Grouper's Laws

by D. Philip Miller

  When he got to the office, Mrs. Spritz directed him back to the teacher’s lounge. The Bear was standing by the pop machine, looking out the window. His broad back seemed to fill the far wall. Blondie had been looking forward to a showdown with the Bear ever since Miss Darlington had told him her story, but now that he was alone with him, Blondie felt apprehensive.

  “I suppose you think that was funny,” Bearzinsky said without turning around.

  “What’s that?” Blondie asked, his heart beginning to thump.

  “That obscene thing you wore all day yesterday at the picnic.”

  All day?

  “There were children there, you know,” Bear continued.

  Children? Did he mean the juniors?

  “I should have given you the thumb yesterday along with Caldane. You’re their leader, aren’t you?”

  Blondie was both surprised and pleased at Bear’s remark. The leader of the B & F Club? He’d never thought of himself as the leader of anything. But “B” could stand for Blondie as well as Brick, he realized. He hoped the Bear wouldn’t notice his smile.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Bear asked, finally turning to face him. He didn’t seem angry, just disappointed. Blondie realized he was trying to shame him.

  “What are you talking about?” Blondie asked.

  The Bear’s face contorted in a sudden rage. He rose up on the balls of his feet. Blondie wondered if a student had ever been mauled in the teacher’s lounge. Perhaps he was about to partake in a precedent-setting event.

  “Do you think my face looks like a penis?” Bear shouted at him.

  “Not exactly,” Blondie replied.

  “Not exactly?” His fury doubled. “You’re going to learn some respect, Reimer. How would you feel about not graduating with your class?”

  Not graduate? Could Bear do that? Blondie’d just about finished all his classes and he was passing them with ease. The thought of spending even one extra day at Fenton High was terrifying.

  “I didn’t even do it,” Blondie blurted, feeling the familiar and unwanted craven tone enter his voice.

  “Bullshit!” Bear roared. “Mary told …. “

  He stopped, aware of his error.

  Mary Cherry! Of course, she would have been the one to rat on him.

  “Anyway,” the Bear said, regaining control, “I wouldn’t plan on graduating if I were you.”

  Blondie felt routed. He’d been planning to get the best of the Bear ever since he’d found out what a heartless philanderer he was, but once again the Bear had gained the upper hand. Blondie felt sweat trickle down his back. Not graduate?

  Bear put his foot up on the arm of one of the chairs. “Unless you bring both your parents in here to discuss a more appropriate punishment,” he added with a smug smile.

  Bring his parents in to hear about how he’d worn a dick on his back at the school picnic? That was worse than not graduating. His parents would never forgive him. Goddamn Buford!

  “Now go on back to class and think about it,” Bear commanded.

  Blondie felt like a scarecrow, spineless, half a man. He began to slink away, his neck bowed, his back curved.

  “You know, I had you pegged for a troublemaker the first day of school,” Bear added, “when you started that ruckus with Buford.”

  What? Bear was blaming him for that?

  “That’s crap and you know it!” Blondie shouted. “Buford’s nothing but a fucking hick and a bully.”

  “What was that word you used?” Bear asked wide-eyed.

  “Hick,” Blondie emphasized.

  “No, the one before that.”

  “What? Fucking?”

  “You can’t say ‘fucking’ in my presence,” the Bear shouted. “Don’t you have any respect for your elders?”

  Blondie couldn’t stand it any longer. He felt himself going over the top.

  “You don’t like ‘fucking’? You’re the biggest fucker in this school. You fucked Miss Darlington. No, that’s not quite right. You fucked her over.” The Bear’s face seemed to collapse inward.

  “What do you know? Who else knows?” His voice quavered.

  “I know you cheated on your wife. I know you hurt the best teacher in this school.”

  Blondie could feel the power of his righteous wrath. It felt good.

  “Now, wait a minute,” the Bear said, “it wasn’t like you think. Sandra came after me.”

