Shane's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Shane clocked in at the video store at four. The essay stayed folded in his back pocket through the whole shift. Between customers he pulled it out and read the red marks again. Off topic. Rewrite. He did not know what the topic was supposed to be. The prompt said to analyze a poem. He had written about the poet's drinking instead. He stood behind the counter and stared at the new release rack by the door, the blue steps stacked with cases under a glowing yellow header. He knew every title on it. He did not know one thing about poetry. At seven a regular came in, a woman in scrubs who rented two movies a week. She saw the paper on the counter and asked what it was. Shane almost lied. Instead he slid it toward her. She read a minute and laughed, not mean. She said her son had the same teacher two years back. She said the teacher only wanted one thing. Pick a line from the poem. Say what the line means. Say why the line matters. That was it. She tapped the paper. She said he had written a book report about a dead man's life. She said the teacher wanted a close reading of four lines. She rented her movies and left. Shane stood under the vinyl banner over the counter, the one for a new release from months ago, curled at the corners, and read the poem again with her three rules in his head. He found a line he understood. He circled it in pen. He wrote the rewrite at the kitchen table after close, sober, three pages by hand. He turned it in Thursday morning before homeroom. Ms. Alvarez read it at her desk while he stood there. She marked it in front of him. She wrote a C at the top and slid it back. She said he passed the assignment. She said his grade in the class was still a D minus with five weeks left, and one more missed paper would sink him. Shane folded the essay and put it in his pocket. He walked to first period. He had bought the week. He had not bought the year.