by Doug Draper
“No, I have a pocket knife, but we can’t take knives to school either.”
With a laugh, Derek said, “Man, if you keep worrying about the rules, you’re never going to have any fun.”
Derek reached into his pocket, pulled out a switchblade, and pushed the lever that caused the blade to shoot out from the handle with a loud click. He handed the knife to Ben.
“Now, there’s something you can hide in your pocket until you need it, but it’s important that you only pull it out at the right time—that’s when you want to scare the crap out of someone and there aren’t any witnesses.”
While Ben studied the knife, a new model Chevy Impala station wagon pulled up to the gas pumps, driving over the pressure-sensitive rubber cord that rang the station’s bell. After hearing the bell’s “ding, ding,” Derek slowly rose from his chair and headed to the pumps.
“When I come back, I want you to give me examples of how you’ve been picked on at school. Then I’ll tell you how to use a switchblade to put an end to it. And I guarantee you that my way will work.”
Derek sauntered to the car, waving and smiling at the middle-aged female driver and then moving ahead with filling the tank, washing the windshield, and checking the oil. He did it all while chatting with the driver about what a beautiful car she had and asking questions about her children. Ben overheard the woman ask, “Why isn’t that boy in school?”
“Oh, he’s been bad, but I’m getting the young man back on the straight and narrow path,” Derek said with a beaming smile and wink at Ben. “He’ll return to school next week fully prepared to deal with his many challenges thanks to the new tools and techniques I’m teaching him.”
The customer seemed interested in what else Derek had to say, remaining parked at the pumps while Derek leaned against the car and chatted with her. The long delay gave Ben time to think about Derek’s question.
Many of the boys in Ben’s grade and above had teased and attacked him whenever they could get away with it. They especially liked throwing punches or kicking him when in the restroom, at lunch, and on the playground. For self-defense, Ben avoided crowds and kept his back to a wall or fence. If he saw an attack coming, he had a better chance of dodging it.
In the first grade, Ben’s attempts to sidestep the bullies created a problem. To avoid being harassed, Ben stayed out of the restroom until his need became urgent. When he held out too long, he ended up damp. His wet pants became obvious to everyone and gave his classmates another reason to insult and punch him. One boy even held Ben on the ground and slapped his face until he did what the boy demanded and wet his pants.
Ben’s first-grade teacher, Mrs. Ford, would quietly pull him aside after these accidents and send him to the school office to get cleaned up. The office staff put his wet pants in a bag to take home and gave him dry ones. The replacements came out of a giant box of old clothes donated to the school for students in need. After a few trips to the office, Mrs. Ford kept Ben after school and asked, “Is there something keeping you from going to the bathroom on time?”
He shook his head no.
“We need to find out what the problem is. Perhaps I should talk with your parents about it, so we can work on a solution together.”
“I’ll try harder,” Ben said. He presented his appeal frantically, knowing that his father would be furious about Ben being a “pee-pee pants boy” and would “knock some sense” into him.
“Let’s see how it goes over the next two weeks and then we’ll chat again if necessary.”
Ben agreed and tried to stay dry all day by avoiding the drinking fountain and cutting his lunch short, so he could go to the restroom while the other kids ate. His strategy worked well for nearly two weeks, but then his body betrayed him by finding another way to release the tension. He threw up during class.
When Derek finished his chat with the customer, he placed the payment in the cash register and then dropped back into the chair outside the office. “Do you have the example I asked for?”
“Yeah, if I go to the bathroom at the same time as the boys in my class, they’ll sneak up behind me and push me into the urinal, getting me wet. It’s gross and everybody laughs at me. I hate it.”
“That’s an old trick. I’ve done it, but nobody would ever try that with me because they know that I’d make them pay. But your problem is that you let them get away with it—every time!”
After taking the switchblade out of Ben’s hand, Derek closed the blade and then said, “I’ll show you what you need to do.”