  Blondie enjoyed hearing the pleading in his voice.

  “Oh no, she didn’t,” Blondie retorted. “Anyway, she wasn’t the first. Miss Spalding, too. And who knows who else.”

  “Who’s telling you these things?”

  The Bear’s eyes darted.

  “Never mind.”

  “Who else knows?”

  “No one,” Blondie said. “I didn’t tell out of respect for Miss Darlington.”

  Bearzinsky sighed and sat down. Blondie took a chair opposite him.

  “You have to understand, Bernard. It’s my job to keep order in the school,” he said. “Heaven knows, Clapper won’t do it … can’t do it. There’s a lot of pressure. Sometimes you make mistakes.”

  Was he apologizing?

  “Maybe I was wrong about you,” Bear went on. “But if I’ve been a little tough, it’s was because I thought that’s what you needed.”

  Spare me, Blondie thought.

  “Believe me, inside I really like you …. “

  Give me a barf bag. Blondie didn’t say it.

  “I wasn’t really going to keep you from graduating. I just wanted to meet with your parents and make sure we launched you from high school on the best footing.”

  Blondie didn’t change expression, although elation was building in his chest. He was backing the cocksucker down! Blondie had gained power over an adult. Not just any adult, either. The fiercest of them all.

  “I might let it go,” Blondie said. “If I graduate on time …. “

  “Of course, of course, my boy.”

  Bear shot him a smile.

  ” …. and if you immediately end Jerry Caldane’s suspension …. “

  A flash of anger crossed his face and disappeared.

  “Of course.”

  “… and if you apologize to Miss Darlington in writing for what you did.”

  The Bear choked.

  “What? I can’t do that. I can’t put it down in writing.”

  “Oh yes you can,” Blondie rejoined. “You don’t have to worry. Miss Darlington wouldn’t want anyone to know either. But she’d have that letter in case you ever pulled something like this again.”

  “No, absolutely not.” Bear’s face was resolute.

  “Suit yourself. But if I had a marriage and a job dependent upon writing one little note, I think I’d do it.”

  Blondie stood and took a step toward the door.

  “Wait, wait …. “

  Moisture haloed the Bear’s forehead.

  “Can I trust you to deliver it? And she has to get it outside of school. I don’t want it lost in the hall for anyone to pick up.”

  “Sure, I’ll deliver it. And I want to read it too. I want to make sure you don’t weasel out of this.”

  Blondie noted the firmness in his voice. He sounded like a hanging judge.

  “Okay, okay,” the Bear said. “But just between us, okay?”

  “Don’t you think you can trust me?” Blondie said with a final turn of the screw.

  The Bear was waiting for Blondie after his last class. He called him over as inconspicuously as he could, then watched until the last student had gone around the corner before handed Blondie an envelope.

  Blondie opened it and took out the note.

  Sandra,

  I’m sorry to be so late with this apology. I’ve been destitute since our breakup, but it was the best thing given our situations.

  I was wrong to ever get involved with you. I’ll always have the highe
st regard for you. Please forgive me.

  John

  The Bear waited for his reaction.

  “Okay, I guess,” Blondie said.

  “Just between us, right?” Bear asked again.

  “Of course.”

  The Bear looked full into his eyes, seeking reassurance. Blondie turned and trotted off. He waited for her near a tree beside the teacher’s parking lot. Overhead the sky was cloudless and cornflower blue. For one instant, all was right in the world. Blondie licked the flap of the envelope and sealed it.

  Several teachers got into their cars and departed before Miss Darlington emerged from the building carrying a worn satchel. The sun glinted off her auburn hair. He watched her walk toward him in her half-graceful, half-coltish way. He realized he felt an affection for her. Not like the one he felt for Tammy, though. Something different.

  She gave him a wondering look when he approached her, but she seemed pleased. After she put her satchel in the car, he handed her the note.

  “What’s this?”

  “I don’t know,” Blondie lied. “Mr. Bearzinsky told me to give it to you.”

