BRAT and the Kids of Warriors

by Michael Joseph Lyons

  That cracked them up again.

  Theirs was a comradeship forged in battle. Ryan Kerrigan had once more inflicted damage. Jack’s eye wasn’t looking any too good. And it wasn’t as if they no longer feared him, but this time Ryan Kerrigan had also walked away worse for wear. That part was new.

  The first parent Mr. Reynolds walked in with was Col. Duncan. The room went silent as a stone. Every kid stood tall, though their faces had the thousand-yard stare of a shell-shocked soldier.

  The man was in his Class A uniform, with Duncan written on his nametag, a rack of ribbons on the other side of his chest, and shiny screaming eagles on his shoulders. This was one pissed-off full colonel. He didn’t say a word. Nor did he look at Kevin. Instead he stared directly at each kid in the room, one at a time. He glared with an “I’ll eat you alive” look. As intimidating as he was, not one kid broke eye contact. They knew better. The minute he finished silently grilling the last kid, who happened to be Jack, he turned on his heels and headed out of the room. Over his shoulder, he said in a quiet-but-deadly voice, “Let’s go, Kevin.” The entire time Col. Duncan was in the room, he never once looked at his son.

  Then they were gone.

  “Whoa, Kevin’s dad is really intense!” said Jayla. “My dad is beyond tough, but that guy is hardcore.”

  “Man, I hope Kevin’s okay. Col. Duncan looked like he might kill him,” Jack said, with genuine concern.

  But before anyone else said anything, the door swung open and in walked Lt. Col. Jones. The only kid he even looked at was Jayla. All he said was, “Let’s go.” And the two of them were out of there.

  “Boy, oh, boy. I couldn’t read a thing on his face,” said Sam. “I have no clue if she’s in trouble or not.”

  “You heard her earlier,” said Jack. “She’s in big trouble. Lt. Col. Jones is the highest ranking Negro officer I’ve ever met. I overheard my dad say he’s amazing, and that one day he’ll be a general. So I know she gets held to a ridiculously high standard. “

  “I think he expects a lot from her ’cause he’s been through a lot,” said Charlie. “Like when he was at West Point.”

  “He graduated from West Point?” Jack said, stunned.

  “Sure did,” said Charlie. “He’s one of the first colored men to do it. But the way I hear it, he had to deal with four years of the silent treatment. Except for official communications, no one ever spoke to him because he’s a Negro. I guess after he tolerated all that, nothing he puts on Jayla seems tough to him.”

  About twenty minutes later, Sam’s and Charlie’s mothers picked them up. Jack was left there to sweat it out all by himself. No question about it: He was in big trouble. If the school calls your dad, and he has to leave work because of something his kid did, that kid should watch out! Jack knew it didn’t matter whether it was his fault or not. It didn’t matter if he had stuck up for himself or not. If your actions bring negative attention to the colonel, you’re in deep trouble. Right, wrong, or indifferent, you are going to get it. The rules are clear: You never, never make a military officer look bad. You do, and it can affect that officer’s career. As he sat alone, Jack could feel his body fill with dread.

  Lt. Col. McMasters came barging through the door with Mr. Reynolds in tow. He wasn’t even trying to mask his anger. Jack could see he was fired up. He glared down at Jack’s swollen eye and said in a very surly voice, “Well, it looks like I don’t have to kick your ass, since it’s obvious someone’s already done it for me.” Without another word, he grabbed Jack by the ear and yanked him out the door. He didn’t let go of that ear till he forcibly tossed Jack into the car.

  Jack sat, petrified, waiting for his dad to come around and get in, wishing he was anywhere but in that car. Slamming the door shut, the colonel yanked the car in gear and pealed out of the school parking lot. Gravel kicked up. Tires squealed. He hadn’t gone two blocks before he started screaming at Jack, “Have you lost your mind! I don’t need your stupidity! And I certainly don’t need this crap. You—are—a—complete—idiot! If I ever have to come to that school again, you’ll by God pay the price. Do you understand me, young man?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jack replied just above a whisper.

