The Ohso Project: The Recruit, Jeff Thomason [books for 5 year olds to read themselves txt] 📗

The Ohso Project
1: The Recruit
by Jeff Thomason

Drew had never been to the principal’s office before. He had always been a good kid—at least he considered himself such—and he tried to stay out of trouble. But here he was sitting on a bench in the office waiting for his mom.

His mom. She would have been at a cooking class teaching a dozen other ladies how to make an angel food cake—it was one of the more difficult recipes—and probably at the most delicate stage of the process when the phone call came so the cakes would be ruined when class had to be cut short. That, added to a meeting with the principal over her son’s disruptiveness in class, was not a formula for a good day. Or a good mood.

“Don’t worry about it. Your mom won’t be mad.”
His head jerked up. He looked for the source of the voice, but only saw one of the secretaries typing. Must have been my imagination, he thought. Hearing voices—that wouldn’t help things.

“Since this is your first offense, Principal Bish will most likely go easy on you.”

He looked up again and once again saw only the secretary who was still typing faster than he had ever seen any mere mortal type before. He was amazed the computer could keep up.
“Are you the one speaking to me,” he looked down at her nameplate, “Mrs. Lorraine?”

“I am,” she answered without missing a key.

“What if I get suspended? That’ll go on my permanent record, and I won’t be able to get into a good college. Then I won’t get a good job, and I’ll have to go on welfare and be ashamed at my ten year reunion.”

“I wouldn’t worry about any of that. I think your future is pretty bright. Brighter than even you can imagine.”

He sat there considering her words. Then something occurred to him, something he should have picked up on sooner. “How did you know what I was thinking? About my mom I mean?”
“I could see the worry on your face.”

“Oh.” He considered that. “But how did you know I was worried about my mom and not about being in trouble or what my dad would say when he found out?”

She looked up and smiled while still typing. “You are very perceptive, just as I suspected. Excellent! Excellent!”

Drew wanted to ask what that meant, but his mother walked in just then.

“Oh, Drew dear, I must say that phone call was quite a surprise. I figured if a child can make it to the eleventh grade without getting into trouble, he’ll probably make it thru graduation without a problem.”

Drew looked up at his mother unsure what to say. She saw the worry and disappointment in his eyes, sat down on the bench next to him, and put her arm around his shoulders. She lowered her head onto his.

“Mrs. Charles, the principal will see you now.”

*****

Principal Bish sat in an executive leather chair behind a mahogany desk too large for the room. Behind her hung dozens of certificates and awards with dates ranging over the last fifty years. Each was custom framed and freshly dusted.

“Ms. Charles, thank you for coming. I am very sorry for taking you away from your employment. I understand what an imposition it is. I wouldn’t have summoned you if the matter weren’t so serious.”

“It’s Mrs. Charles, and my children’s needs are more important than my day job.”

Bish peered doubtfully over her glasses. “Yes, well,” she opened a folder, “as I said, this is a very serious matter. During first period, your son defied a teacher in front of the entire class.”

Mrs. Charles put her hand over her mouth as the corners raised, held it there for a moment, then lowered it and cleared her throat. “Defied?”

“Defied! Ms. Rowe was instructing the class on the topic of genetics. She was explaining that most of the genetic material found in the human cell has no function and was therefore termed ‘junk DNA’. Your son,” she glared thru his spectacles at Drew, “had the gall to raise his hand—interrupting the lesson—and contradict her. In front of the entire class.”

Mrs. Charles turned to her son. “What did you say?”

He shifted in his chair. “I just explained that current studies have shown junk DNA does affect several cell processes and is not really junk but essential to correct cell function. Which only makes sense, because why would nature produce so much waste? It’s not consistent with other things we know and observe.”

“And how did your teacher respond.”

“She said that wasn’t in the book, and we were to stick to the approved curriculum.”

“There!” Bish poked a finger straight at him, “You heard it for yourself: a full confession.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but to me it sounds like my son was simply trying to correct inaccurate information.”

“Mrs. Charles, that book was written by a group of highly credentialed university professors and approved by the state board of education. I think they are a little better qualified to say what genetic material can and can’t do than a mere high school student.”

“Principal Bish, science is always changing. How old was the textbook the teacher was using?”

Bish sat up slowly, taking a deep breath as she moved. “Mrs. Charles, I did not call you down here to discuss the age of our textbooks. I called you down here, because your son displayed recalcitrant behavior by challenging a teacher’s authority in front of her subordinates. Respecting authority is paramount at this school.”

“Really? I thought educating our children with correct information was.”

