The Secret Mind of Trevor Curtis

Blaine stretched to reach his arm up higher than anyone else’s.  Ms. Almeida called on him.

“The principle strategy the Allies used in the hope of preventing another world war was to outline a treaty for all the Allied powers to abide by.  This was executed at a series of meetings around Paris over the period of a year, and was called The Treaty of Versailles,” he explained with an arrogant air.  Craig yawned loud deliberately.  Trevor giggled.

“Very good, Mr........?”

“Tyler,” Blaine filled in proudly.

“Tyler,” she repeated.  “Thank you.  Okay, can someone else tell the class some of the specifics of that Treaty?”  Ms. Almeida sauntered to her right all the way to the windows and began walking up along side of the rows searching for students she hadn’t been able to see before.  Trevor wracked his brain uselessly to come up with some Treaty of Versailles facts.  He tried to edge behind Dmitri’s broad back, but Ms. Almeida had come too far back to hide from her, so he pretended he was contemplating the Treaty with appreciation, eyes turned upward and stroking his chin.

“You there in the back, with the brown shirt.”  Brown shirt?!  Brown shirt?!  I think she means me! Trevor realized with horror as he looked down and confirmed the fact.  When he looked back up she was pointing unmistakably at him.  Everyone twisted around to see.  Sweat dampened his armpits and moistened his forehead.  His rash pricked.  He grabbed his forearm and squeezed like it was a life-saving ring.

“Uh...” he stalled for time.   Twenty-eight faces turned toward him.  His heart pounded.  His thoughts raced but went nowhere, like tires spinning in the mud.  Ms. Almeida smiled expectantly.  God, he thought, she doesn’t realize how dumb I am. “Well...”

And then it happened.  The whirring cyclonic energy hit his torso and spun upward, bringing him to a vital alertness. “Yes, Ms. Almeida,” he began as his posture became erect and his head lifted high.  “The main driving goals of the Treaty of Versailles revolved around the limiting and/or disarming of German military forces, the reinstatement of the lands it conquered to previous states of independence, and Germany’s acceptance of guilt in the cause of a world war - a vital factor in preventing future repetition, don’t you think?”  Ms. Almeida nodded, her face glowing.  “These goals were generally agreed upon and did not meet resistance by the five dominating powers at the conference.  Other goals caused more controversy.  The U.S. did not have the same perspective as the hard-hit European countries, and Wilson himself...”

As Trevor spoke, students’ jaws dropped one by one.  Trevor didn’t notice because he was consumed by his own unclouded perception of the historical events he was disclosing, unknown to himself just seconds earlier.  They were fascinating really in their complexity, in their relativity, in their humanness, he felt.  He could have gone on, and had a burning desire to discuss them in more detail with Ms. Almeida, but realized he had answered the question thoroughly and stopped himself.

The classroom hadn’t been that quiet since Jason Howard had accidentally let slip the “f” word.  Twenty-seven pairs of eyes were riveted on Trevor.  Craig had an uncertain frozen smile on his mouth.  Blaine had retrieved his hanging jaw and was now fuming with indignation.  Brie Wilson stared searchingly as if she was seeing Trevor for the first time.

Ms. Almeida smiled delightedly.  “Thank you!  Very thorough understanding of the material, Mr. ......?”

“Uh, Curtis.”

“Mr. Curtis, I see you have a passion for history.”  She hung there for a moment and allowed her smile to continue her praise of Trevor, who at that moment felt the powerful knowledge-bearing force exit.  Among low questioning murmurs, she turned and walked slowly toward the front again, and asked another question.

Trevor grasped his desk corners.  He cast a stunned look at Craig, who looked not so much stunned as happy.  He hooked a thumb-up at Trevor.  Trevor, however, felt as hot and conspicuous as a bare light bulb, as students turned occasional questioning looks back at him. A bubble of exhilaration was fighting to surface from the nice compliment Ms. Almeida paid him, but was quickly squelched by fear.  His performance was so out of character, he didn’t know what to do, how to act.  Blaine turned around again and shot