“I see what you mean,” Paul agreed weakly.
The head judge approached. “Ah. ‘The Sewer System.’ Quite a popular little entry you’ve got here.” He checked the photographs and smiled at Mike. “Okay, first of all, do you certify that this is your own original work?”
“No.”
A gasp went up in the immediate vicinity, and Paul knew that it was all over. After that one little syllable, nothing anyone could say or do would save the hundreds of man-hours of work. The plug was pulled on “The Sewer System.”
“What he means to say,” Sheldon put in quickly, “is that we’re… uh… a very cooperative school at Don’t Care — Don Carey, so any one student’s work is the work of the whole school, and —”
The judge ignored him and addressed Mike once again. “You had help?” There was no answer, so he asked, “What percentage of this project is your own work?”
Mike reverted to his stock answer. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Modest!” croaked Sheldon. “He’s being modest! What a guy!”
“Do you understand the consequences of what you’re saying, Mike?” the judge asked.
“Probably not,” said Mike blandly.
The judge shook his head. “Well, I’m afraid I’m forced to disqualify this entry.”
“Wait a minute here!” Mr. Morrison stormed onto the scene. “You can’t disqualify this fine project just because of a… technicality!”
“I think this is more than a technicality,” said the judge haughtily.
“But this is our first entry in forty years!”
The judge looked at him unkindly. “Well, then, someone at Don’t Care High had plenty of time to see to it that it was done correctly!”
“It’s not Don’t Care High!” In a rage, the guidance counsellor grabbed the brimming bucket of blue-dyed water that was to be used in the working model and sloshed it into the judge’s face.
The judge then sacrificed what was left of his dignity and took a swing at Mr. Morrison, who ducked, and the man’s fist made contact with a cage of twenty-five white mice. The cage sailed through the air and split in two as it hit the floor, its occupants scrambling in all directions.
Wayne-o sprinted to the door. “Mike’s been disqualified!” he shouted to the waiting crowd. “After all his hard work, he’s been disqualified!”
Slim Kroy was the first to react. “We’ve got to see him right away!” He leaped over the barrier and thundered into the hall. The rest of the students poured in after him, their one concern to reach the ex-president and console him in this moment of injustice.
May I have your attention, please. Here are the day’s announcements.
Based on the number of classes that suffered from absenteeism yesterday, plus some eyewitness accounts, I conclude that many of you were present to watch our school participate in the Citywide High School Science Fair, which was postponed — a term I use in favour of “eradicated.” You will be pleased to know that no one accused our students directly of wanton destruction. But, in retrospect, it should be obvious to everyone that when you cram upwards of two thousand people into a hall designed for five hundred, the occasional beaker is bound to get broken. And when this is allowed to happen for an extended period of time — for instance until the police arrive — it is conceivable that there should be very little left of eighty-two projects. Thus, we are now the first school which, upon placing its first entry after a long leave of absence, is emphatically invited never to return. Oh, yes, it’s also nice to know that, in the face of adversity, our staff can be depended on to react with efficiency and calm. “Let he who is without sin cast the first bucket of blue water.” That’s all. Have a good day.
Mr. Morrison sat at his desk, acting extremely nonchalant, and making no comment about the announcement. He examined his fingernails and racked his brain for something to say that did not relate to the previous day’s happenings, in which he had played such a major role.
Sheldon and Paul sat at their desks holding a spontaneous contest over who would be first to break out laughing. Paul had resolved to treat the matter grimly, but one look at Sheldon’s face dissipated his intentions on the spot.
Wayne-o stood up. “Mr. Morrison, I want to say that you were just great yesterday, standing up for Mike like you did.”
Mr. Morrison flushed bright red. “It was a very foolish thing, and —”
“No it wasn’t! It was amazing! What a shot! Anyway, I want you to know that I’m proud to be in your homeroom.”
A burst of applause crackled in the room. Mr. Morrison didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He had disgraced himself and his school, and thereby received his first ever demonstration of student appreciation. What a muddle, but it all felt rather good. He permitted himself a smile. That judge was an insensitive clod anyway. He deserved to be blue.