  “What did you say!” screamed his father, as the car roared toward The Glass House.

  But before he even had a chance to reply, his father lost it, smacking Jack hard across the face with the back of his hand. Blood erupted from his nose.

  “I said, what—did—you—say!” his father screamed again.

  “Don’t make me ask you one more time, you—sorry—excuse—for—a—human—being. Or you’ll get it again.”

  Jack desperately gasped for breath, finally managing to blurt out, “Sir, it won’t happen again, sir.”

  “You’re damn right it won’t!” screamed the colonel. He brought the car to a screeching halt in front of their building. “Now get your sorry ass upstairs, and clean yourself up. And don’t come out of your room till I tell you to. Do—you—understand—me?”

  “Yes, sir.” Jack got out of the car and headed into the building. He was hoping against hope his father would stay in the car and head back to work. But a second after he entered the building Jack heard his dad’s car door slam.

  He mounted the stairs as fast as he could, but his father’s footsteps were coming rapidly. He had almost made it to the third-floor landing. WACK! The colonel slapped him a hard one upside the back of his head. Jack went down hard. Jack forced himself to climb, desperately trying to get away. Just before he got to their door, his father latched onto the back of his neck with a vice grip. Leaning down to his ear, he said in a low voice, “And I better not hear any crying out of you, or I’m going to come in there and give you something to cry about! Do—you—understand—me?”

  “Yes, s—sir.”

  Jack headed straight for the bathroom and worked to get his nose to stop bleeding, all while trying to wash up. Nothing would stop the blood flow. He grabbed a huge wad of toilet paper and held it to the eruption. His brain was mush. The only thing he focused on was not getting more blood on his clothes than he already had.

  He grabbed the extra roll of toilet paper off a shelf, went to his room, closed the door, and cautiously lay down on the bed. Tilting his head back, he tossed the blood-soaked toilet paper in the waste bin by his bed, and pressed a fresh wad to his nose. He forced himself to remain motionless, hoping that would help stop the flow.

  Jack could hear the colonel ranting and raving out in the living room. He sensed him pacing up and down like a caged tiger. His mom was the only one home at this time of day. Jack knew she was getting an earful. Every time it went quiet out there, Jack drifted off, only to be jolted back to reality when the colonel resumed yelling. Jack’s whole system would rush back on high alert. Was his father coming to his room to give him more? Was his father going to lose it with his mom because of what he’d done? Were the girls going to get it, too, when they came home, for no reason at all? Jack lay there, dreading whatever was coming. If his father would just go back to work, then he could shut down and drift away.

  The apartment door slammed. He knew someone had gone out. Had his mom finally had enough and walked out on the colonel? Had the colonel finally gone back to work? He forced himself off the bed and toward the window. He was careful not to get too close. He knew the colonel had the kind of radar that would sense Jack’s presence at the window. If his dad glanced up and saw Jack staring down at him, he’d probably come storming back in and kick his ass all over again. Jack was in no position to risk anything, but he couldn’t stand not knowing if it was his dad or his mom leaving. Placing a chair well back from the window and praying he wouldn’t be seen from below, Jack slowly stood on the chair and looked out. The car was pulling away. Lt. Col. McMasters was in the driver’s seat.

  Once the car was down the street, Jack got down and put the chair away. As he eased back o
nto his bed, he realized his nose had stopped bleeding. He knew eventually his mom would come in, but for now he was just too spent even to think. Jack’s eyes wouldn’t stay open. Jack shut down.

  Sometime later he heard her come in. But, he kept his eyes closed, not moving, pretending he was asleep. After a few moments, she left. The second time she came to check on him, he opened his eyes and looked at her.

  “Sit up and let me have a look at you.”

