Flagrant Misconduct

  There must have been some sort of mistake, but all of us agreed the car had been parked in the empty spot we were standing in.

  After looking for the car for about thirty minutes, we decided to call the cops and report it as stolen. It didn’t make sense to me; there were several nice cars in the immediate vicinity. In fact, there was a brand new Cadillac Eldorado just across the street. Who steals a Ford station wagon with wood grain paneling along the side? The girls started to get cold, and were standing under the lamppost huddled close together for warmth. I left J. P. with the girls and went to a nearby pay phone to report the car stolen. The operator on the line took all of my details, but when I gave her the license plate number, she dropped a bomb on me. The car had rolled downhill through an intersection and been hit by a large vehicle. J. P. had forgotten to engage the brake, and the car was left in neutral. The police suspected the car had been hit by a truck based on the damage it sustained. Sometime after the incident, police officers towed the wreckage away to clear traffic. The operator told me the car was totaled and they were still looking for the driver, who had not stopped after the accident. It was embarrassing for all of us; everyone was getting in their cars and leaving the dance, and we had no way to get home. I went back to the pay phone and called a cab to pick us up. Fortunately, there was one nearby, and he was there in less than five minutes.

  We were all bummed out, because the night had been so special up to that point. When we dropped Mary off, she gave J. P. a kiss on the mouth and said, “Things will be okay, and it was a great night regardless.”

  I thought to myself, Easy for you to say. You don’t have to face my dad.

  On the way to my house, J. P. and I were anxiously rehearsing how we were going to explain to my dad what had happened. When we came into the house, he had his reading glasses on and was doing crossword puzzles in his pajamas and black velvet robe.

  He looked up and said with a big smile, “So how was it?” Then he looked out the window and saw the cab leaving.

  “Clay, J. P., where’s the wagon?”

  Before J. P. could say anything, I just said, “Dad, we had an accident. I am really sorry.”

  “Whose fault was it?”

  J. P. lifted his hand and said, “Mine, Reverend T.”

  My dad took a deep breath and took off his glasses. He slowly walked toward J. P. and looked up at him. I was getting really nervous, and so was J. P. He just put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor.

  “Is it totaled?” my dad asked.

  “Yes…yes, sir, it is totaled.”

  My father raised his voice slightly and said, “Are you sure it is totaled?”

  “Rev. T., it was totaled by a large truck. At least, that’s what the police said.”

  Then the strangest thing happened. My dad had this great big grin on his face. He put his glasses back on and began searching through a stack of papers in the living room. He then began making a phone call. I looked at J. P., and we just shrugged our shoulders.

  “Dad, what’s going on?”

  “J. P., you just made my day, young man.”

  “I don’t understand, Rev. T. What do you mean?” said J. P.

  “I’m making an insurance claim. And when it is settled, I am getting that metallic blue GT500 Ford Mustang I have had my eye on for two weeks now.”

  And that’s exactly what happened. Two weeks before Christmas, my father bought a 1967 Ford Mustang GT500. It was metallic blue with Wimbledon racing stripes, mag wheels, and a 427-cubic-inch engine. I loved that car, and so did Jimbo. He also bought my mom a second car for Christmas, a 1977 Caprice Classic. It was probably one of the best Christmases we ever had. We later found out that the driver of the truck that hit my dad’s car was drinking, which was why he did not stop at the scene. Looking back, I could not have picked a better ending for that night.

  Chapter 18

  Semester Exams

  Semester exams were less than three weeks away. Mrs. Towles met with Jimbo’s dad for a parent-teacher conference to discuss Jimbo’s progress. Jimbo was on the verge of failing all six of his classes, and he was not responding at all to Mrs. Towles’ tutelage. Mrs. Towles told Jimbo’s dad she was terminating further instruction with J. P. Jimbo’s dad was counting on her to ensure Jimbo’s eligibility to compete on the wrestling team. In my personal opinion, Coach P. should have put his pride aside and placed J. P. in special education. But Coach P. was just too proud a man to have his own son in special education at the same school where he taught and coached.

