ext_20824 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
insaneladybug.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
31_days2012-05-25 12:14 am
insaneladybug.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-05-25 12:14 am
[May 25th] [Perry Mason] Mustard Seeds
Title: Mustard Seeds
Day/Theme: May 25th - Not a rosebud, but a pot
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Della Street, Howie Peterson (OC), various other student OCs
Rating: K/G
Part of the "Missing Scenes from The Broken Ties" series.
Takes place during the break between chapters 7 and 8. (I'm getting a lot of mileage out of that little timeskip....)
By Lucky_Ladybug
Della crossed the length of the classroom, placing the flowerpot in the windowsill. There was nothing visible in it other than soil, but underneath the top layer was a seed. She was hoping to use the plant over the next weeks to show her class how flowers grew.
Strange, how she was relating that to her current situation. To believe everything she had been learning about this other life that she was supposed to be living she needed a seed of another variety—a seed of faith.
It was not that hard for her, she had to admit. Everything they said felt so right. It was because of her feelings when reading that article about Perry Mason, the feelings that she should be in court with him, that she had listened in the first place. She had not told anyone about those sensations, having dismissed them as utter fantasy. So when Paul Drake had appeared, insisting that she was Mr. Mason’s secretary, Della had been beyond shocked.
There were others who were having a more difficult time accepting the wild tales. Perry Mason himself was extremely skeptical. But he wanted to do the right thing. She could tell that he was troubled, particularly about Hamilton Burger. He thought of the district attorney as not just a rival, but also an enemy. In his memories, Mr. Burger was very adamant about that relationship. They were enemies, he said. Maybe they were both looking for truth, but their methods were too different to be able to be reconciled.
The Hamilton Burger who had been around the last few days, however, was nothing like that. Della had liked him immediately. Instead of stubborn and hostile he was weary and sad. And he had only treated her with gentleness and kindness.
It was because of all that that Mr. Mason was so conflicted. At first, he had told her, the main thing keeping him from outright rejecting all of the nonsense was the fact that Della’s name meant something to him when nothing else did. Nevertheless, he had still been unable to accept the idea that he and Hamilton were friends. But as time went on he grew more and more concerned that perhaps Mr. Burger could be right about everything. His seed of faith was smaller than Della’s, perhaps, but it was there. And, like hers, it had started to sprout ever so slightly.
Della sighed softly. If everything was true, and she believed it was, then Perry was going to feel absolutely sick about what had happened between him and Mr. Burger.
And what would she think, being away from the classroom and her pupils and instead working in a plush law office? She would be in court a lot. And she would meet so many undesirable people.
Well, if that was what she had done for years in reality, then she supposed she would not think anything of returning to it. But . . . would she even remember this life and all of its experiences? Or was recalling one life conditional on forgetting the other?
She crossed her arms on the windowsill. If it had to be, then there was no choice. She would want to go back to who and what she really was.
Still, if it were at all possible, she wanted to remember this life too. Maybe it would be bewildering, to have memories of both worlds simultaneously, but even if some memories here were fake, the ones she had been making since she had been placed here were real.
The false ones she wouldn’t mind abandoning. But she wanted to remember this classroom, these kids.
And this pot, as silly as it sounded. She had brought it for her students and she wanted to see the flower bloom and know that it was her idea to have it here.
Even if she could only see it from the outside as she drove past the school now and then.
She straightened. She was being unnecessarily melancholy.
Putting on a smile, she turned to greet the arriving class. Some were enthusiastic; there was Betty, claiming a seat on the front row, and Charlie and Danny hot on her heels.
Howie and August were both quiet. They were usually the last ones to take their seats, Howie because he was so often subdued and sometimes seemed sad and August because he was lost in a daydream.
Today, to Della’s surprise, it was Howie who spoke first after the customary “Good morning, Miss Street” said by all the class in unison.
“Miss Street, what’s that?” he asked when she called on him. He was looking to the pot.
Della crossed back to the window. “This,” she proclaimed as she lifted it up, “is our new class project. We’re going to watch this flower grow. Does anyone know what flowers need?”
Gabriella raised her hand. “Water!” she called.
“Sun!” said Danny.