Derek told Ben to stand up and then he walked behind him. “When somebody has pushed you around, look for the right time to send the jerk a message. Follow that guy into the bathroom when only the two of you will be in there. After his zipper is down and his thing is hanging out, step up behind him and open your knife next to his ear, so he hears the click—loud and clear.”
Ben flinched as he heard the metallic sound of the switchblade opening next to his face. Derek continued. “And then you hold the blade against the side of his neck like this.”
The cold blade pressed the side of Ben’s neck, causing him to stand very still. He worried that any movement would result in a cut.
“You now have his complete attention,” Derek said. “So you let him know that if he ever touches you again, you’ll slit his throat from ear to ear and then castrate him like you do the little pigs on your farm. Got it?”
Ben nodded slightly, not wanting to move too much while Derek continued to hold the knife against his neck. Derek pulled the knife away, closed it, and then handed it to Ben before sitting down.
“You can borrow my knife for now. I’ll want to get it back after you’ve had a chance to scare off the jerks bothering you.”
“Thanks,” Ben said, stashing the knife in his pants pocket and then taking a seat. “But won’t that get me into deep trouble?”
“Only if you’re not smart about it,” Derek said with an amused tone. “After you use the knife, hide it outside where only you can find it. When the kid squeals on you—and he will—tell the principal that the boy must be lying and show him your empty pockets and let him search your desk. If there’s no knife to be found, then it’s your word against his.”
Ben patted his pocket with the knife in it and said, “Thanks. I’ll keep it safe.”
“And what are you going to say if someone finds your switchblade and asks you where you got it?” Derek said, making eye contact with Ben.
“Uh, that I found it in the parking lot of Benanti’s Groceries,” Ben said, pointing at the store across the street from the station.
“Cool, I like your quick thinking and that you didn’t mention my name. There’s hope for you yet.”
CHAPTER 12
After his suspension, Ben returned to school without much commotion. Principal Smith started the day with a brief discussion before sending him to class. There, he took his seat next to Julie, exchanged smiles with her, and jumped back into the lessons as if he had merely missed school due to a bad cold. Mrs. Adamson patted him on the shoulder and whispered, “It’s good to have you back.”
Mike Omanski ignored Ben in the classroom and hallway, but his face spoke for him. A large bruise on Mike’s right cheek marked the spot where Ben had kicked him. Seeing this reminder of their fight prompted Ben to try apologizing again, but Mike made it clear that he preferred not to hear a word from him. All the other boys in his class also avoided him.
When the long school day ended, Ben walked with Joe to the station to help their father. After dropping their books and lunch boxes on the office desk, the boys strolled into the first service bay where Al worked on the engine of a large flatbed truck.
“Dad, do you need any help?” Joe asked. As usual, he took the lead in volunteering.
“Without a doubt,” Al said, sounding irritated. “Joe, I need you to fetch tools for me. And Ben, hold the work light so I can see what I’m doing.”
Al was using a portable light to see in
side the truck’s engine compartment. The light included a lightbulb on the end of a long black extension cord with a small metal cage surrounding the bulb to protect it from being smashed. The top of the cage had a hook to hang the light. Al already had the light hanging from the truck’s hood, but he complained that he still couldn’t see well enough to make the repair.
“Ben, set up the small step ladder next to me,” Al said, pointing at the spot where he wanted it. “I need you to stand on the ladder and shine the light into the area where I’m working.”
Ben hurried away to get the ladder, but he couldn’t find it in the usual storage place. Knowing that his father’s temper would be rising to the boiling point due to the delay, he rushed through a search of both service bays. Still, he had no success.
After returning to his father’s side, Ben said, “I can’t find the ladder. It’s missing.”
Al shouted a profanity and then said in a tone that oozed with contempt, “How hard can it be to find a ladder? You truly are the stupidest and laziest boy in the world.”
