Rumble

by Ellen Hopkins

  all at once. Give him some

  time. He’ll come around.

  At least she stopped what might

  have turned ugly. At least he isn’t

  bitching about me drinking his beer.

  Slipping into Sleep

  I notice Luke’s scent

  has faded from the pillow,

  which now smells a lot

  more like me. When

  Luke’s clothes are in

  boxes, and these sheets

  are washed and this bed

  is gone, every vestige

  of Luke will have vanished;

  the only thing left, memories.

  I reach into my recollection,

  find us again in the shade

  of that bridge discussing

  alternate evolutions. He

  was ever so much older

  than the sum of his birthdays.

  Maybe he was an alien

  after all. Maybe he did

  find his magic, and then

  he was ready to go.

  The Alarm

  Wakes me at seven thirty.

  I’ve kicked off the covers

  during the night, and I shiver

  beneath a pale sheet of light.

  I will never come into this

  room again. “Goodbye, Luke.”

  No point in making the bed,

  I leave it in disarray. I dress

  in the same clothes I had on

  yesterday, not bothering to

  shower. I circle the room once,

  touching the walls, which will

  likely be some awful neutral

  shade by the time I return home.

  I look for proper mementos of

  my brother, choose the clock

  and a picture of the two of us

  that is sitting on the nightstand.

  I put those in my room, along

  with my laptop. Then the Glock

  and I head over to the range.

  I’ve got a job, and the thought

  of making a few extra bucks cheers

  me a little. I might need the cash.

  On the Way Over

  I come to a decision. When I arrive,

  Uncle Jessie is just unlocking the door.

  I bring the Glock in with me. “Do

  you happen to have a locker available?”

  I should know this information,

  anyway. Some people prefer to keep

  their weapons at the range, so Uncle

  Jessie has a storage area, complete

  with lockers. Sure. I’ve got three

  open. Why? You want to use one?

  “Yeah. Since I’ll be out more often,

  I might as well keep my pistol here.

  There’ve been some burglaries in

  the neighborhood. Better safe than sorry.”

  That’s a lie, but I don’t really want to

  tell him I came damn close to taking

  out my future stepmother. I only want

  to shoot targets. I don’t want to be sorry.

  It’s a Slow Afternoon

  Uncle Jessie and I spend

  most of it sitting side by side,

  shooting the breeze, which

  isn’t quite as exciting as

  the target shooting I did

  earlier in the day. I even

  got paid for that time since

  I was helping an older lady

  learn how to hit what she

  pointed her gun at. But now,

  two members out back and

  the office empty, talk turns

  to Dad, and how I came

  home yesterday to find out

  he’s moving his girlfriend in.

  I omit the part about almost

  shooting her. “I found Lorelei

  dismantling Luke’s room.”

  Lorelei? Not the same one

  he used to go with, is it?

  When I say yes, he shakes

  his head. My, my, my. Last time

  I saw her was right before I deployed.

  She was about ready to pop.

  Pop?

  “You mean ‘pop’ as in have

  a baby?” Something else no

  one bothered to tell me?

  Well, yeah. Looked like she

  swallowed a basketball.

  Had a little girl with her, too.

  Holy crap. She’s got kids?

  I’m getting sick of surprises. “You

  deployed ten years ago, yeah?”

  Hell, yeah. Fallujah or bust.

  Don’t know what I was thinking,

  joining up. No one’s a hero in war.

  He goes on to tell Iraq stories.

  Some I’ve heard, others are new,

  but I’m not really paying attention.

  I nod and grunt, toss out

  a comment or two when something

  he says sinks in. But mostly,

  I’m stewing about Dad, his woman,

  and her children, damn them all.

  The last thing I want is new siblings.

  When I Get Home

  Dad and Lorelei are eating

  dinner. I slam the front door,

  stomp into the kitchen. Dad

  gives me his pissed expression;

  she just looks hopeful.

  He: Where the hell have you been?

  She: Hey, Matt. Join us? I made—

  “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

  Total lie. “And I was at work.

  Sorry, I forgot to tell you Uncle

  Jessie gave me a job. Weekends

  and holidays, ten bucks an hour.”

  She: I think that’s great!

  He: What happened to discussion?

  I go to the fridge, grab a beer, pop

  the tab. “You mean, like discussing

  moving her in? I don’t remember

  that discussion. Or was there one about

  scrubbing Luke’s room free of him?

