The Blights

“What’s up blighty boy?”

“Watch your back benny button”

“Step out of the way guys, the blight is coming through.”

These were just a few of the comments Benjamin heard in the school halls this morning.

He hears them upon his entrance when he gets off the bus at 7:35, is pushed and prodded or avoided in the halls between classes, and if he’s lucky, he can find an excuse to sneak out of class five minutes early to exit school unseen.

Benjamin lived on the West side of town–where the “blights” live.

This town was built on an economic divide. On the East side, the houses are on the shoreline with big mansions and pool houses.

On the other side of Merriweather Lane lives the others; where big families live in tiny houses and people working restlessly for a low income. The wealthy have named them the blights.

But it wasn’t always this way.

In the past twenty years, the entire town shifted. A businessman named Ron Demph rolled in and tore down everything that was standing in the East. He built houses and brought the wealthiest families in, opening luxury shops downtown and even a school. Somewhere for his invisible future children to grow up. What a way to “family plan.” After Ron, the East side might as well be called Demph town.

And so those living on the East, on the beautiful coast, were pushed to the other side. Including Benjamin’s family.

But Benjamin remained at West End High School, even though all his siblings and friends made the switch.

There was only one reason for Benjamin to get schooled here: Mrs. Arman.

Mrs. Arman was Benjamin’s English teacher in both his 1st and 2nd years of high school.

She was the first teacher to challenge Benjamin creatively. He had been well versed in essay and persuasive writing–but it wasn’t until Mrs. Arman that his words came alive.

In her classes, Mrs. Arman instructed students towards an in-depth analysis of their school-sanctioned books. But, she gave them creative freedom to do so however they wanted. Whether it be a presentation, song, or journal entry, her English students were challenged in a way that they hadn’t been in the past.

There would always be a select few students who thought they were above these creative projects, but for the most part, Mrs. Arman was always impressed with what her students brought forward.

Especially Benjamin.

So much so that she continued to fight for him when the schools were getting rearranged and reassigned. She saw what he was capable of and wanted to take him under her wing. And Benjamin let her. He had never had anyone in his life work so hard to see him succeed. He knew that this could get him out of this town and off this class line division. He wanted to do away with the bullying and the belligerent sides.

Mrs. Arman went directly to the school board to get him to stay. Because she is a well-favored tenured teacher and was only vouching for this one boy, Benjamin, they allowed it. However, he would have to pay a fee since he no longer lived in the area code.

But Mrs. Arman was determined not to let financials get in their way; not once did she put herself and her livelihood on the line. As much as she would have liked to gift Benjamin the money, she only has a teacher’s salary (a criminally underpaid profession that has not even increased with the new wealth pouring in).

And so, with Mrs. Arman's help, Benjamin began his journey of applying to external scholarships, grants, and more. Quickly, he earned the fees needed through these scholarships. His writing already got him far.

But Benjamin was now in the midst of his junior year.

Mrs. Arman only teaches freshman and sophomore students.

Now, none of his teachers really understood why he was here. Frankly, some of them were worse than the students.

Not only did this isolate Benjamin from all the wealthy folks at WEHS, but all those he grew up with. His siblings and friends were forced out, unable to get the same education as he is getting. They would never admit their jealousy, but Benjamin believed their feelings were valid and never pushed them to join back in.

Now neither side favored Benjamin.

His days were spent alone or belittled. He left for school before his family awoke, would go through constant mistreatment in and out of his classes, and when he went home, he experienced the same bitterness.

The only days that were different were when he could visit Mrs. Arman during his lunch period.

Every Tuesday, she gave him a writing prompt, a pen, and a large stack of loose-leaf paper. They would sit in silence for the 40 minutes, Benjamin furiously writing and Mrs. Arman catching up on grading and paperwork.

Mostly, Benjamin would write fiction stories. He could spend hours filling blank pages and creating new worlds that he could escape in. He probably had at least ten accidental unfinished novels by now.

After the 40 minutes, Benjamin gave her his writing, where she would make notes and edits and return it on Thursday.

Thursday was the reworking day where the writing would get broken down and then polished.

Mrs. Arman would place the finished piece in the archives, ready to emerge when they found the right place for it.

Mostly, as a no-stakes project, they submitted Benjamin’s pieces to publishers, magazines, agents, and anywhere a story would fit.

And then one day, it fit.

Returning to Mrs. Arman’s classroom one warm winter Thursday, a ding echoed in their ears from Benjamin’s phone.

An email from The Chicago Press.

Ready for the generic email,

“Thank you for your submission. Unfortunately, we cannot give your story a place in our published journal. Be sure to continue submitting new stories when our portals reopen,” Benjamin clicked on the notification.

But at the top of this line read, “Congratulations!”

Before even finishing reading himself, he holds in up to Mrs. Arman in disbelief. 17-year-old Benjamin’s short story was accepted to The Chicago Press.

The lines that followed instructed Benjamin to schedule a meeting with them in Chicago. But this time, he wouldn’t have to find the money on his own.

They were flying him out.

As Benjamin’s official mentor, Mrs. Arman was also invited into the meeting, all expenses paid as well.

Although Benjamin would have loved to share the best news of his life with his family, he knew they wouldn’t approve; that they would think of him as the traitor once again.

So, when the time came, he just left.

He escaped the world of the blights and riches for the weekend and flew with Mrs. Arman all the way up to Illinois.

He blinked and landed atop the Madison Tower, overlooking the large frozen pond below.

That’s when he knew: it isn't just for the weekend. He made it out. Who knows when he will get another chance to leave? Whatever words come out of the publisher’s mouth, Benjamin decided that he wouldn't return to the world he left behind. He would stay. His birthday was in 4 weeks and would figure it out until then.

He can't return to the blights, or the West end, he knew that if he ever wanted a place for himself, it would be here. Writing in Illinois.