Karmas return, p.9
Karma's Return, page 9
“Thanks,” I said to his back when he quickly ran down and disappeared out the doors.
I was walking down when CJ, a tall senior on our team, hugged one of the football guys intimately. He rewarded her with a kiss on her cheek.
“Stop kissing my players,” Coach Thomsen grumped but that only made the football players laugh out loud.
“We came to wish your team luck,” Ty said to Thomsen, who softened a little.
I walked right past Ty, curious to see what made Emma like him so much. Emma was tall, but this guy had almost a full head on me and a body that spoke of years of hard physical training. Our eyes met and I searched for answers. Was Emma into him because of his social status or was there more to this young man?
In my eyes, he was just a boy. But the way Emma reacted to him brought back memories of passionate love affairs from my past lifetimes. Being so close to him caused butterflies to spread throughout my body. It was a delicious thrill that I hadn’t felt for the longest time. I should look away, but curiosity got the better of me, so I simply stared back until Ty broke eye contact.
While I picked up a ball and threw it a little from hand to hand, I watched the interaction between the basketball girls and the group of guys. The group talked, but I wasn’t following their conversation. If Maddie and Ty were really dating it wasn’t something that he was comfortable displaying in public. She was amorous towards him, but I wasn’t picking up vibes of love from his side.
Although Maddie had clearly marked her territory by telling everyone they were dating, some of the other girls had a flirtatious energy towards Ty as well.
Maddie took a dominant step toward him, silently claiming his attention. “I’m so nervous for the game.” She laughed.
“Yeah, Hillside is a really good team,” Kate said, cracking her voice in that weird way again.
Ty looked back down at Maddie. “Don’t be nervous. Just have fun with it.”
Maddie gave him a light shove on the shoulder. “That’s easy for you to say. You never get nervous.”
He grinned. “That’s right.”
I tilted my head and repeated the words. “You never get nervous?”
They turned their heads to me like they hadn’t even noticed my presence.
“No. Never.” Ty looked at me without blinking.
I narrowed my eyes searching for a lie, but he seemed genuine. Again, he locked eyes with me, until Maddie touched his shoulder to get his attention back. He gave her a pat on her back before walking away with his friends. “We’re gonna get some food, but we’ll be here for the game,” Ty stated.
Looking after him, I felt intrigued that he didn’t have an aura of anxiety like the other kids. I wondered what his secret was and huffed out air in frustration that I didn’t have my powers to read his mind.
When the game started an hour later, my thoughts were still on Ty. His face was now full of face paint, but I quickly spotted him cheering on the bleachers with other students. My face drew into a grimace the more I tried to read his mind and failed. It was tempting to call for my sisters to help, but at the same time, this was my mess to clean up.
My view of Ty was blocked when Kate dribbled in front of me and shot a sideline three-pointer. The home crowd on the bleachers cheered and stomped their feet with excitement. Our junior varsity team sat behind our bench to support us. I cheered along, but the truth was that it pained me. It was harder than I had expected to sit at the end of the bench and cheer for the girls who had ridiculed me.
How wrong I’d been when I assumed that just because I was a wise old being this challenge would be a breeze. Being surrounded by teenage toxicity was more draining than I remembered and with Emma’s body so full of hormones and stored sadness, I didn’t have my usual patience. My stomach ached with a longing to be on the court playing. The frustration was so intense that I was tempted to get up and leave, but both Emma and I were bigger than that.
When the close game finally ended with a two-point win to us, we gave the opposing team high fives and followed our coach out the door toward the team room.
The girls bounced up and down in glee. Ebony, the girl I had talked to at practice, smiled when I gave her a high five and complimented her game. Although she was a grade above me, she didn’t get much playing time compared to the rest of us. But she seemed happy for her three minutes on the court and celebrated with the others.
The coach had a long talk about the mistakes and successes of the game and by the time he’d finished and we returned to the gym it was empty. I had hoped to ask Ty about his secret to never getting nervous because if that was really true, he was a rare specimen of the teenage species and might hold some answers that could help Emma.
Later that night, when I sat in Emma’s room, his words still roamed in my head. Wanting a distraction, I walked over to her bookshelf, arching a brow when I spotted what looked like a blue journal stuffed in the back. Pulling it out, I quickly realized it was Emma’s diary.
Flopping down on the bed I skimmed through it.
It was mostly about her daily life, but one page particularly caught my attention.
“Tyler Stone.” I slowly read out loud when I saw an article glued to a page of the diary. It was an article from the school’s newsletter that was about a year old and talked about how Ty, who was only a junior at the time, had showed strong leadership for the school in leading the football team to win the championship game in the Fall. There were pictures along with laudatory words about him taking special needs kids to the homecoming, coaching little kids, and feeding the homeless.
My eyes glanced up at the pictures of Emma with the kids she coached. It was obvious that the two would have a lot in common. They were both athletes and eager to help. Was that why she liked him?
Studying his picture on the page, I pondered out loud, “Tyler Stone, would you still do all those things if there wasn’t a camera to make you look good?”
