Chapter Two, Episode Twelve - Educated - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update:

Missing last weeks review, I'm back at it today. The revisions I have made are changes in wording and are scattered throughout this episode. 

One major concern when writing an adolescent voice and grammar is that what I write is believable. Knowing few teenagers anymore, I don't know their particular lingo. Some of the wording changes I made are in the story Joey wrote.

Educated

Sixteen year old Joey Tucker was out of school ~ again. Only a few days before Christmas holidays were to begin, the government had closed the schools. An announcement had gone out via email that this was due to the recent increase of Covid cases. Reported in the news: “The Public Health officer will make another decision at the end of the three weeks.” His parents had on-line work to keep them occupied. None of his aunts, uncles, or cousins would be here for Christmas. He had done the homework he had been given. He had to stay in his family ‘bubble’ unless absolutely necessary. Flopping on his bed with his English poetry text, he tried to read. As much as he liked poetry, he couldn’t concentrate. Rain tapped against his window. “I wonder if we’ll get snow at Christmas.” Joey dozed off, his book dropped on the floor, forgotten.

Waking with a start when his email pinged, he scrambled for his device. Must be Steven. Joey rolled off his bed, excited to talk to his friend. They couldn’t hang out together, but at least they had video chats. It’s not Steven. Martha? He read further:

“Hello Joey, How are you? I hope all of your family are well. We heard that the schools are closed again and I wondered if you are able to come out to the Estate. Cook and I have taken care of any cleaning, but Samuel brought a tall spruce tree into the kitchen. We need it decorated. I know the restrictions are pretty tight right now, but the arrangements I’ve made with the rest of the staff should make it all right. All the decorations will be set out. Cook will have gone home, James and I will be back at our cottage. Samuel stays isolated all the time, never goes out so he’ll be in the kitchen with you so you’re not alone. Please speak with your parents to get their approval and get back to me. Thank you Joey, Martha.

P.S. You can bring your story with you. Just slip it under my door and I’ll get it to the Storyteller. M

~~~~~

“Damn! I forgot! I’ll go talk to mom and dad first.” Joey raced down the stairs. “Mom!” “Dad!”

“What is it, son!” His mother came out of her office “You sound so…so… excited? worried?” 

His father called from the kitchen “Come in here, coffee’s on so you can tell us what has you so worked up.” 

Joey told them about Martha’s email. They agreed that it would be alright for him to go out, not to forget his mask and make sure to wash his hands when he got there and before he left. The last instructions were from his mother, while his father smiled and turned aside. 

“Thanks, mom and dad. I have to email Martha….and I’ve got some writing to do.” Joey replied to Martha that he could come out the next day, and then sat at his desk to write.

~~~~~

Martha tells me it’s my turn to write you my story. I’m only sixteen, so I don’t have much to tell you. I’m an ordinary teenager who has had more time off from school than I ever could have imagined. I always thought that would be great, but it hasn’t been. It’s been boring. I often think of last summer when I got the job out at the Beaufort Estate. Schools were closed then, as they are now. I tried to get part time work mowing lawns or just handy work, but that was drying up. Steven (he’s my best friend) lives next door and we would sit on our driveways and jam. I play guitar and Steven, the keyboard. But even that got boring after awhile. So when Brigitte Smithson told me of a job opportunity out at the Beaufort Estate - a place I’d ridden my bike past many times - I jumped at it. It started out being just cleaning the top floor of the house, which was really not very intellectually stimulating but at least I had a great bike ride there and back. But the little ghost girl, whose name is Sarah, hundreds of years old, really threw me. I was ready to quit more than once because of her. Talking with Martha and Cook, I found out she had a crush on me. Freaky, right? They told me that I should get her doing all the heavy lifting and high dusting. She got bored with me and disappeared through a wall and I never saw her again. Then I met Samuel Forrester. That made my time out at the Estate very interesting. In school, I’ve had two interests. English Poetry and Biology. In our Biology classes, we discuss a lot of Environmental issues. That is really the part that fascinates me. Samuel Forrester, the gardener and yardman out at the Estate - you may already have his story - tells me about environmental issues in a very different way. From the ground up - literally. He has shown me that our food can be grown and harvested without all the insecticides and pesticides. It’s more work, but encourages the growth not just of the vegetables, but the helpful life in the soil and in the air. He talks of the birds and the trees as though they were more than just living beings, but living beings that are part of holding us all together. So my story will just get better with all that wisdom and humour Samuel has shared with me. Martha has asked that I come to the Estate to decorate their Christmas tree. I’ll get an opportunity to talk with Samuel again when I’m out at the Estate decorating the tree he brought in. I’ll have to ask him about the environmental value of cutting down a fully grown tree just for the kitchen. He’ll probably get quite a laugh out of that. I’ll leave this story with Martha. She’ll get it to you.

Joey re read his story. Corrected a few misspellings, folded it, put it in an envelope and propped it up against his computer. He put his head phones on and punched in Steven’s number. They talked for the next two hours all about the Estate, Sarah the ghost girl and picking apples in the summer. 

“I have never let my schooling interfere with my education.”

~ Mark Twain