Dweeb

by Aaron Starmer

  “Well, I’d love to hang out down here for fifty years,” Eddie said as he walked over to the door and gave it a firm push, “but what are our options?”

  “Options?” Wendell said.

  “Options. Bargaining points,” Eddie said. “I really don’t think any of us stole anything, but Snodgrass will be back soon. And you gotta deal with Snodgrass like it’s all business.”

  “Well, I’m not about to get a mark on my permanent record,” Denton said. He couldn’t tolerate a mark on anything. Once, during lunch, he got a ketchup stain on his shirt. He retreated to the boys’ bathroom, where he attempted to scrub it off in the sink. When it wouldn’t disappear, he went straight to Nurse Bloom’s office and told her he was sick to his stomach and needed to go home. He spent the rest of the afternoon studying in his bedroom, the embarrassing shirt relegated to the trash can.

  “My grandparents do not approve of theft,” Bijay said.

  “So you guys are perfectly fine with this garbage?” Elijah asked. “Forgetting the fact that we’re innocent?”

  “Look at it this way,” Denton said. “Any of you lads have a hot date in the next week? Me, I was planning to attend school, then go home and study for the Idaho Tests. I don’t see how this is any different.”

  “We don’t have a TV,” Eddie pointed out.

  “Or a computer,” Wendell said.

  “Or a fridge,” Bijay said.

  “Or any backbones!” Elijah shouted. “Come on, guys! Just ’cause he’s vice principal doesn’t mean he’s got everything figured out. Something’s not right and we have a chance to stand up.”

  “I’ve always thought you’d be better served by a Parliament, but America is still a democracy, is it not?” Denton said. “We should vote.”

  “That sounds fair,” Wendell said.

  “Of course it’s fair.” Denton bristled. “I vote that we stay down here, take the punishment, and emerge in a week—tougher, smarter, and free. No reason to risk our futures over this.”

  “And what if we all disagree with you?” Elijah said, turning to the others for support.

  “Majority rules,” Denton said. He held out his hands in what he hoped looked like a gesture of openness and generosity.

  “I’d actually like to stay down here,” Bijay stated.

  “Really?” Elijah sighed.

  “Honor is very important to my grandparents,” he explained. “I want them to be proud of me.”

  “Trent never got in trouble,” Wendell said.

  “Who’s Trent?” Elijah asked.

  “My brother,” Wendell said. “He also never got into Mensa.”

  “But we’re not in Mensa,” Elijah said. “We’re in here.”

  “But they don’t know that,” Wendell said. “In here, we’re geniuses. Up there … disappointments.”

  “Up there,” Eddie said, “I could lose my spot on the team. I don’t care about whether someone thinks I’m a genius or not. I just want to run. I’m staying.”

  Denton beamed. People were taking his side. His point of view was the most popular in the room.

  Elijah bit his lip, took his glasses off, and rubbed his left eye. He paced over to the wall and began tapping it gently with the tip of his sneaker. “So it goes,” he said softly, his head hanging limply.

  “You’re with us, then?” Denton pointed at him.

  “If I stand alone … Man, I really should stand alone.” Elijah turned around to face them, leaned his back against the wall, and slid down into a lump on the floor. “But we are pretty screwed, aren’t we?”

  Wendell nodded sympathetically.

  “I was jumping the gun a bit with my accusations,” Denton said, stepping forward and presenting his hand. He knew this was the right move. He had to show Elijah he could admit his mistakes and move on. That was the way to maintain control of the situation.

  “That’s for sure,” Elijah said.

  “How about this?” Denton proposed. “We accept Snodgrass’s offer. We do what he asks. We study. But when we have a free moment, we put our heads together and figure out what happened. No harm in that.”

  Elijah looked up at Denton, then raised his hand and shook Denton’s halfheartedly. When Denton tried to pull him to his feet, he withdrew his hand. “I’m staying on the floor,” he said.

  Denton nodded, stepped back, and took a seat at one of the desks. He was disciplined enough to suppress his satisfied smile.

  “I bet it’s all a big prank,” Bijay said. “And Snodgrass is going to step into the room with a fistful of balloons and a TV camera and we’ll all have a big laugh.”

