High School 2 - Diversity - The Clash

by Paul Swearingen

  “Careful, now. Ya wanna punch a hole in my floor pan?”

  “What a wonderf- … ” The rest of her words were lost in the unmuffled roar of the exhaust as she was thrown against the back of her seat. She reached out to hold on to the dashboard with one hand and the armrest with the other.

  “No time to waste here, midget. I gotta get me some cigarettes before I head off to work.” She glanced at the driver. Funny, she didn’t remember his face from those of stock car drivers she remembered. Or from the post office wanted posters.

  “And where might that be?”

  “The radio station. KNTK. I’m due on the air in five minutes. Oh, and the heating system out there works just fine.” He reached down to the volume knob of the radio and twisted it. A male voice floated out above the roar, obviously reading the news. “That’s Bob, and he really hates it when I’m not there to take over from him, on time.”

  “Oh, so you’re … ”

  “Sorry, I forgot the introductions. I’m Marvin, Marvelous Marv to my fans. All seven of them.” He laughed, almost barking, and he twisted the steering wheel so that the car lurched a little to the right.

  “Dammit, I missed him. Last week I flattened two squirrels on this road. None so far this week.” And he threw back his head and uttered his dog-bark laugh again.

  The car swerved and screeched to the left across an intersection, which luckily happened to be empty at the time, and then to the right and almost into the plate glass window of a Quick-Shop. Marv slapped the gearshift into neutral and pulled on the parking brake, rolled down the window, reached outside to open the door, and jumped out, leaving the door slightly ajar. He literally ran into the store. In the added light, Carla could see that both the door panel and inside handle were missing. She looked around outside to see if anyone was watching, but only some old guy with his back to her was pumping gas and watching the meter.

  The engine rumbled almost loud enough to drown out Bob, who was now reading something about an Amber Alert. She reached out to tweak the volume knob, but a crackle interrupted the delivery, and when the sound settled down, Bob was talking about grain futures. Maybe she should improve the chances of her own future by getting out and running like hell? The old guy didn’t look too dangerous; maybe he wouldn’t mind giving a ride to an innocent little girl.

  Before she could pull open her door handle, Marv was back, jamming a pack of cigarettes into his inside jacket pocket. He slammed the door, released the parking brake, jammed the shift lever into reverse, and almost threw Carla into the dashboard as he screeched back into the street.

  Carla slid as far down into her seat as she could and gripped both sides of it. Bad idea to get into cars with weird college guys. If she lived, she’d never accept another ride from any stranger, again. Never. Maybe with people she knew, possibly with other girls’ alleged boyfriends, but not with someone who was a known murderer of small animals. And maybe other living things?

  One more lurch, and she heard gravel crunching under the tires. She released her grip on the seat and reached for her backpack. As she straightened up, she looked up through the pitted windshield and realized that they were in KNTK’s parking lot, as the antenna reached for the sky right in front of them.

  “You gonna gaze in wonder at our stick or get out?” Marvelous Marv was already outside of the car, and he slammed the door. A few flakes of rust fell into Carla’s lap, and she looked up and saw that the car had no headliner.

  “Listen, pal, I’m just offering thanks that I got here, anywhere, in one piece. You always interrupt people when they’re praying?”

  Marvin cocked his head. “Oh, come on, now. I give you a ride, and you diss my wheels? Is that any way to thank a guy?”

  “Okay, okay, thanks for nothing, or maybe for driving me out here in the middle of nowhere.” She remembered his offer to take her anywhere when she was still in the intersection. Too late. She should have taken off running while she still had the chance.

  He jerked his thumb towards the low, whitewashed, cinder block building at the edge of the parking lot. “Listen, I’d love to stand here in the cold and continue this fascinating conversation with you all morning, but I’m supposed to be on the air in less than sixty seconds. Bob’s car is right over there, and I’m sure he won’t mind giving you a ride back into town. He probably has to cut a commercial or two, but it shouldn’t be more than a half-hour before he’s ready. Okay?”