Please excuse the interruption. In all the excitement about the science fair, I neglected to mention a matter so vital that it’s a wonder it slipped my mind. The girls’ basketball team plays its first scheduled game against Laguna High School in exactly one week’s time. Coach Murphy informs me that we have no players. This is unfortunate, since the players are often one of the deciding factors in a basketball game. Last minute tryouts will be held this afternoon after classes. That’s all.
“Well, I guess we blew our big chance for glory at the science fair yesterday,” said Paul as he and Sheldon headed for English class. “The girls’ basketball team doesn’t seem bound for greatness.”
Sheldon looked thoughtful. “Oh, I don’t know about that. How much do you want to bet that we win that game at Laguna?”
“Any money,” grinned Paul. “We don’t have any players, and even if we did, I’ve heard Laguna’s one of the best teams in the city.”
“I predict a burst of enthusiasm in basketball here at Don Carey High School.”
“Oh yeah? Why?”
“Haven’t you noticed lately what a keen interest Mike is taking in the sports program?” asked Sheldon innocently. “When the girls at this school find out that Mike intends to sponsor this team personally, I figure the tryouts’ll be mobbed.”
Warning bells went off inside Paul’s head. “Aw, Shel, you don’t have the nerve to do that again — at least not so soon after yesterday’s disaster.”
“Yesterday wasn’t a disaster — it was a triumph. Okay, so we didn’t win. But neither did anybody else. I think of the whole science fair as one big tie, which is pretty good when you consider Mike isn’t used to competition like that. And no one can say we have no school spirit after that great turnout. If we can get a crowd like that at the basketball game, poor Laguna will be too psyched-out to play. And all we have to do is convince Mike to show up.”
“He’s bound to remember what happened yesterday and say no.”
“But we know how to handle him now,” argued Sheldon. “If he doesn’t respond to reason, you’ll just beg and grovel like you did last time. Anyway, the important thing is to get the team out this afternoon. No team, no game.”
* * *
In chemistry class, Paul was taken completely off-guard when Daphne Sylvester spoke to him. This event was so unexpected that at first he was not able to take in her words. “Pardon me?”
“I said I’ve noticed that you and Mike Otis are pretty good friends.”
“Well… uh… I guess so,” Paul stammered warily.
Daphne’s normally vacant eyes assumed a dreamy expression. “Is he really as wonderful as everyone says he is?”
“Oh yes,” Paul choked. “He’s wonderful all right.”
“What’s he like?”
“He’s very — intense.”
Daphne sighed. “Do you think there’d be any way that I could get to — you know — meet him?”
Well, this was typical. Here he was, the lab partner of the most beautiful girl in the school. Since Day One, he had been secretly dying for even the tiniest bit of her attention. Now, finally, she speaks to him fo
r the first time all year, and it turns out that she’s making a play for Mike Otis. Mike Otis!
His first impulse was to say, “He’s married,” but he fought it down. By rights, he should alert Mike to this situation, for surely even Mike could not fail to notice the attractions of the divine Daphne. But then there were the hard feelings. The world was such a complicated place that he could not be expected to spend his time improving the quality of life for others. But if she found Mike beyond her fair reach, would she not then naturally try for his right-hand man, good old Paul Abrams? Realistically, no. However, the spirit of Steve was a powerful weapon to use on someone who looked so much like a leading lady. And the spirit of Steve pointed to the greater glory of Don’t Care High.
“Well, the best way to get Mike’s attention is to get involved. For example, Mike’s really into the basketball team. Why don’t you try out?”
“Mike supports the team?”
“Personally,” Paul confirmed. “He’s really excited about next Tuesday’s game at Laguna.”
Daphne flashed him a smile that turned his knees to water. Then she became thoughtful as she gave him the signal to begin the experiment.