Ben fought back tears, knowing that any display of emotions would make things worse. His mind froze while he wondered what to do. Al spotted the confusion and shook a wrench in front of Ben’s face.
“Well, don’t just stand there looking stupid. Go find it. Ladders don’t disappear.”
Ben ran off to search again and noticed Derek sitting on a lawn chair outside of the office. “Where’s the small ladder?” Ben asked breathlessly. “Dad needs it right now.”
“Oh, I used it to clean the office windows this morning,” Derek said with his usual relaxed style, ignoring Ben’s sense of urgency. “Your old man complained this morning about me loafing, so I cleaned the windows even though that’s not my job.”
From having witnessed similar episodes, Derek recognized how nervous Ben would get because of his father’s anger and grinned when Ben squirmed in front of him. Then he lazily pointed to the far corner of the office. “It’s over there.”
Ben ran, grabbed the ladder, and hustled to his father’s side. Al continued to lean over the truck’s engine, straining to reach the failed part. Ben set up the ladder exactly as instructed.
When Al saw him, he said, “Time’s money! You’re killing me with your dawdling. Get on the ladder and hold the light for me.”
Ben complied without blaming his delay on Derek. He knew that his father would view any excuse as arguing and smack Ben for having a “smart mouth.” So, he silently soaked in the criticism.
Al handed Ben the light. “Come closer and don’t worry about getting your hands dirty. Shine the light on whatever I touch. Got it?”
Ben mumbled “OK” and tried to follow his father’s instructions. He came as close to his father as he could bear, hating to feel his father’s body heat and to smell his Old Spice aftershave mixed with the odors of a mechanic—motor oil and grease. When this close, it became more difficult to avoid a blow to the head or ribs. Despite Ben’s effort, his father’s body still ended up in between the light and the side of the engine.
“Move the light lower. I can’t see anything the way you’re holding it. Come on! Get with it! You’re not helping at all.”
Ben stretched even lower, nearly falling off the wobbly ladder, but it still wasn’t enough. He let the light cord slide through his hands, so the bulb dangled below the point where he guessed his father’s hands were.
“That’s better. Now, move it a few inches closer to me.”
To make that happen, Ben had to get into a position where he could hold the light’s extension cord under his father’s body instead of next to it. When Ben tried to squeeze deeper into the engine area, the light swayed like a pendulum.
“What are you doing? Stop swinging the light. That’s driving me crazy.”
Ben tried to reach lower to stop the motion, but the cord slipped out of his hands and the light fell to the floor. Before he had time to pull it up, Al threw his right elbow into Ben’s shoulder. The blow caught Ben by surprise, preventing him from dodging it. He lost his shaky footing on the ladder and kicked it over as he struggled to regain his balance. Without the ladder to hold him up, he slid off the truck’s fender and fell backwards, landing across the fallen ladder’s legs.
The ladder made painful contact with Ben’s back from his shoulders to his hips. Ben had already been on the verge of tears when trying to cope with his father’s frustration. Now, as he rolled off the ladder and onto the floor, he could no longer control his emotions. Ben cried and sobbed as his mind reacted to a combination of pain, fear, and humiliation.
Al validated his fear by dropping his tools and kicking the ladder away from the truck. It sailed across the service bay and banged off the wall. Anticipating more pain to come, Ben started to scramble away.
Before he could retreat, Al took a step forward and tried to kick his son in the rear. Ben lunged to the side, but Al still connected, delivering a punishing blow to Ben’s left thigh. The kick caused Ben to stumble and land on his hands and knees. He crawled away from Al to the back of the truck, continuing to sob and shed tears.
“Stop acting like a baby! What’s wrong with you? Why does everything you do have to turn into a pathetic crying fit?”
Ben jumped to his feet and turned to face his father, getting ready to run if he came after him. He didn’t and suddenly calmed down. As often happened, his father turned off the anger as quickly as it began.
“Go sweep the floor or do something useful,” Al said in quiet disdain.
