“What does it matter? He did it!” Gina says behind me. “He was amazing.”
I stare at Halle. I want to explain what she’s already figuring out on her own. I can see it in her expression. The expression that says she sees me differently now.
She looks at me, challenging me to deny it. Her eyes are slits. “Baxter. That strange boy who memorized movies. That was his name.”
My throat goes tight.
“It’s you, isn’t it?”
I stare at her. What can I say? “Surprise?”
She turns away.
“I meant to tell you,” I say.
She spins toward me. “You knew all this time?”
“What are you talking about?” Gina asks. “What boy?”
I look at Gina. What lie do I have up my sleeve this time? I’ve got nothing. “We knew each other.”
“When?”
“Years ago, back in kindergarten. Halle didn’t remember me until now.”
Gina shrugs. “So you knew each other in kindergarden. Why is that a big deal?”
“It’s not like I lied to you,” I say, turning back around, but it’s too late. Halle has disappeared into the darkness.
Facing My Demons
I end up walking home . As much as I’m scared shitless about seeing Dink on the way, I’m just as scared that Hunter will catch up with me or I’ll freeze to death before I make it home. I should have asked Eddie for a ride. But I ran after Halle, who disappeared into the crowd, and by the time I returned Eddie and the rest of them had left. Then Hunter saw me and I ran.
I cram my hands into my coat pockets to keep the biting cold from causing frostbite, and drape my hood over my head, but my ears sting and my nose is running and my cheeks feel tight. By the time I reach our street, my legs are stiff. Even my eye sockets hurt.
I’ve been thinking about it the whole way home; how my best day became my worst, how the whole night was doomed from the start. If I’d stayed home because of Dink or had wimped out and not announced the names, Halle might have dumped me, but when I did announce the names she dumped me anyway. Why did I think I could pull it off?
I’d hoped that by the time Halle found out who I really was, it wouldn’t matter anymore. I was wrong. Of course it mattered. Halle ended up being just as superficial as Daisy in Gatsby. How ironic. I’d convinced myself it was just a book, that it didn’t have any connection to real life.
I’m rounding the corner when I see a car outside our house. Is Mom home already? I pull up my coat sleeve and check my watch. It’s 10:11. Still early.
I stop twenty feet away. My heart beats fast. A figure leans against the car, only the lighted end of a cigarette visible.
The man sees me. He throws his cigarette into the grass and walks toward me.
Gargoyle tattoo.
Stilted laugh.
Wild, marble eyes.
Hot flashes of anger.
Muddy water.
I’m ten years old again, hiding under my bed as hands reach in to grab me, and the walls are collapsing all around. I’m losing it. I close my eyes and fight for control. Make this whole day a bad dream. Make it go away.
I open my eyes and Dink is in front of me, the same wiry frame and familiar stance. He’s wearing a wrinkled suit, as though he slept in it. “Is that you, Baxter? Why, you’ve grown a whole lot since I last saw you.”
A shiver works its way up my already-frozen spine. I try to keep my voice even. “We don’t want to see you.”
“My God, even your voice has changed. You’re all grown up now, aren’t you?”
“We don’t want to see you,” I repeat.
“But I want to see you. Don’t you remember all those good times we had together?”
“I remember everything,” I say through gritted teeth.
“That’s right. You have that amazing memory thing going on. Too bad you’re wasting it. I could have made you rich, you know, if you hadn’t gone off and turned me in like a lame asshole. But you got some of my money anyway, didn’t you?”
I don’t answer. There’s no use denying what Dink already knows.
Dink looks toward the house. “Is your mom home? I’ve missed her something awful these past three years.”
“No! Leave now before I call—”
Dink takes a step closer, close enough that I smell alcohol on his dank breath. He slurs slightly when he speaks. “Call who? The police? Are you going to confess to stealing my money? I know you took it, you little bastard, and I’m not leaving until I get it. One way or another.”
I stand head-to-head with Dink, and I realize that he’s right. I’m three years older and as tall as him. I’ve built muscle hauling fifty-pound bales of hay. I’ve wrestled with Brad and his brother. And I’m not about to give Dink the money.
“It’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“I spent it. There’s nothing left.”
“You spent my money?”
“You lived in our house, Mom’s house, for eleven months and you only helped with the rent twice, on January 6 and October 10. I heard Mom ask you to pay and you always had some excuse, like you were behind on alimony payments to your ex-wife, and you always promised her that you’d make it up to her later but you never did. And now it’s gone. So, yeah, I spent our money.”
“I don’t believe you. What did you spend sixty-five thousand dollars on?”
“Sixty-five thousand, three hundred fifty-eight dollars and ninety-seven cents. I gave it to charity.”
He shakes his head. “No. You’re lying. Nobody gives sixty-five thousand dollars to charity. Not even a freak like you.”
I take a step closer. I’m face-to-face with Dink, the man I’ve spent all this time thinking about, who kept me awake at night, who I feared I’d see every time I turned a corner. And now he’s really here. But I’m not that kid anymore. “You’re not getting your money back.”
The fist comes from Dink’s right and connects with my left jaw. I stumble back, stunned by the strength of the hit. Tears spring into my eyes and I push them back down.
