Price of a Child Assignment

Christina Bonvicin
The Price of Freedom

The seconds on the clock ticked by slowly. Very, very slowly. The classroom was silent, every student engaged in their own thoughts. One girl had her iPod in her ears, eyes closed as the bell rang. As if on cue Demi Gimondi got up, picked up her messenger bag and walked out of the room without a glance back at the rest of her classmates. She couldn’t, honestly, care less about them than what she already did. They were nothing to her. Besides she had more important matters to attend to than to bother with preppy girls and guys in her new boarding school. She weaved her way across Waverton’s campus, the winter chill hardly bothering her like it would most of the other girls in Waverton Academy.

She got to her English Lit class practically on time. Practically being the key word. She prayed the professor didn’t see her as she walked into class two minutes late. Professor Elizabeth Richards was a stickler when it came to being on time to class. Demi walked into the classroom slowly, glad to see that Professor Richards’ back was to her students, writing on the board.

“Ah, Miss Gimondi, so glad you could join our class today.” Demi cringed, watching as the old bat turned around to glare at her. “I believe this is the tenth time you are late this semester.”

“Actually, I believe it is only the eighth time this semester, Professor Richards.” Demi couldn’t help her flip response. It came natural to her, just as breathing did. The professor’s glare became more pronounced in her face, the wrinkles deepening to show her true age.

“Take out your books,” the professor barked. Everyone in the class jumped to attention and moved hurriedly to take out their Price of a Child books. Demi took her sweet time, setting her bag down lightly on the floor near her feet before bending to get the book out of her bag. By the time Demi straightened up the class had already begun a discussion about chapter six. Luckily Professor Richards didn’t seem to notice, or, honestly, didn’t care.

In truth Demi liked the book. She had already read the whole thing and needed to backtrack to stay with her class. She found the characters somewhat interesting, but the plot was bland. She did rather like the ending. A bittersweet ending was the best ending in her eyes. She hated the overly romantic and happily-ever-afters. Bittersweet endings were right up Demi’s literature alley.

Demi was brought out of her reverie, hearing the old bat’s voice right next to her. Demi looked at her professor before opening the book to the chapter they were currently discussing.

“Miss Jefferson,” the professor said, calling on the girl to Demi’s left side, “your thoughts on the chapter?”

Jaelyn started off into a lengthy ramble about the chapter, covering everything from the discussion of Mercer’s family’s well being, to the ‘love’ scene in the bedroom, and all the way to when Mercer and Zilpha went back to Zilpha’s house in West Chester. Demi drifted in and out of the long monologue, thinking about what could possibly happen to Mercer and her kids. Tyree had given her money and names to help her find Benny, they were taking the steamer to New York and then who knows where. But what would happen to them then? Their lives weren’t set in stone. That was probably what Lorene Cary wanted, for people to take the ending and use their imagination and run with what little basis she gave.

Demi liked when book endings weren’t set in stone. If she didn’t like the ending, she could always rewrite her own in her head, which she loved to do to most of the books she read over the years.

“Miss Gimondi,” came a voice from far away and Demi shook her head to clear her thoughts, looking at her professor with a mildly interested look on her face. “Would you care to share your thoughts on the chapter?” The professor’s voice left no room for argument: Demi would have to say her opinions on the chapter even if she really didn’t want to. Demi blinked and then pursed her lips together, before taking deep breath.

“Well, for one, I love how the family treats Blanche. They don’t like her, her own husband doesn’t like her, except for sex.” The room was silent after this, the students horrified that she dare say that dreadful term. “Tyree treats Blanche like a two-year-old when it comes to correcting her behavior and how she acts with the family, yet wants to take her like a horny seventeen year old when the mood strikes.” Demi rolled her eyes at her preppy classmates gasped at her audacity. Professor Richards didn’t look so taken aback. “Second I really can’t stand Tyree. At all. He raped his wife. She maybe have submitted, but it doesn’t mean that she consented. Tyree raped her without remorse. Before that he cheated on her with Mercer. It may have been a simple kiss but he still cheated.”

She paused, taking a needed breath of air before plunging on. “The only part that I liked was when Zilpha shot whoever was looting through her garden at her house. At least that part was the smallest bit believable. Everything else was just really bad in tune with the story, a lot of information that wasn’t necessarily needed or wanted. I personally got bored reading all the information and was glad when the chapter was over.” And on that note, Demi closed her book and stared up at Professor Richards, practically daring the old bat to say anything to her.

Professor Richards blinked, before turning away from her student and continuing with her lecture about the chapter. Demi smiled to herself, knowing that the old bat’s plans were ruined. Professor Richards was hoping that by catching Demi in her own thoughts, the old bat thinking that Demi didn’t even read the chapter like she was supposed to, that Demi wouldn’t have been able to give a satisfying response to her question. ‘Well, it didn’t work,’ Demi thought to herself, a smile still on her face as Professor Richards assigned the class to read chapters seven and eight.

“Just because I’m late all the time,” Demi mumbled to herself, grabbing her bag off the floor as the bell rang, “doesn’t mean that I don’t care about my class or my grades, thank you very much.” And with her simple sentence Demi Gimondi was gone to her advanced statistics class, once again not bothering to wait around for any of her classmates. She had her freedom, she didn’t need to wait for any body. Just like Mercer.