Initiation

by Phil M. Williams

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Wheeler,” Dr. Perry said. Mr. Wheeler looked up from his paper. “We sympathize with your loss, and our school mourns the loss of a fantastic kid. The initiation that allegedly took place on August thirtieth has not been corroborated by any of Coach Cowan’s interviews.”

  Mr. Wheeler clenched the edge of the podium, his knuckles white. He continued, “He was so ashamed that he refused to go to school or practice the next week. He was promptly thrown off the team –”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Wheeler, I’m going to have to stop you again,” Dr. Perry said. “All the kids sign a behavior contract that says if you miss three practices without an excuse, you are automatically –”

  Mr. Wheeler pounded the podium, his glasses bouncing on his nose. “Shut up and let me speak!”

  “Mr. Wheeler,” Dr. Perry said, “we do not allow aggressive behavior here. For your own good, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Two police officers converged on the podium. Mr. Wheeler looked at the cops marching toward him. He leaned into the mic. “My son is dead.” The auditorium was silent.

  Mr. Wheeler nodded to his wife as he was escorted outside by the police officers. Mrs. Wheeler stepped up to the mic.

  “I’ll meet you outside,” Carter said to Sarah as he stood. He marched to the short line behind the podium.

  “Mrs. Wheeler,” Dr. Perry said, “please be advised that we sympathize with your family, but we cannot have outbursts in this forum.”

  “Outbursts?” Mrs. Wheeler said. “What would you qualify as an outburst?”

  “I know it when I see it,” Dr. Perry replied.

  “What I don’t understand is why my son’s life is less important than the reputation of the football team?”

  “This forum is not for speculation,” Dr. Perry said. “I can assure you that your son’s life and the lives of all of our students are of paramount importance.”

  “Everyone who’s ever played football in this audience knows about the hazing and the initiation –”

  “I’m going to have to stop you right there. We have not found any evidence to support your claim.”

  Mrs. Wheeler narrowed her eyes at Dr. Perry. “I just want the hazing to stop. How can it stop, if we can’t even admit it’s a problem?”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Wheeler, but your time is up. Please step away from the podium.”

  “I will not,” Mrs. Wheeler said, her voice shaky. “How many thousands of kids have been subjected to this –”

  “Mrs. Wheeler, that’s enough,” Dr. Perry said, looking behind him for the AV guy. “Cut the podium mic.”

  “She has a right to speak,” Mrs. Little said.

  The men seated at the long table glared at Mrs. Little.

  The remaining two police officers approached the podium.

  Mrs. Wheeler shouted, the mic dead. “You know what goes on. It wasn’t just Ben. There’ve been kids with alcohol poisoning and post-traumatic stress –”

  The cops grabbed Mrs. Wheeler by her upper arms. She squirmed as they forced her up the stairs. “Let me go,” she said.

  Carter pushed to the front of the line, his jaw set tight and his eyes wild.

  “Because of the unruly outbursts,” Dr. Perry said, “we will adjourn this meeting.”

  “No,” Carter said loud enough for the entire audience to hear without the mic. “The Wheelers are telling the truth. I was there. Ben was tricked into allowing another player to smack him in the face with his penis.”

  The audience gasped.

  Justin stood up. “He’s a liar.”

  “Step down from the podium and leave the premises,” Dr. Perry said.

  “The cops are busy,” Carter said, “why don’t you come down and move me.” Dr. Perry stayed in his seat. Carter looked at Justin. “I didn’t say you did it.” He turned to the audience. “He used a cucumber, but Ben didn’t know it at the time. The point was to humiliate him, and that’s what they did. Ben wanted to be a part of this team more than anyone, and they just looked at him like he was nothing.” Carter turned back to the stage. “I think Ben would still be alive if it never happened. We’re all to blame, myself included. The rest of us were forced into a party naked with two hundred girls watching us.”

  A handful of men and teenage boys laughed.

  Coach Cowan stood and approached the end of the stage, glaring at Carter. “That’s enough,” Cowan said.

