The Nose from Jupiter

by Richard Scrimger

  “I’m, uh, a captain,” he said, pointing to his uniform, “but I’ve never been on a boat.” He stopped again. The principal laughed – it was his sort of joke. The rest of us didn’t. The captain peered at his notes.

  “Now, boys and girls, I want to show you some really interesting pictures I took on my last trip.” Behind him, the curtains parted to reveal the big white viewing screen. Last month a public health nurse had shown us pictures of blackened and decaying lungs on that very screen.

  We sighed and settled back in our chairs. Disappointment was giving way to resignation. At least we knew where we were now. This was going to be another slide show…which, all things considered, was still better than environmental studies class.

  Victor was beside me. I guess he didn’t mind sitting near me in the dark. I whispered, “You know, your dad would have been better than this guy. He might have brought some free samples.”

  Then the spotlight went out and a big star map came on.

  Norbert woke up about halfway through the assembly. He takes afternoon naps – that’s the part of him that’s still only three years old. Sometimes a whole afternoon will pass without a squeak out of him. Anyway, it wasn’t until we were listening to Captain Sid tell us about constellations that I felt a familiar prickling in my nose.

  –What’s going on? Norbert whispered – not really a whisper, more a buzzing sound. Victor, and Miranda, who was sitting on the other side of me, were probably the only people besides me who heard it.

  –You promised you’d wake me when the assembly started!

  “Sh,” I whispered.

  –Hey! I could feel my nostrils flaring. Norbert must have been really excited.

  –That’s not Shania Twain, he said, more audibly.

  Oh no. “Quiet, Norbert,” I whispered. I bent forward in my seat.

  “Are you all right?” Miranda asked. She and Victor exchanged looks behind my back.

  –Is Shania Twain on later?

  “Yes,” I whispered. “Later.” Later tonight, on television. “Now be quiet and listen.”

  Everyone in the auditorium was half asleep by now. Even the principal, whose silhouette was visible in the wash of light between slides, had covered a couple of yawns. Captain Allinson, however great an astronaut and role model he was, was not a gripping public speaker.

  “The constellations represent a very small portion of the stars you can see at night. You see, constellations are all made of fixed stars. They don’t change from year to year or from century to century. Most stars are not fixed, though. They are, uh, how can I put it –”

  –Broken? Norbert interrupted in a loud voice.

  There was a titter from the audience, and Captain Allinson gave a wary smile. “In motion,” he said. The captain was using a light pointer to show us bits of the slide that he was talking about. “These stars,” he said as he moved the pointer over the center of the slide, “form the constellation which the ancient Greeks named after the great hunter, Orion. These three stars in a row here are supposed to represent his, uh, belt.”

  –You’re wrong! said Norbert, pretty loudly.

  Of course, he’s an experienced space traveler. The principal sat up. Everyone sat up.

  –Look at it! Does it look like a hunter? Does it?

  “You’d better be quiet, Squeaky,” Miranda whispered.

  “I can’t help it,” I whispered back. “It’s Norbert talking, not me.”

  The Captain was peering out but he couldn’t see me in the darkness. He was pretty good about being interrupted. “The Greeks had wonderfully good imaginations,” he said.

  –They had wonderfully bad eyesight.

  Lots of people could hear Norbert now. There were some snickers. A couple of teachers were calling “Sh!”

  “I’d better get out of here,” I whispered.

  “Do you need help?” Miranda sounded concerned.

  “Better leave him alone,” said Victor.

  I ducked down out of my seat and started to edge my way along the row. “Excuse me,” I murmured to my classmates. With luck I could make it to the door.

  Norbert was still talking.

  –And that idea of astrogation guidance is very primitive. On my spaceship…

  Captain Allinson changed the slide. I was almost at the end of the row.

  “Here,” he said, “we have a familiar constellation.”

  –The Cocoa Jug! I was covering Norbert with my hand, but enough people heard him to start a pretty good chuckle going through the audience. I swear I heard someone whisper, “Squeaky.” Sure sounded like it. The principal walked to the edge of the stage.

  “Who is that?” he asked angrily. I was crouched down, and it was too dark for him to see clearly, but he was staring right in my direction.