  Eddie patted Bijay on the back and said, “I know Snodgrass. Not really a balloon guy.”

  About an hour later, the door swung open and Snodgrass stepped into the room. A plastic bag, its handles stretching with the weight of something heavy, hung from the bend in his elbow. He lowered the bag to the floor, took a deep breath, and looked the boys over.

  “So?” he asked.

  When no one else moved, Denton stepped forward to be their spokesman. “So … sign us up for the full week … sir.”

  “The right choice,” Snodgrass said.

  “What’s in the bag?” Eddie asked.

  Snodgrass closed his eyes and sighed. “And you don’t believe I was going to get to that, Mr. Green?”

  “I’m sorry, but the general consensus is that I’m incorrigible,” Eddie said.

  “An understatement,” Snodgrass responded. “What the bag contains, gentlemen, is your homework. So make yourselves at home. I’ll contact your parents with the story we discussed. Coach McKenzie will be stopping by with your dinner. And I’ve asked Nurse Bloom to check in on you to make sure everyone is healthy. Rest assured, you’ve done the noble thing.”

  Elijah stared at the corner, not saying a word.

  “Good day to you.” With that, Snodgrass stepped out of the room and pushed the door shut.

  Wendell crept carefully over to the bag and reached inside. His massive hands emerged holding a book. The title was written in large block letters:

  TWENTY YEARS OF IDAHO TESTS

  He tossed the book to Denton, but his aim was askew and it hit the wall and fell to the floor. Embarrassed, he picked it up and slowly handed it to him instead.

  “Cheers,” Denton said.

  Then Wendell pulled more copies of the same book from the bag and handed them around. Pulling the last copy out and keeping it for himself, he took a seat.

  “That’s it?” Eddie asked.

  Elijah looked down at his copy. “Yeah, like a thousand pages of test questions isn’t nearly enough fun.”

  “Well,” Denton said, setting his book on his desk and hoisting it open, “I don’t know about you lads, but I’m getting started.”

  Of course he knew the whole situation was strange. Of course he knew it was wrong, but Denton focused his entire concentration on the book. Studying, he believed, would take his mind out of that room. It would connect him to something familiar and safe.

  At first, the other boys examined the books cautiously from a distance, as if they were explosives. But before too long, they sat down, cracked the books open, and joined Denton. Denton was glad. Following the set path was important to him.

  Some of the questions weren’t particularly difficult for Denton:

  What are the three branches of American government?

  He knew the answer was legislative, executive, and judicial.

  What layer of the atmosphere lies above the troposphere?

  He knew the answer was stratosphere.

  Others took a bit more effort:

  What is x in the equation 17x − 12 = 114 + 3x?

  He was pretty sure the answer was 9.

  Who wrote The Count of Monte Cristo?

  He really had no idea but guessed that the answer was Alexandre Dumas.

  What is the unit between two bars of music?

  He left this one blank.

  Denton suspected
the other guys might have a better grasp of these questions. If they pooled their knowledge, they probably could get the correct answer to every single one. Test taking was a solitary act, though. How else could you determine who was ahead, who was behind, who moved on and who didn’t?

  When the door burst open that evening, Denton looked up, his eyes blurry from staring at the book. A hulking figure clad in a baseball cap, a T-shirt, and gym shorts stared him down.

  “First things first,” announced Coach McKenzie. “You all disgust me! I’m saying that now and I’m hoping you remember it. Because if I had my way, you’d be on a oneway bus to the filthiest juvenile detention center in Jersey. Common thieves! In my school! And you, Peter Pan? I figured you a bit fancy, but a thief? I’m appalled.”

  “But—” Denton began.

  “Zip it,” McKenzie said firmly, and he pointed to each boy individually as he kept talking. “Shut it. Button it. Velcro it. Whatever the heck kids do to it these days to keep … it … quiet! I’m talking, you’re listening, and I’m only saying things once. Snodgrass wants you locked down here and I do not question orders. And neither will you.”

  Coach McKenzie pulled a paper bag out from behind his back and set it on the floor.

