One L by Scott Turow Read Free Book Online Page B

silent. He shifted in his seat as Perini stared at him. Hands had shot up across the room. Perini called rapidly on two or three people who gave various names—Hurley, Eddingfield the plaintiff. Finally someone said that the case didn’t say.
    â€œThe case doesn’t say! ” Perini cried, marching down the aisle. “The case does not say . Read the case. Read the case! Care fully!” He bent with each word, pointing a finger at the class. He stared fiercely into the crowd of students in the center of the room, then looked back at Karlin. “Do we really care who ‘he’ is, Mr. Karlin?”
    â€œCare?”
    â€œDoes it make any difference to the outcome of the case?”
    â€œI don’t think so.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause he’s dead.”
    â€œHe’s dead! ” Perini shouted. “Well, that’s a load off of our minds. But there’s one problem then, Mr. Karlin. If he’s dead, how did he file a law suit?”
    Karlin’s face was still tight with fear, but he seemed to be gathering himself.
    â€œI thought it was the administrator who brought the suit.”
    â€œAh!” said Perini, “the ad min istrator. And what’s an administrator? One of those types over in the Faculty Building?”
    It went on that way for a few more minutes, Perini striding through the room, shouting and pointing as he battered Karlin with questions, Karlin doing his best to provide answers. A little after noon Perini suddenly announced that we would continue tomorrow. Then he strode from the classroom with the seating chart beneath his arm. In his wake the class exploded into chatter.
    I sat stunned. Men and women crowded around Karlin to congratulate him. He had done well, better, it seemed, than even Perini had expected. At one point the professor had asked where Karlin was getting all the definitions he was methodically reciting. I knew Karlin had done far better than I could have, a realization which upset me, given all the work I had done preparing for the class. I hadn’t asked myself who was suing. I knew what ‘intestate’ meant, but not ‘testate,’ and was hardly confident I could have made the jump while under that kind of pressure. I didn’t even want to think about the time it would be my turn to face Perini.
    And as much as all of that, I was bothered by the mood which had taken hold of the room. The exorbitance of Perini’s manner had seemed to release a sort of twisted energy. Why had people laughed like that? I wondered. It wasn’t all good-natured. It wasn’t really laughter with Karlin. I had felt it too, a sort of giddiness, when Perini made his mocking inquiries. And why had people raised their hands so eagerly, stretching out of their seats as they sought to be called on? When Socratic instruction had been described for me, I had been somewhat incredulous that students would dash in so boldly to correct each other’s errors. But if I hadn’t been quite as scared I might have raised my hand myself. What the hell went on here? I was thoroughly confused, the more so because despite my reservations the truth was that I had been gripped, even thrilled, by the class. Perini, for all the melodrama and intimidation, had been magnificent, electric, in full possession of himself and the students. The points he’d made had had a wonderful clarity and directness. He was, as claimed, an exceptional teacher.
    As I headed out, Karlin, still surrounded by well-wishers, was also on his way from the classroom. I reached him to pat him on the back, but I had no chance to speak with him as he went off in the swirl of admiring classmates. A man, and a woman I’d met, a tall blonde who had gone to Radcliffe, Karen Sondergard, had stayed behind. I asked them about Karlin.
    â€œHe’s a rabbi,” Karen said, “or else he trained for it. He was at Yeshiva in New York.”
    â€œHe did