  “Ursa Minor,” the captain said. “The Little Bear. It does look a bit like a jug, doesn’t it?”

  –Hey, where are we going? I was crawling on my hands and knees now, racing up the aisle to the rear doors. “Shut up!” I panted.

  –I don’t want to miss the country music. And then I was pushing the auditorium door open. Light streamed into the darkened room.

  The principal called out, “There he goes! Stop him, someone!” but by then I was running down the hall holding my nose. I decided to head for the nearest washroom. I passed a janitor on the way, who asked if I was all right.

  “Nosebleed,” I told him, over my shoulder.

  I can’t stare down at my nose without crossing my eyes – a mirror is helpful. So I stood in front of the mirror in the downstairs BOYS bathroom and stared at Norbert.

  “I hope you’re pleased,” I said. “Do you know how much trouble we’re in?”

  He didn’t reply. My nose was wrinkled up, the way it is when I’m embarrassed, or when the air smells bad. The stall doors were all closed. I noticed them over my shoulder.

  “The Cocoa Jug,” I said bitterly. Norbert didn’t reply.

  Was that a wisp of smoke rising from behind the closed door of the nearest stall? I stared harder. Yes it was. The room smelled of smoke too. No wonder my nose was all wrinkled up. Someone was smoking a cigarette in a stall in the BOYS bathroom.

  No, not someone. More than one person. There were two wisps of smoke. Three wisps. All the stalls were occupied, but…by whom? Who would be smoking cigarettes when they should be at the assembly? I’d noticed Mary in the auditorium.

  I raced to the bathroom door, but stopped when I heard voices in the hall outside.

  “He ran this way,” said the janitor. “Said he had a nosebleed. I can’t tell exactly what he sounded like … he talked kind of funny.”

  Oh oh.

  I ran back to the sink in time to hear the hiss of a cigarette butt dropped into a toilet bowl. And another. And an “Ouch!” Gary’s voice; he must have burnt himself. The toilets flushed together. I ran back to the door. The voices outside were getting closer. I returned to the mirror; my heart doing handstands in my chest. I felt like a trapped rat. Do you know how many good hiding places there are in a school bathroom, not counting the stalls? That’s right. None. The next moment the stall doors opened and Gary, Larry, and Prudence stepped out. They were smiling, even Prudence, who never smiles.

  “Do you know,” she asked, “how much trouble you’re in?”

  Getting Away With It

  You think about the stupidest things. “What are you doing in the BOYS bathroom?” I asked Prudence. It was another reason to be impressed by her. I’d be way too embarrassed to even go into the GIRLS bathroom, let alone sit in a stall and have a smoke.

  She didn’t answer. I backed away from her, toward the door. I planned to run as fast as I could out into the hall and throw myself on Principal Omerod’s mercy. When worst comes to worst, pick the lesser of two evils, and a lecture was a lot less painful than being killed. Not even Patrick Henry would have picked death before detention.

  I turned around, but Prudence didn’t give me a chance to get to the door. H
er hand flashed out. Faster than a striking snake, she grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, and pulled me backward. I choked as the front of my shirt collar bit into my neck. Prudence kept pulling until I collapsed and fell to the floor. Cold floors in public bathrooms…you ever noticed? Maybe not…maybe you’ve never lain down on one. I stared up at Prudence’s face. And Gary’s and Larry’s. I tried to shout, but all that came out was a weak little rattling sound. I tried to prepare myself for pain…which is impossible. No matter how hard you prepare yourself, the pain is a surprise. It hurts. I can remember every needle I ever got. I can remember every time I pulled off a bandaid, or watched my mom dig out a splinter. I always tried to prepare myself for the pain…and it never worked.

  First Gary kicked me. They say you’re not supposed to kick someone when he’s down, but Gary’s a real bully, and that’s what bullies do. He kicked me in the rear end, and I’d like to say that he hurt his foot, but he didn’t. “Ouch,” I tried to say. Not much of a sound came out. Then he made a mistake. He bent over and, as a way of making fun of me, he tweaked Norbert.

  Big mistake.

