Empire Falls

there is a television at his grandmother’s house.
    “So, Christina,” said Mrs. Roderigue, clearly disappointed to have to carry on this important conversation with her least favorite student, “how would you describe Mr. Taylor’s style?”
    Tick knew the correct answer, of course. The word Mrs. Roderigue had in mind was of the sort that might’ve been printed on one of those scenic postcards that Bill Taylor painted from. A word like “sublime.” Why not give it to her?
    Instead, she said, “Fast.”
    T HE MOST DISTURBING THING Tick has learned about Mrs. Roderigue is that she’s related by marriage to the Mintys, which may be why Zack always has a hall pass bearing her signature. This allows him to leave his study hall once or twice a week to join her and John Voss in the cafeteria. Ever since Tick made it clear that she’s not interested in being his girlfriend, Zack has intensified his ridicule of the other boy to such a degree that she’s considering telling Mr. Meyer what’s going on. Even with a pass Zack has no business being in the cafeteria or having a key to let himself in, and she knows that if the principal got wind of it, Zack would get in trouble, maybe even be suspended from the football team. She’s also debated telling her father, except she’s afraid of what he might do, given how much he despises Zack’s father.
    She should do something , she knows, for John Voss’s sake, but at times he almost seems to feed on the abuse, and if he won’t do anything in his own defense, why should she? And so, for now, she has decided on a policy of appeasement, feeling that even though her influence on Zack is greatly diminished, she still has some, and she fears, too, that if she told him she didn’t even want to be his friend anymore, he’d be capable of far worse.
    Tick is fully aware of the dangers inherent in this policy, since they’re studying World War II in European History, and the consensus seems to be that Hitler should’ve been confronted sooner. Tick doesn’t disagree, exactly, but she’s mystified why her classmates seem so blind to the costs of open hostility. Last week they were shown a movie that began with the D day invasion of Normandy, and even before the first American soldier, a boy not much older than Tick, had been shot in the head when the big doors to the amphibious troop transports were lowered into the surf, Tick felt her left arm growing numb and she had to rest her forehead on the cool desktop to keep from being ill. Ten minutes into the film Mr. Meyer had come in and helped her out of the classroom.
    So, for now, anyway, appeasement. And if she’s wrong? At the bottom of her backpack is the stolen Exacto knife she hasn’t yet returned to the supply closet, though she’s had countless opportunities. Sometimes, when Zack’s tormenting John Voss in the cafeteria or, like today, visiting art class on some flimsy pretext so his friend Justin Dibble can join in the sport, Tick imagines pulling out the knife and swiping it across his wide, stupid forehead.
    “So, John,” her former boyfriend is saying, “how’s your grandmother? She doing okay?”
    The boy doesn’t acknowledge this question or even look up from his painting. The class is now working in watercolor, Bill Taylor’s favorite medium, and Mrs. Roderigue, apparently weary of her students’ subject matter, has brought a vase of flowers and set it up in the center of the room, temporarily rearranging her color-coded tables into a large U so everyone has a good view of the floral arrangement. In this new symmetry, since all of the tables are identical, there’s no differentiating Blue from Red until someone sits down, thereby establishing the table’s identity for the day. Every day this week Tick and the Voss boy have arrived early and established a different table as Blue, today choosing the one closest to Mrs. Roderigue’s desk. This was Tick’s idea, actually. She was curious to see what lengths the woman would go to in order to avoid paying Blue any attention. So far—and the period only has ten minutes to go—Mrs. Roderigue hasn’t even looked in their direction except when Zack entered a few minutes ago and sat down next to Candace.
    Though obviously Zack doesn’t belong here, Tick is just as glad to be ignored by their teacher. She finds it difficult to paint anything with someone watching over her shoulder, and of course she’d feel duty bound to ignore any artistic advice of