With a huge sigh, Paul sorted the equipment. The divine Daphne may have shown enthusiasm for Mike Otis, but it certainly hadn’t changed her attitude toward lab work.
In the three lunch periods, Sheldon passed the word about Mike’s sudden interest in the basketball team, and so by the later periods of the day, the hearts and minds of the student body of Don Carey High School had completed the transition from sewers to hoops.
Not so the staff, however. And so, in the final period, Mr. Willis, who had always believed sarcasm to be a legitimate outlet for his frustrations, and whose sprained ankle was acting up again, couldn’t resist saying,
“Well, Mike, that was quite an impressive showing you and your followers made at the science fair.” He chuckled. “I guess you’re really ‘flushed with pride’ about the whole business.”
Mike, who was not easily perturbed, simply nodded. Although Paul felt his feathers ruffled a little, he said nothing.
“That’s all in the past anyway,” put in Trudy Helfield. “The basketball team is the big thing now.” She turned and looked directly at Mike. “I intend to try out right after class.”
Paul cast a glance in Mike’s direction. The ex-president’s black eyes had grown veiled and wary. It seemed as though Mike was developing a sixth sense to detect the beginnings of things he didn’t understand that would haunt him just the same. Finally, Mike said, “That’s nice,” whereupon every girl in the class over five-foot-four pledged that she, too, would be there at the tryouts.
“Might we do a little photography?” suggested Mr. Willis. “I’m sorry, but I need to every now and then, because it makes me feel so useful.”
Wayne-o strolled into the room. “Hey, Mr. Willis, what’s up?”
“Sit down, Wayne. We have a lot of work to do today.”
When the class was out, Paul headed directly home, not wanting to be around as the entire female population of the school converged on the bug-eyed Coach Murphy to vie for a position on the now-famous basketball team. When he got home, his mother greeted him at the door with a newspaper clipping which she shoved under his nose. The headline read: DON’T CARE STUDENTS ZOO SCIENCE FAIR.
Underneath, it said: 82 PROJECTS DESTROYED AS LETHARGIC SCHOOL AWAKENS.
“Paul, what’s going on at this school of yours?”
“It was just a little misunderstanding. I don’t really know much about it.”
“Oh? Well then, how come you’re mentioned in this article? By name, as one of the personal confidantes of Mike Otis. I want you to stay away from this Mike Otis. He sounds like a roughneck to me.”
Paul laughed out loud. “Look, Mom, it’s a good school. The people there have more spirit than anyone I’ve ever seen. And as for Mike, he did a science project, and now he’s turning his attention to the basketball team. Some roughneck. I suppose the next time I turn around, you’ll be accusing Tinkerbell of homicide.”
On Monday, Paul turned sixteen. This occasion was marked by a special dinner at Auntie Nancy’s house and the ceremonial doing of the dishes, pointing out the fact that there was no dishwasher on the premises. Auntie Nancy also presented Paul with a flashy designer shirt, which he decided to put away until his next visit to Edmondo.
Although Paul had tried to conceal his birthday, Sheldon had gotten wind of it, and bought Paul a double album entitled The Door Fell Off Our Bus: Flash Flood Selects the 23 Greatest Rock Songs Since Eternity. In addition, various cards and gifts arrived by mail from assorted relatives sprinkled across the continent.
Surprisingly, the most enthusiastic birthday celebrant was Paul’s father. Cancelling meetings by the score, he saw to it that he was home on Monday to greet the birthday boy and usher him into adulthood personally. He presented Paul with an electric shaver, not at all concerned by the fact that his son, as yet, had grown nothing worth shaving. Then, his eyes sparkling with pride, Mr. Abrams pulled out a brand-new copy of The Driver’s Handbook, and announced that he intended to have Paul behind the wheel of a car inside of two weeks.
