The next day, Mrs. Whimbrel announced the arrival of a new student, Skye Bunting, and showed him to the empty desk in front of P. Martin. Not only had he come prepared with school supplies and dictionary, but the definition of chevron neatly written on lined paper and sketches to match. And, not just perfectly drawn V's and badges, but of a meadowlark with a black triangle marking its bold yellow chest.
P. Martin leaned forward. "Did you draw that?" he asked. "I mean, draw it all by yourself?"
Skye nodded a yes.
"Wish I could draw like that," P. Martin said. The picture reminded him of summer and the warmth Uncle Scout brought with him, every time he flew in for a visit.
Mrs. Whimbrel posted the pictures on the board. "Chevron, indeed!" she clapped in delight. "Why, these are positively gorgeous -- just like Van Gogh's sunflowers!"
"Positively gorgeous," Jaeger mimicked, "just like Van Gogh's sunflowers."
P. Martin swung around in his seat and said, "Clamp it!"
Troglobite => animals that are blind or partially blind and have adapted to their dark surroundings
Troglodyte => cave dwellers
Jaeger jumped back, nearly knocking over Mrs. Whimbrel. She caught herself on the desk behind her. Once steady, she turned and glared at both boys.
"Sit down, now," she ordered.
P. Martin shivered. More than her shrill voice or beady, probing eyes chilling him was that warped blade of a nose capable of knifing through any defense he might offer. This was not going to be a good week.
Jaeger, feigning an injured arm, failed to notice just how close Mrs. Whimbrel stood. As soon as he opened his mouth, she sniped, "Clamp it!" Jaeger sat down.
"Guess she ruffled your feathers," Kestrel snickered.
"Silence," she snapped and headed to the board like a fast moving cloud. "Chevron?" she asked.
P. Martin did not need to open his dictionary. You'd have to be a troglodyte not to know, he thought, given her idea of musical chairs.
