Presidential Shadows

by Michael Cantwell

Dinner was a bad dream. My grandparents came over for tacos. Mom was in a bad mood. “I received a call from Mrs. Haverbacky this afternoon, Alex. I understand you came into possession of the answers to your test and didn’t tell her. Is this true?”

  “I didn’t look at the answers, Mom. I threw the paper in the trash.” I was hoping I could go back to eating my tacos. No such luck.

  “That didn’t answer your mother’s question, young man,” Dad said.

  I wanted to crawl under the table. Mr. Ford warned me about being tested. Who knew he meant several times in one day.

  “I didn’t know for sure those guys had the answer sheet until they handed it to me,” I said. “I thought about reading it. I didn’t. I threw the paper in the trash without peeking at the answers. Come on, Mom, most of the kids in my class already ignore me. They never pick me for teams. I’m hardly ever invited to birthday parties. If I squealed on them, I might was as well move to Australia.”

  “I don’t believe that for one moment,” Grandma said. “You are such a sweet boy and so smart. Why wouldn’t anyone like you?”

  “Let it go, Marie,” Grandpa Frank said. “Boys his age have to fight it out in their own way. It puts hair on their chest.”

  I rubbed my chest over my shirt. Nothing.

  “The next time you know someone has cheated, I expect you to tell the teacher,” Mom said.

  “Get off the boy’s ass, Maureen,” Grandpa said. “He didn’t take the sheet, nor did he look at it. Give em some credit. You were young once. He’s right. If he becomes the class snitch, he might as well move to frigging Australia.”

  “Frank, I’m a teacher at his school. How does it look when my own son cheats?”

  Grandpa raised his voice. “First of all, he said he didn’t cheat. From what I’m hearing the teacher didn’t accuse him of cheating. And second, you’re his mother first, not a damn school teacher.”

  Grandpa and Mom each crossed their arms at the same time. I was still confused why everyone was arguing. The other boys were the ones who stole the sheet and looked at the answers.

  “Please pass the lettuce,” Dad said. “Pops is right, Maureen. Alex did what he thought was best. Let’s enjoy a quiet dinner for once.”

  Quiet time ended quickly. “Frank can you tell me where the book came from you gave to Alex for his birthday? It doesn’t appear to be something you can pick up in just any old bookstore.”

  “That book was given to me. I turned it over to my grandson. What? Now I can’t give Alex something special without you playing twenty questions?”

  The tension was too much for me. “May I please be excused?”

  “Finish your tacos, Alex.” Dad said.

  Grandpa continued. “It was given to me as a gift. Do you remember when my company did some work around the White House? Well, the Gipper gave it to me.”

  Mom laughed. “Are you trying to tell me Ronald Reagan gave you that book and you gave it to Alex?”

  “I’m telling you the book was a gift and it now belongs to Alex. Why must you insist on questioning everything I give to my own flesh and blood, Maureen? It’s a grandfather’s prerogative to give special gifts and this one is magical. My goodness, it’s a tale of our nation’s history told by the men who lived it. The boy gets to keep the book. If not, I refuse to return for another meal in this house.”

  Mom went into the kitchen. Dad joined her but came back out alone. Grandpa and Grandma finished dinner without speaking. I finished my tacos and went to my room. No dessert again. I flipped open my book. If Mom was going to take it from me, I wanted to read it as much as possible before she did.

  I read a few pages about Franklin Pierce. He was the 14th President of the United States. People got mad at Mr. Pierce because he supported the Kansas-Nebraska Act. The law created new territories called Kansas and Nebraska. A Senator from Illinois named Stephen Douglas created the law, because he thought it would open up more space for people to make farms and later a railroad. The law also allowed the people who were moving there, to decide if they could own slaves or not. While reading it, I again realized people from long ago argued about slaves as much as Mom argued with Grandpa.

  Some people were so mad at President Pierce they created a new political party called the Republicans to fight against the Kansas-Nebraska Act. The Republicans fought against slavery so much, they later elected Abraham Lincoln.

  I kept reading about President Pierce until I heard someone coming up the steps. I hid the book under my bed. Dad opened the bedroom door and sat next to me on my bed. Dad hardly ever came into my room.

  “Your mother isn’t feeling well. She asked me to make sure you were ready for bed.”

  “Yes, Dad. I’m ready.”

  Dad pulled the covers over my shoulders. “So tell me about this book that Mom and Grandpa were discussing at dinner.”

  “Grandpa gave it to me. It has all kinds of stories about presidents in fancy handwriting. Some of the handwriting is hard to understand, so I skip around the pages. But the parts I can read, I really like.”

  “I spoke with your mother and grandfather about the book. You can keep it. Mom was concerned that possibly it belonged to a library and had to be returned.”

  “You heard Grandpa, Dad. He said President Reagan gave it to him. That must have been really cool getting to meet a president when he was still president.”

  Dad smiled. “Your grandfather is a fine man. Sometimes he likes to embellish his stories, Alex.”

  “What do you mean, Dad?”

  He smiled again. “One day you will tell your grandchildren a story about how you scored thirty points in a playoff basketball game, or stopped someone from robbing a grocery store.”

