Unfortunately, being at John Paul 2 High didn’t give him a clear conscience. Mr. Costain kept talking about how Pope John Paul II told youth to preach the Gospel by their words and actions. Great, thought George, staring at his homework folder where the crumpled paper with the “Truth” poem on it was sticking out.
So much for taking the Truth with me…
He shoved the poem back into the folder and tried to get back to his algebra homework.
Allie was starting to feel lonely at school. She hadn’t felt comfortable around the girls since she had snapped at Celia during the cricket episode, and everyone else seemed to ignore her, including George. That pained her. Why isn’t George talking to me, or even looking at me? she wondered as she sat in theology class that Wednesday morning.
The answer hit her: Celia’s face crumpling into tears as she walked out of the cricket-filled bathroom. I made Celia cry, Allie realized. And George must know about it.
She felt her stomach sinking. Like everyone else at the school, she knew George and Celia were really close. Allie had never been able to figure out whether they were dating or not. No one ever said anything on the subject, but maybe it was something so obvious that no one had bothered to mention it to Allie.
“Yesterday in history, we were talking about the Arian Heresy,” Mr. Costain said. “We’re going to see what the Catechism has to say about the matter…”
As Allie thumbed through her catechism, she sneaked a look at George, who was siting at the desk next to her. She wished he would at least look at her. Was he dating Celia? Well, obviously Celia has a crush on George, but does George love her? So hard to tell—George is hard to read sometimes.
“You’d better take notes,” Mr. Costain said, “because these points are very important.”
Allie dug in her bookbag for her notebook. As she pulled it out, a magazine came out with it and fell to the floor at George’s feet. He picked it up, glancing at the cover. Then he held it out to her with a puzzled frown.
“Thanks,” Allie mumbled, taking the magazine back and shoving it hastily into her bookbag. Ho boy. That was swift. She knew exactly what he was wondering.
At least he had looked her in the face. But that didn’t make her any happier.
When Mrs. Flynn rang the bell for lunch, Allie decided she needed some alone time. She dropped her bookbag in her locker, grabbed her purse, and snuck down the side corridor with a door at the end that led outside.
George was there, waiting for her.
“Hey,” he said. “What are you up to?”
“Just thought I’d go outside for some air,” she lied.
George looked at her keenly. Cute eyes, she thought again.
“Okay,” she relented. “I was going to sneak out to SpeedEMart.”
“Why not just ask?” George said.
“Oh—I don’t know,” Allie said.
“What if I ask if we can both go?”
“You think they’d let us?” Allie asked dubiously.
“Trust me.” George grinned. “I have an ‘in’ with Mr. Costain.”
“Don’t tell Celia,” Allie muttered. George’s look darkened so she added, “She’d want us to invite James.”
George laughed. “Nuff said. I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes later, George and Allie were walking together through the woods.
“So why do you have an ‘in’ with the Costains?” Allie asked.
A ghost of a smile flitted across his face. “So why are you looking through Firearm Review?” he countered. “Seems a bit out of character. Has someone really ticked you off lately? I know you don’t like it here, but isn’t that overreacting?”
Allie’s stomach clenched uncomfortably, but she covered up her reaction with a fake laugh. “Ha ha ha, no. It has nothing to do with John Paul 2 High.”
“Okay,” he said, and gave her another funny look. “I actually know a bit about guns, if you need some help.”
“You do?” She looked at him sharply, but no—there was no way that George resembled the kid in the black hood…
George shrugged. “I mean, I can shoot a rifle. I go hunting with Mr. Costain and his sons every fall.”
“So is that your ‘in’?” Allie said.
“Sort of,” George said. “I spend a lot of time with them.” He hesitated. “I don’t have a dad, and I guess my mom wants me around a normal family.”
“Are your parents divorced?”
“No.” He looked around at the trees. “I don’t think my mom ever got married.”
“Oh.” Allie suddenly realized that in the Catholic circles that George moved in, this had to be a bad thing. She tried to make him feel better. “I guess you and I are the only ones at this school without normal families.” She kicked at a rock sticking out of a pile of leaves. “It stinks, the divorce. I miss my dad. I never see him since he moved to Maryland.”
“Yeah,” he admitted, and glanced at her with his hazel eyes. “So…what do you need to know about guns?” Cute—and persistent. “Does this have something to do with the gun scare at Sparrow Hills?” Smart, too.
She tried to cover up, but knew her expression must have given it all away. And she realized she was tired of hiding it from everyone.
They had reached Chimney Rock. Allie stopped and leaned against it. The rock was scarred with graffiti that Sparrow Hills students had chipped into its surface, but its broad surface and natural seat made it comforting somehow.
Okay, I’m going to trust him. She took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you so long as you don’t tell anyone else. I was the student at Sparrow Hills who got shot at.”
George stared at her. “That was you? You’re kidding!”
“Wish I was.”
“What happened?”
It had happened so quickly.
