Force Out

by Tim Green

  “And you can’t tell me over the phone?”

  Sunlight shone down through the big trees in the front lawn, spotting the driveway as well as Joey’s arm. “I better not.”

  Mr. Kratz’s lungs filled and emptied like two big air tanks. “I’m on my way into school. You can meet me at the lab.”

  “Okay, thanks, Mr. Kratz.”

  “Yup.” The phone went dead.

  Joey paced the driveway, tugging on his own hair. “What am I doing? What am I doing?”

  Pork Chop peeked around the closest tree and studied him with contempt before disappearing again. Joey walked in small circles, breathing hard, then grabbed his bike and started to ride. He was going to take this thing head-on. He had more similarities with his mother than just his looks. He felt a crazed purpose. With baseball back on track and everything going his way, he needed to resolve the situation with Mr. Kratz—and his performance on the test merited that. He did ace that test. He wanted Mr. Kratz to know it, and then he wanted him to give Joey his wish, a pass on clamping his fuel line.

  The closer he got to the school, though, the more he thought about how much Mr. Kratz loved that lunatic dog, Daisy. That might be the real rub. Could Mr. Kratz get over him feeding the dog some Valium?

  “A deal’s a deal,” he said aloud to himself. “I aced that test, he owes me a wish.”

  He rode his bike straight into the rack and hopped off. He didn’t see Mr. Kratz’s truck in the teacher’s lot, but he might be behind the building, back by the lab.

  Joey swung open the front doors to the school and marched in, heading straight for the lab. His footsteps echoed off the empty lockers. The musty smell of books mixed with floor cleaner. He could see the lab, and into it through a long rectangular window in the door. He grabbed the handle, but the door was locked. It rattled under his effort, and then he sensed someone behind him.

  The end of the long, dark hallway he’d come down was filled with bright light from the front of the school. An enormous figure filled that bright spot and moved slowly toward him, shuffling and wheezing as he came. When he got close enough so that Joey could see his eyes beneath the shadow of the floppy hat, he also saw the beads of sweat crawling down his nose. The effort it took the big man to walk almost seemed to cause a limp.

  Without even a look at Joey, the huge teacher jingled his keys and rammed one into the lock. He swung open the door and the smell of chemicals too numerous to identify assaulted Joey’s nose. He gave a little cough and followed Mr. Kratz in without being asked. Mr. Kratz snapped on the lights and they flickered to life. In one hand, Mr. Kratz had several folders of paperwork. He dropped them on his desk like a gunshot, then sat down behind it with one final wheeze and the creak of metal. He moved a suspender aside and took a blue bandanna from the front pocket of his flannel shirt, removed his felt hat, exposing a bald dome, then wiped his brow before replacing it.

  Joey stood like a man condemned to hang.

  “Well?” Mr. Kratz stuffed the bandanna back into the other pocket, then folded his hands and leaned his elbows onto the desk. His dark, little, close-set eyes shone up at Joey like jewels rising above the forest of his black curly beard.

  “I’m waiting.”

  53

  Joey wondered why on earth he was standing there, but since he was there, he decided to plunge ahead.

  “I think I aced it.”

  Mr. Kratz leaned back and chuckled. The pink borders of his mouth appeared in the midst of the dark beard, and his yellow-brown teeth flashed like jagged broken beer bottles.

  “Aced what?”

  Joey knew that Mr. Kratz knew. “Your final. I think you made a mistake.”

  Mr. Kratz took out his tiny glasses and planted them on his face. He dug through one of the folders he’d plopped down on his desk and extracted one of the tests. He flipped through it, slapped it down, and punched a spot on the page with a thick finger.

  “Number one hundred twelve. Look. It’s wrong.”

  “Mr. Kratz, my mom said you think I’m a good student, one of your best.” Joey looked at him hopefully. “So . . . this test is really important to me. I wanted to show you that I was the kind of kid—I don’t know—that you’d help out, because you saw how serious a student I am.”

  “My teaching is what helps students out,” Mr. Kratz said. “They either benefit from it, or they don’t. That’s each individual’s choice.”