  “I’m still not sure what you mean, Dad? Are you trying to tell me that Grandpa didn’t really meet President Reagan?”

  “I’m only saying that as we get older our memories fade. When we do remember, maybe the stories we tell aren’t completely accurate. Your grandfather would never lie to you, Alex. Maybe his memory isn’t so perfect as to where the book came from. He probably got it from a store while he was working in Washington. They sell all kinds of things that look like historical documents in the gift shop, right across the street from the White House. I think maybe the day your grandfather met President Reagan he was excited and bought the book from the gift shop and misremembers.”

  “If you say so, Dad. As long as I can keep it. It makes no difference where it came from. I like learning and talking with all the presidents. They are fun to meet.”

  Dad kissed my forehead and shut off the light. I had to remind him to turn on the radio on my nightstand. I fell asleep wondering what president I would meet next.

  The next morning Mom made pancakes smothered in strawberries and syrup. Dad was grumbling about the Yanks losing again. When I reminded him it was only spring training, he told me, “Every game counts, now eat your pancakes.” Mom gave me a kiss on the cheek and sent me off to school. It was rare she kissed me before school. She must have been feeling better.

  I was a few houses from home when a man walked across the street in my direction. He looked much like the other old men I met, except he didn’t have white hair. It was brown. He wore an ugly black suit with a big bow tie though, same as the other men.

  “Alex, my name is Franklin Pierce. I do believe you were reading about me last night.”

  “Yeah, I read about ya for a little bit. Dad made me shut off the lights.”

  “I know you had a rough day,” Mr. Pierce said. “I had my share as well. But you must keep moving forward. You are building character, which will come in handy later in life.”

  “I dunno, mister. You must have had some really bad days if you think it was worse than having your mom mad at you. I don’t like it when she gets upset at me. I especially get upset when Mom’s mad at Dad or Grandpa.”

  We walked towards school. Franklin was taking big gulps of fresh spring air. “I once had much of the nation upset with me, A
lex. Not just my mother or father, an entire nation.”

  “Whoa, you remind me of my friend Richard Nixon. He had tons of people mad at him too. What did you do?”

  Franklin took another deep drink of air. “After my Presidency concluded, our nation went into a civil war.”

  “I heard about that. People were fighting over if you should own slaves or not.”

  “That’s right. I am committed to the belief that involuntary servitude is granted under our Constitution. Because of that belief, once the states went to war, I supported the south in maintaining their right of involuntary servitude. I was never forgiven by most citizens from the north.”

  “That musta been hard, mister. I told Mom last night I was gonna have to move to Australia if my classmates thought I squealed on them. If I had the entire north mad at me, who knows where I would hide.

  “Well, don’t travel to Australia, Alex. England sends many of their convicts there. You can find a more suitable place to live. Though I am sure you won’t have to leave our great nation over a cheating classmate.”

  I stopped walking. I looked at Franklin. “Convicts? Like bad people? We had a new kid move here from Australia named Trevor. He didn’t tell me anything about there being bad people there. But then again, maybe that’s why his family moved here.”

  Franklin laughed. “Not all from Australia are bad people. I’ve never been, but I’ve been told it is a beautiful country.”

  “You mean continent,” I said. “We learned Australia is a continent in school.”

  “The mainland of Australia is part of the continent of Australia along with other islands in the area, Alex.”

  We continued to walk toward school as Franklin continued speaking. “I did what I thought was best for our nation. I loved my God, my family and the idea a man of humble beginnings like myself could lead our great nation. I despised change. Yet my life was filled with it. The good Lord took my children at a tender age. Yet I persevered. I realize you think having your mother or a classmate upset with you is a bitter pill to swallow. But you will endure, Alex. Go forth with the knowledge that this great nation of ours offers opportunity for those who seek it.”

  We turned the corner and Franklin was gone. Bruce and Wendy were waiting for me. Wendy was her usual perky self.

  “My mother said she’ll drop us off at the mall tomorrow. You want to come with me and Bruce to the movies?”

  “I dunno, Wendy. My mom knows Bruce. She doesn’t know you or your mother. I’ll have to ask her if it’s ok if go with strangers to the mall.”

  “I’ve told you before, Alex Schuler. Your mother knows me. In case you didn’t know already, all parents know each other. They meet in a secret place after we’re in bed or when we’re in school. My mother calls it a bridge club. My father calls it poker with the boys, but they all know each other. So, do you want to go or not?”

  Bruce shrugged. He did that a lot around Wendy. Her feet sporting white sneakers with pink laces tapped the ground while she stared at me.

  “I guess I can ask Mom if I can go. Bruce hasn’t seen the new Terminator movie yet. We can go see that one.”

  “Pfft,” Wendy replied.

  After school, I asked Mom if I could go to the movies with Bruce and Wendy. Her mother would be driving us and doing some shopping while we were in the theatre.

  “Sure, honey,” she said. “Mrs. Newman’s a lovely lady. I’ve played bridge with her a few times. I’m surprised you don’t invite Wendy over when Bruce comes to visit. She’s such a cute little girl, always in pink you know. From what I’ve been told, the two families are very close.”