  –Oooh! A surprisingly intense high-pitched shriek. Gary straightened up. And so, somehow, some incredible how, did I. It felt like I’d been given a jolt of electricity. One moment I was on my back, looking up at my tormentors, unable even to utter…and the next moment I was on my feet, heart racing, muscles tensed, ready for action, with a martial arts battle cry raising the roof off the bathroom.

  Of course, it wasn’t my war cry. It was Norbert’s.

  –Hee-Yup! he shouted. Attack! Attack! Attack! It is death! He sounded like a samurai chipmunk. Gary backed away with a strange look on his face. He probably thought I was crazy – and I’m not saying it was an unreasonable thought. He put his hands out to protect himself if I started punching, but I didn’t start punching. I didn’t lift my hands. I rushed right at him, jumped in the air, and smashed him in the face with my…well, it’s hard to say what part of me I smashed him with. Norbert led the way, but I suspect he ducked at the last minute, and let my forehead do the actual work. It all happened pretty quickly.

  Whatever it was, it worked a treat. I didn’t feel a thing, and there was Gary screaming and crying out and holding his nose. Blood dripped through his fingers like grape drink from a leaky juice box – that happened to me last week and it got over everything in my lunch.

  For just a second Prudence and Larry were too shocked to act…and in that second, I made my move. I took a step forward, slipped, and fell to the floor. Not my best move. Both of them leaped to block my exit. Larry gave this big, dumb, surprised laugh. They had me now, and we all knew it. A curious sense of acceptance settled on me like a blanket. I wasn’t going to struggle anymore.

  Nice friends they were. They didn’t care about Gary at all. He was slumped against the sink, fumbling for a paper towel to stanch the blood. Neither of them spared him a glance.

  “You’re dead, Dingwall,” whispered Prudence.

  “Okay,” I said.

  “We’re going to beat the stuffing out of you,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  “You called us all names on the soccer field. You humiliated us. We can’t let you get away with that. You just smashed Gary’s nose. We can’t let you get away with that either. Do you understand?”

  “Okay.”

  I don’t know what was going on with me. It was like I was under a spell. I might as well have been one of those dolls that says the same thing over and over again. Pull my string and I say, “Okay.”

  “You’re going to whine and beg for mercy, but you won’t get it. You’ll never call anyone names ever again. Is that… okay?”

  “That’s just fine,” I said.

  “Ready, Larry? On the count of three. One, two–” and then the principal came into the bathroom, and the whole situation changed immediately.

  “What’s going on here?” asked Mr. Omerod in a very principal kind of voice.

  Behind him, in a different kind of voice, the janitor said, “Hey!” – meaning the same thing.

  There was so much for them to look at – blood and paper towels, a girl in the boys’ room – that they didn’t notice me right away. I saw a way of avoiding both death and detention. I scuttled into the nearest stall, crouched on the toilet seat, and shut the door quietly while the bullies still blocked me from view. I didn’t want the janitor remembering my yellow shirt.

  “Prudence, why are you in the boys’ room? Why weren’t you other two at the assembly?” asked the principal.

  Silence, except for Gary whimpering. Poor Gary, the principal didn’t seem to care about his wound either. I shut my mouth and hoped no one would notice the noise my heart made, beating inside my chest. To me, it sounded like Paul Bunyan splitting logs.

  “I slipped out of the assembly to go to the bathroom,” Prudence explained. “On my way back to the auditorium I passed the boys’ room and heard Gary crying out for help. Of course I went in. Gary was standing at the sink, like that, with a bloody nose. Larry was already helping him. Then you came in. Sir,” she added.

  A fast thinker, Prudence. I wondered if Mr. Omerod would believe her story. He sniffed the air, which still reeked of cigarette smoke. “What about you two?” he asked.

  “Oh, uh. It was just like she said,” said Larry. He wasn’t a fast thinker. “I was helping Gary here, and she came in.”

  Gary whimpered quietly.

  “Hmm. So this is the boy you saw in the hall, Mr. Keenan.”

  “Well, sir.” The janitor didn’t sound sure of himself. Gary is taller and darker-haired than I am, and his face doesn’t look anything like mine. But the janitor only saw me for a second, and never saw my face. “I guess it could have been,” he said. “He does have a nosebleed.”

