The Underdog Parade

by Michael Mihaley

  Peter realized he was the only one walking now, and he didn’t stop until he stood next to Josh. He turned to face the crowd.

  Brutus, who never seemed like the kind of person to kid, shook his head slowly. Peter bet that behind those dark sunglasses were pieces of charcoal.

  “Drop the hammer,” Brutus repeated.

  The crowd inched forward, not to rush Josh but to get the best view of whatever would happen next.

  Peter scanned the crowd. His desire to belong, to be accepted, was never so out of reach. Peter saw the look of sheer hatred in Chipper’s eye, as if Peter had the gall to do anything more than be punched. He knew if this turned into a free-for-all, he’d have to keep an eye out for him.

  “Peter! CJ! Get over here,” Abby said, waving them over to the semineutral place on the side she had drifted to with Nick.

  Peter tried to find CJ in the crowd, but she wasn’t in the place he had left her.

  “I’m here,” said a little voice from beside him.

  Peter turned enough to see the shiny tiara, and a small hand gripping a lasso in front of her body.

  “Peter!” Nick’s voice cut through the static noise of the crowd and smacked Peter upside the ear. Nick pointed to the ground in front of him. “Right now, Peter. Right here.”

  Historically, this approach usually worked very well on Peter. He’d listen obediently and return with his head down like a puppy that piddled on the floor. He looked down at Josh’s driveway and noticed all the cracks and crevices. Then he looked at the ark, the ark that he’d helped build. Maybe it wouldn’t float, maybe it couldn’t float, but that didn’t matter anymore. Actually, he came to the realization it had never really mattered.

  “Brutus,” Kenneth Kassel Sr. said impatiently.

  Brutus breathed audibly out his nose and stepped forward.

  An electric whir came from behind the people, and the crowd parted reluctantly. Uncle Herb steered his wheelchair to the ark and did a six-point turn to face the crowd.

  “This is unbelievable,” Nick muttered.

  Not sure where she stood on anything anymore, Abby stepped further away from the crowd but kept her children and brother in full view.

  Brutus stepped forward and slowly turned his head toward Kenneth Kassel Sr. “Forget it, guy. I don’t do kids and wheelchairs.”

  “What?” shouted Kenneth Kassel Sr.

  “You heard me. I’m done,” Brutus said. He started to leave. “No hard feelings, Josh. I got two kids to support.”

  Josh nodded. “See you around, Harold.”

  The name Harold echoed throughout the crowd.

  Before leaving, Brutus looked at his phone and then put it back in his pocket. He stuck his finger in Kenneth Kassel Sr.’s chest. “It’s 8:28. I’m being paid until nine, got it? No more nickel-and-diming me. Even if it’s my last day.”

  Kenneth Kassel Sr. massaged his chest as Brutus walked away.

  The crowd was already deflating as Mr. James walked over and stood next to Josh. Mr. Terry followed, holding his phone over his head.

  “I’ve pressed nine, and I’ve pressed one. Don’t tempt me to hit that other one. It will really screw up your tee times when you’re locked up in county on charges of inciting a riot, or a lynch mob, or something else that will surely embarrass and shame you old divas,” Mr. Terry shouted.

  Mr. James looked at Peter and rolled his eyes. “He can’t help himself. He loves an audience.”

  Abby sprinted to the house, her hands covering her face. Nick watched her go, then sighed. He held up two fingers to Peter and CJ, but his message was anything but peace.

  “I want you inside in two minutes, you hear. Two minutes,” he said. Then he jogged into the house after Abby.

  There were murmurings and stare downs as Kenneth Kassel Sr. led the slow retreat back down Ranch Street. He offered to buy drinks for everyone in the pavilion, and this satisfied many.

  Chipper and the goons hung back, hoping to get a piece of Peter, but he was surrounded the entire time by the people who had stood by the ark. For the first time, Peter did not freeze at the mere presence of Chipper or look for an opportunity to flee.

  Rather, he walked toward Chipper.

