brief. But other times, like now, those same glimpses developed into outright stares provoked by an inexplicable mixture of fascination and disgust over Miss Blount's unusual appearance. Miss Blount wasn't just gamine, she was, simply put, quite homely. The woman was unabashedly butch and as flinty as they came.

Still, there was something about her...

It was confusing and even a little distressing when Shari thought about it. Old Miss Blount was no looker; that was for sure. But Shari felt drawn to the towering gym teacher in spite of her unusual appearance. Perhaps it was her tall stature, or her flinty glare that softened, ever so slightly, on rare occasions. Or maybe it was the woman's athleticism and confidence, often mistaken by some as aggression. Whatever it was, Shari was captivated.

Another blow of the whistle pierced the air, startling Shari back to the present. "I don't see any running, Keefer, HUSTLE!" Shari's lip curled in response while her cheeks flushed a new shade of bright pink. Deciding that silence was best, she turned and stumbled into a trot along the chain link barrier.

*****

The Friday afternoon sun set, showcasing an extraordinary evening sky darkened with bands of gold, orange, and purple. A few early stars glimmered beyond a small scud of puffy clouds. Shari joined Irene and Edith. Edith's new boyfriend, Steve, had other plans. And Irene didn't want her two guyless friends feeling left out, so she made some excuse. Shari never found out what Irene told him. She didn't ask. The three friends had fun at the Comet downtown where they bowled a few games and hung around lane 18 laughing and messing around with a group who attended North Haskell High.

But after a while, Shari realized it was getting kind of late. She'd already spent the last hour or so playing pinball while Edith leaned over the machine and watched. Irene had already left. She probably went to meet up with Jack. Maybe to go somewhere and have sex. She'd already spent the last of her change and Edith didn't have any. The two friends said their goodnights and left the bowling alley.

Back home, Shari dashed through the living room past her parents who were snuggled together on the couch. Mr. and Mrs. Keefer appeared to be sound asleep, heads together, bathed in the flickering light of the 20 inch Zenith gabbing softly to no one in particular. She headed to her room, switched the light on, and closed the door.

Her book bag and its contents were on the bed where she'd left it when she came home from school that afternoon. Shari sat and pulled out her wadded up gym suit. She pitched it at the floor near her dresser and grabbed her Earth Science and Math textbooks. She wanted to pitch these too, but she didn't. She was after something else. Then came a pencil bag and a couple of folders. A few loose sheets of paper slid out of one of the folders. Shari shoved them back in and tossed it onto her books.

"There!"

The thing Shari was looking for, the object of her desire, was still there, safe and sound. The birthday card she found in her gym locker was still in the envelope. Shari held it, glancing for a split second at her bedroom door, as if to make absolutely sure it was closed and no one would walk in on her. The girl held her breath now, listening for signs of any movement or talking outside. There was none.

Satisfied at last, Shari opened the envelope and pulled out the card, staring at the dreamy watercolor blond girl in the short dress. Her sunny long hair fell behind her slim frame, snapping out in light gold curlicues. It looked as if her hair was dancing to whatever tune she was playing on that guitar.Hope Your Birthday is the Grooviest! Shari's hand went to her mouth now, trying to stifle the urge to grin. Miss Blount can be pretty lame sometimes, but she tries.

Shari opened the card now. The five dollar bill was still inside. She could've spent it at the Comet, but she didn't. She knew her friends wouldn't have asked where she got the money. Irene and Edith would've assumed Shari's dad slipped her an extra five for her birthday. But this was different. Miss Blount had written notes to Shari before. Sometimes she'd write something she thought was funny or encouraging and pass it to her in the hall. Sometimes those same notes were less funny, like a reminder that Shari needed to complete another set of laps in the auxiliary gym or take another zero for the day.

