Lessons
The first time John starts a fire in class, Ms. Monroe walks up and holds out her hand for his cigarette lighter.
"I was just playing around," he says.
"You can play around when class is over," she says. "Give it to me."
"Sure," John says, and flicks on the flame as he holds it out. He can see her hesitate, and it makes him feel a little better, but then she takes it from him and snaps it closed.
"Thank you," she says. "Let's get back to geography."
John can't concentrate. His palms itch. He stares at the notebook page in front of him, trying to act cool, as if he has another lighter in his pocket. He should. He has a cheap plastic one up in his room, maybe two, and all those matchbooks in his jacket. He should have stuck one in his pocket, why the fuck didn't he --
Bobby kicks him in the shin, and he kicks back, hard. "Ouch," Bobby mouths, frowning at him.
"The Amazon River?" Ms. Monroe prompts.
"Is where the Amazons live?" John tries. He gets a muffled laugh from somewhere, and is encouraged. "They cut their breasts off, you know. Pretty hardcore."
"Many professions require a certain amount of suffering," Ms. Monroe says, looking at him as if she wishes she could set him on fire. He grins at her. "Who can tell me something about the actual Amazon River?"
Bobby's hand twitches, but he doesn't raise it. Piotr raises his, and starts saying really boring things about how long some stupid river in South America is. John rolls his eyes.
Bobby writes in heavy, underlined letters on the edge of his notes: Chill out.
John scrawls on the corner of his: This class sucks dick.
Bobby sighs and writes Early European explorers of the Amazon were: John scrawls pictures of bare-breasted women in his notebook until Ms. Monroe walks over to stand near him, as if she's casually drifting around the classroom.
He turns over the page and draws a map of South America, with a river in it. He labels it SOUTH AMERICA and SOME COUNTRY WHERE THEY ARE BURNING DOWN RAINFORESTS and THE AMAZON RIVER WHICH IS APPARENTLY VERY IMPORTANT. In small letters along one stretch of river he adds, HERE THERE BE BOOBIES.
"I think that's all the time we have today," Ms. Monroe says finally. Books slam and chairs screech. John shoves his books into his bag and follows Ms. Monroe up to her desk. She looks up at him, and he holds out his hand. She pulls out his lighter, and holds it in front of him.
"Being able to carry this in class is not a right," she says. "It's a privilege. If you can't use your abilities responsibly --"
"You'll, what, confiscate them?"
"I can't do that," Ms. Monroe said. "But I can make sure you don't abuse them."
She's still holding the lighter, and he wants to grab it out of her hand or yell at her to give it to him now. He wants to ask her if Xavier used to take Mr. Summers' glasses away for being bad. He wants to know how Xavier would feel if someone took his wheelchair away.
He just holds out his hand, like he's begging. "I've learned my lesson," he says, and when he folds his hand around the cool metal of the lighter again he knows he has.