  “I mean, everyone worries about your test all year long, and I felt like I had it all down, every bit of it.”

  Mr. Kratz just stared. Up over the tops of his little round glasses.

  “Both these answers are right.” When Joey finished speaking, the lab was so quiet he could hear the small drip of water from a sink by the back wall.

  “You asked me about this during the test.” Mr. Kratz grinned. “I told you then, one answer is better than the other.”

  “But dehydration synthesis is removing water to combine molecules.” Joey felt his face flush.

  “But what do we call it?” Mr. Kratz kept smiling, like the whole thing was one big joke. “You just said it right then. It’s dehydration synthesis. That’s the best answer. You got it wrong, Joey. I’m sorry. I appreciate your effort and your attempt to ace the test. No one has come this close, but you didn’t do it and I won’t give you a one hundred because you didn’t earn it.”

  Joey felt his tear ducts working overtime, but he sniffed and tried to choke back any sign of weakness. He didn’t care about the one hundred, but he wondered if he gave up arguing for that, if Mr. Kratz would feel bad enough for him to grant the wish.

  It would be risky.

  If he stayed quiet, his mom might never put two and two together. The case might go unsolved. If he blabbed, and Mr. Kratz didn’t have any sympathy, his goose was cooked.

  “Is that all?” Mr. Kratz stared at him. “I have work to do.”

  54

  He decided to test the waters. “Mr. Kratz, since I’m so close, what would you think about that wish?”

  “What wish?” Mr. Kratz’s furry eyebrows dipped into a V above his nose.

  “The tooth fairy thing? Remember, when you told us at the beginning of the year that you’d grant a wish to anyone who aced it.”

  The teacher shook his head and frowned. “You didn’t ace it, Joey. Have a good summer.”

  “I thought so.” Joey spoke quietly and turned to go.

  As he grasped the handle of the lab door, he took his time opening and closing it, hoping against hope that Mr. Kratz would change his mind and call him back.

  He didn’t.

  Joey got on his bike and rode for the falls. As the wind whipped past his face and the sunshine warmed his back, he imagined he was riding away from his problems, putting distance between himself and Mr. Kratz and leaving it all behind. He’d never see the teacher again, unless his mother broke the case.

  His mother—he was thinking about her when he wheeled into the park and saw a patrol car right next to the picnic area. Joey rode up over the curb and around the pavilion, heading toward the grassy spot beside the swimming hole. Sure enough, standing there in her dark blue uniform was Joey’s mom. Just beyond her, wearing bathing suits and sitting on their towels were Leah and her three usual friends. His mom was talking to someone else, though, just out of earshot of the girls.

  Joey put his bike in the rack and hurried across the grass. His mom had her back to him, but as he got closer, he could clearly see Zach’s face, white as snow. His eyes were wide as he shook his head at Joey’s mom, denying something.

  Zach looked scared to death.

  55

  “Hey, Mom. What are you doing here?” Joey recalled his mom’s words about going to her sources, and he had to believe that’s what this was all about—her Mr. Kratz investigation.

  “Joey.” His mom wore her serious cop face with eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. “Zach and I were having a talk.”

  Joey frowned at her.

&
nbsp; “And I was just leaving. You boys have fun.” She cast a doubtful look at the four girls but said nothing about them.

  Joey watched her go, gun swinging on her hip, then turned to Zach. Zach spoke in a low tone. “Don’t worry. I got everything covered.”

  “What do you mean, ‘everything’?” Joey whispered.

  “Come on.” Zach angled his head toward the girls. “We can talk about it later.”

  “No, Zach.” Joey grabbed Zach’s arm and kept his voice low. “Tell me. What happened?”

  “It’s fine. She wanted to know if I knew anyone who talked about doing something bad to Kratz.”

  There was something about Zach’s face that made Joey’s stomach heavy. “And what did you say?”

  Zach glanced over at the girls, who were looking curiously at them. He kept his voice low, too. “Bro, it’s like she had me under a hot light. I don’t know, maybe it was the sun. I started to sweat. She’s tough.”