"To the girl who already has everything." Miss Blount's familiar cursive was so neat and precise. It wasn't fancy or flowery, but you could tell right away that a woman had written this. It was beautiful in its own way. Nothing like the brusque and mannish gym teacher Shari saw at school every day."Have a little fun this weekend--but not too much. --Miss Blount." Shari's eyes settled on the little smiley face drawn in pen. The corners of her mouth stirred a little. "Miss Blount." She mouthed her teacher's name, addressing her silently.

Miss Blount, Miss Blount, Miss Blount, Miss Blount...

Shari wanted to see her, but she knew she couldn't. Not till Monday during class. She'd be sure to thank her teacher for the card and the five bucks. Of course, Shari would have to wait to thank her during lunch if Miss Lusby wasn't around, or even after school. Because this was no ordinary note. It was a secret, just between them. She set the card aside and closed her eyes for a few seconds, thinking. Then her eyes opened again and she went to the small bookshelf next to the dresser.

Last year, she'd gotten a copy of the Talcott High School Yearbook,The Racer. She snatched it from the top shelf and returned to the mess on her bed. There, in the Faculty section, was a portrait of Miss Blount next to Miss Lusby and Mrs. Horton. Even this small black and white visage looked alarmingly butch. The teacher grinned up at Shari from the page. Her gaze was piercing as always. Shari turned the pages now, searching, and stopped at another picture.

Here was a candid shot of Miss Blount standing in the second floor hallway outside the main gym. She stood beside one of the trophy cases holding her clipboard. It looked like the photographer, whoever it was, snapped the picture during her planning period, or between classes. Not that it mattered. It was a full size photo; Miss Blount in all her formidable height and glory in living color. It was also one of the very few color shots included in the yearbook.

Shari stared at the towering butch woman staring back at her from the distant land of last year. Her mind started wandering as her eyes poured over the image. And then her eyelids fluttered a little, closing. Her mind wandered a little further off the familiar path. Shari opened her eyes long enough to toss her empty book bag and its contents off the bed. The sound of her textbooks hitting the floor startled her. She held her breath in again, listening for any sounds of her parents stirring. She heard nothing.

Adjusting her position on the bed, Shari held the yearbook open on her lap, while she leaned back. Her head sank into the downy softness of her pillow while she stared at that Image of Miss Blount staring back. The lovely blond senior closed her eyes again. She was thinking; summoning. In her mind's eye, she was back at school, only this time, things were different.

The second floor hallway at Talcott stretched in front of Shari Keefer. She walked, following the liminal locker lined walls and stopped as it widened to a large common space. There were two floor to ceiling trophy cases and a shuttered window withconcessions above it. Right by the doors to the main gym was the large blue and white school mascot, the Harrier dog, racing along the wall.This is Harrier Country!

Shari pushed the doors open and peeked inside. Like the hall outside, the massive gymnasium was empty. And it was so quiet, she could've heard a pin drop. She retreated slowly back, turning around, when her heart leapt into her throat and she cried out in fright. "Miss Blount!"

Miss Blount, Miss Blount, Miss Blount, Miss Blount...

It was the picture in the yearbook, except this was real. The gym teacher's 6'2" freakishly thin frame leered at Shari from the intangible shadows near the trophy case. A glint of metal flashed briefly from the gym whistle at the end of the lanyard she wore. Miss Blount's hands were empty. Unlike the picture in the yearbook, she had no clipboard.

Shari felt the solid barrier of wood and veneer when her back pressed against the door. She applied pressure, but for some reason, it refused to budge. The thing felt solid, dense, and cold, like a wall. "It's Saturday, Shari," Miss Blount said. Her voice was clipped and terse as ever. "You should be out with your friends somewhere, or doing homework, not sneaking around the halls at school." The girl's lips parted, but she had no answer, no explanation. And then it happened.

Miss Blount seized the startled teen, pulling her in. Before Shari could make any sense of what was happening, she felt the heat of her gym teacher's mouth pressing against hers. Trying to snatch a breath, Shari's lips parted. Her body tensed for a moment, wiggling around in the butch woman's tightening embrace. She needed space. She tried pushing away, but the harder she pushed, the harder it was to get away. "Miss Blount, I--"