Lab Mice

Scanning, scanning, and there it was: 32081, her student ID number, and printed beside it, her recent AP Biology test grade. Usually, Courtney resented the anonymity forced upon her by 32081. Usually, Courtney wanted to throw aside the veil of modesty, so that she could, for once, see envy in the eyes of her classmates. Today was different. Beside 32081 was a blemish. It read 64%, a failing grade. She was ashamed, but she was grateful that 32081 hid her nakedness, her filth.

“Damn.”

Courtney turned to see who had spoken. It was Katie Perilli. That was a surprise. Katie was smart. Her ability to absorb large amounts of pointless trivia had earned her the nickname “The Sponge”. Katie should have aced the biology test. Their eyes met.

Despite her customary reluctance to speak to Katie, Courtney asked,

“You too?”

Although merely implied, Courtney had just admitted failure. Katie's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. Yet seeing no hint of mockery, she replied,

“Well, what did you expect? It is Thormund. You know, it’s a bit much asking an ape like him to actually teach.”

As she walked into the biology lab with Katie, Courtney chuckled. Katie was known to be a teacher’s pet and to hear her badmouthing their biology teacher was amusing. Katie continued in her rant even going so far as to abandon the habitual seating arrangement, in order to sit by Courtney in the back.

“I mean, seriously, Thormund isn’t a real teacher. He’s a gym teacher and he isn’t even fit for that.” Katie jiggled an imaginary gut.

Courtney was forced to muffle her laughter as Thormund waddled into the room and began his typical lecture, complete with monotone droning and a poorly constructed powerpoint. After opening her biology textbook, a 1,274 pg. monster weighing 5.5 lbs., Courtney didn’t bother to pay attention.

She had never seen this side of Katie. Of course, if they had followed the typical high school clique rules they should have been fast friends. Thanks to their high grades and lack of fashion sense, they both fell strictly under the nerd category. However, their personalities were in opposition. Courtney was rather blunt and unwilling to put up with anybody’s shit. She found Katie’s demure damsel act nauseating.

Courtney was suddenly jerked from her reverie when a hysterical cheerleader in the front row began to shriek. One of the laboratory mice had escaped. Courtney watched in horror as the white mouse came running up the aisle. Oh god, what if it ran up her leg?

“Oh, it’s all right little mousey,” Katie cooed as she bent down to intercept the mouse’s mad dash for freedom.

Courtney’s fear was trampled by her anger. She was supposed to be the brave one, not Katie, the wussy bookworm. The moment the mouse reached the side of Courtney's desk, and before Katie could save the day by capturing it, Courtney elbowed her biology textbook. 1,274 pages weighing 5.5 lbs. went plummeting to the tile floor. The mouse didn’t stand a chance.

“Whoops,” Courtney said and her laughter was swallowed by Katie’s scream.

Pontifex Maximus

"Do you freely accept your election?"

The Latin tongue is a familiar comfort even if the question is not. The slight shuddering of those passing sound waves belies the words’ terrible weight. Yet, lingering vibrations mingle with a swift counter.

"I accept."

Despite bracing for the new burden, his tenuous grasp on reality is strained. Set adrift, Joseph Ratzinger casts about for an anchor and latches onto the beauty looming over the altar of the Sistine Chapel. It is "The Last Judgment" of Michelangelo. His vision skims over the fleshy and muscular Christ figure. In contrast, fully clothed with even her head covered the Virgin Mother is a familiar comfort by his side.

Yet her dark eyes disturb Joseph and in that moment he sees Mary as he has never seen her before. Time quiets as he absorbs this disconcerting revelation. Mary is not supporting the radiant Christ, rather she is cowering beneath him. Hands are crossed to shield her heart and her face is turned away in fear. Or is it shame? Grief, perhaps.

His daydream arouses Mary from her harsh repose. She stirs and from her lips pours a chiming Hebrew supplication. You are an old man, so maybe they will listen to you. They touch the beads of my rosary. They kneel before my statues. For Christ’s sake, they worship me! I do not know why they have stopped listening to me. Will you bear my message to them? But the man is old and his heart is deaf. His ears can only pick out the quivering vibrations, which pull him from this shallow contemplation.

"What name do you take?"

"I take the name Benedict."

Later, standing on the balcony overlooking St. Peter’s Basilica, Pope Benedict XVI addresses his brothers and sisters in amicable Italian. Speaking of his mission for the future, he says to them, "The Lord will aid us and Mary, his Most Holy Mother, will be by our side."

As the Pope begins the Latin blessing, the dark skies release their tears.

(Writer's Note: Although mostly fabrication, there exists some fact. Such as the location for papal election, the dialogue for the pope's acquiescence, and the weather at Pope Benedict XVI's first Urbi et Orbi. Check out Michelangelo's portrait of Mary that inspired the story: HERE.)