  I spoke with J. P. on the phone almost every day just before the semester exams. Jimbo was very apprehensive; he realized that the time he spent with Mrs. Towles was completely wasted. However, he confided in me that if it were not for Mrs. Towles, he probably would not have met Mary. We also talked a lot about him wanting more than anything to help his dad win an unprecedented tenth state championship. He just had to pass the semester exams somehow.

  That Monday at 7:45 a.m., J. P. was scheduled to take the first of his six semester exams. I was at Westside looking at the clock, imagining J. P. sweating profusely in homeroom as he waited for the first-period bell to ring. When the 7:45 bell rang, I knew it was game on. I just hoped J. P. was prepared.

  The results were in a week later. Coach Pernelli and Jimbo were called into the office of Mr. Towles, the assistant principal. Jimbo told me he was really nervous when he walked in; it felt as though he was a defendant awaiting a jury’s verdict. Mr. Towles was the one to break the news to him. He had failed all of his classes, with the highest score being 42%.

  Coach P. stood up and said, “Wait a second, Mike. C’mon, surely this must be a mistake. Surely there must be something we can do about this…right?”

  Mr. Towles’ hands were tied. Jimbo told me he was in shock, just sitting there with his face in his hands not saying a word the whole time. When Mr. Towles told Coach P. that he had already notified the athletic department that Jimbo was ineligible to wrestle, Coach P. walked out of the office and slammed the door. It was at that precise moment that Jimbo realized the transfer to Triton was a huge mistake—a mistake that may have cost him everything he wanted. There was just one word to describe how Jimbo felt—hopeless.

  Later that evening, Mary stopped by to visit Jimbo at his house.

  “I’ve been calling for the last hour, and your phone just rings and rings,” Mary said.

  “Where is your dad?”

  “He is at an away match tonight, and I should be there with the team.”

  “Why aren’t you?” Mary said.

  “I have been kicked off the team because I failed every single one of my semester exams. I have been ruled ineligible, they say.” Jimbo then told Mary that he was considering quitting school and just getting a job. According to J. P., that’s when Mary went off on him and told him he would regret it for the rest of his life. He mentioned the idea of being a cab driver, but she wasn’t buying the cab stuff at all.

  “Okay, let’s be reasonable. There must be a way to fix this,” Mary said.

  “There’s no use, Mary. As far as school sports goes, I am finished.” Jimbo had given up, but Mary was determined to salvage the situation somehow.

  The next day, Jimbo saw Mary standing by his locker with a big smile. As he approached her, he saw that she was very jumpy and excited.

  “Joshua, guess what? I’ve got great news—great news!”

  “Does involve me getting back on the team?”

  “Yes, yes, yes!” Mary told Jimbo that her student faculty advisor had recommended that Jimbo retake his exams. This was not the news Jimbo wanted to hear; he had failed so miserably that there seemed to be no chance he would pass a retest. Jimbo tried explaining that to Mary, but she wasn’t hearing it. She told him that he was just giving up. Jimbo did not want to endure the pain of a repeated failure.

  Mary just looked at him and said, “It’s your life, and you are free to throw it away…your call.”

  S
he then walked away, leaving Jimbo feeling even more defeated.

  Later that evening, Jimbo dropped by my house to visit, but it wasn’t me he wanted to see. He wanted to speak with my dad. Dad was in the family room writing his sermon for next Sunday in front of the fireplace. I opened the sliding door and told my dad Jimbo was here and he needed to talk. I was curious…okay, I was nosy. I went out to the backyard and pretended to clean my motorcycle to eavesdrop on their conversation through the slightly ajar window.

  “Rev. T., if you were absolutely, positively sure you were going to fail at something, would you go through the motions just to please someone you really cared for?”

