It was May. May, 1958. Winter was finally, officially and actually over. The sun was shining, the trees were just birthing tiny green leaves, and the halls of La Salle Academy were buzzing with the excitement and life that spring always brought to Providence. The bell signaling the end of lunch had just rung, and outside room 214, the boys of Brother Patrick’s mechanical drawing class were lining up and trying to stay as quiet as possible.

"Are yous guys going to the Canteen this Saturday?" Dickie whispered to his friends. The Canteen was a weekly dance put on by the Academy.

"We’re gonna try," Vinnie grinned. "We’ll see if they let us in this week."

"You know, they wouldn’t send you home if yous would just cut your hair."

"Fuhgettaboutit!" Vinnie was adamant. He was being awfully loud, Joey noted to himself. They weren’t supposed to talk in line.

"What about you?" Dickie asked, turning to Joey and punching his arm. "Are you ever gonna get rid of that duck’s ass?"

"Yeah…" Joey said quietly. He didn’t want to be rude to his friends, but he seriously worried that they were all about to get busted. Anyway, he liked his hairstyle. Every morning he woke up extra early so that he would have time to make the three parts in his thick, black mane, grease it up with gel, and comb it to a point over his forehead. He would cut his hair someday. Maybe he’d show up to his graduation next year with a brush cut. Wouldn’t that surprise everyone?

*Thunk!*

Joey was startled by something that had just come flying through the air and bounced off his chest. He looked around to see what it was, and noticed a stump of chalk lying on the ground a few feet in front of him.

"Who’d I hit with the chalk?" came a loud voice from a little ways down the hall. Joey knew that voice, or at least he knew enough to be afraid of it. It belonged to Brother Richard, a senior homeroom teacher who was notorious at La Salle because his class raised the most money in the Annual Pledge Drive every year.

Joey looked up at the huge figure standing off to his left, noting how much the Brother resembled the stereotypical All-American hero. He was young – no more than 30 years old – with a dark blonde flat top, and a square jaw. Joey mustered as much courage as he could in the wake of Brother Richard’s steely expression, straightened his tie, and stepped forward.

"Me, sir."

"Pick up my chalk and come over here."

Joey did as he was told. This wasn’t fair, he thought, as he listened to his footsteps echoing in the hallway and his heartbeat echoing in his chest. He hadn’t even been the one talking, and now he was going to have to take the blame. Man, Dickie and Vinnie were gonna hear it from him later…

"What’s your name, son?" Brother Richard asked Joey after he’d handed him the chalk.

"Joseph. Rosella."

"You know you’re not supposed to talk in line, Rosella?"

"Yes, sir. I know."

"Seemed like a pretty interesting conversation though. What were you boys talking about?"

"Nothing, sir." He immediately regretted saying it.

"Nothing, huh? Well… how many words do you want to write?"

Joey looked past Brother Richard to his class of seniors who were still standing in line, silent as they attempted to catch every word of the conversation. Upon making eye contact, one of the guys began to frantically wave his hand, holding up all five fingers. Joey gave his attention back to Brother Richard.

"Five hundred…?" It was more of a question than a statement. Out of the corner of his eye, Joey saw the guy who’d motioned to him bring his hand to his forehead while holding back laughter. He’d meant for him to say fifty.

"Alright then, Rosella. Tomorrow I want you to bring me a 500-word essay on nothing." And with that, Brother Richard turned and went into his classroom, leaving Joey to go into his own class long after the rest of his line.

*         *         *

"Five hundred words?!" Joey groaned to himself. He was sitting on his porch, finally home after the detention that Brother Patrick had given him for being late to class, wallowing in self-pity. "I can’t believe I let Dickie and Vinnie get me into this!"

"Get you into what?" With his head in his hands, Joey hadn’t noticed the approach of his young neighbor. But here she was, a yellow sundress and a pair of scabby knees directly in front of him. "What’s wrong, Joey?"

"Oh, hi Joanie. Where’s your brother?" Joanie was his buddy Lee’s kid sister. She was about eleven, and had decidedly fallen in love with all of Lee’s friends.

