Examination Day

I wrote a blog post on my other blog, Thoughts of a Limemonkey, about 9-11 a year ago. A friend of mine read it and told me it was the best thing I'd ever written. So I decided to adapt my personal essay into fiction. I never got past this, the first draft, because I just wasn't "feeling" it. Here it is warts and all (typos too I imagine):

Tuesday, the eleventh day of September began just like the day before. Early morning was beginning to give way to mid-morning. Strong, healthy beams of sunshine streamed through the mini-blinds and zebra stripped the cold gray carpet of Nichole Patterson’s room. There were piles of open text books along the edge of her bed. The dog eared pages wafting gently as air silently circulated through the room. A small trail of clean carpet meandered its way from the foot of her bed towards a squat nightstand. The nightstand was strategically placed on the other side of the room, as far from the bed as walls would allow. Sitting on top, next to a photograph of her grandmother (long deceased) was a cheap, plastic alarm clock radio. Glowing a fierce red in the gloomy room, the clock displayed the current time—9:44.

Nichole stirred on the bed. She remained in that delicate state between sleep and consciousness. She’d had a long, rough night. The books on her bed, and the small piles of candy wrappers and empty soda cans were all that remained of a midnight study session. Behind her poster covered door the sounds of light feet could be heard stomping up and down stairs. Nichole was a young girl, only nineteen. She looked much older, however. Her young face was already beginning to crease—on her forehead and at her temples. These were her “worry lines” (as her mother called them). In reality, they were training wrinkles. A badge of her growing maturity and initiation into adulthood. Nichole stiffened, somewhere deep inside she knew what was about to happen.

There was a slight crack, then a burst of blaring static. Over on her nightstand the clock radio hissed. The angry red eyes read 9:45…it was time for her to wake up. Her eyes fluttered open and she groaned. Turning slightly, she knocked several books off her bed. They tumbled into a mound soda cans. Rubbing her dark eyes, she lay in bed and listened to the radio. She had it set to 106.5 Praise Radio. Nichole found the fiery sermons and sobbing testimonials were a great motivator to get out of bed (and silence her alarm). Today she was especially not in the mood and made a slow, but determined, crawl over to the nightstand. It wasn’t until she’d reached the middle of her small room that she noticed the tone of today’s program was different. The voices were the same, the Honorable Reverends So-And-So…but for some reason they were much more subdued.

“…word is only just now reaching us about the events taking place in New York…”

That stopped Nichole in her tracks, 106.5 wasn’t known for it’s coverage of news. Even breaking news. Another voice, stiff and slow, as though it were reading from a script, crept through the clock radio.

“Apparently there has been a major accident in New York; a passenger plane has accidentally crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center moments ago…”

Her hand snapped out like an angry snake and slapped the top of the alarm. Instantly the voices and the static vanished. Though she was tired, the first thing Nichole thought of was CNN. A news junkie since she was a small child, Nichole rushed out of her room and down the stairs toward the living room. There the family television quietly slumbered.

“Mom! Mom!” She cried out as he ran to the TV. “There’s something happening in New York!”

“What?” A quiet voice called out from somewhere far off in the house.

Grabbing the remote, Nichole sat down and pressed the power button. The screen winked to life, and there was Grover the blue monster singing about the alphabet. Nichole surfed her way up the dial. All the local channels and all the cable news stations were showing the same thing. A thousand miles away from Nichole’s quiet Midwestern living room there had been a monumental plane crash. Two nearly identical towers of steel and glass jutted out of the New York skyline. The first thing that struck Nichole was how blue the sky looked against the pluming gray smoke. The tower on the right, apparently the North Tower, was leaking smoke.

“Oh my gawd…Mom come quick!”

Genie Patterson shuffled from the kitchen to the living room, a steaming cup of coffee glued to her right hand. The billowing clouds of steam eerily mirrored the smoke on TV.

“What’s wrong Nicky?”

