Secrets, Lies and Dragonflies

Chapter 15

Staring back at Mr. Jordan's crazy idea of an exam, I decide to ignore the rumors about his scary reputation. If anything, he gets points for creativity.  Tests like these couldn't possibly come from a teacher who aspires to fail kids.

It's been quite some time since I last played with one of these fortune teller games. I was twelve the year everyone insisted on constantly making them. While they were mostly used to find out which sixth grader liked who, mine consisted of questions about rating people's favorite TV shows and books. 

As I recall, the puppet master would ask someone to choose one of the four words on the face of the paper puppet, then spell it out while moving the mouth. When I slowly lift up my hand to ask Mr. Jordan if I should find a partner to play with, he's already peering over the rim of his spectacles, shaking his head.

Appears I'm on my own. I first pick one of the names, then move the puppet's mouth for each letter. I spell J – o – h – n. When I stop with the mouth opened, more extravagant stenciling is revealed. Random numbers on each side are woven into a tapestry of swirls and various shapes.

Next step is to pick one of the numbers, then move the mouth for the total count. When I stop, I pick another number and repeat. Last step is to pick a number once more, but instead of moving the mouth, the player finds out what's written on the underside of the number.

Ashley and a few others have already pulled the flap from their paper puppet faces, which kind of resembles a tongue sticking out.

Carefully I lift the panel sharing the numbers nineteen and three. Under nineteen, an inscription reads, One of the smallest members of the body, it is equivalent to the power of this. The number three side reads, The wise who turn many into innocents will become this. Great.  Riddles. I'm terrible at riddles. Multiple choice would be nice right about now. I have no idea what this means nor how it relates to this Art History class.

Mr. Jordan finally breaks his silence. "Pardon my interruption. Now, you will note at the top of your desks are sharpened pencils."

This class just keeps getting weirder because that pencil nor the ruler next to it were on my desk just a second ago.

"If you're prepared to begin the written part of your exam, please do so by unfolding your document in its entirety."

Prepared? That would be a big fat no. Even still, as if opening a meticulously wrapped gift, I slowly reveal the intricate drawing hiding within the fortune teller test.

Turns out, the insides of the puppet are actually a giant map of sorts.

Mr. Jordan continues, "The answer to your questions are symbols embedded within your unique illustration. Simply fill in the small circle encompassing the item you believe is the answer. Once you have selected answers to two questions sharing the same corner, connect their dots. When you are completely finished with the whole test, you should find the answers to the two questions located at the top left, northwest corner of your paper connected. This would form straight line number one. As such, the two questions in the top right, or northeast corner should also have their corresponding answers connected. Since there are a total of eight questions, the number of straight lines should be—"

"—four," someone says, interrupting Mr. Jordan. "Four straight lines. Right?"

"Now don't be such a showoff, Cous. You're making the rest of us look bad," says Christina Phillips, smiling at the person behind me.

"That is correct, Courtnee. You should have four lines formed," Mr. Jordan says.

With strikingly blue eyes, like bottom of the ocean blue, Courtnee scowls at Christina.

Mr. Jordan continues, "Again, you are expected to work independently. No further assistance will be available. When you have finished, please place your pencil on your desk and I will retrieve your items."

The closer I examine the map, the more I realize this is no foreign land. The highway. The Supernova. The trails. I'm on these paths every day. The mountain range with all of its open, bald rock formations. Even my waterfall is on here. And like in one of those I Spy books, oddly placed items are embedded in the map with circles surrounding each of them. A pitchfork is in the flow of the waterfall. Same with a star. There's a very tiny grandfather clock tucked behind a tree. Stacks of gold coins, a teacup, a sun, a banana, a headstone, folded hands, a fire pit, a door, a footstool, a pile of stones, a giant eye and a few other random things are scattered about.

Eight riddles and a ton of options. This isn't going to be pretty. Here goes nothing.

Tackling the northeast corner of the map, I start with my first riddle. One of the smallest members of the body, it is equivalent to the power of this. Arbitrarily choosing the stack of gold coins, I color in the circle. The riddle next to this one is, The wise who turn many into innocents will become this, keeps me clueless. I guess and bubble in the giant eye. Then, like Mr. Jordan directed, I connect these two dots. I spin the paper to the next corner. This one is no better. It is best to guide a celebrity, not the janitor, toward this. I make my choice. Next question. He can change this along with seasons. Seasons, like salt? Seasons like summer, winter, spring? I go with a grandfather clock. I finish answering the last four questions and connect the dots. Gazing at the four erratic lines, it's obvious this is an absolute disaster.

As soon as I place my pencil on my desktop, Mr. Jordan is suddenly hovering over me.

"Finished?" he asks.

"Yes, sir," I say softly, so not to disturb the other students. As he reviews my marked up map, again with the raising of an eyebrow, my gut wrenches. Never do I bomb tests like this. I want to assure him I'm a hardworking student, but I couldn't possibly fess up that I have zero memory of his class prior to now. That probably wouldn't win me any extra credit points.

"Beep- beep- beep-"

The loud alarm startles me. Must be a fire drill. Strange. Mr. Jordan isn't telling us to line up. Maybe it's a false alarm.

"Beep- beep- beep-," it continues on.

Why aren't the others concerned? Mr. Jordan is by Ashley's desk reviewing her map. Some of the seats are empty. In fact, half the students are gone—like disappeared gone. How could that be? There's no way I missed that many people walking out. Elizabeth, Christina, Courtnee and a few others are still here. But redheaded Ashley and the girl that was sitting to my left—vanished.

The beeping grows louder and louder.