Fight Or Flight

Chapter 7 - Biology

Chapter 7 - Biology

I know our parents and most other adults think we're all part of some dumbed-down generation, and that most of us can barely communicate at the level of a grunt. That, at a stretch, we can just about manage 140 characters. I bet some even think we actually use words such as 'LOL' and 'OMG' while engaged in casual conversation.

Well, to be fair, I do know one girl who does do that, but that's not the point.

Despite what they might think, and despite what you might think so far about her, Layla was the cleverest, smartest person I ever knew. She had got A or A star grades for all her English coursework, and she just seemed to know words most adults wouldn't even think to use.

Maybe it was because she was so talented, that she could afford - outwardly at least - to give off a vibe that she really didn't give a shit. I mean, to be that good, you have to put some effort in don't you? You have to care about what it is you're doing...

I think, quietly, she also became one of Mr Mason's favourites in English. I know he said he didn't have any favourites and that he, "hates us all equally," but I could tell by the way he got her to read out her work - as an example for the rest of the class to follow - that even he thought she was something special. You only had to see that hint of a smile sneak upon his otherwise poker face, when she wrote something particularly good.

I remember we did a practice exam question in class before our real, mock exams began in December. Mr Mason was trying to get us to write really arresting opening paragraphs. He said that you have to set the tone for your work in those opening paragraphs. And that to remember, the examiner was only human, and would have his or her mind turned towards a higher grade if the opening of your work was sound and coherent.

We had been working quietly all lesson on a discursive writing piece. One of the questions was about the positive and negatives effects of celebrity culture. Then, with about ten minutes or so to go, he told us to put down our pens.

"Before we finish today, I just want you to hear the opening to one piece of work in particular," he said.

Everybody's heads went down towards the desk. Inwardly, everyone was saying, don't pick on me, pick on someone else.

"Layla, would you mind reading the opening of your short piece, please."

She shook her head and put her head down on the desk.

"Why don't you choose someone else, sir," she mumbled, her hand partly covering her mouth.

"Come on, as an example of how a good opening should start, how your writing should grab the reader's interest and attention. Please, you would be really helping me out here," he said.

Whenever he asked her, she's always seemed dead reluctant at first, began to let on that she was really shy. "I feel awkward reading stuff out," she'd say. "Why can't you read it out, sir." Then she'd pick up her paper from her desk and hold it out to Mr Mason.

Sir knew it was really good because he'd spied what she had written during his time roaming around the class, while we had our heads down writing away furiously.

"Layla, your piece shows off your voice so well, please come on just read the opening few paragraphs. Its really, really good."

And, as usual, she gave in. She cleared her voice and began.

"Famous people who die young, or die in tragic circumstances, seem to hold some sort of morbid fascination in our culture. Think about the suicide of rock star Kurt Cobain, or Marylyn Monroe's tragic demise, or more recently - over the past few years or so - the deaths of Amy Winehouse and Heath Ledger."

"Their deaths seem to have added to, rather than diminished, their fame and people seem to look upon them as saints, rather than ordinary human beings, who just happened to possess extraordinary talents."

"People die in similar circumstances all the time, as those celebrities mentioned. So where does this fascination come from and why do some people react to the death of somebody famous as if they had just lost a close relative? What does it say about our society that some people feel the death of a celebrity much more strongly than a close friend?"

She paused, looked up to Mr Mason, waiting for his signal to stop reading.

"Brilliant, Layla," he said. "That's the sort of coherent opening you need for a good piece of discursive writing: direct, interesting and - as you can see, just through that small section - shows exactly where you're headed with your central argument. Superb. Really superb!"

Usually, there would've been a spontaneous round of applause for whoever had read out their work. It was just the way things were. A sort of classroom team spirit Mr Mason tried to encourage. Each member of the class supporting one another. He always said that we learn more collectively than on our own. That thirty brains were more effective than one single brain doing overtime.

But on this occasion, it was only me and Ed who began clapping. Mr Mason began clapping loudly, drawing attention to our of lack support. Then I saw Adam and a few of the other boys begin to join in. Jade Ainsworth and the girls at the back of the class refused to join in. They were all sat with their arms folded. Apart from Jade, who held a large, red marker pen, and was colouring in something on her desk, never once looking up from the task at hand.