  Or wait. Is there, perhaps, a pending

  discussion about her kids?”

  Dad Tells Me to Stop

  Drinking his beer,

  stop drinking his Jack,

  stop drinking, period,

  or he’ll put me in rehab,

  I just might have a little problem.

  (Dare you to try it, pot-who-calls-the-kettle-black.)

  She tells me she’s got

  a daughter who’s twelve,

  and a son who’s ten,

  both of whom will live

  with their father so they

  don’t have to change schools,

  don’t have to lose friends.

  (All they have to lose is their mother.)

  He says they’ll come to visit

  some weekends, and over

  the summer. She says not

  to worry, they have sleeping

  bags and love to pretend

  they’re camping out

  when they sleep on the floor.

  (Wonder how long before they’ll have my room.)

  Monday Morning

  English class is all abuzz

  as Ms. Hannity collects

  her five classroom copies of

  The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

  Just until the school board meets,

  she promises. I’m positive they’ll

  retain the book. It’s a necessary story.

  It seems some parent challenged

  it due to offensive content.

  The review committee voted

  to keep the book without restrictions.

  That angered this parent, who

  accused the committee, our librarian,

  and the English teachers who offer

  Perks as independent reading,

  of “promoting the homosexual

  agenda.” He organized a campaign

  within his church to insist on a vote

  by the school board,
and until

  that happens, the books are being

  removed from the library and classrooms.

  Said parent happens to be Hayden’s dad.

  I Know That

  Because Frank DeLucca’s

  letter to the editor is circulating.

  Excerpt:

  How can any teacher, in good conscience, place pornography on a sanctioned reading list? This book contains graphic descriptions of masturbation, intercourse, rape, and homosexual sodomy. It, in fact, seeks to legitimize the homosexual lifestyle, and if a review committee votes to retain this book, it is promoting the homosexual agenda. Ditto any librarian who displays this book in her library or teachers who recommend it to their students.

  Oh, it gets better:

  It is not enough to say leave it to the individual parent to decide what his child may read. Too many parents don’t have the time or inclination to observe what their children are reading, and far too many parents don’t raise their children to respect their decisions. That is why we, as a community, must assure that every book our children can access meets high moral standards. This is what God would have us do.

  Apparently, God’s into banning books.

  Plenty of sex in the Bible. Would he ban that, too?

  DeLucca, Raging Jerk

  “High moral standards,” meaning

  his own. How many decent books

  could meet them? How many

  decent people could? And what,

  exactly, is his agenda? Why so

  publicly take this to the extreme?

  Ms. Hannity vows to soldier on.

  My colleagues and I will speak

  before the school board. We don’t

  believe in censorship, but there’s

  more. Some young people have no

  one to speak for them. Charlie does.

  Charlie, the main character

  in Perks, could have spoken

  for Luke when nobody else did.

  Ms. Hannity has just soared in

  my estimation, even with her fake

  Southern accent. Frank DeLucca,

  on the other hand, has plummeted

  quite near the gates of hell. Now

  I remember, not long ago, Hayden

  reading Perks. Surely she’s not

  involved in this, she and her youth

  ministry minions? Dare I ask?

  I Catch Her at Lunch

  Because I can’t let it go,

  and also because I miss her.

  Lucky me, I even manage to

  find her before she can reach

  her friends. “Hey.” I offer

  my warmest, most genuine

  smile. “Can I talk to you for

  a minute? How are your feet?”

  She looks confused. My feet?

  “Never mind.” Sometimes

  I need to rein in my stupid

  sophomoric humor. “Actually,

  what I wanted to ask was about

  this book challenge thing.”

  She goes chill. That’s my father.

  “I know. I saw his letter. But

  I was wondering if you agree.

  I mean, I thought you liked

  Perks. You’re not supporting

  this craziness, are you?” Say no.

  The Bible tells me to honor my father.

  Good Luck with That

  She keeps glancing over

  my shoulder, so, “I know

  you want to join your friends,

  but can you tell me one thing?

  Whatever happened to brave,

  independent Hayden, the girl

  I fell in love with? The one

  who fell in love with me, too,

  despite what her father had to say?

  Where is the determined girl

  who was willing to risk eternal

  damnation to spend time with me?”

  She turns those killer eyes up

  to meet mine. That girl lost her way.

  She forgot to put God first, always.

  This girl found her way back.

  People change, Matt. I’m sorry

  you have a hard time accepting it.