Spirit Day at Sparrow Hills: one of those silly things that they had at the beginning of the school year, where people dressed up as movie characters. There had been a bunch of kids dressed up like the star of that Praxor’s Game movie. She had seen it with Tyler. The main character wore a trench coat and sunglasses and shot a bunch of people with a shotgun; it wasn’t exactly her kind of movie. But there were a lot of Praxor’s Game fans at Sparrow Hills; kids dressed up in trench coats and sunglasses and carrying water guns.
She had been walking to the bathroom when he—whoever it was—had gotten her. Only first, it was just a water gun.
She was just rounding a corner, when a heavy stream of water struck her in the face. She stepped backwards and banged her head against the wall, sputtering and trying to shield her eyes. Allie couldn’t see a thing; she just stood there in numb amazement until she was soaked to the skin.
Across the hall stood one of the kids in costume, pointing a large, powerful-looking water gun in her direction. He was wearing a trench coat and a hooded sweatshirt with the hood pulled on tight. She couldn’t see his face; only the glint of sunglasses within the hood.
For a moment she was struck by his odd appearance. Then rage welled up inside her. She rushed at him and grabbed at the water gun. He let it go and bolted away. She followed in hot pursuit.
Her assailant quickly outdistanced her; she could see his big shoulders pumping as he sped down the hallway. He was tall and broad, but she couldn’t tell who he was.
He went down a side hallway that she knew was a dead end. Yelling in triumph, she rounded the corner and sprinted towards him.
He had stopped with his back to the wall, and was rummaging in one of the pockets of his trench coat. She skidded to a halt about ten feet away and aimed her water gun at him.
Then suddenly he rushed her, grabbed her around the neck and pinned her to the wall. He was pointing something at her—something silver and shiny—and saying something with a low guttural chuckle. She caught a glimpse of gray eyes under his shades.
Heh heh heh heh heh.
Disbelievingly, she looked at the thing in his hands as she tried to struggle. That can’t be…
a real…
Then there was a loud, cracking sound. The thing in the boy’s hand flashed.
She seemed to be spinning in space for a moment as the world reeled crazily. Unable to breathe, she staggered, and fell down onto the hard, cold floor…
It was a blank,” Allie explained. “He must have fired it at the ceiling. That’s what the police said. They couldn’t find a bullet. But he wanted me to think I was going to die. I know it.” She sighed. “The police can’t figure out who the guy was. So I thought maybe if I found out what kind of gun he had, that might be a clue or something.”
“I’m sure the police can find that out,” George said cautiously.
“Yeah, but not fast enough to suit me!” Allie said. Ruefully she looked down at the crushed leaves on the ground. “They better find him fast, because I’m sure he’s going to try something else.”
“How do you know?”
“Well—because of what he said.”
“What did he say to you?”
Allie took a breath and shivered. “‘You’re the first.’”
She looked at George sideways. He was looking out into the woods, as though he was listening to something out there. She listened too, but she couldn’t hear anything.
It was odd that she had told him. George had been so distant these past few days, but now he seemed as if he cared about what had happened to her.
“Scary,” George said at last. “So that’s why you came here?”
“Yeah. My mom figured I was pretty much a walking target if I stayed there,” Allie said. “But don’t tell anyone, okay? Not even Celia.”
“Why don’t you tell Celia? I thought you guys were friends.”
Allie shifted. “We haven’t been talking since the thing with the crickets.” Then she had an idea. “Can you tell Celia I didn’t really mean what I said about the school? I feel really bad I hurt her.”
“Celia’s really easy to talk to. You should just talk to her.”
“Well, maybe,” Allie hedged. Finally she blurted out, “Are you guys dating?”
“Me and Celia?” George laughed. “Nah, we’re just good friends.”
Allie suddenly felt much better. “How’s wrestling practice going? Tyler says you guys are getting on really well.”
“It’s okay,” George said, glancing at his watch. The detached look had fallen over his face as fast as a curtain dropping. “We’d better get back.”
So that’s why she’s here, George thought as he walked through the woods to wrestling practice. That’s why she’s so skittish. Leaves were falling everywhere now. He heard them crunching behind him and turned to see Brian coming.
George had avoided talking to Brian since Monday night, but it didn’t look like he could avoid it any longer. “Hey there.”
“Hi.” They walked on for a bit.
It was Brian who finally broke the silence. “I hope that we don’t have to see any of that stuff today in the locker room.”
George paused before replying. “I don’t think we will,” he said. “Not since you told Mr. Lamar about it.”
“You’re probably right,” Brian said. “Thank God.”
George thought that sounded a little too pious. “Yeah,” he replied. “But maybe we shouldn’t let it out that you’re the one who…” he almost said squealed, but caught himself. “…who told the coach about it.”
“I won’t go out of my way to broadcast that information,” said Brian. “But I’m not ashamed of what I did.”
George sighed. “Seriously, you shouldn’t tell them anything. There’s no reason to.” Just keep your mouth shut. Please.
They got to the gym before practice had begun. Nothing seemed unusual about the atmosphere among the squad members that day; rookies and veterans were mixing and chatting amiably with each other, as if nothing had happened last practice. Tyler, Flynt and Brock waved cheerfully at George, but looked at Brian significantly.