  Peter couldn’t put a name on exactly what he was feeling, but he felt a tingling in his legs causing him to move. Maybe whatever Josh possessed that gave him the ability to stand up to the most powerful golfins in the Creek was contagious and had spread to Peter. He was uncertain about what was about to happen, but for the first time he didn’t fear the outcome.

  Peter stopped directly in front of Chipper. As he stood straight, he noticed that Chipper was definitely a little taller and wider than Peter, but not by too much. Having shoulders that were not hunched, a head not leaning to the ground and knees that stood firm and unjellied had leveled the open space between them. He wondered if Chipper sensed the same thing, because as he looked at Chipper’s eyes and the flesh-colored Band-Aid on his forehead brought about by CJ’s lasso, a flicker of uncertainty seemed to pass over his face.

  “Howdy, Kenneth Jr.,” Peter said, because in all his fantasies of standing up to Chipper, and on all the lists he created of things he would do when he finally faced this fear, it all started with repeating Chipper’s infamous greeting.

  The goons stared at each other in disbelief and laughed. But there was not the usual confidence in their laughter.

  “Oh, man! Looks like Nemo is tired of swimming away, Chip,” one of the goons said.

  Chipper shook his head in disgust. “Or he thinks he can act tough now because he knows all the people behind him will come to his rescue like they always do,” he answered.

  Peter wasn’t even thinking about the people behind him. His entire body was tingly now, almost shaking. There was something freeing yet terrifying about living out something that you’ve pretended to do hundreds of times in the safety of your bedroom. He could only hope that the outcome would not be drastically different. Not once did he imagine that he would swallow all his teeth or get his nose rearranged. Anyway, he couldn’t think about that now. The shaking wouldn’t let him.

  Chipper took a step toward him. “Do you know what I am going to do to you and that crazy little sister of—”

  Without thinking, Peter did everything that Josh had taught him that dawn on the boat to perfection. He didn’t telegraph the punch; Chipper had no idea it was coming. He led with his knuckles, powered by the rotation of his hips and aimed for Chipper’s body. He felt Chipper recoil at impact but still followed through as Josh had instructed. All the air-punches he had thrown as he imagined this moment led to a blow that instantaneously knocked all the air out of his target’s lungs.

  However, Chipper did not go down. He staggered back and placed his hand at on his chest. The look on his face was a mixture of shock and pain.

  “What?” was all Chipper could muster.

  And before he could ask another word, Peter hit him again.

  This time, Chipper went down to his knees.

  Even if Peter decided to run for his life now or experience the humiliating beating that he had successfully avoided all summer, he would declare this moment a victory. He had hit back. And now he said: “Don’t you ever bother me or my sister again.” He wished it came out stronger and meaner than he’d intended, but threats and warnings just weren’t Peter’s thing, and he was okay with that.

  The goons didn’t know what to do with themselves. They looked at Chipper. They looked at Peter. They looked back at Chipper. Then they saw a group of adults approaching. They knew now that they wouldn’t have to decide—a decision would be made for them. Chipper saw this too and remained on the ground.

  Josh walked over and bent down to him.

  “He hit me first,” Chipper said.

  If Chipper was expecting sympathy or first aid, he was about to be disappointed. Josh whispered to him, “You’re lucky he didn’t give you the grasshopper kick that I taught him. Then you would really have a problem.”
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  Chipper didn’t reply, but he looked at Peter and then his legs. Peter kept a straight face, but inside he was smiling. What the heck was a grasshopper kick?

  Josh stood and eyeballed the goons. “Don’t you think it’s time to get a new hobby?”

  They too looked quickly at Peter then back at Josh. They nodded.

  “Good. Get out of here. You live by the sword, you die by the sword.”

  Peter wondered if Josh got that expression from The Three Musketeers.

  They helped Chipper to his feet and quietly walked away.

  Smoky Night

  An hour after Chipper and the goons shuffled away, Peter, Mr. James, and Mr. Terry sat in lawn chairs leaning against the side of the ark. The sky was starless. Uncle Herb sat nearby, with CJ sitting on the ground in front of him, leaning on his knees. Herb couldn’t have been happier. It was a good way to end his vacation.

  “I feel like I’m camping,” Mr. Terry said.