“That’s right,” Della said. “But they need something else too. Do you have any idea what that is?”
The class was silent for a long time. At last Howie said, “Maybe they need a friend.”
Some of the students snickered. “How do you make a plant your friend?” Charlie wondered.
Della smiled. “It’s really not as silly as all that,” she said. “Yes, in a way, they do need a friend, and love. Scientists have made tests that show plants thrive better with music, and also when people talk kindly to them.”
August was thoughtful. “So we should tell it ‘Good morning’ and ‘Good night’ and ‘Hello’ and ‘Goodbye’?”
“I think that would be a nice idea,” Della said. “And whatever else you want to tell it. What do you think?” She looked at the rest of the class. After considering the matter, some of them slowly nodded.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt to try,” Danny said.
“But it’ll look sissy to talk to a plant,” Charlie frowned. “All the other kids will laugh at us.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Della said. “But if anyone laughs, you might try asking if they think those scientists are sissies too.”
Charlie finally shrugged. “Maybe, I guess.”
“Alright then.” Della set the pot back in the windowsill. “Now, I haven’t watered our flower today. I think we should all take turns. Who would like to go first?” Several hands shot up, followed by several others. Della looked them over carefully before choosing. “Howie.”
Howie blinked in surprise. But then he beamed and stood, making his way to the watering can.
Della stepped back and watched. Was there any significance in the fact that Howie had been the one to suggest that the plant needed a friend? She worried about him sometimes. Why was it that he was so solemn so often? She had tried to talk to him about it more than once, but he just shrugged it off.
Although she could not say for sure, she wondered if it had anything to do with the trouble between Mr. Burger and Mignon Germaine. She had learned that Howie’s parents had forbidden Mr. Burger to see Howie since then. It didn’t seem quite fair to her, even aside from the fact that Mr. Burger insisted the conflict hadn’t really happened at all. If Ms. Germaine came to pick up Howie today, maybe Della would try to find a tactful way to ask her about it.
After all, Howie should not have to suffer just because of problems the adults in his life were having.
He finished watering the seed and returned to his desk, still looking happy to have been involved. He took his pencil and paper out of the desk, ready for the day’s lessons.
Della smiled. She hoped that, as with the flower, she would be able to see Howie grow and blossom as well.
Day/Theme: May 25th - Not a rosebud, but a pot
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Della Street, Howie Peterson (OC), various other student OCs
Rating: K/G
Part of the "Missing Scenes from The Broken Ties" series.
Takes place during the break between chapters 7 and 8. (I'm getting a lot of mileage out of that little timeskip....)
Della crossed the length of the classroom, placing the flowerpot in the windowsill. There was nothing visible in it other than soil, but underneath the top layer was a seed. She was hoping to use the plant over the next weeks to show her class how flowers grew.
Strange, how she was relating that to her current situation. To believe everything she had been learning about this other life that she was supposed to be living she needed a seed of another variety—a seed of faith.
It was not that hard for her, she had to admit. Everything they said felt so right. It was because of her feelings when reading that article about Perry Mason, the feelings that she should be in court with him, that she had listened in the first place. She had not told anyone about those sensations, having dismissed them as utter fantasy. So when Paul Drake had appeared, insisting that she was Mr. Mason’s secretary, Della had been beyond shocked.
There were others who were having a more difficult time accepting the wild tales. Perry Mason himself was extremely skeptical. But he wanted to do the right thing. She could tell that he was troubled, particularly about Hamilton Burger. He thought of the district attorney as not just a rival, but also an enemy. In his memories, Mr. Burger was very adamant about that relationship. They were enemies, he said. Maybe they were both looking for truth, but their methods were too different to be able to be reconciled.
The Hamilton Burger who had been around the last few days, however, was nothing like that. Della had liked him immediately. Instead of stubborn and hostile he was weary and sad. And he had only treated her with gentleness and kindness.
It was because of all that that Mr. Mason was so conflicted. At first, he had told her, the main thing keeping him from outright rejecting all of the nonsense was the fact that Della’s name meant something to him when nothing else did. Nevertheless, he had still been unable to accept the idea that he and Hamilton were friends. But as time went on he grew more and more concerned that perhaps Mr. Burger could be right about everything. His seed of faith was smaller than Della’s, perhaps, but it was there. And, like hers, it had started to sprout ever so slightly.