  A few adults from the crowd piped up, “Let him finish.”

  Carter continued, “For those of you with daughters: listen up. We couldn’t get our clothes back without having sex with a girl at the party.” There was hushed whispering and several wide-eyed fathers. “Don’t worry. A lot of girls lied to Justin and Zach over there,” Carter pointed, “so guys could get their clothes back. Only a handful of guys actually had sex with the girls. A lot of them just got blowjobs.”

  Some of the crowd began to shout at Carter, calling him a liar. Some began to shout at the school board and the superintendent, threatening changes with the upcoming election.

  Two police officers marched down the steps toward Carter. He put his hands up.

  “I’m leaving,” he said.

  * * *

  Carter trudged down the linoleum hallway, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Kids hurried around him, fast-walking to beat the lunch rush. He elicited stares and scowls from the student body. He passed a cluster of football players. They were unconcerned about the long lunch lines forming. There would be friends saving them spaces or they would simply cut in line.

  “Bitch,” one of them said as Carter passed.

  He continued down the hall, unfazed.

  After waiting in line, he sat down across from Sarah. They sat alone, at the end of a table large enough to seat sixteen. The buzz of voices blended together to form a constant stream of background noise.

  Sarah frowned at his food as he sat down. “I’m making you lunch tomorrow. I can’t watch you eat this shit. Do you know what they put in hot dogs?”

  Carter shrugged and took a bite. “Tastes good.”

  She scrunched up her nose. “It’s made from fatty tissues, head meat, animal feet, animal skin, blood, liver and other nasty stuff unfit for human consumption.”

  Carter put his hot dog on his tray. “Can we change the subject?”

  She grinned. “How’s the new job?”

  “It’s all right. Smelling like pine needles is better than smelling like French fries.”

  “It’s so stupid that we kill perfectly healthy trees for decoration.”

  Carter gazed over her shoulder. Justin sauntered toward them looking like a mismatched music star. His jeans and cowboy boots were country, his Mohawk punk rock, his flannel grunge, and his pale skin and blond hair pure boy band.

  Sarah turned around in her seat and scowled at Justin. Carter narrowed his eyes, his body tense.

  “What up, Carter?” Justin said. “I just wanted to see how you were doin’. We haven’t seen you lately. That’s right.” Justin snapped his fingers. “You quit like a little bitch.”

  “Walk away,” Carter said, his hands gripping the edge of the bench seat.

  Justin grinned at Sarah, his eyes locked on her. “Seein’ that Christmas is comin’ up, I had somethin’ for your girl.”

  He pulled his zipper down and reached into his pants and pulled a bun less hot dog from his boxer shorts. He held it at the opening of his jeans, like it was attached. He gazed down at Sarah and mouthed a kiss.

  “Why don’t you give it a little lick,” he said. “You know you want –”

  Carter moved around the table and coldcocked Justin with a right cross to the jaw. Justin’s head snapped to the side, his brain bouncing against his skull. His body fell awkwardly as if his legs no longer functioned. He lay on the ground, seemingly asleep. Pandemonium erupted around him as kids laughed and jeered.

  “Damn, he got knocked the fuck out!” someone from the crowd said.

  Two sch
ool police officers pushed through the crowd.

  Carter grabbed Justin’s hot dog from the floor and shoved it into the boy’s mouth. Justin lay sprawled on his back, his eyes closed, with a hot dog sticking out of his mouth. Carter was grabbed from behind and shoved onto the table, his hands forced behind his back. He was handcuffed and hauled away.

  * * *

  The bar bent across Carter’s shoulders as he squatted down. He pressed up with his arms and legs, exhaling as he stood. He took two choppy steps and set the bar down on the rack. A single light bulb cast dim shadows in the corners of the garage. He wore sweats in the unheated space.

  The door from the basement opened and Amber waltzed through. She wore heavy makeup and heavy perfume. Her jeans were tight, her sweater low cut. Large gold hoops dangled from her earlobes. Carter scowled. She smiled, her lips glossed, her teeth white.