For his part, Paul tried to look enthusiastic, and submitted patiently to his father’s energetic lectures on the ways of the road. For some reason, he had lost most of his burning ambition to drive. In Saskatoon, driving was a lot more important because everything was so flat and spread out, and the buses came once in a blue moon. But here in Manhattan, practically everything was within walking distance — or at least subway distance — and the most important transportation vehicle was an elevator. Besides, traffic was always at a standstill, there were never any parking spaces on the street, and the public garages all charged five thousand dollars a minute. And since he never left New York anyway, his life as a licensed driver was going to be exactly the same as when he had been a mere child of fifteen.
Nonetheless, Paul could still hear his father raving to his mother long after Paul had headed to his room to go to sleep. While Mr. Abrams described the perfect left turn in the living room, Paul knelt at his window, scanning the building across the street for signs of Rabbit Man. With all the excitement at school, he hadn’t really been keeping up to date on the apartments across the way, and here were the consequences. For all he knew, Rabbit Man may have decided to make his warren elsewhere, for his windows were dark, the shades drawn.
Not only that, but the fire-eater now wore heavy bandages on his lower lip. There was a message there somewhere, Paul was certain, about practice not always making perfect.
A new attraction had surfaced a few floors below the fire-eater. The world’s ultimate football fan had moved in, and when he was not glued to the TV screen watching pro, college, Canadian and even high school games, he was hard at work ripping up his carpets and laying down Astroturf. It was impossible to see the rest of the apartment, but the part near the window was done up as the end zone of the Orange Bowl.
The people next door weren’t watching their set, so Steve had the night off.
He finally drifted off to sleep to the sounds of his father talking about parallel parking.
* * *
At school, Coach Murphy was in a state of unparalleled joy. Not only would he be able to produce five players on Thursday afternoon, but he had a first team, a second team and substitutes. And enthusiasm! The girls had volunteered to put in two hours a day after school, plus individual practice at home, and had even worked out over the weekend. Oh, he had definitely died and gone to heaven! Of course, he did realize that the only reason for this burst of support was an inexplicable decision on the part of Mike Otis to have this team win. But Coach Murphy didn’t share the cynicism of his fellow teachers, especially Mr. Gamble. An opportunity like this was to be exploited at all costs, regardless of its source. As far as Coach was concerned, Mike Otis could wear a raincoat as big as Chicago and stick safety pins in his nostrils, so long as he kept supporting
the sports program.
On Tuesday, Sheldon and Paul managed to extract a vague promise from Mike to attend the Laguna game. It took quite a bit of begging and pleading, but not as much as Paul had anticipated it would after the science fair. Mike gave in with a kind of bland graciousness, as he had apparently accepted the fact that he had certain duties to this public he had so mysteriously acquired. He was sure that it was all related to some basic idea that was included among the many things at this school that he didn’t understand.
“I know how to handle him now,” Sheldon said afterward as the two left the building. “I just let you do the talking. It works like a charm.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re nice, Ambition. Not flashy, and you certainly don’t have a silver tongue like mine. But Mike doesn’t respond to reason anyway. He responds to your natural inherent niceness.”
Paul wasn’t sure just how to take this. On the surface, it was a compliment, but Sheldon’s use of the word nice seemed ever so slightly tainted. The expression “Nice guys finish last” kept cropping up in his mind, and Paul couldn’t seem to remember any of those late movies counting nice among the many attributes of Steve.
“Anyway,” Sheldon went on, “the basketball game is practically in the bag. We’ve covered all the angles. And it occurs to me that since it’s barely four o’clock, this would be an excellent time to sample some Mexican cuisine. Did you know that there’s a great Mexican place not too far from Don’t Care High?”
“No, and I think I’d like to live a little longer before the great secret is revealed to me. Honestly, Shel, my stomach has just recovered from that stupid souvlaki you forced down my throat last time.”
“Come on,” scoffed Sheldon. “Tell your stomach to follow me, and we’ll really see what it’s made of.”
* * *
That evening, despite paralyzing stomach pains brought on by three possibly tainted enchiladas, Paul passed the written examination to earn his beginning driver’s permit. Mr. Abrams treated this as the equivalent of a victory at the Indianapolis 500.
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