I put my hand on my throbbing jaw. I’ve never fought anyone in my life, but my fingers curve into fists, the anger working its way down into them. I throw a punch at Dink’s face and somehow make contact. He falls backward and clutches his nose. Bright red blood flows out. It almost makes me puke. I think I broke it.
Dink seems surprised that I hit him. He steps back and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Then his face hardens. “I’ve been in prison for three years. You think I can’t take a kid like you?”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re leaving.”
He walks around me, his feet moving back and forth like a drunken prize fighter. “Okay, let’s see what you got, Baxter.”
I barely register the headlights of an oncoming car. We’re in the middle of the street in the freezing air, but my focus is on Dink. The Boogeyman might be a pathetic loser, but he throws a hard punch and I don’t want to take my eyes off him.
I hear tires squealing and Mom’s voice. “Baxter!” I look away and Dink hits me before I can get my arms up to block it. He flattens me with a punch to the side of the head. I hit the ground hard. My head is spinning and I don’t think I can get up.
“You ready to give me my money now?”
I cough out bits of gravel. “I told you. I don’t have it.”
Dink grabs me by the shirt and pulls me up on my knees. His eyes are wild and angry. “Then you better find it!”
“Not going to happen,” I say in a ragged breath. I mentally prepare myself for the next hit, which may kill me. At least I won’t have to remember this moment when I’m dead. My past flashes through my mind; random moments: my dad reading me a story book, Halle chasing me in a game of tag on the playground, the first sentence from Gatsby, Dr. Anderson’s phone number.
I’ve zoned out, which is probably a good thing. But my mind flashes to the image of Gatsby floating facedown in his swimming pool, and I decide I should
n’t go down without more of a fight. So I take a swing at Dink. I’m not sure if I connect or not, but I hear a loud crack and Dink lets go. He crumples next to me on the street.
Mom is standing above him with the rake in her hand.
“Oh my God! What did he do to you, Baxter?”
She brings the rake above her head to hit Dink again but Dan stops her. “I don’t think he’s getting back up, Mary.”
Dan has already called the police. He reaches down. “Are you all right, Baxter?”
“I’m alive!” I’m so hyped that I ignore the pain in my knuckles and the throbbing of my head. I hardly notice Mom’s frantic cries. Dan pulls me up to a sitting position. I look down at Dink and smile. I let Mom put a tissue over my bleeding nose and I bend over, still elated, as though I was the one who knocked Dink out. It’s like I just overdosed on caffeine, the same way I felt after making that announcement earlier.
It isn’t until the red lights of the police cars light up the neighborhood and the whole street fills with people that I start to breathe normally again. There’s a blanket draped across my shoulders, but I don’t know how it got there.
“He could have killed you.” Mom is crying, and Dan puts an arm around her.
“But he didn’t. I stood up to him. And so did you, Mom.”
Dan whistles. “I think you broke his nose, Baxter.”
“I hope so.”
“And he’s going to have quite a headache, Mary.”
Mom just looks down at Dink and shakes her head.
He finally comes to, but an ambulance has been called and he acts dazed and puts his hand over his nose and head.
We go inside where it’s warm and the police talk with Mom and Dan.
They ask me some questions and I answer them all honestly, with the exception of the money. I only say that Dink wanted revenge because I testified against him.
“He broke his parole and assaulted a kid,” the officer says. “You won’t be hearing from him anytime soon.”
It’s not until after the police leave and Mom makes hot chocolate and I’m sitting at the kitchen table with the warm cup in my shaking hands that it hits me. I’m not scared of him anymore. I’ve stared death in the face, taken my licks, and still lived to talk about it.
Mom shakes her head. “I hate to think of what would have happened if we hadn’t come home then.” She puts her finger on my bruised jaw. “I’m so sorry, Baxter. This is all my fault.”
“It’s okay, Mom.”
“Do you want to move again?” she asks. “I’ll do anything you want.”
I shake my head. “And let Dink control our lives? I’m not afraid of him anymore. Let’s let Dink do the running from now on.”
She sighs. “Oh God. What must the neighbors think of us now?”
I remember what Eddie said about the Iron Range. “That we’re blue-collar, beer-drinking, hell-raising miners?”
Dan laughs. “Then I guess you’re in the right place.”
The Rules and Regulations of Madison High School
First thing Monday morning I stop at Halle’s locker, but she’s nowhere to be found. I head for class, but Mr. Jackson summons me to his office before the first bell rings. He walks back and forth in front of me, his arms crossed as though he watches a lot of detective shows and knows the ins and outs of interrogation. He stops and pulls up the sleeves of his sweater.
“What happened to your face? Are you all right?”
I touch my tender jaw. My eye is black and blue, too. “I’m fine. I ran into a door.”
“Or maybe you ran into something when you were hurrying out of the announcer’s box in the dark?”
“No. That didn’t happen.” Not a lie.
He makes a tsk sound. “It seems the broadcaster suffered memory loss. He said he didn’t know who made that announcement. And no one witnessed you do it. But I saw the list.”
“You destroyed the list,” I remind him.