  “Before you say anything,” she said with her palms up. “Your mom let me in. I’m just here because I want us to be friends. I really need to talk to you.”

  “I’ve got enough friends,” Carter replied.

  She frowned. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

  “Between us, or at school?”

  “All of it. How long is your suspension?”

  “A week. I’ll be back after Christmas break.”

  “Justin deserved it, if you ask me.”

  Carter picked up a twenty-five-pound plate and hefted it onto the bar, sliding it into place. “Why do you care?”

  She exhaled. “You may not believe this, but I loved you.” She pursed her lips. “I still love you. I’ve never been in love before.”

  “I can’t.”

  She looked down. “I know. I’ve been a complete mess since that day. You’re all I ever think about. I just need some closure.”

  Carter slid another twenty-five-pound plate onto the opposite side of the bar. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “Can we just go somewhere and talk?”

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

  She moved closer to Carter, whispering, her perfume flooding his nostrils. “Your dad’s out there on the computer. He can probably hear everything we say. I just don’t feel comfortable talkin’ here.”

  Carter stepped away from her, his eyes narrowed.

  “Please, it won’t be long. I promise.”

  “I’m grounded, except for work.”

  “Tell him you’re goin’ to work.”

  He exhaled. “Let me get my jacket.”

  Carter returned to the garage wearing his old army jacket over his black sweats. They exited under the garage door. Carter climbed into the passenger seat of Amber’s Chevy Suburban.

  She cranked the ignition and flashed a sideways grin toward Carter. “This truck bring back any memories?”

  His face was expressionless. “Where are we going?”

  “The park at South Run.”

  They drove into the gravel parking area. It was dark except for a single lamppost near the entrance and another near the portable toilets. The lot was empty. South Run Park consisted of acres of grass soccer fields, three baseball diamonds, and a large playground.

  Amber cut the engine and killed the headlights. “Why don’t we go sit on the swings?”

  “Let’s talk here.”

  “What’s the point of coming to the park then? The stars are out. It’s not even that cold. Come on.”

  Amber stepped out of the SUV. Carter followed. The gravel crunched under their feet as they walked along the pathway toward the playground. To their right was the row of portable toilets, dim light reflecting off the blue plastic. The hair stood up on the back of his neck when he heard muffled voices from the toilets. In the distance, beyond the playground, he caught a glimpse of something large, something shiny, something metal. Shit. It was Zach’s jeep, the chrome accents betraying the black exterior. Carter turned and sprinted back to the parking area, but three guys ran behind him, emerging from the far end of the portable toilets. Three more guys ran in front of him from the opposite end.

  Carter stopped and shook his head. “You fucking bitch.”

  Amber laughed. “You got that right.”

  She strutted toward the parking lot. The six guys closed in, tightening the metaphorical noose. Everyone was dressed in black. Justin and Zach looked like enormous grim reapers. Luke and Noah stepped toward Carter with less confidence, the parking lot visible behind them. The other two guys, Mike and James, were reserve receivers that Carter had abused all season in practice.

  “You ready for payback, bitch?” Justin said, his lips curled into a snarl.

  Carter sprinted for the parking lot, his legs rubbery from the squats. Luke, Noah, and James blocked his path. Carter blasted into James, his forearm shivering off the kid’s nose. James fell to the ground. Luke grabbed him from behind, and Carter slammed his head back into Luke’s face. Stunned by the reverse head butt, Luke let go. Carter restarted toward the parking lot. Noah made a perfect angle tackle, his head in front as he drilled Carter into the grass. Carter struggled, but Justin and Zach piled on, pinning his arms behind his back. They yanked him to his feet, his arms secured. Noah took the first shots, one to the face and one to the stomach. They all took their shots, except for Luke. Carter was in a daze, blood dripping from his lip. His head hung, his body held up by Zach.

  “That’s enough,” Luke said. “Let him go.”

  Justin shook his head. “Nah, fuck that. This motherfucker cheap shot me. Let’s take him to the porta-john.”

