Chapter 58: A Million Ways to “Why”
“Pssst” Tommy whispered to me on our way out of the cafeteria after breakfast. “Clark.”

I snapped out of my haze and pivoted sideways as much as I could look at Tommy while still being forced to hold Ivy’s hand. “What?”

Unbelievably, I was more than slightly hungover and had been debating whether or not to go in my pants now or hold it till after Circle Time on the off chance that it would be an annoyance to Beouf and Zoge. My stomach made it very clear that it might not give me the choice. A baby wipe was starting to look awful good just then…

“It’s Why Day,” Tommy hissed.

“Friday?”

“No,” Tommy repeated himself. “Why Day!”

Did Amazon grade booze affect listening comprehension too? “What?”

“Just watch and go with it,” Tommy said. “Oh, and don’t tell Ivy.”

I blanched. “Why?”

“That’s the spirit, dude!”

The real spirit beame crystal clear during Circle Time. Beouf had elected to do diaper duty and Zoge was in front of the class and ready to roll. “Alright boys and girls, let’s start off this Friday right!” Sandra Lynn’s hand shot up into the air. “Yes, Sandra Lynn? Do you want to be changed next?”

“Why?”

A bit of snickering floated into the air.

Zoge seemed slightly confused. “Why what?” She was still using her gentle, musical ‘talk to babies’ voice. “Why would you want to be changed next or…?”

“Whyyyy….” Sandra Lynn froze. “Can’t we go to the playground instead?”

“It’s not time to go to the playground,” Zoge said.

From her place on the floor, Shauna raised her hand. “Why?”

It clicked right there. I had had students in the past who pushed boundaries by saying “Why”. Said, not asked. The point wasn’t to find out ‘why’, the point was to stall; to make the teacher talk more than you and to talk about what you wanted to talk about, or to prevent them from teaching. I’d seen plenty of three and four year olds do it before. I’d heard stories of third and fourth graders resorting to it, too. Never though, had I seen a planned massive ‘group why’.

This is what happened when you grouped people aged not quite twenty to almost forty together and treated them like children.

“We have a schedule,” Mrs. Zoge kindly explained. Patient. Too patient. Cultural bias, perhaps? Maybe a language barrier? I’d have shut this down right away if not ignored it. “Right now, our schedule says we should be doing Circle Time so we can start our day off right.”

Jesse took the lead “Why?”

Before he could be answered, Zoge came out of the bathroom. “Clark, you’re up.”

Jesse redirected his question to Mrs. Beouf. “Why?”

“I’m not answering that,” Beouf responded. Yup. Beouf was wise to it. Damn, I hated that I still respected her on some level.

I waddled toward her and she took me into the bathroom. As if by magic, my shortalls became a dress when Beouf quickly unbuttoned them and slid the hem up over my still dry and clean Monkeez. “Oops!” Beouf said. “Not yet Sorry, hun…” I saw myself wince in the ceiling mirror. The illusion of anything covering or secure was shattered with my ‘pants’ so far up above my waist and my diaper so easily accessible. For supposed ‘underwear’, diapers didn’t stay under much.

“Maybe not long though….” Beouf brought me out of my padded naval gazing.

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why?”

Outside the bathroom, the others were drilling Zoge mercilessly.

“Guys?” Ivy asked. “Why do you keep asking that?”

Beouf started buttoning me back up. “Ugh,” she huffed. “‘Why Day.’” She rolled her eyes as she reassembled the illusion of privacy and personal agency that were my clothes. “Not even two weeks in and they’re doing Why Day…” Like any kid tradition, the adults were more than aware of what was happening and seemed to barely tolerate it.

“Jesse,” she called out of the bathroom. “Come on, baby boy. Diaper time.”

Chaz was close to giggling like an idiot. “Why?”

Mrs. Beouf stepped out of the bathroom. “Mrs.Zoge?”

“Yes, Mrs. Beouf?”

“It seems like our little ones are full of ‘Whys’ today.”

“It would appear so, Mrs. Beouf.”

“Almost like it was a Why Day.”

“Now that you mention it, Mrs. Beouf, I think the Little ones might be playing Why Day with us.”

There was a quiet but collective gasp from the others, punctuated by Ivy asking, “What’s Why Day?”

The Amazons went on without her. “What are we going to do about this, Mrs.Zoge?”

Zoge tapped her chin in mock thoughtfulness. “I think that if our students have so many ‘questions’ about the playground, then maybe we should take the time to answer those questions instead of going to the playground.”

“I think that’s a very good idea, Mrs. Zoge,” Beouf continued on with the script. “I think that if too many Little boys and girls decide to ask ‘Why’ without really meaning it, then the whole class is gonna lose playground time at the end of the day.”