Emma was an old soul with a big heart. She suffered from her team’s disrespect, but I could see that the isolation she’d experienced had given her time to reflect and grow empathy for others. Her Joy Wall with all the inspirational quotes and letters from kids she had impacted told me that much.
Feeling inspired, I got off the bed and went to sit at her desk. Grabbing a pen and paper, I started writing Ty a letter. It was possible that Emma had his contact info in her phone, but I had a hard time navigating her device and preferred the old fashion way.
Hi Ty,
I’m curious about something you said at the game. You might remember that I asked you if you ever get nervous.
You said that you never do and that intrigued me.
You see, my big passion is psychology. Last year I got certified as a Sports Psychology Coach, and outside my school and basketball, I spend a lot of time coaching younger kids in basketball.
One of the biggest issues I see in younger kids is anxiety, both performance and social.
Would you make time to meet with me and let me pick your brain?
I would love to learn what tricks you use to control your nerves, so that I can learn from you and pass it on.
Emma.
There was no need to tell Ty that I was really looking for ways to help Emma. After reading through the letter, I realized that it might sound a bit formal for a seventeen-year-old, but I didn’t know how to use slang and I didn’t mind if he saw that Emma was a mature person, because from her diary I knew she was thoughtful, intelligent, and articulate.
After adding Emma’s phone number at the bottom of the letter, I folded the paper and put it inside an envelope.
Now all I had to do was give it to him tomorrow at school. Right as I finished the thought, I felt my heart pick up speed and my armpits sweat. A laugh escaped my lips, and I took a moment to enjoy the rush of fear that my body was experiencing. I had forgotten how silly humans were and that even inconsequential things like giving a letter to someone could have such a physical effect on them.
Stepping in front of Emma’s wall of joy notes, I spoke to her picture. “He’s just a boy, Emma. But I’m going to do you the favor of finding out if he’s worth your affection.”
CHAPTER 11
Socrates
Karma
When I went to school the next day, I had the letter in my backpack. My plan was to give it to Ty after our psychology class, but he didn’t show up and I couldn’t find him during the lunch break either. Thinking he wasn’t in school I was surprised to spot him between fifth period and sixth when he walked into a classroom four doors down from the one that I was heading into.
To my delight we had philosophy, which was something I knew about.
“Did you all read up on the old philosophers like I asked you to?” The teacher was a man in his late fifties, tall, skinny, and with a beard that covered both his lower face and halfway down his neck. He was wearing a turtleneck and a blazer.
Mutters sounded with a few moans, and I could tell that they generally loathed this teacher.
“What about you, Xander?”
“I didn’t know we had to read anything,” a guy to my left complained while leaning over the table with a tired yawn.
“That’s not an excuse. It was in the system and it’s your responsibility to check what homework I assign to you. On Monday, we talked about the birth of democracy in ancient Greece, and we touched upon big thinkers like Plato and Aristotle.”
I smiled and looked around. This should be interesting.
“Why do you have to assign so much homework about boring old guys who died hundreds of years ago? We have other classes, and this is just an elective,” Xander protested.
The teacher walked to his desk. “Sit up and stop complaining. If people still mention your name more than two thousand years from now, then you have your answer.” Mr. Klein continued speaking to the class, while Emma’s memories from previous classes came to my mind. Emma didn’t like this teacher. He made fun of students and loved to embarrass them in front of others.
“Can someone help define what made Plato and Aristotle so spectacular and what the link between them was?”
With an expectant look, I watched the students, but no one seemed eager to raise their hand, so I did it.
“Yes, Emma?”
“They were great at taking a critical look at their time, and challenging the status quo. Plato started his academy and brought a new awareness to the art of thinking. Regarding what connected them, I suppose you’re referring to the fact that Aristotle was a student at Plato’s academy.”
Mr. Klein sighed like I’d just said the stupidest thing. “So, you didn’t read the pages. Next time you choose to run those crazy long legs around the basketball court instead of doing your homework, do me the favor of keeping quiet. In other words, don’t raise your hand if you haven’t prepared for my class.”
That provoked me. He was right of course; I had no idea what papers he was talking about, but Plato had been a change-maker that I had kept an eye on in my work as an ancient soul. Without my powers, I might not remember everything clearly, but I knew a lot more than this teacher.
“In the papers you were supposed to read for today, it states clearly what linked Plato and Aristotle. Anyone?”
A girl up front finally raised her hand and was given permission to speak. “Both men lived in Greece, and they were linked by their study of philosophy.”
“That’s right, and at that time Athens was the place to be if you were a scholar.”
The kids looked bored as the teacher focused in on the girl up front who had clearly read her homework. “What do we know about Plato?”
“That he has an alias called Socrates,” the girl up front answered.
I stiffened my back. “I beg your pardon. Socrates was Plato’s mentor, not his alias.”
Several students turned to me, including the girl up front, who had long brown hair. They looked puzzled.
“Emma.” Mr. Klein spoke on a hard exhalation as if the name hurt his throat. “As you would know if you’d read up on your homework, Plato used Socrates as a fictional character in his writings, but it’s widely believed that Socrates is nothing more than Plato’s alter ego.”