  “Menu tonight: beef, broccoli, rice, milk. Mind and body, brain food, dinner of champions. You will eat it. You will say yum-yum. And when I return tomorrow morning, it will all be gone and you will rub your bellies and exclaim ‘Gosh, Coach McKenzie, that dinner sure was swell!’ Copy?”

  Denton nodded nervously. He had come to fear McKenzie’s military bluster. When he first started at school, he thought it might all be an act, a parody of a macho American man. It came so naturally, though, so forcefully, that he decided it was the man’s essence. And he had no idea what it took to become someone like that.

  “For the next week, I will not be teaching gym classes,” McKenzie continued. “Coach Walsh will do double duty. My mission? I will be stationed on the other side of that door. I will be listening. And I will be checking in. You need me? You knock five times. I’ll be in here faster than quick. But at night, I will be asleep.”

  From the pocket of his striped atheltic shorts, Coach McKenzie pulled a small electronic device and held it up for all to see.

  “In the case of an emergency, you press the red button. I’ll be bunking in my office. An alarm will go off and I’ll be down here with a head full of steam and a genuine hope that an ambulance is gonna be called. Because the only type of emergency I believe in is the one that requires an ambulance. I don’t read bedtime stories and I don’t do room service. This button is only pressed when someone’s frothing at the mouth.”

  He tossed the device to Eddie, who caught it but didn’t look at it. He kept his eyes on McKenzie.

  “Last things last. There are cameras all over this school. They’re always watching. Day and night and night and day. If you Harry Potter your way into the hall, we’re gonna know. It’s a week, fellas, hardly any time at all. Crack those books but don’t crack wise, and you’ll get through this just fine.”

  Cocking his chin, McKenzie pivoted on one heel and headed back toward the door.

  “Lights-out at nine-thirty There will be no discussion on that matter. And I do not want anyone telling me he’s innocent. You know who says they’re innocent? Guilty people.”

  Denton’s emotions told him to speak up, to argue, to once again proclaim his innocence, but he stayed silent. Denton knew that McKenzie had once been a marine. McKenzie’s point of view, and everything else about him, was unwavering. Some teachers listened to reason and Denton was adept at convincing them of his point of view. But to go head to head with McKenzie in an argument would be like trying to convince a lion he needed a haircut—a dangerous and useless course of action.

  “Good night, boys,” McKenzie said, stepping back through the door. “Sleep softly … and study hard.”

  As soon as McKenzie was gone, Bijay was upon the food. He was careful to hand it out evenly to everyone, but Denton could see that his body was shaking with hunger. Denton wasn’t hungry, but he hadn’t eaten all day, so he took his portion to a desk and picked at it.

  He watched the others eat. Bijay tried to hold himself back at first, but before long he was piling the food into his mouth like a dump truck. Wendell chomped away sloppily, licking and smacking his lips. Elijah winced with every bite as if it were full of poison. Eddie spent most of his time moving the food around his paper plate with his plastic fork.

  Denton was an only child. He had never been to camp, never shared a room with anyone. He hadn’t even been to a sleepover before. So he wasn’t sure what to expect after dinner. Were they supposed to sit around chatting? Who would decide on when to go to bed?

  As soon as they finished their food, he got his answer. Elijah climbed into a bunk and pulled a pile of covers up over himself.

  “I guess it’s bedtime,” Wendell said, following Elijah.

  “Will there be more growling?” Bijay asked.

  “I don’t know,” Eddie said. “I haven’t heard anything. I don’t want to hear anything.”

  “It was imaginary, I’m sure,” Denton said uneasily.

  “I guess we all share an imagination,” Elijah called out from his bunk. “If you’re going to say such stupid things, then just shut off the lights. I’ll sleep all week if I have to.”

  As the others crawled into their bunks, Denton stood still. He wasn’t tired. His mind was bursting. He knew Elijah was right—the growling wasn’t imaginary. This punishment was completely unreasonable.

  But he tried to dispel such thoughts from his mind. If he was going to follow his own advice and spend an entire week down here, he couldn’t be distracted.

  Denton switched off the light and fumbled into his bunk. He lay there in the dark, his eyes wide open.

