Usually, the energy in class is low. By and large, Langley isn’t known for bringing history to life. He rambles his way through lectures while his students play on their phones or stare into the middledistance with vacant expressions. Today, however, the arousal that has permeated the building condenses here, in Room 216.
Langley writes the wordsSalem Witch Trialson the board. One would think such a fascinating topic would make his basset hound eyes sparkle just a little, but alas, they remain dull and droopy as he meanders through the lesson. Meanwhile, my notes are a chaotic mess. In all caps at the bottom of the page, I jot the wordsPodcast idea. Salem! Witches!
“Hysteria consumed the town," Langley continues. “People turned on their neighbors, paranoia spread, and by the time it ended, twenty individuals had been executed. What can this time period teach us about human nature?”
His question blends so monotonously into the rest of his lecture, I don’t think anybody but me realizes he’s invited engagement. Carter Muldoni stifles a yawn. A handful of girls aren’t even facing front, but have positioned themselves in a perpendicular manner so they have a better view of Jude.
Nobody volunteers.
Nobody pays any attention at all.
Until Langley calls on the new student and the whole class snaps to such attention, you could hear a pin drop.
Jude lounges back with his long legs stretched in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other, idly twirling a pen around the tip of his thumb, a picture of quiet disinterest. He hasn’t opened hisnotebook. It’s closed beneath his worn copy ofMacbeth. “It teaches us the dangers of archaic, uninformed thinking,” he says, hardly missing a beat. “And how quick we are to blame evil for things we can’t yet explain.”
Langley looks pleased. “Care to elaborate?”
“You said the hysteria began when two girls started having fits. It was likely Lyme’s disease, an affliction they didn’t yet know about. So they blamed evil, pointed fingers, and innocent women were burned at the stake.”
“The women in Salem weren’t burned,” I blurt.
All the attention swivels from Jude to me as the clock on the wall ticks into the silence.
“And the men,” I continue. “There were some men. Nineteen were hanged. One was pressed.” The thought makes me shudder. “None of them were burned.” I know this thanks to Maggie Henshaw, who takes major offense with historical fallacy.
Napoleon wasn’t short!
The witches weren’t burned at the stake!
“That’s a common misconception,” I say.
Jude’s eyes narrow beneath his brooding eyebrows, and I wonder which part of the statement bothers him more—common, ormisconception?
“I mean, I get why it’s a misconception. That’s how they executed witches in England, and burning is more dramatic. If I were writing the story, I’d probably go with that, too."
“You’re disappointed they were hanged?” Jude asks.
“Of course not.”
“But burning would’ve made for a better story?”
“I’m simply saying that’s probably why the myth stuck. Stories last longer when they leave an impact. Burning leaves a big one.”
“So … factual accuracy is less important than turning history into entertainment?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you implied.”
I let out a short laugh. “You’re the one who got it wrong in the first place.”
“A victim of dramatics, I guess.”
Warmth rises in my cheeks.
“I don’t know the intricacies of the Salem Witch Trials,” Jude says. “I’ve never made a point to study them, but I stand by my original point. Human nature loves to blame evil, when in actuality, it was undiagnosed sickness and mass hysteria.”
“You don’t think evil was involved even a little?”
