This is a good story…for a middle schooler who didn’t really know much about the world. In fact, I probably shouldn’t have written about this topic, only because I wasn’t equipped enough to depict the complete depth of the issue.
I wrote this as an assignment for an eighth grade english class. The whole semester was dedicated to writing short stories. This was mine.
I hesitate publishing this, for a couple reasons. One, the writing style, technique, and wording is sloppy and amatuer. Please excuse. Two, as I said, I most likely didn’t have the proper tools to write about this issue with complete accuracy. Three, the main character’s name is weird. I’ll leave it how it was, though. I’m done editing it.
However, I know my intentions were for good, and to enlighten. That is why I publish it here.
Also, the concept is awesome.
Enjoy!
Franklin Pierce High School looks like any other two story red brick school building from the outside. It has several fields for playing soccer and football, a spacious cafeteria which serves trough-worthy slop, and a statue of President Franklin Pierce; the steps around it were the perfect place to study. On a normal day, you would find Principal James A. Tami hard at work in his office.
But this particular day wasn’t a normal day at Franklin Pierce High School. In fact, James wasn’t even in his office. He was in room 211 of the Boston Medical Center, just newly built two years ago in 1996. Right outside his door Dr. Isaac Lionel was listening intently to Dr. Grace, a young black woman, talk about James Tami.
“I’m not telling you any lies, Doc. He was outraged Suzanne operated on him just because she’s black,” Grace said. “Suzanne is the best heart surgeon we’ve ever seen! Not talking about you, Isaac, but why do some whites have to be so mean?”
“Yeah, well, for better or for worse, he’s recovering.”
“I need to get back to work. Good luck in there.” Dr. Grace walked down the hall.
Isaac Lionel watched her go. He shook his head, and quietly stepped into the room. On the bed in the middle of the room lay the graying, middle-aged man, James Tami. He was a stern looking man, with a face hardened by difficult years. The principal’s clean-shaven features weren't especially handsome, and his blue eyes were cold. He had been awake for some time, and gazed out the window. Dr. Lionel coughed loudly and James looked up.
“Mr. Tami,” Lionel began. “The surgery was successful. You were diagnosed with dilated cardiomyopathy, a coronary artery disease. The disease was caused by a serious build-up of cholesterol deposits and the nasty bruise on your arm was from your fall. We found a donor who recently passed, and you came just in time. How is your new heart?”
“Seems to be working fine, thanks.” James sat up. “But I have to get back to my job. My students need me.”
“Now there, if you take it easy, we can have you out in two weeks, but since you have a pretty relaxed job, we will let you get back to work in roughly mid-September.”
James blew up. “That’s in three weeks! How is my school supposed to run without me?”
“Your vice principal, Ms. Scarlet, will be taking over for you,” Isaac said, “Then you can get back to school on Monday or later. In the meantime you will be meeting with a caregiver who can help you navigate life with a new heart at home.”
The weeks flew by. Tami continued to recover and rest. Dr. Grace was thankful he would soon be gone. On a brisk Monday morning in the middle of September the students of Franklin Pierce High School were gathered in the cafeteria and were greeted with a not so warm speech by Principal James Tami.
He finished by saying, “Just because I have had a rough go, does not mean I am any weaker. I will not tolerate misbehavior or bad attitudes. Mr. Howard tells me the left wing boys bathroom is covered in toilet paper. Whoever that was, I would advise you to identify yourself and assist the cleaners, and your punishment will be less severe than when you are caught. We will catch whoever did this. It is unacceptable. You are dismissed. Go to class.”
As the school shuffled out, he left the room and walked briskly toward his office. On his way James saw a group of young black students talking and laughing.
“Hey!” Everyone stopped. “I’m watching all you guys. I know you guys are up to no good.” Everyone looked at the ground, suddenly silent. With a frown Tami walked off to his office where much work awaited him.
The day went by quickly as the principal tried to catch up on missed work. At last the final bell rang, and buses came in to pick up students. James was filling out paperwork when an image, almost like a memory, began to appear in his mind. It was a unique remembrance, unusual because he had never experienced it before. It was almost like it was someone else’s memory.
Basketball. Running down the court. The other team’s offense was strong but there was an opening. As he prepared to shoot my teammate grabbed the ball and ran toward the basket. My teammates got into position as he dribbled the ball down the court. I was nearest to the basket. My teammate threw it to me, but suddenly Principal Tami reached out and grabbed the ball. He looked at it and threw it against the wall, stopping the game.
“Detention. All of you.”
