Day 14.

Taptaptap. Tap tap tap. Taptaptap.

Alison was in the dean's office when she heard it first. Automatically her mind translated the punctuated sounds-- she hadn't spent a summer learning morse code with her father to not understand "SOS" when she heard it. She tapped it back on the cardboard-fabric-plastic cubicle divider and waited. She thought there was a classroom on the other side. At least, she was pretty sure.

Is there a reason you're smiling, young lady? Alison looked up to see the disapproving head-tilt of the dean's assistant.

She shook her head no, hunching over a little farther.

One more day of detention, of Mr. Wallace telling the fifty or so students (in his unique accent) to stop their "tolkein" and be less "noozy." One more day of staring at the inspirational posters, all the same-- bought in bulk from a prison, and placed as high on the walls. Just a picture, a word, and a little quote to get you through another day of mindless un-seized opportunities for the out of the ordinary.

She wondered if there was a random poster generator. INTEGRITY. Two pandas cuddling. "All's well that ends well." Done. Perfect. Inane. Emasculated.

What would the child of these posters look like? He'd Stand Tall, no doubt, taking special care to Not Exclude Anyone, Without Fearing Failure, Showing Accountability.

No one would be able to stand him for long.

He'd get sent to the dean's office for pissing off all his teachers after turning in his Best Effort one time too many. Maybe he'd stare up at the posters, like she was, and feel a certain emptiness.

There were the taps again, muffled, quieter this time.

Help, I am trapped inside a box of sadism.

She surreptitiously tapped back.

Funny, I don't see anyone else in the dean's office.

The assistant looked up, massaging the bridge of her nose. Alison recognized the look in her eyes as "please don't make me tell you to stop finger drumming, that's what eye rolling is for."

She was beginning to think talking might be a vestigial function from an ancient era. Like snake legs, or tailbones.

I'm in English, some kid whose name I never learned is talking about gerunds.

Waiting for the dean to finish calling some kid whose name I'll never know an imbecile.

You wouldn't think it would take that long.

You'd be surprised.

Is he an imbecile?

He's not figured out that detention won't go on his transcript for colleges, so yeah, kind of.

How did you learn morse?

My dad's a captain on a whale-watching boat, he got really into the whole signaling thing. I'm pretty sure he thought that whale song was just extended morse code.

Is it?

Will I ever get out of here?

So that's a no...

Aye aye. How'd you learn it?

I work at the history museum.

Yeah?

Yeah. Visitors love a telegraph. Nine times out of ten, they look like they're trying on a costume when they test it out. They get all self-important and serious looking, like they have a mission. like they're personally saving Romeo by intercepting the misinformation about Juliet.

Alison Deadle? the dean sighed.

What? I mean, yes. Here. Alison clamped her mouth shut and shuffled into the tiny "office" before she could realize she hadn't tapped "bye."