Nine sets of teeth clicked together in silence. “Go on Clark and sit down, I’ll check you later big boy.” Big boy? Eight pairs of eyes honed in on me and concentrated. “Jesse, come on.”

Jesse walked past me and shot me a case of stink eye.

I went back to the circle, my stomach twisting itself in knots due to nerves instead of tequila. I’d already done the social calculus: My classmates thought that Why Day was a secret trolling tactic, Beouf just flaunted that it wasn’t. I was the new guy who’d just been trusted with it and Beouf revealed what she already knew just after taking me into the bathroom. The very Helper-ish nickname of ‘big boy’ was the nail in the coffin.

“What?” I said. “I…I didn’t need changing yet…” I sat down, not even believing myself.

Zoge started leading the same songs we had sung every day that week. The songs were so ingrained in just about everyone’s skulls, they were able to multitask by singing along and shooting me dirty looks every chance they got. If looks could kill, I’d be shoved into that bug zapper again and left there until my skin peeled off.

I started clutching my stomach and rocking a bit to hold it in and distract myself. Besides the usual reasons an otherwise healthy thirty-something wanted to fill the back of their pants, the mob that might just form while I was being cleaned up gave me extra pause.

The worst luck of the draw, and I’d lost any momentum I’d gained in making connections with people who might talk to me like I was halfway myself. Things had reset back to Monday. Further back, even! On Monday I was the former collaborator. Today, in their eyes I was just a snitch. Whether on the prison or the playground, snitches didn’t get much; certainly not allies. At least I’d still have Ivy…?

I shivered from all the cold shoulders bumping me. Chaz’s lip turned up in disgust crawling by me. I took my token over to Mrs. Beouf’s teacher table, clenched my cheeks and sat down. This was going to be a miserable day that might just spiral into a more miserable everything. I hadn’t even thought I could go lower.

“Hello, Ivy! Hello, Clark!” Mrs. Beouf chirped, taking her seat and gathering her materials; likely another cognitive dissonance inducing. If a Little could justify how an apple and an orange were essentially the same thing, they could be taught to justify how their age could be measured in years and still be treated as if it were counted in months.

“Hi Mrs. B!” Ivy said back. “Ready to play?” Leave it to Ivy to talk to the Amazons in their own patronizing patois and unironically.

Beouf seemed pleased. “Just about, Ivy. All I need to do is shuffle.”

I reached forward for the deck of flashcards. “I’ll help!” Who knows. Maybe I could make ‘Whoops’ a thing.

Beouf cradled the cards away from me. “No thank you, Clark. Unless you want the mittens back.”

I brought my hands back to my stomach. “No ma’am.”

An audible scoff behind me. Damn. That hadn’t been the way to build back any good will. I stopped focusing on what Beouf was or wasn’t saying. All the social capitol I’d built up over the past week was being undone by a misconception.

I had no idea how to fix it, either.

I started grimacing to myself. I couldn’t be alone. I wouldn’t be able to handle it. This place day after day after day? With no one besides Ivy, Beouf, and Zoge to talk to? They wouldn’t need New Beginnings to break me, just isolate me from all the other people that saw me as a person.

“Mrs. Beouf,” Ivy asked. “Why can’t we go to the new playground in the morning?”

Unlike Sandra, Ivy was legitimately curious.

Beouf prepared to deal out the game cards. “Let’s not worry about the past or the future and just have some fun in the here and now.”

Lightbulb!

This was my chance. The others wanted to see that I wasn’t a snitch or a collaborator? Their memories had been that short? Fine. I’d show them. I’d show them good.

“Why?” I said to Beouf. “About the playground, I mean.” I didn’t yell, but it was nothing like a whisper.

Beouf shot me a questioning look. “Clark?”

I gestured over to Ivy. “For Ivy of course.” I said. “I think it’s an honest question. Why can’t we go out to the playground in the middle of the day?”

The more experienced teacher adjusted her glasses. “Because our playground time is at the end of the day, not the beginning,” Beouf said. “It’s our schedule, and keeping to a schedule is important.”

I looked at the timer on the wall. How long could I keep this up and how many people would notice? The other inmates wanted Why Day but only wanted to say ‘why’? Amateurs. I might not make it the whole day, but I could stretch it out. More to the point, I could make a scene. Clock started. Game on.

“Is it?” I countered innocently enough. “Doesn’t research show that children learn better when they’re actively engaged? Why not help with our collective learning by letting us learn through our interests?’

I started turning in my seat, half gesturing to the others. Heads were starting to turn.