Nichole pointed at the screen, “I heard on the radio that a plane hit the World Trade Center…”
Genie’s placid face wrenched as she saw the image of the burning sky scrapper.

“Oh my God…”

“I know,” Nichole said. “I knew it was a big deal because they were talking about it on that religious station I use to get me out of bed.”

Mrs. Patterson shook her head slowly and absentmindedly took a seat on the couch next to her daughter. The two made a comical pair, the slack jawed college student next to the bouncing hair curlers and freshly painted lipstick. Though the volume was turned low, both women could hear a grim reporter provide a running commentary as more smoke billowed out of the building.
“Isn’t that just awful? Oh, those poor people,” Genie said. “That is exactly why I hate flying.”
Nichole gave her mother a sideways glance, then rolled her eyes and returned to watching the television. Both were so transfixed that neither noticed Todd come stomping into the room.

“Mamma, no more Cheerios!” he sang out happily. Genie looked over and saw that he was holding his empty bowl over his small head.

“That’s great champ! Just like daddy. Why don’t you go upstairs and start taking off your clothes? I’ll be up in a sec.”

The little boy grinned and started stripping right then and there.

“No, no, Todd…mommy said upstairs. Go up to your room.”
Todd grinned impishly and hopped up the stairs, the entire time he continued to strip. By the time he turned the corner at the top he was naked.

“What a horrible day this is going to be,” Nichole said to herself.

Genie patted her on the hand, “Don’t be such a pessimist little girl. You’re going to do fine…you studied hard right?”

“All last night…”

“Then you’re going to be fine. And this…” Genie nodded at the TV. “that isn’t for people like you and me to worry about.”

“I know Mom, you’re right.”

Her mother stood up, “You’re just like your father—you have too big a heart. You can’t fall to pieces every time something bad happens somewhere.”

“I know, it’s just so horrible.”

Genie looked back at the television, “Yeah kiddo…I know…it really is.”

Nichole watched as her mother wiped the corners of her eyes. And not for the first time, she pretended not to notice her mother crying.

“Listen it’s after ten, I need to get Todd dressed so he won’t be late for school…”

Before Nichole could respond both of them were distracted by the nearly muted shouts coming from the television. Instinctively, Nichole turned up the volume and leaned forward. There was a dull roar and a second plane suddenly materialized into the narrow image of the World Trade Center. The off screen reporter groaned and off in the distance people screamed as plane struck a building in New York for the second time that day.

It was unreal, like watching an incredibly high-tech special effect. A large fireball erupted where the plane vanished inside the other tower. Sparkling fragments began sprinkling the ground below. After a few seconds the scene returned to the way it was before the second plane had appeared. Except now both towers, on either sides of the screen, were identical again. The twin plumes of smoke floated high over the city, merging into one giant, voluminous cloud of death.
Nichole’s mother had dropped her coffee cup, both of her hands were clutched over her mouth. Neither could believe what they had just seen.

“Jesus Christ…” Genie choked out. “that was no accident…someone is doing this…on purpose.”

Nichole couldn’t say a word.

Todd suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, he was clapping and looked as if he was about to join them down in front of the television.

As soon as she noticed this, Genie roared up at him, “Honey go back to your room…now! Don’t come down here!”

Confused and scared, the little boy ran off crying to his room. Nichole and her mother watched him leave then turned their attention back to the television screen. They were replaying the crash. Over and over again they saw the plane appear then disappear into the South Tower of the World Trade Center.

**********************************************************************************

Nichole sat hunched and staring, old tears quickly being replaced by new ones down the sides of her cheeks. Her mother was upstairs with Todd, trying to get him ready for kindergarten which started in about an hour. Despite the sickness welling up inside her stomach, Nichole found that she couldn’t look away. They’d replayed the second plane crash twenty or thirty times. Each time felt like a knife in her gut.

