Devonne Brown

“God almighty, Mr. Cooper’s room smells like disinfected death again. We’re either dissecting fetal pigs or cats,” said Beth.

“My money’s on frogs,” said Tim, he paused, “Remember when Jasmine had that meltdown the time he surprised us with the cats?”

Beth laughed. “I remember that day. The whole class was shocked. I wasn’t pleased, but thought it was fascinating. I didn’t think Stan needed to go dancing around the room with the brain though. It was kinda gross. I don’t think Coop will do cats again.”

“Mrs. Belcher has some sort of experiment for us too. Smell the alcohol? God, I hate Chemistry. That’s my worst class. I’d have straight A’s if it weren’t for that cow,” Beth said. She glanced into the chemistry room and saw Mrs. Belcher squirting some kind of blue liquid into test tubes with syringes. Tim gagged. The smell of decay, disinfectant, and alcohol got to him. 

“Don’t breathe, Honey, we’re ten feet away from the stairwell.” It had a funk as bad as the gym did without the sweat, a pungent smell that never went away. The custodians must be required to use a soured mop every evening after school that the dirty shoes of the kids only enhanced during the day. 

The hallways were always buffed to a high gloss and smelled of wax, but the bathrooms were a way different story. Tim reported that all the boys’ restrooms stunk of urine and shit stained the walls every day by noon, so he held it until he either got home or to Beth’s house after school. Beth said the girls’ bathroom was better. Somebody brought some kind of air freshener and kept it sprayed in there all the time. One of teachers on duty or a custodian took care of it, at least on the second floor near Mrs. Wheeler’s class. It didn’t get sprayed at the other end of the hall though, so it wasn’t nearly as pleasant. But girls were neater, and the air was close, stale, and smelled of blood and urine. All of the bathrooms smelled like cigarettes, more often than not the odor of pot mingled with everything else in there as well. Some high school kids had a different connotation to their name.

“I love going to Hammat’s Drama class. He burns incense and makes his room feel like a sacred space. I wish the whole school felt like that,” said Tim.

“It should,” said Beth. “It really should.”