  He stayed that way for nearly an hour, until the growl behind the wall returned, rumbling up through the silence. On its heels came the sound of gentle weeping.

  Denton shut his eyes and put his hands over his ears.

  Chapter 8

  EDDIE

  Saturday morning couldn’t come too soon. Eddie had hardly slept a wink. There were moments when he had dozed off for a few minutes, but then he’d jolt back awake as soon as he remembered where he was.

  At 6:00 a.m. he got down from his bunk, went to the bathroom, then took a seat at one of the desks. He didn’t turn on the lights for fear it was against McKenzie’s rules. The others followed soon after. They didn’t touch the lights either; they just sat there in the dark. Their yawns and grumbles told Eddie that it had been a rough night for everyone.

  At 7:00 a.m. the door opened, the lights flickered on, and there was McKenzie. The stripes on his shorts were red today instead of yesterday’s blue. His T-shirt was his standard-issue coal gray.

  “Morning, gents,” Coach McKenzie said. He picked up the empty bag from the night before and placed a fresh one on the floor. “I trust you slept well.”

  Eddie nodded wearily. He had learned to function on just a few hours of sleep. Five hours kept his mind humming, his memory razor sharp. But if he got no sleep, the neurons didn’t fire right.

  The witty retorts weren’t coming. Nodding was the best he could do. McKenzie clucked his tongue and shot an index finger at Eddie. In Eddie’s dazed state, he couldn’t tell whether this gesture was a taunt or a vote of support.

  “Rock and roll,” McKenzie said. “For breakfast we got hard-boiled eggs. We got bananas. We got yogurt. We got OJ.”

  “Oh! I almost forgot,” Bijay said suddenly, then cleared his throat. “Gosh, Coach McKenzie, that dinner sure was swell!”

  McKenzie froze and squinted. He leaned in, placed his hands on Bijay’s desk, and got a close look at him. Eddie held tight to the side of his desk, not sure what might come next. What came next was a smile, like a slice of watermelon across McKenzie’s face.

  “A man who follows orders,” he said firmly, “is a man who will g
o far. A man who can eventually give orders. Well done, Bharata! You ain’t all songs and cupcakes, are you?”

  “No, sir,” Bijay said with a small smile.

  “Excellent, excellent.” McKenzie then returned to the door and pulled a piece of luggage into the room. He tossed it onto a bunk. Then he grabbed another bag, and another, and another, and finally one more, until five bags were resting on five bunks.

  “Your parents packed up a week’s worth of clothes for you. Toothbrushes, toothpaste, so on and so forth. Why they agreed to this punishment, I haven’t a clue.”

  “Just a moment,” Denton said. “Snodgrass didn’t tell you the Mensa story? Canada? I mean, he was supposed—”

  “He was supposed to tell me what I need to know and that’s it,” McKenzie snapped back. “I know you boys are guilty. Heck, I was with Snodgrass when he searched the lockers. That’s all that’s important. And I’m not listening to anything else.”

  McKenzie stomped to the edge of the room, and just before he left, he said, “I’ll be back with your lunch. But now, you study.”

  And study they did—Denton made sure of it. Even when Wendell tried to take a break and go through his luggage, Denton scolded, “Time for that later,” then pointed to the books. Eddie found his attitude a little condescending, but Denton was right. An entire week indoors seemed like an eternity. The only way to fill the hours was by studying.

  Eddie’s eyes looked down at pages. His hands turned them. Algebra and the Revolutionary War, vocabulary and biology and health and just about everything else an eighth grader was “supposed” to know. He tried his best to concentrate.

  Just before lunchtime, McKenzie returned, and held a makeshift gym class by leading them in calisthenics—jumping jacks, squat thrusts, and an excruciating set of sit-ups. The others groaned through it all, but to Eddie it was a welcome change.

  Then McKenzie served a lunch of turkey sandwiches and juice. At one o’clock he put them back to work. This, Eddie assumed, was what the rest of their sentence would be like. Days and nights completely dictated by routine. It was a strange sort of awful. Eddie, like anyone, relied on routines—in his training, in his diet. But there was always the opportunity to improvise.