  She examined his eye and his nose, and then left. A few minutes later she returned with a dish towel full of ice cubes. “Here. Put this on your eye.”

  He did as she asked, not saying a word. He simply lay back down, putting the ice pack over his eye and nose.

  She walked out.

  A while later, she came back and took the ice pack away, saying, “I have a bath ready for you. Go in and take it now.” She didn’t show anger, nor did she show sympathy. She didn’t show anything at all.

  He took his bath, put on a clean pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, and went back to his room. He was there quite a while before she returned.

  She sat on his bed and studied him. Finally she asked, “Do you understand why your dad is mad at you?”

  “Because I got into a fight?”

  “No, it’s not the fight. It’s because you got in trouble with the principal, and because the school called him.”

  “But it wasn’t my fault—”

  Her eyes flashed, and she gave him a “don’t even think that” look. “Jack, who started it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you made your father look bad. You kids simply can’t afford to make your father look bad. Do you understand that? Do you understand why?”

  Jack looked her in the eye but didn’t respond.

  She said, “If his boss, Langford, or if the commanding general ever get the idea that your father can’t even control his own children, they will question whether they can trust him to command a bunch of men in battle. If you or your sisters do anything to make your father look bad, he might never make full colonel. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Don’t you just ‘Yes, ma’am’ me, Jack McMasters,” she said with real irritation. “Either you actually understand what I’m talking about or you don’t. But this is far too important for you not to understand. So which is it?”

  “I understand, Mom. I really do. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

  “It had better not!”

  She got up to go. But she turned back to him, and said, “If your father talks to you tonight, or if he asks you any questions, you keep your answers short. You look him right in the eye. You tell the truth. And for goodness’ sake, don’t ever say it wasn’t your fault. Got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She left.

  He heard the girls get home from school but he knew they wouldn’t be by to see him. Word passes fast in a brat school, and nothing passes faster than news of a fight and kids being sent home. Before they ever walked in the door of their quarters, the girls knew Jack was in trouble. And in the McMasterses’ household, when one kid was in trouble, all kids were subject to trouble. Even Rabbit knew to keep a low profile. Queenie and Rabbit got in, and they got out—fast. Jack knew they wouldn’t be back till dinner. He also knew they wouldn’t risk getting home late.

  Jack’s adult-radar went off at five-thirty. His dad had returned. This time there was no yelling and screaming. Actually, things remained a bit too quiet. He figured his parents were in a private powwow.

  He had no idea what that would mean. But this lying around, not knowing, drove him crazy.

  Later he heard them eating dinner. Again, no one had come to get him.

  Sometime after seven-thirty, his door opened and Queenie came in. She gave him a “you’re such a dork” look, followed by one that said, “God, I’m glad I’m not you.” But out loud, all she said was, “Dad wants to see you. He’s in the living room.”

  Jack got his shoes and socks on. Earlier, he’d made sure that the shoes were properly shined. The last thing he could afford was a confrontation over un-shined shoes. He put on a clean shirt, carefully tucking it in. At the last second, he even remembered to put on a belt. He made a quick stop at the bathroom to make sure his hair was combed. Yup. Both his eye and nose were swollen. Then he made the long death march into the living room.

  His father looked at him as he came in. He could feel the colonel inspecting him as he walked across the room.

  There was a long silence. Jack stood there not moving a muscle. He made sure he stood erect.

  “Who was the fight with?”

  “Ryan Kerrigan.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “He came up to me on the playground during morning break. He called me a bunch of names and slugged me.”

  “What did you say to him beforehand?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re telling me this was totally unprovoked?”

  “Well, the guy definitely doesn’t like me.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. He started yelling at me the first day of school. I got into a fight with him then.”

  “Well, it certainly looks like he kicked your ass today.”

  “Ryan Kerrigan kicks everyone’s ass.”

  “Shake it off, Jack, and get your licks in when you can.”