  “God, do I despise camping,” Mr. James said.

  Josh let out a small laugh from his position on top of the ark’s hull. He was sitting in his usual cross legged position and staring at the dark shadows drifting across the sky.

  “Are those clouds or smoke?” he asked.

  Everyone looked up, but no one said anything. No one had the answer or wanted to exert the strength to think about it. The evening’s events had left them all spent. They hadn’t rehashed what happened. For now, the crickets would have to do all the chirping.

  Earlier, Nick had called the kids in from the front door, but Peter ran up and asked very respectfully if they could spend another hour outside as long as they stayed in eye’s view. Nick said thirty minutes. Peter smiled upon his return, happy with his negotiation tactics; he told everyone he would have settled for fifteen.

  He’ll be just fine, Herb thought. He’s a smart boy.

  Josh hopped off the ark and kneeled in front of Peter. “Listen, Peter. I want to tell you something that’s been on my mind. What those people were saying about me tonight was true. Well most of it, anyway. I am a loser—”

  “C’mon, Josh,” Mr. James interrupted.

  “No, no, let me finish. This is important. I am a loser in many ways, Peter. I flunked out of college after five years. I don’t have a job. No money, no girlfriend, nothing. I don’t even have a place to live after tomorrow.”

  Mr. Terry polled the circle. “I’m depressed now. You?”

  “I mean, c’mon. I’ve been arrested three different times, hit a damn horse once,” Josh said, shaking his head. “I’ve been out of my mind for so long. Seriously, I believed God spoke to me and told me to build an ark. Who does that?”

  “Noah,” CJ answered proudly.

  Uncle Herb smiled down at CJ.

  “But the thing is, and I don’t even know how to explain it really, but for the first time in a long time, I feel okay with myself. Okay with where I am. And I don’t even know where that is!” Josh laughed. “I started feeling it when I was standing in front of all those people. I don’t know why, and then when you stood next to me next like that, young Peter . . .” He paused. “It all fell into place. I figured if I earned your trust, how bad can I be? Does that make any sense?”

  “S,” Uncle Herb said. “Odds-plan-s-not-e-aim-or-ef-e-un.”

  Peter started to interpret his uncle’s longer sentence, but Josh held up his hand to stop him. Josh stood for a moment and appraised Herb silently. He climbed back up the ark and lit a cigarette. The end glowed against the backdrop of the sky.

  “I like that, Herb. I like that a lot,” Josh said, sounding like he was talking more to himself than anyone else. He took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly before repeating what Herb had said to him.

  God’s plan is not the same for everyone.

  * * *

  “That was some punch, kid,” Mr. Terry said. “Wham-o! We were all watching, but it was Josh’s idea not to break it up at first, to let it run its course.”

  Josh nodded but kept his eyes on the sky. “Great form, young Peter. Great form. I knew you had it in you.”

  Peter felt his ears getting warm.

  Mr. James asked, “Now you answer me something, Josh. Were you going to swing that hammer?”

  Josh paused before answering. His eyes followed something bright moving across the sky. An airplane? A shooting star?

  “Probably,” he answered.

  Day 71

  Beyond Willow Creek Landing, the thick cloud of dark smoke grew in the far distance. Overnight, it was joined by several smaller, yet just as ominous, clouds in the sky. That was the current headline: smaller fires breaking out throughout the Pine Barrens. Embers from the original fire were being carried by the wind some several miles, and with everything dried out from the drought, a spark was all it needed.

  But Peter was still on a high from the night before. There were no repercussions from his father last night when he’d finally returned home, no phone call from Chipper’s dad about the punch, only his father saying from above his laptop, “Crazy night. Go to bed,” which Peter dutifully obeyed. But he didn’t fall asleep right away. Actually, he didn’t fall asleep for hours. Lying in bed, he replayed the night’s events over and over in his head.

  For the first time in a long time, Peter felt optimistic.

  His father didn’t seem too concerned with the fires either, but he was so occupied with his laptop and phone that he probably wouldn’t have noticed if the couch he was sitting on was in flames. So Peter was surprised, to put it mildly, when his dad looked up from his laptop and suggested a bike ride and lunch at a restaurant. It sounded like a great idea until Peter remembered it was Uncle Herb’s last day.