  “Tell me about it. What did you say?” Joey realized his grip had tightened so much on Zach’s arm that his own fingers went white.

  “That’s just it. I had to say something. It was like she could read my mind. I always knew she was tough, but—I don’t know—I guess it was the gun.”

  “Zach, spit it out.”

  “I told her Butch Barrett.”

  “What?”

  “Butch Barrett. Kid’s a butthead anyway and he hates Kratz.”

  “Everyone hates Kratz.” Joey thought of the 99.5 he got on the exam and the way Mr. Kratz had literally cheated him out of a perfect score.

  “So, I told her Butch said something about egging his house. It’s a red cod.”

  Joey rolled his eyes. “You mean, a red herring?”

  “A fish is a fish, bro. Let’s get with the girls.”

  “Did Butch say that?” Joey asked.

  “Well, he talked about egging houses last Halloween, and I know he hates Kratz, so . . . I just connected the dots.”

  “Oh, man.” Joey grabbed his own face. “You can’t do that, Zach.”

  “Well, it’s done,” Zach said. “I felt like it was that or spill my guts, and I wasn’t gonna do that. Butch Barrett will be fine. I’m sure he had an alibi that night. No way was I taking you and me down. So . . . I did my best. Forget about it. Let’s have fun. School’s over.”

  “And you’re not worried?” Joey asked.

  “I was worried when your mom had me alone, shooting questions at me. It’s all good now. Look at that water. Let’s take a swim.” Zach pulled free and hollered for the girls to join him as he headed for the stone wall.

  Leah hung back, following more slowly so she could walk with Joey.

  “Hi. Did you ace it?”

  “Ninety-nine point five.”

  “Wow. That’s incredible. Did you see my score?”

  Joey looked at her and laughed. “I didn’t. I’m sorry. I should have looked.”

  “Grades aren’t everything anyway,” she said. “Not that I do bad or anything, but I’m going to play division one lacrosse. You can get into like Harvard and Yale if they want you to play.”

  “That’s like Stanford,” Joey said.

  “Did you know they have division one women’s lacrosse, too?”

  Joey glanced at her and saw those big dark eyes unblinking. His face felt hot and not because of the sun. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it down with his towel. “Let’s swim.”

  They dove in with the others, splashing each other and having contests as to who could do the craziest dive. Wherever he went in the water, Leah seemed to be close by. Finally, they lay out in the sun, Joey right next to Leah. She opened a small cooler and offered Joey a smile along with a cold can of iced tea before handing out the rest of her supply to the others. Joey took a long sip, enjoying the sweetness and the slight bite of lemon. He lay back and watched the sunspots coast across his vision with his eyes closed, the sun making his eyelids glow red. The sound of kids laughing and chattering all around, joyful over the end of school, was a tonic to his spirits.

  Tonight, he’d go to practice. Tomorrow afternoon, he’d get some batting tips from one of the best in the business. All the while, his mom would be chasing a red herring: Butch Barrett, that nasty booger. Joey smiled.

  “What’s funny?”

  He opened his eyes and saw Leah leaning over him. “Nothing. Do you want to walk to the falls?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  56

  By the time Joey got home, his mom was wearing shorts and a T-shirt and grilling hamburgers on the back deck. Joey changed out of his bathing suit and joined her. Martin sat playing with a handful of Hot Wheels on the wood floor. Joey joined him.

  “Look.” Joey stacked up several cars, then rolled a single car, ramming it into the pile so they scattered with a crash.

  Martin squealed. “Again. Again.”

  Joey set up the cars. “Okay, you do it.”

  Martin crashed them and giggled and thrashed his feet.

  “That’s so nice,” Joey’s mom said, looking down from her station at the grill.

  Joey smiled up at her. The burgers hissed and filled the air with a cloud of smoke so delicious his mouth watered. “So, you were talking to Zach?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” His mom flipped a burger. Drops of fat crackled in the flames. “I’m surprised you didn’t mention Butch Barrett to me.”