She had the volume turned all the way back down now. The voices of the talking-heads weren’t saying anything new—they were only recapping now. Over and over again they gave the timeline for the morning’s tragedy for “those of you just tuning in.”

What a depressing job that must be, Nichole suddenly thought. Forced to repeat yourself a thousand times an hour…

The picture suddenly flashed away from New York to Washington. Clutching the remote, Nichole crept the volume back up to an audible level.

“Mom! Mom come quick! It’s happened again!!!”

Her mother came running from her brother’s room. She stood at the top of the stairs holding one of Todd’s tiny little sneakers.

“Again?” she cried. “Where did it happen this time?”

“In Washington…at the Pentagon,” Nichole parroted the reporter on television.
Genie Patterson slowly made her way down the stairs, never once taking her eyes off the television screen.

“I still don’t believe this…”

Neither did Nichole. About fifteen minutes ago the President had said that the country was under an “apparent terrorist attack.” What did that mean? Would things be crashing and blowing up all day? Who were these terrorists?

“Bad, bad people,” Genie muttered as she sat down next to her daughter. “Horrible, terrible people…”

“I think I’m going to go and take a shower…” Nichole said getting up.

Her mother waved her off, “Okay, just don’t take all the hot water.”

The screen clicked back to New York where dozens of firefighters could be seen heading towards the smoking buildings.

“Are they trying to get those poor people out?” Genie asked.

Nichole stopped, “Yeah…they’ve been trying to evacuate for a while now.”

“Where is the army?”

“I dunno,” Nichole shrugged.

“Seems like something they should be doing…all of this…just seems too big for regular firefighters.”

Nichole nodded, “Yeah, well like you say, ya do what ya have to do.”

Her mother looked at her and grinned.

“Yeah, I do say that don’t I?”

“Oh my…”

Genie looked back over at the TV screen.

“It’s collapsing!”

The tower on the left hand side of the screen fell on top of it’s self. No, that wasn’t right…it fell into itself.

“Oh my god! All those people!” Genie screamed, quickly covering her mouth again with both hands. This time she didn’t try to hide her tears. She closed her eyes.

“The firefighters…” Nichole said, shaking her head.

Genie Patterson regained some of her composure.

“How many of them are down there?” she asked her oldest child.

“I think all of them.”

Genie grimaced, “You know…I think that’s the worst thing I’ve seen or heard all day.” That would have sounded hollow to Nichole on any other day.

“Have you tired getting in touch with dad?”

“Yeah, his phone is busy.”

Nichole went over and hugged her mother, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Behind them on the television the South Tower rose and fell over and over. Upstairs in his bedroom Todd wailed for his mother.

“We need to get out of here…all of us. It’s getting late.”

“You’re still going to work?” Nichole asked.

Genie nodded, “Yeah, of course. No choice Nicky. You do too.”

“My test!” Nichole suddenly remembered. Her American History class suddenly seemed very far away. Remote even, like it was on another planet—a lifetime ago.

“I don’t think they’re going to cancel it just because of…of what’s happened.”

Nichole nodded, “You’re right Mom…”

“Go on, go and take a shower. You don’t want to miss your first college test.”

“You’re right, will you and Todd still be here when I get out?”

Her mother wiped her cheeks, “No darling, probably not.”

“Be careful,” Nichole whispered.

“You too.”

**********************************************************************************

The ride from her house to the community college was long and silent. It was mid-day now, and the roads were devoid of other cars. Nichole had tried to take her mind off of what she’d seen on TV. She thought the radio would help—but none of the stations were playing music. They were all broadcasting the same basic news coverage of what was now being called “the terror attacks.” The President was scheduled to give a speech later this afternoon…the FAA had grounded all air traffic until further notice…another plane had crashed, this time in Pennsylvania…

It was all too much. How could she think about an American History exam at a time like this? Continental Congress. Battle of Bunker Hill. Red Coats and Tories. New Amsterdam became…New York. That was the old capital wasn’t it? New York. Nichole had never been there, it seemed so large and dangerous. So romantic and distant. There was supposed to be a lot of crime there. She wondered what the criminals were doing there right now. Were they burning and looting? Maybe they were all at home, hypnotized by the TV as she and her mother had been.