  However, Uncle Herb insisted they go. He would see them when they got back. When Peter found out that his mother would also meet them for lunch after she checked in at the office, he had to jump at the opportunity. It was a long time since just the four of them had been out together. Maybe things really were starting to get better?

  Peter felt strong as he pedaled through the streets of the T section. He, his dad, and CJ had been gone all morning, biking most of the time except for a stop at a local park so CJ could play on the swings. Peter’s stomach grumbled as he cut the curb short and U-turned back to CJ and his dad.

  “I’m hungry,” Peter said.

  Nick was pedaling slowly and steering his bike with one hand, texting with the other. He didn’t answer. This was how he was for most of the day. There, but not. Still, Peter took whatever attention his father gave him.

  CJ used this moment to blow by Peter and finally take the lead. The training wheels on her pink bike were uneven and the bike tilted to whichever side her weight was leaning.

  “You need to learn to ride a bike without training wheels,” Peter said, hoping his father would hear him. She was too big for that bike. Peter decided that if his father didn’t get the hint, he would ask Josh to take the wheels off and raise the seat. Peter remembered the time he played catch with Mr. Terry and thought maybe the neighbors could help CJ learn to ride.

  On Main Street, a fire truck crept silently past as firefighters stared blankly out the open windows, their faces covered in ash. The normally shiny truck was a muted red. Everyone on the street stopped as the truck passed, heading back to the firehouse. Some people waved, others nodded respectfully. The firefighters didn’t wave back.

  “Why aren’t they at the fire?” CJ asked.

  “They’re taking shifts now,” Nick said.

  They pedaled in silence, until they reached the parking lot of the Sleepy Beagle Café. Nick put his phone in his pocket, then said, “Your mom will be a little late. She’s stuck at the office. She said to start lunch without her.”

  They walked into the dark restaurant and stopped at the hostess stand. A pretty girl walked over carrying menus and greeted them with a friendly wave.

  “Hey, I guess you won’t be eating at the bar today,” she said. Peter thought she had confu
sed them with someone else. They never ate at the bar. The hostess stooped over and smiled at CJ. Peter saw a red bra underneath her low-cut shirt. His face turned a similar shade, and he looked away.

  “What’s your name, beautiful?”

  CJ looked at Peter and frowned.

  “We’ll take a booth today, Holly,” Nick said.

  She walked them past the bar, but they all slowed at the image of the Pine Barrens burning on the big screen television.

  “Don’t you live in that golf community off of Slocin?” Holly asked.

  “Yeah,” Nick said, distracted now by the large visual of the fire’s rage.

  “Didn’t they issue an evacuation alert?”

  “For who?” Nick asked.

  “Willow Creek.”

  This shook Peter away from the television. He glanced at CJ, who was looking at him, then at his father for some sort of direction like an order to backtrack immediately. But all Nick did was smile coolly at Holly and ask, “Why? The fires are still miles to the south.”

  A short, solid man in a sweat-stained T-shirt and black-and-white checkered pants dropped a heavy rack of glasses on the bar. He said, “Where you been? A fire sparked out east this morning. The wind is pushing it west. If it connects to the other fires, forget about it. Way worse than the Sunrise Highway fires. Time to get on a ferry to Connecticut,” the man laughed.

  “We have to go, Dad,” Peter said.

  Nick held his hand up. “Relax a minute, Peter.”

  “Uncle Herb is still at the house,” CJ said.

  Now Nick pressed the air with his hand impatiently. “Hold on a second. Let me make a phone call.”

  * * *

  Peter couldn’t believe he had to stay confined to this stupid, small booth as the world seemed to burn around him. Only a few tables were occupied in the restaurant; Peter had never seen the place so empty. Most of the people were gathered around the bar in front of the big television, his Dad included.

  CJ leaned in from across the table. “Peter, we have to go back,” she whispered.

  Peter leaned down on the bench to get a better view of the television in the bar. “They declared a state emergency. The Catskills and Adirondacks are on fire too.”