  “Were you interrupting our special guest at the assembly, Gary?” asked the principal.

  “No, sir,” Gary whimpered.

  “Were you, Prudence?”

  “No.”

  “How about you, Larry?”

  “Huh? No, sir. Course not.” Larry was able to answer honestly. He hadn’t been interrupting the assembly … he hadn’t even been at the assembly.

  The principal sighed. “Very well. Gary, your bleeding seems to have stopped. Report to the nurse’s office. I will send someone to see you in a few minutes. Prudence and Larry, go back to the auditorium for the last part of the program.”

  “Yes, sir.” I could hear the relief in Larry’s voice. They were going to get away with it. He was tempted to improvise. “Great show, isn’t it, sir?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Shania Twain, sir. She’s giving us a great show. We don’t usually listen to her music – Prudence and Gary and me – but we agreed that seeing her live, like this, was…really….”

  His voice trailed away. He had broken the first rule of Getting Away With It, the rule kids are supposed to learn early in life. Never say more than you have to. No one ever got spanked for saying too little.

  Mr. Omerod was decisive. “All three of you…detention for missing the assembly. Report to my office immediately after school. Now march back to the auditorium with me.”

  As their footsteps faded away, I heard Larry say, “Ouch!” I wondered which of the other two had kicked him.

  Miranda and I talked for a bit while we were waiting for the school bus to come and carry her home. I got a few looks from the other bus kids. Admiring looks. I wasn’t used to being noticed, but I didn’t mind. When I told Miranda about the bathroom episode, she laughed. “That was very brave of you,” she said. “But those Cougars are so awful. It sounds like they really mean to get you. It’ll probably blow over in a week or so, but I don’t like to think of you in danger, Alan.”

  “Me neither,” I said. I didn’t think it would blow over so soon, but I didn’t want to whine.

  The bus pulled up then. Miranda hoisted her knapsack on her shoulder and gave my…well, gave Norbert, an affectionate twea
k. “The Cocoa Jug,” she said, shaking her head.

  It wasn’t a bad afternoon for November, a bit windy but lots of sun and not too cool. I had my coat unzipped and my hands in my pockets. I could hear a cardinal singing high up in a tree nearby. I was worried about the bullies, but I was happy too. I was happier than I was worried, but I didn’t know why.

  –You’re cheerful enough, Norbert commented.

  “Aren’t you?”

  –I don’t know. I’m kind of…homesick. He sighed.

  “For Jupiter?”

  –Maybe it was seeing the Cocoa Jug, so clear and bright. I used to look out of my window and see it. Every night. My mom used to tell me how once, long ago, the cocoa spilled out of the jug, along with all the little marshmallows, and together they make up the band of light crossing the sky at night. I can’t remember what you call it…not “Mars,” but something like that.

  “Milky Way?” I suggested.

  –Yes, that’s it. I knew it was some kind of chocolate bar. He sighed again.

  I was at the King Street bridge now. I stopped to look over the side. The river ran full and brown underneath me. I couldn’t see any fish. I never can, except in summer when the water is slack and low, and the big lazy carp come up from the lake and hang about, eating garbage – at least that’s what Victor says. For sure they don’t eat the worms we try to catch them with.

  I unlocked the front door of the house and let myself in. The place was empty, as usual. Mom wouldn’t be back from work for an hour or more. There were two phone messages. I got myself some milk and cookies while I listened to them. The first message was a kid calling for Mom. He didn’t sound much older than I am. He was being accused of something he didn’t do. “Oh, you poor thing,” I mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate chip.

  The second message was for me. I hadn’t heard my dad’s voice for awhile, and it took me a moment to recognize it. “Sorry, son,” his recorded voice said. “I won’t be able to fly in to see you this weekend. I know we were planning to make a day of it, go to a movie and then maybe take in a game at the Gardens. I was looking forward to it. But I have to talk to this important guy from Hong Kong, and he’s only in Vancouver for a couple of days. Sorry I missed you. I’ll try and call again later on. Bye.”