She wished there hadn’t been a test today—she would have skipped for sure. Then again, she didn’t really feel like just sitting at home, staring at the TV. Watching the horrors replay themselves out, over and over. What was her Professor, Dr. Wolf, doing right now? Maybe he was somewhere, glued to a TV set…maybe he was wishing there wasn’t a test today too. That was just wishful thinking. Dr. Wolf was a short, balding man. He took his job (and as far as Nichole could tell, everything else) way too seriously. She doubted he would cancel a test for anything short of nuclear war.

Nuclear war.

Was that next? Would the U.S. launch an attack like that on somebody today? Nuclear war, before dinnertime tonight, no longer seemed far fetched. By the time she reached Middleton Community College, Nichole was convinced that the world was on the brink of apocalypse.
She parked her battered, red Ford sedan near the edge of the lot. Grabbing her book bag, she got out of her car. It was a beautiful summer day. The sky was a deep, dark blue. Nichole leaned against her car and stared up into the azure abyss. There were no planes flying overhead, but there were birds. Happily flying back and forth, chirping as though everything were right in the world.

Nichole thought about some of the bloody battles she’d studied so far this semester. How many birds sang cheerful songs over the corpses of soldiers? History was filled with many horrible events. How many did the animals and birds ever notice?

Not many.

Calling her thoughts back to the ground, Nichole left the sky to the birds and headed towards her classroom.

**********************************************************************************

Everyone was somber and quiet in room 213. Nichole couldn’t tell if it was because of the “terror attacks” or the impending test. Maybe it was both. She took her usual seat in the exact middle of the classroom. Behind her, a pair of young men were whispering excitedly. Every now and then she’d catch a word or two…

“…New York…”

“…air planes…”

“…fucking Arabs…”

Their whispering became louder and louder, it spread through the classroom like a wildfire. It wasn’t long before Nichole was an island in a sea of shouting, gossipy undergraduates. The conversations ran the gambit of human reaction. Some of the conversations were thoughtful, intelligent discussions. Others, like the one going on directly behind her—were ignorant and racist. A pair of preppy looking (for a community college) girls were complaining about how they were missing all their favorite TV shows because of the coverage.

“I hope FOX gets done covering that thing soon…if I miss Ally McBeal tonight I’m going to f-r-e-a-k…”

Nichole, still stunned by the morning’s events, was now further shocked by her peers. She had expected the class to be quiet and somber…not jovial and complaining. The door at the front of the classroom opened, and Dr. Wolf entered. His usual scowl replaced with a delicate grimace.

The normal cold eyes were blue and watery.

“Hello class,” he said weakly. Nichole thought he sounded as though he were going to breakdown. All the other students must have thought the same thing; everyone immediately looked down at his or her desk. “I know some really bad things have been happening today...it’s really actually quiet frightening…”

Dr. Wolf looked up and blinked furiously a few times before continuing, “I understand if some of you—all of you, don’t want to take this test today. Believe me, I don’t want to be here today either. But, we are here…so I strongly urge you to take this exam now, while this material is still fresh in your minds.”

Nichole expected someone, maybe one of the angry, racist boys behind her to jump up and leave the class. She looked toward the television loving blondes at the front of the room. No one moved a muscle.

“Alright then…if we’re going to do this, let’s get started.” Dr. Wolf handed out a huge stack of answer sheets, the kind will all those little bubbles. Nichole hated those damn bubbles. Next, he passed out a thick test packet. Several people near the front groaned upon feeling the exams heft. Nichole took one from one of the piles making its way across the room, and then passed the others to the boys sitting behind her.

“Uh-ho…shit man…you study for this bitch?” One of the boys whispered as he passed the tests to his friend.