  “J. P., sit down, son. First, never accept failure as your fate. I can assure you that lesser people have fought against greater adversity and won. You just have to ask yourself: is it worth fighting for? If the answer is yes, my advice to you is simple. Give God a chance.”

  My dad and J. P. talked for about thirty minutes. As J. P. was leaving, we chatted briefly about nothing in particular. I was concerned for J. P. I had no answers, and it appeared there were none.

  The following morning, Jimbo met with his student counselor, Mr. Ballenoff, and inquired about taking the retests. Jimbo was hoping to get a negative answer so he could avoid yet another disappointment. Mr. Ballenoff thought it was a great idea and that he should have been offered the opportunity immediately upon receiving the failing grades.

  “But Mr. Ballenoff, I don’t want to disappoint people all over again; it was bad enough the first time,” Jimbo said.

  “If you pass, then all is well. If you don’t, you have lost nothing,” said Mr. Ballenoff. “I will arrange for you to take the retests, but you only have two days before the window closes.”

  “I already know I am going to fail. But I don’t want to lose my girlfriend, and I know I will if I don’t do this.”

  On the day of his retests, Jimbo was nervous when he entered Mrs. Blair’s classroom and she pointed to his chair without speaking a word. He said he felt as though she were an executioner leading him to the electric chair. Once he sat down, she looked at her watch and said “Begin.” And so he did.

  After his last exam, Jimbo reported to Mr. Ballenoff’s office.

  “So, Joshua, how did it go?” Mr. Ballenoff asked.

  “I’m not really sure—it was kinda like a blur. Just before the exams, I got the worst headache of my life. My head is still pounding,” said Jimbo.

  “I think I need to see the school nurse, if that is okay with you, Mr. Ballenoff.”

  “Sure, son. I hope you feel better. I know you have been under a lot of stress at school and at home, too.”

  Jimbo told me Mr. Ballenoff was very supportive during his visit and recommended he take it easy. Jimbo also said Mr. Ballenoff would have the papers graded by Monday.

  I rode my motorcycle over to J. P.’s house that Sunday, and we talked about everything except the exams, which I thought was odd. He did mention the possibility of dropping out of school and driving a cab to make some money. I took that to mean he was not optimistic about his exam results. He and Mary were speaking again, but the communication was not as cozy as it had been. Also, they weren’t spending nearly as much time together as before. We were sitting outside on his porch and before I knew it, it was getting late. I looked at my watch and I told him I needed to get home to watch my favorite show, Night Gallery. I was surprised to find out that he was a big fan too, and that he rarely missed an episode. Night Gallery was the successor to The Twilight Zone, and although the series had ended in 1973, we both were rerun junkies and could quote lines from our favorite episodes. J. P. had Rod Serling’s voice down to perfection. That night, we watched an episode called ‘Specter in Tap Shoes,’ about a dead sibling who becomes her sister’s guardian angel. I am sure Jimbo wished that his guardian angel could have sat for his exams. But in less than twelve hours, he would know his fate.

  Chapter 19

  Suspicious Minds

  On Monday morning, Jimbo was called out of homeroom for a meeting with Mr. Ballenoff. As he headed into the office, he saw Mrs. Towles, Mr. Towles, the principal, and the athletic director all standing in the room. Mrs. Towles pointed at him.

  “You’re a cheat! Admit it—you cheated!” she said angrily.

  Jimbo was very confused by her accusation.

  “What are you talking about? I didn’t need to cheat to fail; I can do that on my own!”

  Mr. Ballenoff motioned for Mrs. Towles to sit down.

  “Joshua, that’s just it. You passed, but your scores are…well, there are no real words to describe the dramatic increase in performance,” said Mr. Ballenoff.

  “We are not here to accuse you unjustly; we just would like to hear your side of the story.” Mr. Glover, the principal, said.

  “What story?” Jimbo asked.

  “Your grades…all I can say is that this is quite out of the ordinary,” said Mr. Glover.

  “Why, what were my grades?” asked Jimbo.