  She hauled her backpack out of the car, brushed a couple of flakes of rust off it, and gingerly closed the door. “Fine. Thanks for the ride. Okay?”

  But Marv was already ten steps away, headed toward the building. He waved his hand and disappeared into the building.

  “No charge!” floated back at her. She looked around. Three cars in the parking lot and no human being in sight. She was a half-mile from school and eight blocks more to her house, too far to walk in the biting cold, and she had no other choice but to follow Marvelous Marv, the weird barking kidnapper, into the building. What a choice – either freezing her ass off outside or maybe being molested by a radio personality inside.

  Chapter Four

  Carla hoisted her backpack over her shoulder and pulled open the heavy front door to the station. When her eyes adjusted from bright sunlight to the dimmer light inside, she could see that she was standing in front of a divider with a planter on top of it. She peered through a large plant that seemed to have tentacles instead of vines and realized that she was looking at a woman at a keyboard, who in turn was looking over the tops of her glasses at Carla. No sign of Marvelous Marv.

  “I’m … er … with Marv.”

  “Sure. Go down that hallway. And don’t make any noise. Bob’s still in the news.” She turned back to her keyboard and resumed typing.

  Carla nodded and walked slowly in the direction of the woman’s outstretched arm. She pushed an unmarked swinging door open, stepped up two steps to a heavily-carpeted landing, and slowly walked down another hallway lined with records, CD’s, tape cartridges, notebooks, and papers piled on shelves that badly needed a new coat of paint. On her right was an open door, and she stopped and looked inside. Another guy, who also looked like a college student and who was wearing an enormous pair of headphones, looked up at her from a console and held his finger to his lips while he manipulated something on the console in front of him.

  “And that’s the news at eight, brought to you by Herbert West Chevrolet in north town. I’m Bob Benson for KNTK news.” He punched a button and flipped a lever, and suddenly the news theme blared from a speaker above his head. Carla jumped, and Bob grinned and pulled a slide volume control down toward him. “Sorry about that. We always listen to our country music at full volume here.” He punched another button and the sound of guitars, fiddles, and a snare drum came out of the speaker.

  Carla wrinkled her nose.

  “I know, I know; no one under 30 in this town likes country music. But you’d better believe the sponsors like it, and they’re the ones who pay the bills and help me stay in college by keeping me employed.” He pulled the headphone plug out of the jack and wound the cord around the headphones.

  “I suppose Marv dragged you in here? He’s got about two-and-a-half minutes to get his butt into this chair and take over. I’ve only programmed this one song into the computer, and after that, it’s dead air time.”

  His friendliness caught her by surprise. “I sort of caught a ride with him out here, or maybe he kidnapped me, or I was so amazed that that rust bucket ran that I fell into the front seat of it by mistake. He’s around here somewhere.” Carla glanced at the computer screen next to the console. It contained nothing but the title of one song and dashes next to numbers.

  “I certainly hope so.” Bob gathered up a pile of papers that had been next to him and leafed through them. He stopped and looked at Carla. “And now I suppose you need a ride back into town now?”

  She cleared her throat and pretended to look at her fingernails. “Well, now.
If you’re offering … ”

  “I am. But there’s a catch.”

  She stiffened and looked at him.

  “Now, relax, kid. I just need to cut a commercial, and I need a female voice for a couple of lines. I’d ask Monica, out front, but I’m tired of her monotone. You up for it?”

  “Me? On a commercial? I don’t think so!”

  “Listen, it’s just for a couple of words.” He looked at the papers again. “Try it: ‘Henry, we’re late already.’”

  “Look, what makes you th… .”

  A hand seemed to materialize on top of her head. “Out of the way, midget. I got work to do and no time to do it.” Marv brushed by her and settled into the swivel chair in front of the console. He typed furiously for a few seconds, moved the mouse and clicked, and the screen filled.