  “I don’t know, Mom.” Joey stacked up some more cars for Martin. “No one likes Mr. Kratz. Lots of kids say stuff about him. I don’t think anyone’s serious.”

  “I thought you said no one ever talked about doing something to him.”

  Joey turned his attention to Martin and the cars. His mom poked at the burgers until they sizzled. Joey’s dad appeared in a suit.

  “Wow, am I hungry.” His dad breathed in the smoke and loosened his tie.

  “Change your clothes and I’ll have this on the table. Joey has practice. I thought I’d take him so you can play with Martin before bed.”

  Martin made car noises, spraying Joey with spit. Joey’s dad kissed him and Martin on the tops of their heads and disappeared to change. Joey played with his little brother right up until dinner was served, partly because he was having fun, but also because he knew it was the best way to build up points with his mom.

  After a blessing, Joey dressed up a hamburger and took a monster bite. His parents were talking about some local judge who was running for reelection. Joey waited until there was a lull in the conversation before he made his move.

  “Mom? That whole thing with Butch Barrett? Can’t you just drop it?”

  “Drop it?” His mom raised her eyebrows. “Why would I drop it? I thought you didn’t even like Butch Barrett.”

  “I don’t, not really, but after this whole thing with the all-star team and him making it in front of me with his dad being the coach, I don’t know . . . it looks bad, like you’re out to get him.”

  His mom spooned some potato salad onto her plate. “Last time I checked, my job wasn’t to worry about how things looked. I’m not out to get anyone who doesn’t deserve it. My job is to protect and serve and that’s what I’m doing here. Mr. Kratz is a citizen and a taxpayer.”

  “What’s Butch Barrett got to do with Mr. Kratz?” Joey’s dad asked.

  His mom filled him in on the details of what she’d learned from Zach.

  Joey’s dad cleared his throat and used a napkin to wipe some burger juice from his lips. “I think Joey’s right, Marsha. No one got hurt. Maybe you should let it go.”

  Joey’s heart glowed. Why couldn’t his mom be more like his dad? If his mom let it go, Joey’s life would be nearly perfect. He could go into the weekend tournament with a clear mind, get chosen for select tryouts, and then he and Zach could travel the world.

  He looked at his mom.

  She flashed him a look, and then studied his dad and started to laugh.

  57

  “You are so cute when you play the defense
lawyer,” Joey’s mom said, wiping her mouth and reaching across the table to touch Joey’s father’s cheek. “I swear, that must be part of why I wanted to marry you, but we had an agreement, right?”

  “And I’m working at the firm now.” Joey’s father frowned.

  His mom wagged her finger. “But you can’t help playing defense lawyer at home? Heh, heh, heh.”

  She laughed again. “I guess it’s all right. I can’t expect a leopard to totally change its spots. Lord knows, I can’t change mine. I’m a cop, so you’re not going to scare me off because the truth and justice might be uncomfortable. Life’s tough sometimes.”

  “I’m glad you’re having fun with this.” Joey’s father bit into his burger again, filling his mouth so that he had to speak around his food. “What’s the next step—put Don Barrett in handcuffs and take him into the station?”

  Even though Joey wasn’t crazy about Coach Barrett, the thought—and the smirk on his mom’s face—horrified him.

  Thankfully, she shook her head. “No. I’ll have a talk with him and Butch, but not at the station. I’m just curious about his relationship with Mr. Kratz and where he might have been the night before the championship game.”

  “Well,” Joey’s dad said, raising his glass of iced tea, “maybe you could hold off at least until after the tournament this weekend so Joey doesn’t have to feel uncomfortable?”

  “You know, I’m wondering why this whole thing makes Joey so uncomfortable in the first place.” She looked at Joey sideways.

  He tried to keep eating but choked on his milk when it went down wrong. “Me? I’m fine. I just don’t want people to think there’s bad blood between us and the Barretts because of the all-star team.”

  “Anyone who knows me knows I’m not like that at all,” his mom said. “Everyone else? People always like rumors and gossip, but that’s all it is, and anyone with a set of brains doesn’t judge people like that.”