"Dunno. Down the street playing ball, prolly." The afternoon sun reflected off her large gold earrings – they probably belonged to her mom, Joey thought. "What did Dickie and Vinnie do to you?"

"Nothing." The word reminded him of the impossible task he would have to face sometime that night. "I’ll see you later, okay Joanie? I have work to do." he said, frustrated, as he got up and pushed his way past the torn screen door into the smell of his mom’s manicotti.

Joey slammed the screen, twice before he was satisfied with the bang, and stormed into the kitchen. His father looked up from his bottle of Coke.

"Joseph! We don’t slam doors in my house."

"I know, Pop. I’m sorry."

"It’s alright. You’re awfully late. Rough day at school?"

"Yeah, the worst. I got in trouble for something that I didn’t even do, and now I have to write a 500-word essay on nothing. By tomorrow."

"That doesn’t sound so bad." Joey noticed the mischievous spark in his dad’s eyes and waited for him to continue. "Just write an essay on nothing."

"What about it? It’s nothing."

"Exactly."

And suddenly Joey understood.

*         *         *

The next day, Joey combed his hair as respectably as he could, put on his light blue collared shirt and thin navy blue tie, and picked up his essay, which he had written neatly with a black pen and then bound with a plastic report cover. He left early for school, hoping he could catch Brother Richard before the first bell rang.

"Rosella." Brother Richard looked up from behind his desk. "I didn’t expect you this early."

"Yes, sir. I wanted to give you this essay." Joey handed over the small stack of papers. Brother Richard looked at the first page, which read something like this:

"Nothing is                                                                                    and                                                   . However,                                                                                                                                                                                             and it can be                                                               . One would be surprised that nothing also                                                                                                             . Some say that nothing                                                                                                                                                                                                     , but in fact it                                                                                                                                                                      . Therefore, it                   ."

"There had better be 500 words here, Rosella," Brother Richard glared.

"Oh, there are, sir. You just can’t see them all. You know, it’s nothing." Joey hurried out of the room. He estimated that in the entire essay, there were about 50 actual words.

* * *

September. The first day of school, senior year. Joey, Dickie, and Vinnie were elated to discover that they would all be in the same homeroom. They were sitting in the classroom, waiting to see who their teacher would be.

"So, yous guys going to the Canteen on Saturday?"

"Dickie…" Joey laughed. His hair was as long as ever, and Vinnie’s was longer.

"Yeah Dickie," Vinnie teased. "Who’re you gonna go with anyway? You don’t know any girls!"

"I do too know girls!"

"Yeah, like who? Lee’s sister, Joanie?"

"Aw, shuddup!"

Just then the door banged shut with such force that all 25 boys in the classroom looked up simultaneously. In front of the chalkboard loomed their new teacher. Joey’s jaw dropped.

"Good morning, class. For those of you who have not been so fortunate as to hear the legends, I am Brother Richard, and our class will be raising the most money in the Pledge Drive later this year. Now, to begin our year together, I’m going to come around and ask each of you two questions: how much you raised for last year’s drive, and whether you have any past surgeries or withstanding injuries. While you wait for me to approach your desk, you may read or do whatever you choose, as long as you remain silent. Understand?"

Twenty-five heads bobbed up and down in terror. Joey could feel himself sweating a little as he watched Brother Richard scoot his chair around the room, stopping at each desk to ask his questions and scribbling the responses in a leather-bound notebook before moving on to his next victim. It was all too soon that Joey looked up from the book he had been pretending to read to see the familiar glare.

"Rosella. I remember you." Joey gulped, anticipating the worst. Instead, Brother Richard smiled and continued, "You’re lucky I thought that was funny."

Joey couldn’t believe it. He stared at the man in front of him, and nodded dumbly.

"Now, down to business. How much did you raise for last year’s Pledge Drive?"

"Forty-three dollars, sir." Brother Richard wrote down the number in his notebook.

"And do you have any past surgeries or injuries you want me to know about?"

"No, sir." Now it was Joey’s turn to smile. "Nothing."