“That’s not true,” I insisted. “Socrates was very real and Plato was one of his favorite students.”
“And you know this how?”
“Because I studied Socrates.” It sounded better than saying I helped him. “Socrates was a man uninterested in material wealth; people called him ugly because of his bulging eyes and large head, but those things never mattered to him. He would walk around barefoot paying no mind to how he dressed. His mind was sharp, and he loved to challenge people to reflect on odd questions. In fact, his very purpose in life was the art of asking questions because without asking the right questions, we’ll never understand anything. He advocated for friendships and community, and Plato was a curious youngster when they first met.”
In an exaggerated posture, Mr. Klein crossed his arms and leaned back to sit on his desk. “And I suppose you read this in his private diary. No, wait, that would be impossible since Socrates never wrote down anything, which tells us he probably never lived to begin with.”
“Of course he did, but you forget how he died, which would explain why none of his teachings survived in writing.” I tilted my head trying hard to make him see I was trying to help him. All around me, I could feel the other students staring at me as if Emma had grown a second head.
“How did he die?” the girl up front asked.
“Socrates was sentenced to death because he allegedly corrupted the minds of the young. They started questioning their elders and showed a nihilistic attitude, which the elders deemed disrespectful. I would argue that the elders of that time didn’t like being called out on their questionable morals or lack of knowledge, an attitude that still prevails.” My last comment was a dig at the incompetent teacher. “Socrates was sentenced to drink poison and so he did. It’s no wonder that none of his writings survived when the leaders at that time were clearly threatened by his thinking. They would have erased everything.”
Mr. Klein swung a hand dismissively. “There are whole books on why Socrates was a person made up by Plato.”
“Socrates was real, and others confirmed his existence, such as Xenophon, who you might know was one of his famous students as well.” I was doing my best to help the teacher get his facts straight, but he didn’t seem to appreciate my help at all.
“Emma, I think it’s time you settle down and we get back to the pages that I assigned. Your theories are unsupported, and we’ll stick to what we know.”
A snort of amusement escaped me and made the teacher arch a brow of annoyance.
“What was that?”
“I was just thinking about Socrates and the time one of his friends revealed that the oracle of Delphi had declared him the wisest man in Greece. Do you remember what he said?” I knew it was a famous quote and surely this would help Mr. Klein see that he needed to be more openminded.
“Do enlighten us, Emma.” By now, the teacher had a small tic by his eye and although I could tell he was annoyed I didn’t know why my facts bothered him so much.
“Socrates said, if the oracle thinks I’m the wisest man in all of Greece, it’s probably because I’m wise enough to know that I know nothing.”
Xander, the boy who had yawned loudly five minutes ago, now looked entertained. “Damn, Mr. Klein. I think Emma is talking to you.” Sending me a broad smile, he added, “Who knew the mouse had a voice?”
“That’s enough, Xander.” Mr. Klein shot a hard glance in the boy’s direction and shifted his focus back to me with infuriation written all over his face. “Let’s hear from someone else who actually did their homework. And just for the record, Emma, I don’t appreciate you stealing valuable learning time from your classmates by sidetracking us and yapping about things you can’t prove.”
I gaped at the man. Here, I’d poured out intimate knowledge to educate him and he was behaving like I was a nuisance. Two hundred lifetimes of fighting injustice rose up from inside me and just like Socrates, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “You want me to respect my elders? That’s ironic since my soul is millennia older than yours.”
The class chuckled behind me, and Mr. Klein gave me another exasperated sigh.
Rising up from my chair, I spoke in a direct voice. “How can you fail to understand something as rudimentary as the fact that there’s never such a thing as student and teacher. Those lines are fluid. Adults and children learn from each other all the time and if we’re honest, this classroom of souls have more to teach you, combined, than you could ever teach them. Spiritually speaking, I am a centenarian while you’re a toddler throwing tantrums, so please don’t dismiss my input just because you see me in the body of a seventeen-year-old.”
Mr. Klein arched his eyebrows and spoke in a voice that was probably meant to sound level, and yet he couldn’t pull it off. “I don’t know what pills you took this morning to cause this unpleasant personality shift, but you need to sit down, or you can spend the rest of the period in the hallway. You don’t get to talk to a teacher like that.”
“I’m not trying to be disrespectful, but you leave me no choice when you’re collecting bad karma every day. I’m doing you a favor by calling you out for your lack of respect for your students.” I looked around. “I understand that you long for them to respect you. It’s clearly your pet peeve and obsession. Yet, you’re missing the point that you cannot ask for what you’re unwilling to give.”
With his nostrils flaring, Mr. Klein slammed his hand down onto his desk. “That’s enough, young lady! Get out of here.”
I chose to leave his classroom, shaking my head in disappointment as I headed for the door, promising myself that I would come back to help this young soul.
Swinging my backpack onto my back I gave a last glance over my shoulder before I walked outside and down the quiet halls of the school. The doors to the classrooms had windows on the top half, making it possible for me to glance through to see the bored students sitting inside. I stopped in my tracks when I spotted Ty through a door. He turned his head at the perfect time, looking straight back at me.