James jolted out of the memory. The school was empty and only he and Cindy, the secretary, remained. He knew that it was not his memory that he was remembering, but the images were so strong from this new perspective. James could barely remember that day, almost eight years ago. It was when some of the black students had snuck into the gym to play ball. Those troublemakers, the principal thought.
He looked at the paperwork on his desk and decided to go home for the night. On his way out, Tami told Cindy to get some rest.
“Wait, really? I’m…I mean, yes sir, thank you,” she stuttered. With a hesitant smile, he left the school for home.
That night, James couldn’t get to sleep. He had talked with his caregiver about his medication, but had gone to bed early. But now he was tossing and turning, failing to get comfortable. He eventually dozed off into a land of troubled dreams.
“Physics is one of the oldest academic disciplines and, through its inclusion of astronomy, perhaps the…” James gasped.
Falling. Shouting.
“Tami, can you hear me? Call an ambulance!”
Running. Sirens.
“There isn't much time. We’re losing him.”
Darkness. Dying.
“Doctor, there is one heart…”
He awoke in a sweat. Tami looked at his watch. 2:17. He rubbed his eyes and climbed out of bed. He stared for a long time through the window down at the darkened street below, thinking about that fatal day. The day his heart gave up. Occasionally a car would pass by, but the night was quiet. He remembered slipping off the stage in the middle of a lecture. Suddenly he felt an urge to escape from the thoughts and go to the rusted hoop at the end of the street, to play ball, something he had never done before. He shrugged off the desire and eventually managed to fall asleep.
***
The next morning, Tuesday, something happened that had not happened in a long while. James Tami, Principal of Franklin High, was late for school. As the final bell rang, Tami ran in, dodging students and teachers, racing to his office. He sat down in his leather chair to a cold cup of coffee Cindy had placed there thirty minutes earlier. Before he could even take a sip, there was a knock on his door. In walked Troy Dustens, one of his black students.
“Sit down.” Troy took a seat on the hard wooden bench without a word. “Do you know why I have called you in here?”
“Uh, no sir.” Troy answered, with fear in his eyes.
“Don’t make this difficult!” James barked. “You know I saw you trying to break into that church a few weeks ago. Yeah, you and those thugs. I know!”
“But I was…”
“But you weren’t anything. You aren’t anything. You are just nothing.” As tension hung in the air between the student and the principal, another unusual memory entered Tami’s mind.
“Yo, Slim,” I said. “We gonna see you at the field tonight? Or are you too busy shinin’ your shoes, and being a church boy?” The guys all laughed.
“Nah, man.” Slim chuckled, “Sorry, but I gotta take my little bro, Troy, to shine some shoes. It’s church night. You guys should come.”
“Maybe next time,” I replied, as the guys headed toward the Franklin High courtyards.
“You better come believe in the Lord, fool,” Slim Dustens grinned. “You never know when you're gonna kick the bucket.”
“Wait!” Tami exclaimed, emerging from the memory. Troy was halfway out the door, but he froze.
“Yes, sir?”
The principal was hesitant, “You don’t have a brother you call, uh, Slim, do you?” Troy blinked and swallowed hard.
“Um, yes sir, I did. But he and his best friend died in a car accident.” And with that he left.
James stared at the dark stained mahogany desk. He would occasionally take a sip of his coffee, and cringe at the temperature. He wasn’t sure why, but James felt guilty because of the way he had talked to Troy. After a while, he jumped up and found Cindy, working to sort a mountain of paperwork.
“Cindy, how long will it be until someone needs me?”
She eyed him questioningly. “Well… I mean, probably not until lunch, but why do you ask?”
But Tami was already on his way out of the school. He started up his Chrysler, and began to drive. He didn’t have a place in particular he was heading. James Tami just needed to be alone with his thoughts. As he continued to drive, James noticed he was in a part of Boston which was unfamiliar to him. He finally pulled over at a small church, which had seen better days.
“Hello?” An older black man had come to the side of the car, surprising the principal. Startled, James exclaimed a crude word without thinking. The man raised his eyebrows.
“That’s no way to talk to a pastor. Who are you? Do you need Jesus?” The pastor chuckled. “I think you do.”
James frowned, showing he was not amused. “No, I was just going.” And he drove away without a word.
***
He strolled along the shaded sidewalk at Franklin High and came to a stop in front of the statue, Franklin Pierce himself.
“SJ, wake up,” I whispered. “It’s my birthday!” Before my older sister could answer I raced through the hall into the living room. My yell brought mom out of her room.
“What, what?” Mom cried.
“A bike! All for me! Thank you, thank you, thank you Mommy! I never thought I could finally get one!”
She smiled. “I love you, son.”
