by JF Freedman
We struggled to our feet. The others were pressed up against the walls, as far from Mr. Henry as they could get.
“Which one of you started this?” he asked Danny and me.
We looked at each other; neither of us spoke out.
He turned to the others. “Who started it?” he demanded.
Everyone was dead silent.
“Nobody saw it start, huh?”
Everybody kept quiet. You can hate another kid’s guts but against a teacher you stick together.
“Fine by me,” he told us. “I’m going to give you all a chance to improve your sorry memories. I’ll be back later … maybe.”
He went out and closed the door behind him. We heard the lock click.
“The bastard’s locked us in!” Joe cried in amazement.
“What’d you expect, flowers?” Burt asked, pissed to shit.
“That’s really great,” Danny said disgustedly, “we’re going to freeze our asses off in here. Way to go, Poole.”
“Hey, shut your fucking mouth,” I shot back, “you’re the asshole started it.”
Danny turned to the others.
“Let’s take a vote on who turns himself in. I vote Sarkind started it.”
“You’re full of it!” the small boy screamed, outraged.
“I vote to kick your teeth in after school,” I told Danny.
Danny glowered at me, but didn’t make a move. “Someday you’ll get yours, Poole,” he said, like he was going to scare me or something.
“Maybe I will, but not from you.”
I turned my back on him and took a leak down the drain.
We milled around, half-dry. The showerheads leaked rusty water. Overhead, the bare bulbs flickered in their wire cages.
“Motherfucker! It’s colder’n shit in here,” Burt complained.
“Get your friend Poole to admit the blame and we can get out,” Danny told him.
“Fuck you,” Burt responded.
We heard the door unlocking. Mr. Henry came back into the room, smiling at how we looked as sorry as dogs left out in the rain.
“You can get dressed now, ladies.”
We started trudging out. As I passed him he put up a hairy arm to block me.
“Report to the office after you’re dressed, Poole.”
“I didn’t start it!” I yelled. Goddamn, that burned my ass! If I’d started the fight I’d have copped to it, everybody knows me. I’m willing to take my punishment when I deserve it, but this one wasn’t my fault.
Mr. Henry pushed me against the wall. He may be a short fucker but he’s strong as hell.
“Don’t give me any mouth, fellow.” His veins were bulging in his neck he was so angry.
“What about Danny?”
“I said move it, boy!”
“How come I’m always the one gets singled out?” I moaned. All the teachers are like this, they love to show you how tough they are.
“’Cause whenever’s there’s trouble, Poole,” Mr. Henry said, “you’re in the middle of it. Now move your ass.”
“It isn’t fair.” I could hear the whine in my voice but I didn’t give a shit. This was totally unfair. I’d been trying to help somebody who was too weak to take care of himself and look what happened.
“I don’t mean maybe,” he growled in a low threatening voice. He locked eyes with me before he walked away.
We walked the stairs to the locker room. Danny was laughing, the prick, but I shut his sorry face with a withering look.
Sarkind came up to me. “I’m sorry, Roy.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “But you owe me the math homework for the rest of the year.”
“Fine,” Sarkind said gratefully. “I mean …”
“Forget it,” I cut him off. “I was kidding, I can do my own homework.” I’m the one who’s going to the Naval Academy, not Lewis Sarkind, the little weenie. I’ve got to do my homework on my own.
I hung around the locker room until everybody had left. Whatever would happen to me in the office wasn’t good, there was no sense rushing it. Finally, with my hair still wet, I trudged across the gym floor.
The girls were finishing up playing volleyball. They rushed past me into their locker room, giggling and carrying on. I looked at Darlene as she ran by, but as usual she wasn’t paying me any attention.
No one else was on the floor. I double-checked to make sure, then I jumped up onto the stage and slipped behind the drawn curtains, hidden from view. Real carefully, I moved the old backing on the wall that gave me a glimpse of the stairs leading from the girls’ locker room to their showers, the trick Joe had showed me and Burt back in seventh grade.