  Wendy was right. Moms did know everything. Maybe parents did have a secret society.

  Wendy’s mother picked me up the following day. Bruce and Wendy were already in the car. I sat in the back seat with Bruce. Mrs. Newman walked us to the ticket window inside the entrance of the mall. “You three wait right here after your movie is over. I’ll pick you on this spot,” she said. She then faded into the crowded mall.

  “Hurry up, Terminator starts in two minutes,” I said. “We need to get a ticket and popcorn.”

  “We have time,” Wendy said.

  “Give Wendy your money, Alex. We can save time if we let her buy all three tickets at one time,” Bruce said.

  I nodded and handed her the money. Bruce and I stood behind the entrance rope waiting for Wendy and reading the food menu. We thought it would save time if we knew what we were ordering and had our money out before we got to the counter.

  Wendy handed us the tickets. We scurried to the food stand. We ordered a large bucket of popcorn to share and three small drinks. “I’ll take the pink lemonade,” Wendy said. “Yum, my favorite.”

  With drinks, popcorn and tickets in hand we made our way to theatre three where “Terminator 2” was playing. Wendy kept walking past the entrance. “This way,” she said. “Our movie is playing in theatre five, not three.”

  I read the sign. “Three Men and A Little Lady” was showing in theatre five. “Wendy, we voted,” I said. “Two to one, we would see Arnold, not this stupid movie.”

  “Boys are so stupid sometimes,” Wendy declared. “Why would I want to see a movie with monsters? You gave me the money. That counts for three votes. Besides, my mother would never allow me to see a yucky movie like that one.”

  My second understanding with girls was as big of a failure as the first one. Never hand your money to a girl unless you know what they are going to do with it.

  Once inside the theatre, Wendy sat between the two of us. She wanted to hold the popcorn. “Do you want a sip of my pink lemonade, Alex? It tastes so much better than the yellow kind. Try it.”

  “No thanks, Wendy. I’ll drink my pop.”

  “I don’t have cooties, Alex. And lemonade is much better than soda. Try some,” Wendy insisted.

  I looked at Bruce. He shrugged. This wasn’t how my afternoon was supposed to go. I was going to see Arnold blow up the world, not drink lemonade with Wendy and watch a dopey movie.

  “Just watch the movie,” I said.

  The movie was better than anticipated. We laughed. I reached over for some popcorn. Wendy put her hand in the bucket at the same time as mine. Our hands touched. I quickly ripped mine out of the bucket. I looked at Wendy. She was smiling. “I don’t have cooties,” she said.

  After the movie ended, we were waiting in the lobby for Wendy’s mother. Greg and some of the other boys from our class came out of another theatre, including the two boys who stole the answer sheet. They walked over to us.

  “I hear you ratted out Roger and Davey for cheating,” Greg said.

  “Yeah, well ya heard wrong,” I said. “I got in trouble because I didn’t snitch.”

  “Then how come your mom called my mom last night asking for Davey’s mom’s phone number? Then my mom asked me if I cheated on the test. Huh? How come?”

  I shook my head. Greg was such a dork. “In case no one ever told you, Greg, all moms belong to a secret club called the bridge club. Ask Wendy. She told me about it and she was right. It’s how they know everything. But I didn’t say nuttin about anybody cheating. Maybe they wanted to compare notes over the phone. Did ya ever think of that?”

  “Why don’t you leave us alone,” Wendy said. “I saw Alex throw the paper with the answers into the trash bin. Plus Bruce told me, that Alex told him, that he got in trouble for not telling on you jerks. You got it all wrong, as usual. Now go away.”

  “Nobody was talking with you, Pinky. This is between me and Alex,” Greg said.

  Greg tried to act like a big shot and moved so close to Wendy, their noses almost touched. Wendy never moved. For some strange reason, Greg being that close to Wendy bugged me. I shoved Greg back towards the other boys.

  “Fight,” Davey yelled out. Greg shoved me back. It didn’t hurt at all. The person taking tickets was a high school kid who lived a few houses from me. He grabbed me by the shirt and yanked me next to him.

 
“There ain’t gonna be any fights round here,” he said. Greg and the other boys started to walk away when Greg turned to look back at me.

  “I’m gonna get you one day, Schuler. Dunno when. But I will.”

  The ticket taker barked at Greg. “Get lost, punk.”

  Wendy’s mom must have been nearby when all of this happened because by the time the ticket taker let loose of my shirt, she was standing next to Wendy. I looked at Bruce. He shrugged.

  “Let’s go you three,” Wendy’s mom said. Alex, I’m going to have to tell your mother what I witnessed.”

  “No you don’t mother,” Wendy said. “Please? Alex was only defending me. Greg was going to hit me. Alex stepped in and protected me. He didn’t do anything wrong. Please don’t get him in any trouble.”

  Defending her? I didn’t think I was defending her. I thought Greg was being a jerk and I had an excuse to shove him. But if that would get me out of trouble then I would let everyone think I was defending Wendy. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized Wendy was right.

  ~~~*~~~

  Chapter Eight