The other boy shook his head, “Nah dog, I was at this kick ass party on last night…fuck all that studying bullshit…”

Dr. Wolf reminded everyone that this was a test and that from now on there would be no more talking. Nichole looked down at her test and began filling in those damn bubbles. She sensed that something was wrong with Dr. Wolf. She looked up and saw him eyeing the clock hanging over his desk. He was nervously rubbing his hands together.

“Listen, class…I’m going to periodically leave and go down the hall to the teacher’s lounge. There’s a TV in there and I want to keep up with what’s going on…I’m going to check back in on you guys every so often so no funny business.” Then he turned and walked out the door. Nichole was shocked. Dr. Wolf was a very strict, no non-sense teacher. She never in a million years would have expected him to just get up and leave them all alone during a test.

“One more thing...” Dr. Wolf said sticking his head back into the room. “There’s an envelope on my desk, when you finish put your answer sheet and test packet inside. Thanks!” And once again he left them.

Once it was obvious that he wasn’t coming back, the class erupted into a mild frenzy. People were quietly laughing; others were asking each other for help on the exam. One of the racist boys sitting behind Nichole decided to take charge of the group.

“Alright now, what’s the answer for number six?” he asked, leaning over his desk.

A couple of guys to the left of Nichole started swapping answers with the boy in the back. Nichole suddenly became enraged. She turned and looked at the cheater in the back. He was your typical gang-banger wannabe. His baggy clothes and cheap jewelry made him look even like a clown. A caricature created by MTV. Nichole recognized his kind; she’d met others like him before. He was the sort who didn’t study and acted dumber than he really was because he thought it made him look cool. Like he was some sort of rebel because he pretended like nothing mattered. Nichole had thought this breed would be weeded out by the time she reached college…after all it made no sense for them to be there. College was a choice after all, not an obligation.

The guy was a joke.

“Will you shut up!” Nichole hissed.

The back room cheater looked at her with mild surprise, “Huh? What’s your problem?”

“My problem is that you are cheating! Now be quiet, I’m trying to take my exam.” The boy looked like he had more to say, but before he could Dr. Wolf reentered the classroom. He waited around for a few minutes then left again for the teachers lounge. The rampant cheating resumed. This time Nichole said nothing. Forty minutes later, she was done with her test. Hands shaking, she thrust her test and answer sheet into the thick vanilla colored envelope and left.

**********************************************************************************

A few hours later, Nichole was at home sitting with her parents at dinner. Her father, Lloyd Paterson sat and regaled the family about his 9-11 experience. Nichole sat silently and listened to her father talk about how he’d watched the aftermath of the plane crashes on a television set his boss set up in the break room. Everyone had pretty much stopped working and watched the news coverage for about half the day. Mr. Paterson’s employer had even let some of them go home early. Nichole thought that was really nice.

Her mother talked about her similar experiences. The entire time, Todd sang happily the alphabet song and flung his spaghetti like a rubbery lasso. When it was Nichole’s turn to speak, she didn’t know what to say.

“How was that big college test today?” her father asked. He gave her a playful punch on the shoulder and waited for her to talk.

“It was…terrible…really it was probably the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life…”

Her father furrowed his brow, “Geez…I thought you studied a bunch last night.”

“Yeah, I thought you told me it was going to be a slam dunk,” her mother chimed in. Both her parents were staring at her now, even Todd stopped playing with his food and watched her.
When she still didn’t say anything he father became angry, “What did your teacher flunk the whole class, what? What happened?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “No…but he should have. Something terrible happened today, and instead of being shocked and appalled—people were laughing,” her voice was a faint tremble now. “Some of the kids, they even used what happened today to cheat on an exam…” There were no tears now, she’d cried all that she was going to cry today. Instead, a quiet anger crept into her voice. And shame, there was shame in it as well. “We were tested today,” she said. “And we failed…all of us.”