The girls came running out of the locker room and down the stairs. They were naked as jaybirds. I watched like a hawk, my mouth going dry. My cock instantly got as hard as a stalactite, if somebody had flicked it it would’ve shattered like an icicle.
“JesusMaryJoseph,” I whispered to myself: Darlene had appeared in the locker-room door. She stood for a minute at the head of the stairs like she was waiting to get into a swimming pool—then she skipped down the steps on her tiptoes like a ballerina.
My heart was pounding in my chest, watching her. Halfway down she hesitated, and turned. She was looking right at me, right where I was hidden. I flinched, even though I knew she couldn’t see me, couldn’t know I was hiding behind that wall.
Maybe she sensed someone was there, I thought. Maybe she sensed it was me.
She was perfection. Whatever I’d dreamed or imagined couldn’t compare to the real thing, right in front of my face.
I felt like she was looking right at me, through me. It was only a split second but it seemed much longer, it was like she was suspended there in slow motion with my eyes stuck to her young and lovely body.
Then she turned and ran the rest of the way down the stairs.
I waited until I was sure all the girls were gone. Then I moved away slowly, feeling my body tingling with excitement and desire.
I could hear the whoosh of the paddle even before it stung my bare ass, dozens of tiny welts rising like wasp bites with the first crack of laminated wood on my skin. My pants were down around my knees as I straddled a chair in the vice principal’s office. Mr. Boyle, his jacket off and shirtsleeves rolled up, was administering the painful medicine. The weapon was his old fraternity paddle from college, worn from years of use on the asses of kids like me. He’d drilled dozens of tiny holes into the meat end, the better to sweep through the air and draw blood. Up and down his arm went, ten times in all, whacking my raw butt until there was a thin line of blood on each cheek from hip to crease.
He handed me a roll of toilet paper to stem the flow.
“Pull up your drawers,” he said. He was panting from the ass-whipping he’d given me, like he was the one suffering.
I dabbed at my sore rear. It hurt like a motherfucker now and it was going to hurt even more tomorrow, I knew that from past experience. I’ve had the paddle more times than I care to remember. For most kids once is enough to make a lasting impression, but somehow I haven’t mastered that yet, not even after several times. Sometimes I think they manufacture ways to have an excuse to whip my ass, like in the locker room just now.
“Sit down,” Mr. Boyle commanded me. “I called your mother, she’ll come fetch you after a while, she said to tell you. She must be getting tired of hauling down here after your sorry hide. You know what I don’t understand?” he added, rolling down his shirtsleeves.
“What?” I could barely talk, it hurt so bad.
“I’ve been hearing good things about you lately,” Boyle said. He slipped into his jacket. “You’ve been attentive in class, you’re doing your homework, you’re a real student.” He shook his head. “Then you go and pull a stunt like this. I guess you can’t ask the leopard to change his spots.”
I had changed, that was the thing. But no one would ever believe me.
I waited in his outer office, standing because my butt hurt too
much to sit. It was quiet, the only sound that of the telephones ringing.
School ended. Burt and Joe stuck their heads in the office and grinned at me. I grimaced back—I wasn’t about to let those jokers know how much my ass hurt.
My mother came rushing into the office, her face still pink from the cold, a scarf wrapped over her head covering a cluster of bobby pins to hold in her curl. It had stopped raining but she had her umbrella, just in case. It’s a good thing we don’t live that far from the school, she can walk it in about ten minutes. It’s a walk she’s had to make more times than I care to remember.
She’d made herself up, even to putting on stockings and heels. The heels made her legs look good. She ought to wear them more often but she probably figures she doesn’t have a reason to. My old man never takes her anywhere—they don’t even go to the movies together anymore. The only time she ever gets out is with one of her girlfriends, and you don’t have to dress up for that.
She pulled the bobby pins from her hair and shook it loose with her fingers. She looked pretty nice, except she was angry as hell.
