Flawless Read Free Page A

him. The posters on the wall are yellowed, either from age or Jacobi’s illegal pipe smoking in the classroom. There are stacks of books lining every square inch of wall space, some blocking bookcases that hold even more books.
    â€œWow,” Rock says. “I thought I had a lot of books, but I’m an amateur compared to this guy.”
    I follow Rock’s eyes around the room. “I know. He’s like a total lit freak. Everything he says is loaded with meaning and based on years of study. I think he’s got three master’s degrees or something. He’s a little weird, but I like him.”
    Rock’s attention shoots back to me, the smile on his face so breathtaking I nearly pant. “Weird, huh? I’m kind of into weird, too.”
    Mr. Jacobi enters the room, the sweet smell of his pipe tobacco filling the room. He drops his tattered leather book bag onto his desk ceremoniously, silencing the classroom.
    â€œOur theme for this year,” he booms, “is what rules every decision we make as adults. It’s the root of every poem ever written. Anyone want to take a guess?”
    â€œPride,” Jeremy Pickett squeaks. Poor little guy still looks and sounds like he’s in eighth grade.
    Jacobi shakes his head.
    â€œGreed,” another student calls out.
    â€œJealousy,” says another.
    â€œWarmer,” Jacobi says.
    Rock’s voice rumbles over my head. “Love.”
    With one finger on his nose, Jacobi points to Rock with his other hand. “Bingo.” Jacobi walks to Rock and extends his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Arthur Jacobi.”
    â€œRock Conway.” Rock slides out of his seat to stand, and the two shake like esteemed colleagues, not like teacher and student.
    â€œWelcome to Northwest, Mr. Conway. It’s good to have you.” When Jacobi walks to the front of the classroom, I stretch my hand behind my back and Rock slaps it in a high five. It’s so natural, like we’ve done it a hundred times.
    Sitting on his decrepit desk, Jacobi addresses the packed classroom. “For the next 186 days of school, we’ll focus on love. Love of money, love of material things, love of self, love of others. Love that destroys and unites nations. Love that creates families and ruins relationships. It’s the most powerful human emotion, driving us to sacrifice almost anything to get it and, once we have it, keep it. It’s driven men to murder, to war, and to suicide. It’s more than roses and candy; it’s a living part of who we are, what we believe in. It can create and obliterate our identity. With love, you can do anything. Without it, you’re nothing.” Fist in the air, à la Braveheart , he pounds out his final words. “Love is power!”
    I’m watching Jacobi and wondering how love has played a part in his life. What has he done for love? It’s hard to imagine Jacobi driven to violence in the name of love.
    More to the point, what would I do for love? I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever been close to being in love, but if I was, what would I do to keep it? Would I sacrifice my brand-new BCBG boots? The college scholarships I’ve worked so hard to earn?
    â€œIt’s all about love, folks. You can see it right here in the halls of Northwest. It’s why girls wear what they wear each day and why boys fight for their place on the top of the heap. Everyone’s looking for it.” Jacobi raises his right eyebrow in question as he glances across the faces looking back at him intently. “Aren’t you?”
    Silent affirmations charge the air and Jacobi nods. “I rest my case,” he says. “Now, let’s get down to business.”
    When the bell rings forty minutes later, we have a four-page syllabus and two books: The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne and The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson .
    Arms loaded down, Rock and I are stopped by