Quincy and the Angel Isaiah

QUINCY AND THE ANGEL ISAIAH


by

Alice Allen-JonesCHAPTER ONE

ENGLISH CLASS


It was the same scene, different year, heads spun around and pencils twiddled in Mrs. Konan’s seventh  grade English class.  She  had come back this year with more tenacity than before, bent on having the most creative writing class at Smith Jr. High.

“Pencils down!” she demanded, as she strolled around the classroom. “We must be prepared to allow our creativity to take control of our minds.”

Quincy picked up his pencil, again disappointed on what he had written.

“I just can’t think of anything to write,” he said, shaking his head and throwing his arms up in frustration, “ I wanted to take a shop class, not another creative writing class.”

“What is it that you think shop class has to offer?” snarled Mrs. Konan, as her glasses dangled  from the tip of her nose and a bit of her cherry-red lipstick spread off the corners of her mouth. “You have been placed in this class for a reason and here you will stay.”

Quincy attempted to state his reasoning, but it was no use. Maggie had begun to praise Mrs.Konan’s class and do her usual “I’m perfect” performance.

“I think this is the best class I’ve ever taken, Mrs. Konan.”

Mrs. Konan looked over at Maggie Hutchins, the best student in the class. Kids flocked to Maggie like she was the last bottle of water in the desert.

“Why thank you Maggie,” Mrs. Konan said, turning back and frowning at Quincy. “You can tell that your parents are doing a fine job planting the importance of education in you.”

“Yes, Mrs. Konan,” Maggie looked at Quincy and giggled, “My parents do.”

Maggie was always budding in conversations to bring praise on herself. She was the most competitive student in the seventh grade and took pride in rubbing in others face. She was also the most heftiest student in the seventh grade. Somehow she had managed to get beyond the normal monotony of obesity jokes. She was never criticized or question about her weight. In fact it was for all intense purpose an unmentionable. She boasted on losing pounds here and there, even though she was often seen at the local ice cream parlor having more than her servings of ice cream.

“Quincy, why don’t you read the beginning of your story?”

Quincy took a deep sigh and glared at Maggie, he thought for a second and began to recite something other than what he had written, “ The young girl ate yet another ice cream sundae”

“Quincy!” Mrs. Konan screamed, “ into the hall, now!”

The rest of the class looked over at Maggie, who was began to make a face as if she were going to cry. Some of the children started to snicker, prompting Mrs. Konan to turn and issue a sharp glare. “ I will not have any talking! Read, everyone!”

Once in the hallway, Quincy leaned against the lockers and awaited Mrs. Konan’s usual admonishment. He was fully aware of what he did, but Maggie deserved it.

“Young man!” Mrs. Konan, stood in front of him, heavy glares, arms crossed, and feet tapping, “Just what gives you the right to be so terribly cruel?”

“I-

“What kind of person wishes to bring pain on another?” snapped Mrs. Konan, “Maggie has worked very hard to rid herself of her fat, I mean extra weight. You mustn’t make jokes about it anymore. Do you understand?”

Quincy stared at Mrs. Konan, he wanted to ask her about Maggie’s entire attempt to provoke him, but he knew it was no use.

“ Yes, Mrs. Konan,” said Quincy, “I won’t…shall  not make fun of Maggie any more.”

Mrs. Konan, uncrossed her arms, adjusted her glasses, cleared her throat, and opened the classroom door, motioning for Quincy to go inside.

Some of the students could be heard snickering as Quincy walked pass them to his seat. As he came within inches of his desk, and passing, Maggie’s, he felt himself falling, stumbling over Maggie’s foot. “Thump.” The class erupted in laughter.

“Quiet! Quiet! Right now!”,  roared Mrs. Konan, hitting her ruler on her desk.

Quincy brushed off himself and could see Maggie laughing veraciously. He was so angry that without warning he blurted out from the top of his lungs, “Maggie, you’re a pig!”

Moments later, Quincy slouched down in the wooden chair in Mr. Tanbey, Smith School Principal's office. Mrs. Konan, sat next to Mr. Tanbey, and Quincy’s father, Mr. Allen, sat next to Quincy. Mr. Allen's obvious frown showed his frustration.

“Mr. Allen, I implore you to do whatever you can to convey to your son that name calling is NOT ALLOWED.” Mrs. Konan bellowed, sitting directly across from Quincy’s father.

“I assure you, Mrs. Konan, not I, nor my wife,” Mr. Allen, glared at Quincy, “tolerate name calling.”

“Well, I’m sure that this will all work out,” said Mr. Tanbey, doing his best to attempt to diffuse the situation.  “Quincy, you will need to serve a detention for your…name calling. We will not have repeated episodes of this nature. ”

Quincy sank further down in his chair, “Yes, sir.”

Quincy’s father apologizing even more for Quincy behavior. “Thank you again. Let’s go Quincy.”

The walk outside was quiet. Quincy dares say anything, as he knew his father was angry with him. He wanted to explain his side, but knew nothing would be heard..not now anyway.

“Quincy, your mother and I can’t keep taking off of work to come down here for these silly issues. You are going to have to stop getting into trouble.”

“But Dad, it wasn’t”

“No! No more excuses. If you get into any more trouble, you will be grounded for the entire summer!” Mr. Allen, stopped and walked back to Quincy, “ Quincy, we love you and just want you to do well. Just try, ok?”