“You just don’t know how to stay out of trouble, do you?” she asked me, practically spitting out the words. She was truly pissed off, I hadn’t seen her this mad in a long time. She shook her head again, fluffing her hair, checking herself out in the mirror.
“It wasn’t my fault this time, Mom.”
She glared at me like she’d stare at a pile of fresh dog shit on her living-room carpet.
“Just can’t ever do it.”
Mr. Boyle stuck his head out from his inner office. “Sorry to have to see you again under such circumstances, Mrs. Poole,” he said, smiling at her.
She smiled back, exactly like the girls at school do when they’re trying to let a boy know they like him.
She was flirting with him, I realized. Sonofabitch! Then I thought, well, why not? She’s still good-looking, for an older woman that is, and my old man doesn’t pay her the time of day. A woman wants a man to look at her like he likes what he’s seeing, I’m still not a man yet but I know that much.
“I know,” she answered him, giving me another dark look. Then her face changed into a smile for him: “It gives me an excuse to get out of the house, anyway.”
“You certainly don’t need an excuse for that,” Mr. Boyle assured her. “You’re welcome to come and talk about Roy’s behavior and progress anytime.”
“Thank you.”
“Come in, please.”
She turned to me. “Wait here for me.”
Mr. Boyle’s hand was on her elbow as he escorted her into his office, closing the door behind them.
I pulled myself over the last barrier on the obstacle course, landing on the ground with a thump. It was almost dark out. I’d walked out of school as soon as my mom and Boyle started their meeting—all she would do was give me another ration of shit, so why stick around? As soon as I stuck out my thumb this guy pulled over for me, right in front of the school, if Mr. Boyle and my mom had been looking out the window they’d have seen me, but I knew they weren’t looking for me, not out there. My ride took me right to the gate of the Academy, I guess he took pity on me because the weather was so shitty—even though it had stopped raining it was still cold and wet out.
I went right to the course and ran it a bunch of times, trying to run myself ragged. My ass hurt from the whipping I’d gotten but once I started running I forgot about that. It just felt good to run, it felt clean, away from all the bullshit.
The low overhead clouds changed form and grew darker; with a burst of lightning and a loud clap of thunder the sky opened, and it began to pour again.
It was still raining cats and dogs when I got out of my last ride and started walking down the dark streets towards my house. It was late, the rides had been shitty—short and far between.
All the lights were off except one in the kitchen. I was dripping wet as I walked in the back door. My mom was sitting by herself at the kitchen table having a coffee and a smoke with her shoes off, her stockinged feet propped up on another chair. In the soft light she seemed fragile and worn-out. I sat down at the table and pulled my wet shoes and socks off, leaving them in a heap on the floor.
“Where’d you go?” She had changed back into her house clothes—she didn’t look so young and sexy anymore.
“What’s the difference?”
“If that’s your attitude, none I guess.”
“Even when I’m not wrong I get accused!” I blurted out, angry. My ass was starting to numb up, by morning it would be solid black and blue. “What’s the point of hanging around? I didn’t do anything this time, but who would ever believe me?”
“Who is a good question.” Obviously, she didn’t.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked, changing the subject. I wanted to avoid him tonight at all costs.
“He’s out tonight … with his friends. The boys.” She said it like she was saying “the turds.”
Out with his “covers,” I thought, his so-called “partners in crime.” What my mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her—but she is my mother, she shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of shit, even if she doesn’t know. She probably does, though, she has to suspect something, maybe that’s why she came on to a jerk like Mr. Boyle.
“Ruthie’s spending the night with some friends.” She took a long drag off her cigarette. I wanted one pretty bad but I didn’t dare bum one of hers. She doesn’t know I smoke yet, it would be one more thing to get on my case about.
“Mr. Boyle told me he thought about suspending you for a week,” she continued, “he said if they did you might flunk this year. He said you’ve been doing good, too, doing all your homework and being good in class.” She dropped the cig in her coffee cup. “You just can’t be good for two minutes, can you?” she moaned. “You’ve got to pull a stupid stunt.”
