Planted

Something in the Water

Misty

When Misty showed up for Environmental Science on Monday afternoon, she was still shaken from the bizarre encounter she had with Dr. Ethan Agodore. Somehow, she didn't believe he had actually known her father. There was something just...not quite right about him. She couldn't put her finger on it yet, but she puzzled over the various pieces as she sat down and waited for the beginning of class.

She had to laugh to herself as she saw the teacher, Mr. Tibbet, mutter to himself as he swept together the papers on his desk into a wild heap. "What a nut," she thought. He had the mannerisms of a 75-year-old, but he couldn't have been more than 40, Misty mused.

Environmental science was one of the few classes Misty actually looked forward to. It was a small class, and it was made up of several students who had elected to take it senior year. Rather than follow a textbook and listen to dry lectures, Mr. Tibbet's classes were discussion-based, and they read real scientific studies. Misty liked how the class made her feel connected to something outside of herself. Something big. Something important. She even liked to pay the annoying 10 cents per page at the library to print out the studies and carry them around with her, reading them until they gained the softness of a fabric instead than the crispness born directly from the printer. She had loved Biology with Mr. Tibbet, too, and became enamored with everything from extracting strawberry DNA to viewing her cheek cells under a real microscope.

Though she had never spoken alone with him, Misty had developed a subtle affinity for Mr. Tibbet. Something about his ridiculously nerdy outfits and lack of care for social decorum led her to trust him. How could someone with such little awareness of his social wherewithal possibly have anything to hide?

Before Mr. Tibbet, she had experienced a few other instructions from his program, which she had heard takes rich, rising star recent graduates and gives them (or their resumes) character by sending them to school's like Misty's. For a year. As if that could change anything. It was their own lives they changed, not the students. These kinds of teachers were automatically despised at North County, both by the students and by the other teachers. The teachers, if you could call them that, might be deluded into believing the grandeur of their false altruism, but the people around here weren't buying it. In fact, North County had managed to send several teachers running for the hills...er....skyscrapers, before they had even completed their precious year of do-gooding.

Mr. Tibbet had been at the school since before Misty was a freshman, though. He was the only one that Misty knew who stayed. He seemed to actually care about students, even if he didn't care about owning more than one kind of awkward-fitting khaki pant.

"Poor guy," Misty thought. "Someone should give him more tips about fitting in more around here."

She'd heard he'd been here for almost an entire decade. Though they still poked fun at his awkwardness, the other teachers seemed to have an affinity for him now, too. The popularity of his science class even drove some students to (gasp) to study for their math classes. He encouraged them to study science in college, and told them it would be harder to learn the math later if they put it off now. Mr. Tibbet even taught a science class for the students in Special Education, though the school didn't require it, and allegedly threw a tantrum when the administration refused to provide those students with the necessary materials to have their own labs. Needless to say, they got their labs, and the class was ongoing.

Misty knew of one student who was put in Special Education after being classified as "Emotionally Disturbed" at the boys place where Jenna's Dad worked. Apparently, he'd taken to Mr. Tibbet's science class, turned into some kind of prodigy or something. Got a full ride to the University of Maine, the real one up in Orono, studying Biology. Misty was in awe of how Mr. Tibbet was able to change things that were so wrong about this place. Of course, he only did this after being at the school for years, and now spoke openly about how Teach for America, the program that sent him to North County was "unethical", and something about how it "did more harm than good." Clearly, the guy didn't care about being popular.

"What do you think, Misty?"

"Crap," she thought. She must have zoned out for longer than she realized. That was somewhat unlike her in the class. Though, she had to admit, a lot had been happening. It was...distracting. To say the least.

"Um...sorry," she mumbled. "Would you mind repeating that?"

She saw confusion briefly register in Mr. Tibbet's eyes, followed by what she could've sworn was a brief wave of concern. "We're going to go take some samples of the water near Indian Steel. Near the old paper dam. Jake suggested we collect a sample from where the pond feeds out through a pipe. What do you think?"

Misty thought about it, suspending all her non-class related thoughts as well as she could.

"Um," she said again. "I think that's a good idea," she said, her face reddening.

"And...why do you think it's a good idea?" Mr. Tibbet said, though his face was friendly.

"Because," she stammered, "It's like. Going to be like the rest of the water there. A mixture. Or. I mean. A mix. Um."

She felt her face burning. She hated in speaking in class. She hated the way she sounded. Though, when she looked up, no one was laughing or whispering. In fact, Mr. Tibbet was beaming. "Exactly!" he cried. "Misty is right, everyone," he said, his face practically glowing.

Misty felt her mood shift, "What a nerd," she thought, shaking her head and smiling. This class could always boost her mood, even if sometimes it was only a little.

"And what could affect the samples as we are assessing the results?"

"Sunlight," she heard someone say.

"And why is that?" Mr. Tibbet followed up, per usual. He wasn't one for one-word answers.

"Photosynthesis," someone else chimed in.

Misty smiled, feeling more relaxed. She thought about the water beneath the old bridge, about the fallen apart dam, about the special memories she held so close to her heart. Of Jenna. Of her Dad. And now, the place was home to something that still felt like she could have imagined it: The Hermit's History of Plumber's Falls.