“Ok,” Quincy said, looking down at the ground trying to hide the tears that welted in his eyes.

“All right. Things will get better, I promise.” Mr. Allen stopped outside his car, “Sorry I can’t give you a lift, but I’ve got to make up this hour of work I missed. I’ll see you at home…and Quincy, go straight home. “

“Yes, Dad.”

The walk home for Quincy seemed longer than usual. For as long as he remembered,  he always had a hard time making friends. Quincy quite a bit smaller than other boys his age. His mother always told him that God had a special growth spurt in mind for him.  He just wanted to be like everyone else, not the someone everyone seemed to pick on. He wanted to be something special.

As Quincy cut through the Hatchway shortcut, he heard a thumping coming from near the creek. He dashed over thinking that maybe this was the day he would rescue someone or find something that would make him special. He stopped and stared at the strange site before him. There in the middle of the meadow he saw a boy standing its middle. From where Quincy stood the boy didn’t appear to be anyone he knew. His clothes were haggard and his dirty blond hair appeared scrambled about. He appeared to be about the same age as Quincy, but there was something strange about him. As Quincy moved closer, he caught a glimpse of what looked like wings on the boy’s back. Quincy could feel his heart beating excitingly. He thought to himself.  This must be a joke. He looked around to see if Terry and his gang were in the wings waiting to jump out. He didn’t see anyone and carefully moved closer. Quincy watched as the mysterious boy reached down and scooped some of the meadow’s water. As he lifted the water to his mouth, a glow surrounded him and the wings on his back spread. Quincy dared to move closer, looking for a healthier bush to cover him.

“Ouch!” Quincy quickly crouched down. He looked at his knee and could see a small bit of blood resulting from the tree branch he bumped into. He looked up and was face to face with the mysterious boy. “Ah…” Quincy yelled running down the hill. He didn’t stop to look back and ran so fast he thought he would fall out at any moment.

Quincy flopped down on his front porch, trying to catch his breath. He looked up and around afraid the boy had followed him home.

“Hi, wow you came running in like lighting.”

Quincy tried to catch his breath, “Hi..Hi Ma.”

Mrs. Allen, bent down and kissed Quincy on the jaw. “Well,” she frowned at him, “you can’t be running from your father. I understand that he was at school earlier?”

“Yes,” Quincy stood up and kissed his Mother, “It won’t happen again.”

“ I don’t think it should. How’s about you going upstairs and do your homework before dinner?”

“Yes, Ma.”

A few hours later, Quincy lay in my bed looking up at the glowing plastic stars hanging from his ceiling. Dinner was short; the admonishment from his parents would follow.

“Can we come in?”

Quincy’s parents stood in the doorway of his room. Quincy thought about saying, “Can we talk later?” but knew that the question was rhetorical.

“Yes, sure.”

Quincy’s parents sat next to him and began to explain how they only had his best interest in mind. They made it very clear that no more incidents would be tolerated, and Quincy knew they meant what they said.

Once Quincy’s parents left the room, he returned to staring up at the ceiling, wondering why he was starting to imagine seeing things.  It had to be his imagination.

“Tap, tap”

Quincy turned as he heard the small taps on his bedroom window. He sat up and looked over, partially intrigued, and more so afraid. All of the scary movies he watched would warn him to not go to the window. 

“Tap, tap. Tap”

Quincy edged off the bed, picked up his hockey stick, and inched toward the window. Quincy wondered if he should yell for his father and mother, but quickly excused that action knowing that if nothing were there, he would be soon signed up for psychology classes. He crept up by window. 

“Augh!” Quincy dashed back in bed and threw the covers over his head.

“What is it?” My father and mother stood in the doorway with sheer look of fear on their face. “Why are you yelling?”

Quincy took the covers off his face and glanced toward the window.  He looked over at his father and mother…

” Uh..I was…exercising,” he said, attempting to imitate doing sit-ups.
         
“Exercise with all that yelling and I’ll…”

“Honey,”  said mother, shushing father,  “ Quincy, it’s time to go to bed. A goodnight sleep will help you in school.” She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “Go brush your teeth and put your pajamas on.” 

“Ok, Ma..Uh.goodnight Dad,” Quincy said, as his father gave him a disconcerting look.

“Hmm..Goodnight.”

Quincy waited for a minute to make sure his parents were gone. He picked up his hockey stick and moved over to the window. He didn’t see anything and whispered slightly.

“Angel,” he spoke, softly.

Without warning. Quincy was face to face with the mysterious boy. He stared Quincy directly in his face. Quincy couldn’t help to notice, he had the most beautiful skin and his eyes were a beautiful blue, he looked at Quincy, smiled, spread his wings, and just as fast as he appeared he was gone.

Quincy flung the window open, sticking his head out and yelling.

“Wait! Angel! Come back!”

“Quincy! Is that you yelling again,” Father shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

Quincy quickly looked around.

“No- no Dad, I was just saying goodnight.”

Quincy could hardly get ready for bed without thinking about the angel. After he put his pajamas on, he went to the window and looked out once again.

He whispered. “Angel. Angel, are you there?”

There was no answer, no sign of the angel. Quincy lay in his bed, closed his eyes, and hoped that if he had dreamed the angel, it would happen again. He hoped.


                                                                                                             

End Of Chapter One