  For the next five minutes the colonel gave him the third degree about who had been involved. Jack explained about Kerrigan’s gang and about those involved on his side. The colonel asked a lot of questions about Kevin Duncan.

  “Do you know why I’m upset with you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I don’t want to ever get another call from that school—or from anyone else—about your behavior. Do I make myself clear, Jack?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He thought he was about to be excused, but instead his father told him to take a seat on the couch. That made him even more nervous.

  “Earlier today I said you were stupid. Jack, you’re not stupid. But you certainly need to get a lot smarter. And you need to do it fast. Here’s what I’m thinking. This Kerrigan kid is going to keep coming after you. Am I right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Face it, Jack, sooner or later you’re going to have to figure out how to cool his jets, or he’ll never stop coming after you. Am I right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay, ground rule number one: No matter what he does, what he says, or if he attacks, you never fight him on school grounds. You tell him you’ll meet him somewhere after school where there are no adults around. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Second, you always show. And you show early if you commit to a meet. If he doesn’t show, he’s the coward, but don’t you ever be the coward. Got me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You get your ass kicked—that’s your problem. But I better never get a call about it. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Last thing. Not to be repeated. Col. Duncan is new here, and I don’t know him. But I hear he’s one tough son-of-a-B. So if his kid is a friend of yours, and he’s anything like his old man, you better keep him close to you. “

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You don’t leave your room, except to go to school, for the next two days.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Dismissed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jack lay down on his bed studying the cracks in the ceiling. His brain was fried. He just wanted this day to end. He was still staring at the same stupid cracks fifteen minutes later when his mom came in with a scrambled-egg sandwich and a glass of milk. She didn’t say anything; she just put it down on his nightstand and walked out.

  Jack didn’t really care about the food. He only ate half the sandw
ich before giving up. Lying back down, he resumed his study of the ceiling. How long he’d been at it, he didn’t know, but Kevin Duncan suddenly popped into his head. He wondered how Kevin was making out. His stomach started tightening. Thinking about Kevin made him feel worse. In his gut he knew Kevin was taking some serious heat. And he knew it was his fault. His father’s words kept swimming around in his head, One tough son-of-a-B. A new wave of guilt washed over him. He’d gotten Kevin into hot water. And Jayla. And maybe Charlie and Sam. Why me? Why does Ryan Kerrigan hate me so much? Kerrigan is my problem, not theirs. I’m the one who’s a panty waist. If I weren’t such a weenie, they wouldn’t have gotten involved—I am one sorry excuse for a human being.

  18

  Guilty Before Proven Innocent

  Kevin’s cheek looked really bad. Jack didn’t see it till he was halfway down the aisle of the school bus. The left side of Kevin’s face was swollen and dark. For the briefest moment Jack thought it was from the fight with Kerrigan. Then he realized how Kevin got it, and guilt flooded him.

  He was about to say he was sorry, but realized it would just make things worse. Kevin couldn’t control Col. Duncan any more than he could control his own dad. So, instead, he opted for humor that he didn’t feel.

  “Nice cheek,” said Jack, by way of greeting. “You run into a door last night?”

  Kevin touched the side of his cheek, and winced. “Yeah—same door you ran into with that nose.”

  Jack couldn’t help smiling. “Yup, I gotta learn to watch out for that door.” He plopped down next to Kevin. Charlie jumped into the seat across the aisle. Jayla and Sam sat down just in front of them and leaned over the back of their seat.

  “Sooooo . . . ?” asked Sam, scanning everyone in turn.

  Jayla offered up, “I can’t play for the next three days. The only time I’m allowed out is to go to school. My dad was really ticked off. In the car I got the total silent treatment. He never said one word to me the whole way back to our quarters. He just drove along, grinding his teeth. You know you’re in major trouble when his jaw starts movin’ back and forth that way. He dumped me off at home, leaving my mom to deal with it. He told her he thought I’d been recruited by a bunch of hooligans, blah, blah, blah, and that she’d better sort me out.”