  “Your lowest scores were a 98% in English and history. You aced math, science, and French and got a 99% in biology.”

  “What? Are you serious?” Jimbo said in disbelief.

  “I want a full-scale inquiry. Everyone knows he cheated,” said Mrs. Towles.

  “How did you do it, Joshua?” she demanded.

  “I guess it must have been your excellent tutelage, Mrs. Towles.”

  “That is BS and you know it. You ought to be suspended.” Mrs. Towles was out of line, and Mr. Glover put her in her place, reminding her that she had no authority to recommend anything. Mr. Glover announced that he would initiate his own inquiry, but Joshua was declared eligible to rejoin the wrestling team until he found justification for overturning the decision.

  “You mean I can wrestle?” said Jimbo.

  “For now, it looks that way. It would be unethical to assume there were improprieties without due course.”

  “Right on!” Joshua shook Mr. Glover’s hand and excused himself from the meeting to go to his next class.

  On his way to seventh period, Jimbo saw Mary standing by his locker. She smiled and grabbed his hand.

  “I heard. I am so proud of you,” Mary said. Jimbo asked Mary how she had heard, and she told him that she had heard Mrs. Towles using the library phone to speak to someone about the matter.

  “Mary, if it wasn’t for you, I would be off the team. I owe you big time.” Jimbo reached down and kissed her forehead. “Gotta run, I’m late for wrestling practice. I will call you tonight!”

  The next day, Jimbo was waiting in the office to see Mr. Ballenoff about enrolling himself in special education when he turned eighteen later in the month. While he was in the office, he overheard a heated conversation between the principal and Mrs. Towles.

  “Well, I have informed everyone else, and I wanted you to hear it from me. I have interviewed all of Joshua’s teachers, and I have decided that although these grades appear to be rather inflated, there is no evidence to support any improprieties,” said Mr. Glover.

  “What! I don’t believe I am hearing this mess! This is Joshua Pernelli we are talking about, remember?”

  “Mrs. Towles, the exams he passed were different from the ones he took initially. You know we never offer the same exams for the retests,” said Mr. Glover. “The questions are randomly generated for all retests; that’s just school policy, and it has been since 1969.”

  Mr. Glover further added that Joshua had been under observation during all the tests, and to assume he cheated would be to imply that the teachers were not doing their jobs. Mrs. Towles seemed to be taking it personally, and it appeared that she really wanted her way, according to Jimbo.

  The following week, Mrs. Towles walked into the library and informed Mary that she needed to use the library phone for a private matter. Mary just smiled and pretended to be doing administrative tasks. Curiosity got the best of Mary, and she left her desk and positioned herself so she could overhear Mrs.
Towles’ conversation. Based on what she could hear, it sounded as though Mrs. Towles was reporting Jimbo’s incident to the District Superintendent of Schools. Mary detected disappointment in Mrs.

  Towles’ voice as she hung up, so it seemed the Superintendent wasn’t interested.

  The very next period, Mary informed Jimbo about the phone call. Jimbo wasn’t the least bit surprised or worried. No one knew how Jimbo was able to pass the tests with such high marks, and it left school officials puzzled but not accusatory. His test scores were among the top five percent…in the state. Those who knew Jimbo well had no explanation either, but his integrity was never an issue.

  A week later, there was a Triton school assembly, and Mr. Glover announced that the school would offer driver’s education in the next school year. According to Jimbo, all the students stood up and cheered. The local Ford dealership had donated five cars to the administration for student drivers. To make room for the new department, the principal announced he was moving the music department to the basement floor of the A-wing. He solicited volunteers from the audience to assist Mrs. Towles with her move. The entire varsity wrestling team stood up and raised their hands. Mary was sitting next to Jimbo, and she stood up to and raised her hand as well. Jimbo said Mrs. Towles was probably already aware of the news, but you couldn’t tell based on the disappointing look on her face. Jimbo said he didn’t hold a grudge against Mrs. Towles and he wished her well.