  Zach and Justin hoisted Carter under the arms and carried him to the portable toilets, his feet dragging on the ground.

  “The third one,” Justin said. “That one’s got the floater.”

  “Open the fucking door,” Zach said.

  Noah opened the door and Zach and Justin threw Carter onto the floor of the plastic enclosure. It smelled like chemicals mixed with shit and piss. A few errant sheets of toilet paper were on the floor. Justin flipped the lid up and tried to force Carter’s head inside the hole, but Carter didn’t budge. His arms were rigid as he stared at a large brown turd floating in a sea of bright blue. Zach tried to help, but was unable to squeeze around Carter inside the plastic toilet. The flimsy structure rocked with his weight.

  “You’re too fucking fat,” Justin said. Zach stepped out of the structure. Justin looked back at Noah. “Get your ass in here.”

  Carter grabbed some toilet paper from the ground. He reached down into the abyss and grasped the turd with the paper, his fingertips wet with piss and chemicals. Justin turned around, his mouth open, and Carter smashed the turd into his face. Justin staggered out of the plastic structure, spitting and clawing at his face.

  “I need water. I need water,” Justin said. He turned and threw up, falling onto his knees.

  Carter exited the structure, still holding the remnants of the shit encased in toilet paper.

  “What the fuck?” Zach said, his jaw dropped, looking at the brown smeared on Justin’s face.

  Carter smashed the last bits of feces into Zach’s mouth, helping to answer his question. Carter dropped the toilet paper to the ground and sprinted for the parking lot. Noah, Mike, and James gave chase, but they were left in the dust.

  Carter ran out of the park, occasionally glancing over his shoulder. He crossed the street into a middle-class neighborhood of seventies-style split levels. He knocked on three doors with cars in the driveways and lights on. The first two yielded no answer. An elderly man answered at the third house. There were thick square columns and a long open porch in front.

  “Can I help you?” he said, eyeing Carter’s battered face and dirty army jacket.

  “Could I please use your phone?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’ll have to stay out here. I’ll bring you the cordless.”

  “Would it be okay if I washed my hands?”

  The old man frowned.

  “My hands are dirty. I don’t wanna touch your phone.”
<
br />   “I’ll bring you some soap, and you can wash them in the hose.”

  “Thank you.”

  The old man nodded and shut the door behind him, the deadbolt latching. After a few minutes, the man returned with a bottle of dish soap and a cordless phone. The man told Carter to hold out his hands, and he sprayed some dish soap on them. Carter turned on the spigot, trying to hold the soap in his palm. He held his hands under the hose and washed the filth as best he could. He wiped his hands on his sweatpants and took the phone from the man. Sarah answered on the fourth ring.

  “Hello.”

  “Sarah, it’s Carter. Is your mom home?”

  “She’s not your type.”

  “I need a ride. It’s kind of an emergency.”

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fine. I’ll tell you when you get here.”

  – 16 –

  Blue Bunny Jammies

  The Jeep spit gravel from the knobby tires as Zach and his crew exited the park across the street. Carter sat on the old man’s front stoop, shielded by a holly hedge. He shivered as the sweat dried on his body. Julie’s Honda crept past the house. Sarah peered through the driver’s window. Carter ran out into the street, waving his arms. The red car stopped and reversed. He jogged around the Coupe, opened the passenger door and slid inside.

  “Thank you,” Carter said. “Where’s your mom?”

  Sarah gazed at Carter’s face, her mouth open. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, really.”

  She clenched her fists. “It was Zach and Justin, wasn’t it?” She reached out and squeezed his hand. A tear slid down her face. “Your eyes are already swollen.”

  Carter looked down. “I’m fine, really. I’ve had much worse. They hit like girls … sorry, you know what I mean.”

  Sarah shook her head, her red hair moving against her cheeks. “I don’t like that you’ve had worse.” She reached over the center console and hugged him. “No more.” She let go and sat up, her eyes puffy.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have prepared you on the phone. I didn’t think you’d be so …”

  She sniffed. “Upset?”

  “Yeah.”