I’ve been in trouble before but I’ve never come close to flunking. Just the thought of it started me shivering, I couldn’t help it, it was mostly from being wet and cold but still … I leaned over and buried my face in my hands. I can’t flunk, my whole life would be ruined.
“I didn’t tell your father about today. He’d skin you alive.”
I nodded thanks but didn’t say anything. I was too shook up.
“Anyway,” she went on, “I talked Mr. Boyle out of suspending you. He’s not going to, not this time. He’s giving you one more chance—because you’ve been improving.” She glanced at me sharply, then looked away, firing up a fresh smoke.
I stared at the back of her head. What went on in that office? She wouldn’t lay him, not there certainly, but who knows? Anyway, she’d saved my bacon, that’s all that mattered.
“Thanks, Mom. I really mean it. And I’ll be good, I promise.” I leaned over to kiss her. She looked up at me, shaking her head sadly.
“I don’t know what to do with you much longer, Roy,” she said, her voice real sad, “I can’t understand you anymore.”
“I’ll do good, I promise.” I have to, the admiral’s counting on me. I can’t flunk, I can’t even just do average anymore.
“Go on upstairs,” my mom said. “Get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death.”
I picked up my soggy shoes and socks and climbed the stairs to my room. There were pieces of a model on my desk, a Spanish-American War cutter I’ve been working on. It’s a real neat model, the admiral has one just like it, he helped me pick it out.
I took one look at it, stripped off my wet clothes, and crawled into bed.
SEVEN
JOE STOOD GUARD IN one entrance in the apartment house basement, Burt watched the other. I moved swiftly and surely like a veteran, uncoupling the coin boxes from the gleaming white washing machines. Four down and four to go, like a well-oiled watch.
“Anybody got a weed?” I asked.
“Yeah, I got one,” Burt answered. He walked over, stuck it in my mouth and lit it as I kept working, squinting my eye against the smoke.
&n
bsp; Five down, three to go. The boxes were full tonight, it was going to be a nice payday.
Somewhere in the distance a door slammed. We both froze, looking over at the entrance Burt had been guarding. I put my finger to my lips, then motioned to him with my hand. He snuck back to where he’d been and looked around the corner.
“Shit!” he mouthed. He took off in the opposite direction, towards me.
“Come on!” he yelled.
He barrel-assed for the far exit as I scooped up the coins into the bookbag and ran after him and Joe. They were heading towards the nearest stairway but I whistled them away. If you go up into the building and anyone’s there, you’re dead.
“This way,” I called out softly.
They followed me down the maze of corridors that connects each building to the next, like in one of these underground Egyptian tombs with all the secret passages. We disappeared around the corner just as this fat old housewife came waddling into the laundry room carrying a basketful of washing.
“Hey, you, stop!” we heard her shriek as she saw the disconnected coin boxes, “somebody stop him!” She hadn’t actually seen any of us but she was screaming at the top of her lungs, she could’ve been heard clear down to the District.
We raced through several corridors, careening around the bends, running for our lives. If we ever got caught it was reform school for sure, we’d done those machines so many times. Joe and Burt followed me as I led them down a side corridor they hadn’t been in before, a dark old passageway with one light bulb burnt out that had a trap-door panel set in the wall, about five feet off the floor. I could feel the blood pumping in my heart and I knew they could, too. We’d never been caught, never even had a close call, but we knew it was only a matter of time before this happened. The fact it actually had, though, was scaring the living shit out of us.
I quickly pried the trap door open and boosted Burt up, him being the smallest. Joe followed right behind him, with me bringing up the rear. In the distance, down one of the corridors, we could hear people running, calling out. If they ever did catch us they’d tear us limb from limb, no question. As soon as I was inside I reached down and pulled the door panel back into place. From the other side, no one would ever know we’d been there.