Bish rubbed her forehead. “I see where your son gets his rebellious nature.”

“Miss Bish—”

“Principal Bish.”

“Miss Bish, it sounds like the wrong person is sitting in the principal’s office. Instead of harassing my son for trying to share a little knowledge he gained by learning outside of school—yes, some people actually take the initiative to read scientific journals and learn something on their own that isn’t required by the state—don’t you think you should be talking to Ms. Rowe about neglecting her duty by failing to stay up to date with the latest scientific findings and instead simply regurgitating the contents of a who-knows-how-old textbook to students who are capable of reading it themselves?” She stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have something productive to get back to. Come on, Drew.”
He stood up, and the two of them turned their backs on the fuming administrator and walked out the door. They took a few more steps before Mrs. Charles stopped and turned to look at her son. “Don’t let any of this bother you, dear.” She ruffled his hair. “You did nothing wrong. It was a misunderstanding, that’s all.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll see you at home.”

Drew felt a great relief as he watched his mother walk out of the office.

“It’ll be interesting to see how much effect the junk DNA actually has on genetics, inheritance, and cell function, won’t it?”
He turned and looked at the secretary. She was busy typing as usual and hadn’t looked up. “Yes it will be.” He opened his mouth to ask a question, but the bell cut him off. Time for lunch.

*****

“So, are you going to be expelled?” Blake, one of his best friends, asked picking up his hamburger and devouring half with one bite.

“No. My mom actually defended me. She wasn’t mad at all. At least not at me.”

“Really? She always seemed so passive; so timid. I can’t see her standing up to anyone.”

“Yeah,” Trevor, his other best friend, added. “I don’t think I’ve even seen her even disagree with anyone.”

“I haven’t either, unless you count salesman or a billing department as people, then I’ve seen her go after them like a tiger.”

“Really? Your mom? Are you sure you aren’t confusing her with a twin sister?”

“Parents can surprise you.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Speaking of surprise,” Drew dipped a fry into a pool of fry sauce, liberally coated it, then popped it in his mouth, “have you ever talked to the secretary in the office?”

“Which one?”

“Mrs. Lorraine. She seems to know things. Like, smart things.”

“Like how to type a letter or format a memo? That’s part of the job description.”

“No, like intellectual things. Latest scientific discovery type things. She knew all about how junk DNA is a contributing factor in biological functions, including the transcriptional and translational regulation of protein-coding sequences.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “And I think she can read minds.”
Blake took another bite of his hamburger. “Isn’t that another job requirement? That and being able to interpret chicken scratches?”

“I’m being serious. I think she can actually tell what other people are thinking.”

“Why are you so interested in the secretary? Do you think she’s hot or something?”

Trevor nearly laughed a mouthful of milk all over his tray. “Drew buddy, she’s ancient. She has to be at least 30. Try looking for someone a little younger.”

“It’s not like that. It’s … well … I always thought someone became a secretary, because she couldn’t do anything else. But now I’m not so sure. What if….” He stirred his mixed vegetable.
“Who cares?” Blake finished his hamburger and licked his fingers. “So what do you think will happen on Visitors tonight? Now that the granddaughter and the former queen are finally teaming up, the current queen is about to be in some very hot water.”
“I know. I can’t wait! But there are still five episodes left, and you know they’re going to drag the story out a few more weeks before the serious fighting begins.”

“Yeah, that’s one thing I liked better about the original miniseries. The plot was a lot tighter and the story didn’t lose its momentum.” Trevor noticed Drew was still stirring his vegetables. “Drew? Earth to Drew, are you all right? We’ve been discussing Visitors for more than five seconds, and you haven’t said a word. You haven’t been abducted by them, have you? They don’t have you mesmerized by their rapture do they?”

“Huh? Oh, no. I was just thinking.”

“Drew, she’s still over 30 and still too old for you.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny. Hey, Visitors is on tonight. Now that the granddaughter and the old queen have joined forces against the current queen, do you think—”

“Are you Drew Charles?”

He looked up to see an office aid standing over him with a handful of notes. “Yeeees.”

He handed one of the notes to Drew, “School counselor wants to see you,” then walked away.

Blake put his hand on Drew’s shoulder. “Well, it’s been nice knowing you. But don’t worry—you can always get your GED. I hear there are one or two community colleges that’ll still let you in with one.”

*****

Drew had never been called to the school counselor’s office before. Ok, there was that one time when he had to update his father’s work number, but that only required speaking with the secretary. He wasn’t sure if he had actually seen a counselor in person. He wasn’t even sure which one he was