The remark further wounded Ben, but he preferred to be dismissed and limped to the other service bay. Joe became the light-holder and, being much taller, did exactly what his father wanted. Peace returned to the garage.
While looking for a broom, Ben spotted the pipe he had used to attack the bullies. Derek had left it leaning against the wall instead of putting it into the tool bin. Ben picked up the pipe and took a practice swing, imagining a new target—his father’s back. He followed up with a blow to his father’s knees and pictured the next one smashing his nose.
Ben’s tears and sobbing stopped when anger and hatred knocked his shame aside and gave him a surge of energy. While embracing these powerful emotions, a dark thought popped into Ben’s head that made him tighten his grip on the pipe.
Teach your dad a lesson and bring him to his knees.
Ben spent a few minutes practicing his swing with the steel pipe. Then he quietly stashed it in the tool bin and found the broom. He didn’t sweep with enthusiasm that day because his mind became preoccupied with planning his revenge. He made a vow.
Someday I will make my father pay for every beating and insult and he won’t like the price.
CHAPTER 13
Within an hour of Ben being elbowed and kicked, Al acted like it never happened. Ignoring the incident followed his pattern. He soon gave the impression that his violent outbursts were insignificant events and certainly nothing to cry or talk about. After closing the station and heading home, he merely chatted about the weather and neither apologized for hurting Ben nor criticized him for having dropped the light.
Al’s silence about the temper tornado clearly stated that he wanted the matter closed. No further discussion would be necessary or tolerated. Ben understood that his mother should not hear about it. As Ben had often done, he went along with the lie that nothing happened.
While driving home, it became challenging for Ben to bury his emotions because each bump in the road sent sharp twinges of pain up his injured back. To conceal the abuse, he avoided any facial expressions that might be interpreted as discomfort or unhappiness.
The next day came with an amazing surprise. Rachel decided that the entire family should go to Al’s next race. “That’s great,” Al said with authentic excitement. “The boys will show you the best place to sit in the grandstand.”
“But we can’t go with Mom because we’ll be in the truck with you,” Ben said.
“Not tonight,” Al said. “You and Joe
need to help your mother find a seat by nice people who won’t be doing a lot of cursing.”
“Or, smoking and drinking beer,” Rachel said.
Ben didn’t know how that would be possible, but Joe nodded and said, “Got it.”
Despite not being allowed to ride to the race in the truck, Ben remained excited about going and kept thinking about it while spending the morning and afternoon of race day doing chores. With Al’s schedule at the station growing longer each week due to his racing career, he spent less time on farm work. To address that problem, Al gave Joe and Ben a lengthy list of things to do.
While Al still milked the cow every morning and evening, he hadn’t raked Daisy’s stall and corral recently. Joe and Ben completed that task before moving on to the less challenging work of cleaning the chicken coop. After lunch, the boys repaired damage to the hog pen caused by the pigs trying to dig under a fence and then spent the rest of the day weeding.
By dinner, exhaustion overtook Ben and any movement created so much back pain that he couldn’t take deep breaths. Still, he remained silent about his injuries. After having endured a full work day, he wanted the reward of going to the race and said nothing that might take it away.
Ben took a shower to get rid of the cow manure smell that had followed him since morning. While in the bathroom, he noticed a giant bruise on his thigh where he had been kicked. Then he used the bathroom mirror to inspect the many dark purple bruises on his back. He looked battered and quickly put on his clothes before his mother noticed his injuries and asked any questions.
By the time Rachel and her children arrived at the racetrack, they encountered a full parking lot and crowds of partying fans. After Rachel paid for the tickets, Joe took charge and found a group of seats in the grandstand without any obviously intoxicated race fans nearby. Ben scanned the crowd for his friends Curtis and Tom but couldn’t find them. Because Becky stood out in a sea of adults, it didn’t take long for the Bakers to meet new friends.
