The Mentor

Part 1: Through the Looking Glass

          Scottie dumped his backpack on the floor and threw himself on the bed. Dusty, his golden retriever, jumped up beside him on the tangle of bedding, and nuzzled Scottie's side. Scottie absentmindedly scratched the pup's head as he stared at the ceiling.
        "I hate my life, Dusty."

        "I hate school and I especially hate geometry! And I really hate Mr. Brooks! I can’t believe he gave me a 55% on that test. Ugh! Mom and Dad are going to ground me for sure."
     Dusty whimpered as he looked quizzically at his boy. He licked Scottie's cheek in sympathy, tasting the salt from the warm flesh and outgrown wavy chestnut hair. Two hours of basketball practice after school had left behind a sheen of perspiration and adolescent stench, both of which delighted the dog. Scottie kicked off first one red Nike tennis shoe and then the other. His workout t-shirt and shorts clung to his body, dampening the bedding underneath him.       "Now I have to retake the dumb test. That's just stupid. If I didn't pass it the first time, how can I pass it tomorrow? Why does he schedule a make-up test right after the biggest basketball game of the season? It's already 9:30. How in the world am I supposed to study? I'm exhausted."

      Scottie's lanky frame barely fit the twin size bed he'd been sleeping on since he was three. He rolled over to curl into his puppy as Dusty continued lathering his affections.
      "Five minutes, Dusty. We'll lie here for just five minutes. Then I'll get out the geometry book. Then I'll look at circles and special triangles and regular polygons. What was that formula again? The area of a regular polygon is one half the product of its apothem and …"


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       "Boy, wake up, wake up! Eureka! I have found it! To your feet, man!"

       Scottie woke with a start. Before him an odd looking man stood. He was odd in neither height nor weight, simply average. What was odd about him was that Scottie could so very easily tell that his weight was average. This was due to the fact that the man stood completely naked before him. Actually, he was dripping water in a puddle at his feet, soapsuds still clinging to his hairy body and full salt and pepper beard.
       The boy jumped up, disoriented, ready to scream. He wondered why this stranger was dripping water on his bedroom floor, until he noticed that he no longer was in his bedroom. The carpet had been replaced by heavy terra cotta tile. A large wooden tub occupied the corner of the room, looking more like an overgrown wine vat than anything else. Scottie assumed it was a tub because of the wet footprints leading from it to the naked man in front of him.
      "Who are you? And where am I?" Scottie blurted out, not even trying to hide the terror in his voice. "Mom! Dad!" He shouted. "Where are you? Who's this guy?" He scampered around the room, looking for something, anything familiar, eyes wide with fright and mouth slack-jawed.
      "What do you mean, who am I?" The naked stranger bellowed, a little startled himself. "Have you been living in a cave? Everyone in Syracuse knows me. I am Archimedes, of course! Now if you would be so kind, can you get me a tunic? It's getting a little drafty."

      Scottie froze. Slowly, he turned to look at the stranger, the fear bubbling up in his throat like acid. The situation was becoming more surreal and the slightly pudgy, wrinkled naked body was adding to Scottie's distress. He felt that he had been precariously standing on some faulty precipice representing what he knew of reality. This new bit of information, that he was no longer in his bedroom in Judsonia, Arkansas, shook that foundation and he fell abruptly and irrevocably into an abyss of confusion. He squeaked, "Syracuse? Syracuse? Where is Syracuse? Am I in New York?"

        Baffled, Archimedes shook his shaggy head, dripping more water onto the tiled floor. The peculiarly clad young man seemed to be a little touched and certainly wasn't moving very quickly to retrieve the tunic. Stepping toward the stool on which his robe lay, the now goosepimply gentleman remarked over his shoulder, "Foolish boy, you have already interrupted my train of thought. Come then, we're off to see the king. There is a little matter to discuss with him concerning a golden crown. I assume you know a little something about mathematics!"    

       As Scottie focused on the word the old man mentioned that he could actually comprehend, he inwardly groaned. How could it be that in this alternate universe the only thing that was making any sense was mathematics? Not that math was actually making sense, but that there was some kind of sense going on in this weird place. But where was Mr. Brooks when you needed him? What would happen when this old man found out that he was so awful at math? Did you have to be smart here wherever here was? And what would a king do to him? Did they execute idiots in this place? Seeing the Archimedes fellow tapping his foot impatiently, Scottie jumped up and nervously followed him out the door.

To be continued........