  “John?” She grew even more curious. Blondie could tell she was dying to open the envelope. He could also tell she didn’t want to do it in front of him.

  “It’s none of my business,” he said, walking away.

  When he looked back, she was sitting in her little blue Rambler, reading the note. After she was through, she crushed it into a ball and threw it in the back seat. When she passed him on the way out of the lot, she waved. She looked a lot more hopeful than he’d seen it for some time.

  Grouper was shaking his head slowly from side to side when Blondie joined him at school the next morning.

  “Unbelievable, unbelievable …. ”

  “What are you babbling about?” Blondie inquired.

  “Dispatch and Meryl. They’re getting married.”

  “You’ve got to be joking,” Blondie exclaimed. “She’s a pig.”

  Grouper’s head jerked back.

  “Sorry, I forgot,” Blondie said.

  “Don’t let it worry you,” Grouper said. “There’s nothing left between us.”

  “But why? Dispatch couldn’t possibly love her.”

  “Agreed. But he has a reason — the one that unites most high school couples in matrimony.”

  “You’re kidding. He knocked her up?”

  “You nailed it.”

  Blondie looked at the Grouper to see if he was pulling his leg. His face was as expressionless as a frog’s.

  “How does he know she isn’t faking? Remember what Meryl put Flossie up to?”

  Grouper shrugged.

  “Dispatch is determined to go through with it. He says it’s the right thing to do. He’s set the date for soon after graduation.”

  Blondie felt diminished. He’d fled from his obligation to Flossie, yet here was Dispatch, the last person Blondie would have expected to act honorably, sacrificing his whole life for a known pregnancy-faker. Christ, he couldn’t count on anyone to be consistent, even when all it took was behaving poorly.

  That evening, the phone rang when he was getting a peanut-butter-and- jelly sandwich in the kitchen. It was Flossie.

  “What do you want?” Blondie asked sharply

  “Are you mad at me?”

  Blondie put his hand over the receiver and took a deep breath. He wanted to be mad at her, but he realized he liked hearing her voice.

  “No, I guess not.”

  “What I did was pretty crappy, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Meryl made me do it. She said you didn’t like me enough to marry me.”

  What could he say to that?

  “But that’s all right,” she added. “I mean we’re both too young to think about things like that. Anyway, that’s not why I did it.”

  “No?”

  “It was because Meryl told me you were taking that Scarff girl to the prom. I felt upset. I wanted to get back at you.”

  Hearing Flossie tell it, he couldn’t blame her.

  “The prom doesn’t mean anything to me,” Blondie assured her. “I don’t even want to go. I’m only going with her because I need a ride home from the Fentonian.”

  “Really?”

  “Hope to die. How could I like Phyllis? She’s a dog.”

  Flossie didn’t say anything for a minute.

  “Does that mean you’ll see me again?”

  “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll leave the prom early and meet you somewhere.”

  “I’d like that.”

  After he hung up, Blondie wondered why he’d put himself in such a bind. What could he tell Phyllis to get out of the traditional post-dance dinner? Oh well, he’d worry about that tomorrow. Tomorrow was another day. Wasn’t that what Scarlett O’Hara always said? Of course, Blondie realized, Scarlett had been a championship-caliber airhead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “I don’t see why you’re so afraid of Barnwell,” Feller said to Blondie. “You’ve got four inches on him and he’s just as thin as you are.”

  They were at Feller’s house, lying on the twin beds in the attic room, with the overhead light on. Blondie’d asked to spend Friday night with Feller. He didn’t feel like being alone with his folks the night before his execution.

  “I don’t like to fight,” Blondie said.

  “No one does. But sometimes you have to.”

  Why was everyone so brave was someone else was doing the fighting?

  Feller’s question was a good one, though. Why did Barnwell inspire such fear in him? Was it because he seemed so ready to fight? Or was it just Blondie’s cowardice?