George flinched. He hadn’t even told Brian about the hazing; at first it had been too embarrassing, and later he just wanted to forget it had happened. Now he wished he had: Brian should know what he might be in for.
“Brian,” he muttered, pulling at the smaller kid’s arm. “I have to tell you something…”
But before he could speak, a shrill blast on a whistle announced the entrance of Mr. Lamar. “Form up!” he yelled as he walked into the gym. “Everyone in center court!”
As he walked up with the others, George noticed that Mr. Lamar’s face wore a grim expression. That wasn’t good. George had begun to hope that nothing would happen with the Playboy thing; but now it didn’t look like it would be dismissed.
“It’s come to my attention,” Mr. Lamar said, after a long hard pause, “that some members of this squad have pornographic materials in their lockers. I can’t control what kind of stuff you look at in your homes, but—” He glared in Tyler’s general direction. “It’s against school rules to have obscene materials on school property. It’s also against my own convictions. I’m going to be searching lockers regularly from now on; if I find anything I don’t like, it’s going to be confiscated, and the person owning it will be punished. You got that?”
There was a sullen silence. A few voices muttered in protest. “What’s the big deal?” “It’s a free country!”
Mr. Lamar’s eyes narrowed. “I expect you to respond with ‘yes’ or ‘no’. And if you want to stay on this squad, you better answer ‘yes.’ Now, do you got that?”
“Yes,” everyone chorused back.
“Okay, ladies,” Mr. Lamar said. “But I think you all got a lot of testosterone. Maybe too much. Form up for jumping jacks now!”
Workout that day was especially tough. They had twice their usual number of jumping jacks, then push-ups, sit-ups, sprints, pull-ups, and more sprints, all without a break. Everyone was stumbling with exhaustion by the time it was over.
Mr. Lamar was clearly punishing them all for the pornography. Some vengeful looks were thrown in Tyler’s direction, even by veterans. But, to George’s discomfiture, there were also some suspicious looks thrown in his direction. And in Brian’s. Especially in Brian’s. Almost everyone had witnessed how he had reacted to the Playboy last practice. Now it didn’t seem to matter whether they kept their mouths shut or not; it was obvious that the whole squad thought one of the the John Paul 2 boys was the squealer.
When all of their muscles were screaming for relief, Mr. Lamar called a halt to the workout. “Five minutes!” he said. “Take a breather, ladies.”
George staggered over to a corner of the gym and sat down. Brian slumped down next to him. Neither of them spoke. George closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the wall, and tried not to think about what would happen after practice.
“George?” Brian panted. “I’m going to tell everyone that it was me.”
George looked at Brian in astonishment. “No way! It’ll blow over.”
Brian’s face was grim and set. “I did what I did because it was right, and I’m not ashamed of it.”
George felt a sudden rush of anger. “Fine,” he snapped. “But do me a favor, okay? Leave right after practice. Don’t take a shower. I don’t want you out of my sight until you leave, okay?”
To his satisfaction, Brian looked really scared for the first time. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll do that. What did you want to tell me?”
“It’s not important,” George growled. “Just do as I say.”
When George got back to his locker, Tyler was waiting for him with a big toothy smile on his face. “Hey there, Catholic school kid,” he said. “Calm down, dude, I’m not going to jump you again. I just want to know.”
“Know what?” George asked, trying to be casual.
“Did you tell?”
“No.”
Tyler’s grin grew broader. “All right.” He stepped aside, allowing George to get to his locker.
George stepped over and fumbled with his combination lock. He’d told Tyler the truth
: George hadn’t told. How could Tyler make him feel ashamed for admitting he hadn’t squealed?
He unzipped his bag and pulled out his black school pants, while Tyler leaned against the lockers and watched. “Hey, nice uniform you got there,” he said.
George didn’t reply.
“You know,” Tyler continued in a louder voice, still grinning. “Some of the other guys thought that you might have squealed on me. But I knew that you would never do something like that. I told them, ‘a guy like Peterson doesn’t make it all the way to the States by backstabbing his teammates. No way.’ I just had to make sure.”
There was some laughter in the locker room at this. George undressed in silence. If Tyler was trying to give him a compliment, it wasn’t making him feel any better.
Just then Brian jogged into the locker room. He saw Tyler and swallowed; but he went to his locker anyhow.
Oh please, God, make Brian shut up, George prayed. Please.
“Hey there, Catholic homeschooler,” said Tyler amiably. “See, I remembered that you’re Catholics, not Mormons. Are you happy?”
Brian looked taken aback, but then said, “Well, I’m glad you figured that out. You know, Catholics and Mormons really don’t have a lot in common, so it’s good that you can tell the difference.”
Silence fell on the locker room. George gulped, praying there were no Mormons present. Tyler’s smile vanished instantly.
“I’m glad that I could make you happy, buddy,” he said in a softer voice.
“No problem.” Brian opened up his locker and pulled out his clothes.
Catholic, Reluctantly (The John Paul 2 High Series) Page 9