James was confused. What was happening to him? Tami decided to do something he hadn’t done in a long time. The principal looked at the setting sun and said, “God, if you are actually real, what the heck is going on with me?”
He waited for a second, and nothing happened. As he started to head back to the school, he thought of the black pastor he encountered earlier that day. Why did that black man show me so much kindness? he wondered. Why didn’t he treat me the way I treated him?
The next day James gave an update to the school on his condition. “I am still recovering, and the whole experience has been challenging for me,” Tami admitted. “If you have any questions, come see me.” The high schoolers shuffled out. Afterwards, a young student came up to him.
“Sir,” she said, “I have a question.” Normally Tami would ignore the requests or questions of his black students. Her questioning face reminded Tami of the girl at the deli, asking for directions. There was no way he could have known her partner was sneaking up behind him, taking his wallet and bringing on hardship. He had figured all black people were that way, but maybe he had judged all by a few. James sighed.
“Ok, but you need to make it quick.”
The girl took a breath and asked, “Who was the donor?”
***
The basketball flew through the air and bounced off the backboard, nowhere near the hoop. The principal sighed. He had thought about the girl’s question all day. He couldn’t answer, which was puzzling. Why don’t I know the identity of the person who saved my life? He took another shot, and missed. James Tami was grateful, but clueless. He thought this was probably an ideal time for another memory from the unknown, but nothing came.
James decided to call the hospital to schedule an appointment with Dr. Lionel. He was not physically sick, but he thought it best that he should have information, and possibly consult his doctor on the events of the week. Soon he found himself sitting in a leather chair, in the Boston Medical Center, not a week after his departure. The principal of Franklin High School smiled. Today seems like a good day. Eventually, James was directed by an older nurse to a pleasant office, and told to wait. A little later, the door opened and Dr. Isaac Lionel walked into the room.
Lionel smiled. “Good morning, Mr. Tami. What can I do for you this fine Saturday? Are you having any issues?”
“Well, doctor, to be honest, this last week has been very hectic. I have been remembering things that I have never experienced. It seems like I’m looking into someone else’s mind.”
“That is very interesting, but not surprising. We are just beginning to understand the human body and the mind, and from past heart recipients, we have come to the conclusion that the brain and the heart are connected in some way. It could be possible you are getting memories and perhaps even preferences from the donor.”
“That is the other thing I came for. I need to know who I got my heart from.”
Lionel nodded understandably and stroked his beard. “It makes sense you would want to know who your donor was, especially because of what you have been telling me. Please give me a minute.” With that he walked out of the room. A little later Dr. Grace pushed into the room.
“Dr. Isaac, I…,” and then she noticed James. Her eyes widened. “I…I was just leaving.” She started to head out of the office.
“Wait, don’t go.” James paused. “You helped with my operation, right?” He looked down. “Thank you for helping save my life.”
A look of bewilderment took place on the nurse’s face. “Why, thank you, sir,” Grace said, and started to go, but glanced back. “God bless you.” Just as she was leaving, Dr. Isaac came in with a yellow folder in his hands. He noticed Dr. Grace and nodded a greeting. When the door was closed, Lionel cleared his throat and began to read.
“Ok, so you want to know your donor? Well, it says here a 25-year-old adult male named David Jonathan died on Thursday August 19, 1999 by the way of an auto accident.” Lionel looked up. “Just one day before your heart failed. David had signed up for his heart to be donated to the Boston Vascular Center. Anyways, he was driving with a friend when a drunk driver slammed into the right side of the car, killing both of them instantly. You’re lucky his heart wasn’t damaged in the crash.”
James was quiet. “Please, continue,” he whispered eventually.
“Here it tells us the schools he attended.” The doctor sifted through the papers. “Wait a minute, right here it says he attended Franklin Pierce High School,” the old doctor stared at the principal. “Isn’t that your school, Mr. Tami?”
The Mustang rode smoothly along the dark road. Slim accelerated, and without the muffler, the car roared. He grinned at me, and out of the corner of my eye I saw a truck speeding toward us. I shouted a warning, but it was too late. All went dark.
James said nothing. David Jonathan was one of his former students. A student who was black. One of his black students saved his life and gave him his heart. James’ eyes were wet. All he could think of were the times he was racist or mean or selfish toward black people. Toward his students. What kind of a principal am I? What kind of person am I? I’ve been so selfish and prejudiced.
James thanked the doctor, and made his way out of the building. As he walked out into the cool Boston breeze, he realized a burden had fallen from his shoulders. He felt light. He wanted to change. The principal decided to treat all students and people with a certain respect. James Tami left with a new perspective, and a change of heart.
Thoughtful.
It's a great story. Way to go!