  “Barnwell was afraid that night when Brick went after him,” Feller said What we need to do is to make him a little more afraid of you.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. Let me think about it.”

  Blondie watched while Feller thought. After a while he asked him how he was doing.

  “Nothing yet.”

  “Grouper thinks it’s all pretty dumb,” Blondie said.

  “What is?”

  “Squabbling with Barnwell, chasing after girls, getting drunk …. ”

  “Grouper’s been known to get drunk.”

  Blondie flopped over on his back and put his hands behind his head. “Is this the way people get to be adults?” Blondie asked.

  Feller laughed.

  “In Fenton, it is.”

  “Has anyone from Fenton ever amounted to anything?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  That’s what Blondie figured. Fenton didn’t provide the proper culture for greatness. It was the wrong petri dish.

  Quicker than Blondie thought possible, Saturday evening rolled around. There was a notable lack of chatter in the P-mobile as Dispatch pointed it down Oakspring Lane toward the quarry. Grouper had refused to come — he said he couldn’t stand the sight of blood, especially that of his friends. Each of the rest of the gang had assured Blondie he had a chance, but Blondie could tell none of them would put money on it.

  Only Feller seemed in good spirits. He’d told Blondie he’d come up with an idea that might help him. But Feller said he wouldn’t divulge it until they were near the quarry.

  Dusk was approaching. Blondie looked out the window at the high scudding clouds streaking across the moon. New leaves tossed against the silver sky like dark schools of fish. Ahead, Blondie saw the dark tunnel of trees that ended at the quarry. The P-mobile plunged onward into that heart of darkness.

  Blondie could wait no longer.

  “Are you going to tell about this secret strategy or yours before or after Barnwell beats me up?” he asked Feller.

  “No need to be sarcastic. Okay, here it is. Yesterday, I told Harold Ball you were a karate expert.”

  “That’s it? That’s your big plan?” Blondie’s voice rose.

  “Calm d
own. Ball’s a friend of Barnwell’s, see. I bet anything he passed my information along.”

  “But I’m not a karate expert. I don’t know anything about karate.”

  “Just act like you do. Put your fist out like this,” Feller said, unaware his hand was lost in shadow, “and put one leg in front of the other with your knees bent. Then, yell out some Chinese phrases.”

  “I don’t know any Chinese phrases.”

  “Try ‘Moo Goo Gai Pan’ or ‘Foo Yung.’”

  “Those are Chinese meals,” Blondie retorted.

  “You think Barnwell knows Chinese? Barnwell doesn’t even know American. He couldn’t tell chicken-fried steak from chicken shit.”

  “What’s this charade supposed to accomplish?”

  “If it works, Barnwell may back away from the fight.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Then you may have a problem.”

  There was no sign of Barnwell or Purdy when they arrived at the quarry. There were few cars at all. It was too early for the neckers. Even in Fenton, etiquette required taking one’s date out for a shake and fries before trying to rip her clothes off.

  Dispatch circled the quarry, an ominous black hole in the twilight. He pulled into an open area, about forty or fifty feet from a cream-colored Edsel. No one spoke. No one opened a beer from the case they’d brought along.

  “For God’s sakes, you guys, loosen up,” Blondie squawked. “Go ahead and get drunk. Whatever’s going to happen isn’t going to take long, so don’t plan your whole evening around it.”

  Brick slapped him on the back.

  “That’s the spirit, Blondie. It only hurts for a while, right?”

  “That isn’t what I meant.”

  “Maybe B-buford w-won’t show,” Shakes offered.

  Shakes had become a real booster of Blondie’s since finding out Blondie had persuaded the Bear to let him back into school.

  “Yeah, maybe Buford’s not so gutsy as he talks,” Feller said.

  A quarter hour later, a set of low beams crawled around the bend, followed by another. The first set stopped thirty feet away, shining themselves at the P-mobile. The dark void behind the lights was the shape of Purdy’s truck. A door opened. A moment later, a shadow formed in front the lights.