  “Hold on, I’m on.” He pulled the microphone in front of him and cleared his throat.

  Bob rolled his eyes, pulled her out of the studio, and shut the door.

  “I’m sure we can do better than ‘Midget’ for a name for you, right?”

  She looked up at him. “It’s Carla. And … ”

  “Okay, Carla, I don’t have much time. You’ve got a good voice. Try it: ‘Henry, we’re late already.’”

  She giggled. “All right. ‘Henry, we’re LATE already’.”

  “No, it’s ‘late alREADy’.”

  “‘Henry-we’re-late-alREADy’. I know, I know; I just didn’t want to be perfect the first time and show you up. Okay, I’ll do it, but I really need to get back into town. And … er … home.”

  Bob turned and looked at a clock. “Okay, I get it. You’re just on a little vacation this morning. And what if I dropped you off right in front of the high school instead? You DO go to high school, don’t you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Maybe I’m a hotshot college student like you. What do you think about THAT?”

  Bob eyed her up and down. “I don’t think so. But let’s not start, okay?”

  “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

  He pointed down the hallway. “Door. In.”

  She hoisted her backpack over a shoulder and walked through the door.

  “Just drop that in the corner over there. I don’t want any noise getting on the commercial.” Bob pointed behind her. “And close the door. Don’t worry, I won’t bite. And this won’t take long, I hope.”

  She watched him make some adjustments to some equipment and move a suspended microphone closer to her. “This is the only mike we have working right now, so we’ll have to share it. I hope you don’t spit when you talk. Now, here’s the script. I do most of the talking, except for right here.” He put his finger on the paper. “That’s where you say your line … ”

  “Henry, we’re late alREADy.” She grinned at him.

  “That’s just fine. We’ll just do the voices now, and when I come back later this afternoon I’ll edit in the music bed and special effects. You ready?”

  She nodded, and he punched a button and began to read in a surprisingly resonant voice. And stopped, swore under his breath, punched a button, and began to read again. She watched the script and read her line, and he finished and punched a button on the console and then double-clicked the computer mouse. Their voices floated from a speaker above her head. She compressed her lips as her voice played, but Bob nodded his head.

  “That should do it.” He moved to a computer console, typed in a few words, clicked the mouse, and turned to her.

  “Well, you should be on the air tomorrow. Meanwhile, why don’t we get ourselves some breakfast? You like fresh doughnuts?”

  “Well … ”

  “Everyone likes doughnuts. And the Doughnut Hole in town gives us a pretty good discount, so we REALLY like doughnuts here at KNTK. Let’s get out of here.”

  Bob’s car didn’t seem to be nearly as rusty as Marvelous Marv’s, although she could tell it had about only half the horsepower, but it ran smoothly, and Bob didn’t try to snap her head off when he pulled out of the parking lot.

  The Doughnut Hole seemed to have every old guy in town along the counter and at most of the tables, but Bob navigated her to a two-chair table.

  “Coffee? Doughnuts? Bear claw? It’s on me this time.”

  “Mmm … how about a couple of applesauce doughnuts? And some orange juice.”

  “Done.” He worked his way through the crowd and in less time than she expected he laid her doughnuts and a plastic container of juice in front of her.

  “All right – thanks. I owe you one. Cornflakes only go so far.” She shook the plastic juice container and peeled off the foil top and took a sip of juice. It definitely wasn’t fresh-squeezed, but it was better than nothing.

  “Listen, Carla, you have a pretty decent radio voice. Most high school girls have squeaky voices, but yours sounds … you know, mature.”

  Carla giggled. “I’ve never been accused of being mature before. Most people think I’m still in grade school.”

  Bob shook his head. “You’re at least sixteen, right?”

  Carla eyed him. “Who wants to know, and what for?”

  “The station manager might want to know. He said something about needing another person to help out with production at the station, and maybe you’d fit the bill.” He finished his doughnut and wiped his hands on a napkin.

  “Me?”