“And you could have had a copy.”
“I didn’t.”
Mr. Jackson doesn’t have any real evidence, just circumstantial. I have a feeling that’s not going to keep me out of detention.
“This is your second infraction within a month, Mr. Green. I don’t think you realize how deep a hole you’re digging for yourself.”
“What rule did I break?”
“Well, first you didn’t ask for permission to make an announcement.”
“Would you have given me permission if I’d asked?”
“Of course not.”
“But that’s not a specific rule in the handbook.”
He picks up the thick booklet. “So you did read it. Then you should know that the code of student conduct specifies that you are to respect and maintain school property.”
“If I was the one who made the announcement, and I’m not saying I was, how would that have undermined respect for school property?”
“Any act disruptive to the educational process, including disobedience and disrespect.”
“The information read was educational, not disruptive.”
“Unauthorized usage.”
“The announcer allowed it.”
“But I didn’t.”
I don’t respond. Let Mr. Jackson prove it was me.
“I recognized your voice.”
“It could have been anyone.” If he didn’t actually see me do it, how could he be sure? I stare at the walls, at the diplomas and certificates of exemplary service. I study the floor and Mr. Jackson’s brown loafers that are scuffed on the toes. When it becomes apparent that I’m not going to collapse and confess, Mr. Jackson lets out a long sigh. “Are you refusing to accept responsibility for your actions?”
I shrink back in my chair, but I shake my head defiantly.
Mr. Jackson’s eyes narrow and the muscles in his neck tighten. He picks up the thick pamphlet of school rules. “Since you’re attempting to quote the rules to me, then let’s see how prepared you really are.”
Maybe it’s because I stood up to Dink Saturday night that I’m not shivering with fright. Or maybe because I read the rules. I nod at Mr. Jackson and feel my mouth curl up. “You’re on.”
What Does a Superhero Sound Like?
Halle’s not in school . I wait by her locker until the period ends. Then I see Gina.
“She left the game without saying good-bye, hasn’t answered my e-mails or phone calls, and now she’s skipped,” Gina says, shaking her head. “I’m so mad at her. We want to celebrate and she’s being her moody self. Do you know what’s got into her?”
“Um, I think she’s mad at me.”
“That’s crazy. You were great! You’re a freakin’ hero!”
I shrug and go to class. Even though I never admitted my guilt, the rest of the school soon knows that I was being interrogated by Mr. Jackson. Combined with my swollen eye and reddened jaw, the rumors spread fast. Students high-five me in the hallway and say hi to me. They suddenly know my name.
“Best prank ever,” says Jay, the ninth-grade student council rep.
“You’re the man!” Brad slaps me on the back like I’m one of his heifers and I almost fall over. “And Jackson is an A-hole.”
The football team heard about the halftime announcement, and instead of being angry, they think it’s cool. They no longer act like they want to kill me. Even Hunter stays away. Maybe he feels sorry for me because I’m already bruised.
Only the band director and Mr. Jackson are upset. But I have to give Mr. Jackson credit. He’s one of those strictly by-the-rules types, and he didn’t have any evidence that I’d broken any. After I answered ten questions correctly, he let me go. He wasn’t happy about it, though.
The irony grates on me. All I ever wanted was to be invisible, just another student in the crowd. Except with Halle. And now that I’ve done everything Halle asked of me, I am invisible to her. But not to everyone else.
The Environmental Club meets after school to celebrate. I wait outside the door, wonderi
ng if Halle will show up, wondering if I dare go in.
Eddie walks up behind me. “What are you doing in the hallway? Aren’t you coming to the meeting?”
I study the closed door. “I’m not sure I’m wanted there.”
“Are you kidding? You’re the school hero.”
I shake my head. “Not to everyone.”
“I’m not sure what’s going on between you and Halle, but I’ve known her a lot of years. She’s a spitfire, but she’ll settle down after a while.”
“Does that mean I should stay out here?”
“Come on,” he says, pulling me inside. “I have an announcement you need to hear.”
There are four new girls at the meeting, but no Halle. They’re talking to Gina and Roxie.
“Oh, this is him.” Gina pulls me into the circle. “They’re here because of you, Baxter.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. Your announcement at the game last week. They want to join our club.”
I recognize one of the girls from my lunch period. She sits at the performing arts table and eats plain vanilla yogurt every day.
“Those names you read,” the girl says. “One of them was my uncle.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad you did it. Nobody talks about him. Nobody admits what the taconite dust did to his lungs.”
Roxie tells them about the video and shows them the case histories.
“Speaking of the video,” Eddie says, “guess who got a letter this morning from the Mesothelioma Research Association?”
“Already?” Roxie looks crestfallen. “That didn’t take long.”
“Is it good news or bad news?” Gina asked.
Roxie puts her hands together in a prayer. “Don’t read it if it’s bad news.”
Eddie hushes them. “I’m not reading anything until you’re all quiet.”
“Spill it,” Gina says. “The suspense is killing me.”
He puts a hand in the air. “First, the bad news: we didn’t win the competition.”
“I knew it,” Gina says. “I never win anything.”
Unforgettable Page 17