Della sighed softly. If everything was true, and she believed it was, then Perry was going to feel absolutely sick about what had happened between him and Mr. Burger.
And what would she think, being away from the classroom and her pupils and instead working in a plush law office? She would be in court a lot. And she would meet so many undesirable people.
Well, if that was what she had done for years in reality, then she supposed she would not think anything of returning to it. But . . . would she even remember this life and all of its experiences? Or was recalling one life conditional on forgetting the other?
She crossed her arms on the windowsill. If it had to be, then there was no choice. She would want to go back to who and what she really was.
Still, if it were at all possible, she wanted to remember this life too. Maybe it would be bewildering, to have memories of both worlds simultaneously, but even if some memories here were fake, the ones she had been making since she had been placed here were real.
The false ones she wouldn’t mind abandoning. But she wanted to remember this classroom, these kids.
And this pot, as silly as it sounded. She had brought it for her students and she wanted to see the flower bloom and know that it was her idea to have it here.
Even if she could only see it from the outside as she drove past the school now and then.
She straightened. She was being unnecessarily melancholy.
Putting on a smile, she turned to greet the arriving class. Some were enthusiastic; there was Betty, claiming a seat on the front row, and Charlie and Danny hot on her heels.
Howie and August were both quiet. They were usually the last ones to take their seats, Howie because he was so often subdued and sometimes seemed sad and August because he was lost in a daydream.
Today, to Della’s surprise, it was Howie who spoke first after the customary “Good morning, Miss Street” said by all the class in unison.
“Miss Street, what’s that?” he asked when she called on him. He was looking to the pot.
Della crossed back to the window. “This,” she proclaimed as she lifted it up, “is our new class project. We’re going to watch this flower grow. Does anyone know what flowers need?”
Gabriella raised her hand. “Water!” she called.
“Sun!” said Danny.
“That’s right,” Della said. “But they need something else too. Do you have any idea what that is?”
The class was silent for a long time. At last Howie said, “Maybe they need a friend.”
Some of the students snickered. “How do you make a plant your friend?” Charlie wondered.
Della smiled. “It’s really not as silly as all that,” she said. “Yes, in a way, they do need a friend, and love. Scientists have made tests that show plants thrive better with music, and also when people talk kindly to them.”
August was thoughtful. “So we should tell it ‘Good morning’ and ‘Good night’ and ‘Hello’ and ‘Goodbye’?”
“I think that would be a nice idea,” Della said. “And whatever else you want to tell it. What do you think?” She looked at the rest of the class. After considering the matter, some of them slowly nodded.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt to try,” Danny said.
“But it’ll look sissy to talk to a plant,” Charlie frowned. “All the other kids will laugh at us.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Della said. “But if anyone laughs, you might try asking if they think those scientists are sissies too.”
Charlie finally shrugged. “Maybe, I guess.”
“Alright then.” Della set the pot back in the windowsill. “Now, I haven’t watered our flower today. I think we should all take turns. Who would like to go first?” Several hands shot up, followed by several others. Della looked them over carefully before choosing. “Howie.”
Howie blinked in surprise. But then he beamed and stood, making his way to the watering can.
Della stepped back and watched. Was there any significance in the fact that Howie had been the one to suggest that the plant needed a friend? She worried about him sometimes. Why was it that he was so solemn so often? She had tried to talk to him about it more than once, but he just shrugged it off.
Although she could not say for sure, she wondered if it had anything to do with the trouble between Mr. Burger and Mignon Germaine. She had learned that Howie’s parents had forbidden Mr. Burger to see Howie since then. It didn’t seem quite fair to her, even aside from the fact that Mr. Burger insisted the conflict hadn’t really happened at all. If Ms. Germaine came to pick up Howie today, maybe Della would try to find a tactful way to ask her about it.
After all, Howie should not have to suffer just because of problems the adults in his life were having.
He finished watering the seed and returned to his desk, still looking happy to have been involved. He took his pencil and paper out of the desk, ready for the day’s lessons.
Della smiled. She hoped that, as with the flower, she would be able to see Howie grow and blossom as well.