  She Gets the Last Word

  But then, she always did,

  except, maybe, with her father.

  Anyway, she’s right. I don’t

  like change. I prefer a nice,

  solid status quo—too bad,

  so sad for me. When Hayden

  goes, she takes my appetite

  with her, so I start toward

  Mr. Wells’s room. I can sit

  outside the door until he unlocks

  it, calls class to order. Almost

  there, I notice Vince not far

  ahead of me. Engage? Pull back?

  Screw it, what do I have to lose?

  I quicken my step until his arm

  is in reach. “Hey, Vince?” I say

  as my hand closes on his bicep,

  which is boulder strong and

  I really hope he doesn’t decide

  I’m being aggressive. He stops

  without turning around.

  What do you want, Turner?

  I maneuver around him,

  noticing how people scoot

  wide of the possible conflict.

  “I just want . . . Look, this is hard,

  and I don’t expect you to forgive

  me, but I hope you’ll at least

  consider it. I’m sorry I didn’t

  believe you about not outing

  Luke. Hayden told me what

  really happened and . . . Shit, man.

  I should have listened to you,

  should have known you better.”

  He doesn’t punch me, but neither

  does he offer to shake my hand.

  He Says

  Yeah, dude, you should have.

  Then he walks away.

  I’m not sure how to

  rate the encounter.

  Hopeful?

  Hopeless?

  A big fat question mark?

  You tried, and that’s what counts.

  It’s Alexa, standing behind me.

  When I turn to face her,

  she insinuates herself under

  my arm, slides her hand

  around my waist. As surprised

  as I am, I accept her presence.

  Anyway, give him some time.

  I bet he’ll come around.

  “Maybe.” People are checking

  us out, no doubt wondering

  what we’ve got going on.

  That includes Hayden and

  the Biblettes, who’ve vacated

  the lunchroom. That makes me smile.

  In American Culture

  Mr. Wells decides to take

  a break from fifties advertising,

  in favor of a discussion

  of book censorship in America.

  Some of the most challenged books

  are also considered “must read.”

  These include classics like Of Mice

  and Men, To Kill a Mockingbird,

  and Slaughterhouse-Five. Can

  anyone tell me some more modern

  books that are regularly challenged?

  Hands go up and titles are

  offered up:

  The Perks of Being a Wallflower

  I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

  The Color Purple

  The Catcher in the Rye

  The Kite Runner

  All regularly challenged, agrees

  Mr. Wells. Also Harry Potter, Junie

  B. Jones, and Captain Underpants.

  Don’t groan. Some parents think Junie

  and the Captain are poor role models.

  Let the Discussion Begin

  It’s a good one, revolving

  around reasons for challenges,

  outcomes, the First Amendment,

  and parental involvemen
t.

  The last because of DeLucca’s

  published opinions.

  As the period winds down,

  Mr. Wells gives an assignment.

  I want you to write a letter

  to the school board. I don’t care

  which side you come down on,

  but address the current book

  challenge in this school. Please

  write to convince. At least three

  full paragraphs, single-spaced,

  business letter formatting.

  Many of you are in my senior

  seminar classes. We’ve already

  looked at local government and

  how it works, so you understand

  that your voices can count. If

  you’re not in those classes, you

  will be next year, so you’re just

  getting an early start. Make your

  voice heard, whatever your opinion.

  After School

  I text Alexa, see if she wants

  to get food with me. My appetite

  has returned with a vengeance.

  She meets me at the truck.

  “El Tapatio okay? I’m in the mood

  for a massive burrito.”

  Whatever you want.

  You’re driving.

  We are seated, with our order

  in—à la carte chicken taco

  for her, steak burrito for me—

  when she comments,

  You’re going to spoil

  your dinner.

  “This totally is my dinner.

  It’s this or dine with my dad

  and his girlfriend. I don’t care

  how great she cooks. I’m not

  going to share their table.”

  Oh.

  That’s It?

  “Oh? Is that all

  you’ve got to say?”

  She shrugs. It’s not really

  any of my business, but . . .

  “But what? You can’t leave

  me dangling here.”

  The food comes just as

  she opens her mouth

  to say something. Instead,

  she takes a bite of taco.

  After she swallows,

  she ventures, I was just

  wondering how long it will

  take you to forgive them.

  I don’t think forgiveness

  is your strongest attribute.

  “Maybe you’re right. But why

  should I forgive them?”

  They’ve flipped me bass-ackwards.