  Bob tossed the napkin onto the table and stood. “Well, it’s a possibility; I’m not promising anything, but why don’t you come by the station … say after 3 pm, when he gets off his sales run, and talk to him about it? Couldn’t hurt anything.”

  “Well … I don’t know …”

  “Your call; I’m not gonna force you. You wanna ride somewhere?”

  Carla looked at the second doughnut on her plate. “No, I can make it … okay, to school by myself, thank you. And thanks for breakfast.”

  “All right. Maybe I’ll see you out at the station?”

  “Maybe.”

  He smiled. “Just do it. We actually have a lot of fun out there, although the pay isn’t all that great. Oh, and if you need a ride again, you might want to think twice before you ask Marv. He … um … well, let’s just say that high school girls may be less than completely safe around him, okay?”

  She nodded. “I figured that one out all by myself after I climbed into that thing he calls a car. But thanks.”

  “No problem. All right, I gotta get to class.” And he turned and walked through the crowd and the door.

  This day didn’t start out so badly after all, she thought to herself. Bob seemed to be a nice guy, unlike Marvin the Marvelous Molester with his ride, Rusty the Mustang.

  She finished her doughnut and orange juice, stood and turned to leave. And found herself face-to-face with Sandra. She froze.

  “Well, Carla. How nice to see you again. You selling ads, too, or something?”

  Carla glared at her. “No. And you?”

  Sandra waved an NCR form at her. “Yearbook ads. At least we have permission to leave school.”

  “I bet you do. And now if you’ll excuse me …”

  “I’m sure.” Sandra stalked towards the back of the shop without a backward glance, but Carla heard a muttered word that sounded like “bolilla”. She opened her mouth to utter a rejoinder, but Sandra was already too far away, and by now most of the old guys in the doughnut shop were watching either her or Sandra.

  She fixed one of them with a glare, and he turned back to his coffee. She didn’t know which was worse, she thought as she pushed open the door: Sandra’s mouth or old guys staring at her.

  Chapter Five

  The high school was only a few blocks away from the Doughnut Hole, and by the time Carla walked boldly through the front door of the school, she had warmed up. No one was visible from inside the door; the hallway was completely empty, and she tip-toed down the hall to her locker, pulled a few books and notebooks from her backpack, stuffed a pencil and pen into the pockets of her hoodie, and left h
er backpack inside the locker and as quietly as possible closed the locker door.

  She opened the door to her English classroom and shot her best dazzling smile at Mrs. Hill, who rolled her eyes and pointed at the assignment chalked on the board: “Study pg. 242-249; choose one question from Respond pg. 250, and write a short response of at least 200 words.”

  She nodded and slid into her seat at the back of the room and opened her literature textbook. A couple of people turned and stared at her for a few seconds, but she mouthed a “What?!” at them, and they turned around and ignored her for the rest of the period.

  * * *

  After school she managed to mingle with a crowd of other students leaving the building, although she never did see Miranda or any of her friends. But this time she saw Bob’s car approaching the crosswalk.

  The car slid to a stop just in front of her, and a long arm opened the passenger-side door.

  “Thought you might be wandering around here. You want a ride out to the station?”

  “What, again? You silver-tongued devils want to kidnap me one more time?”

  A horn beeped insistently behind Bob’s car. “No, goofball, the station manager said he’d definitely like to talk to you. Now, get in. Okay, only if you want to.”

  Carla tossed her backpack onto the floor and slid in. No rust this time.

  “I forgot all about what you said earlier. I guess I didn’t think you were serious.”

  “Thanks a lot, midg … ah, Carla. Dang right I’m serious. Basketball season is coming up, and the number of commercials during basketball season nearly doubles. I suppose it’s because basketball’s a much bigger thing in this town than football is. I definitely need some help, and the boss agreed. He listened to your commercial and liked what he heard, and trust me – if Marvelous Marv can run the equipment, you can. It’s not a big deal. You can use a computer, can’t you?”