I feel someone grab my left hand and turn to see who it is just about the time Brenda kisses me on the cheek. "Good luck, Bobby," she whispers in my ear. "I miss you." And then she's gone.
And now here's Mr. Wood, my physics teacher, standing in front of me looking real serious. He has dark brown hair that he keeps in a flattop. "If he won't let you come to class, call me at home," he says. "I'll give you the homework assignments." He gives me a look of utmost seriousness. "Don't give up now, Bobby. Please. Don't quit on me." Then he goes in a room where only teachers are allowed.
I hear a door open and when I look up there's Chelsey and Mr. Sonnett standing in the doorway to his office. Chelsey's nose looks like a big brown cucumber. Two other colored people come out of the room, and I guess that's Chelsey's mama and papa. Chelsey's papa spots me, but I turn away, pick out a board in the floor to look at.
"Bobby," says Mr. Sonnett, "would you come in here for a moment please." He looks a little confused, eyes Mama and Papa and then Jess and Loretta. "I want to talk to you and Chelsey alone a moment, then we'll want to talk to your mother and father."
Chelsey sits on one side of the room and Mr. Sonnett motions for me to take a seat on the other just as the final bell rings.
"The first thing I want to know," is the way Mr. Sonnett starts in, "is why the fight? What's going on between you two."
Chelsey looks a dagger at me. I know he can't say anything without doing his sister wrong, so I figure it's up to me to answer the question.
"Let's just say, I made a mistake and Chelsey here was good enough to help me find a way to pay for it."
That gets a frown out of Chelsey.
"How about you, Chelsey?" asks Mr. Sonnett. "What's your side of it?"
"It's personal. I'm not saying."
"You two are going to have to help me out, or we're going to have a real problem with this." He looks from Chelsey to me. "Come on. Is it still going on between you or are you through with it?" He struggles for some words for a minute. "Is it racial?"
Whoa! I wish he hadn't asked that question. Now I'm in real trouble.
"No," says Chelsey, straight out. "With some of the other kids round here it'd be. But not Bobby. I don't get none of that from him. Never have."
Mr. Sonnett looks like he just got a stay of execution, maybe even lets a little smile creep across his lips. "But is it over? I've got to know that. Is it over between you?"
Chelsey pulls out a blood stained white handkerchief, blows some clots out of his cucumber, sneezes. "I'd like to get Bobby in a ring," he says, finally. "Put on the gloves with him. Let's just say that it's over, but not forgiven. I'll never forgive him for what he did to my little sister."
Mr. Sonnett turns to me.
"Since my head got bigger," I say, "I can think a little better. I don't want anymore of Chelsey. Not in a ring either. And I'm sorry about his sister. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for that one either."
Chelsey has to laugh about that, then blows out more clots.
Mr. Sonnett stands up. "Good," he says, walking around to the front of his desk. "I'm glad to hear that. Now, Chelsey, you go on to the doctor and call me this afternoon. I'll give you the Board's decision."
Chelsey winks at me on the way out. He's walking like a boat that's taking on a little water.
*
"I'm not sure where I stand here," says Mr. Sonnett. "Bobby, who are all these people?"
When Mr. Sonnett invited my two sets of parents in, I thought Jess was going to chicken out. He walked in last like an old dog that'd just been beat with a whip.
"Well, these two," I say pointing to Mama and Papa, "are my Aunt Louise, that you met before when you kicked me out of school, and my Uncle Hershel. They raised me for eighteen years and were my parents up until a couple of months ago. And this is my mother that I used to think was my Aunt Loretta, that I'm living with now, and this is my dead friend Leroy's Uncle Jesse Korenski that I just found out yesterday is my father."
"I see," he says, and then drops his eyes and has to swallow real deep.
Mama's face just turned redder than a sunburned tomato and her lips are pursed tight like they have a drawstring in them.
Jess just dropped his head to get a good look at the hardwood floor.
"Ray's a good kid," and it's Loretta who has started off the discussion. "I won't let you do anything to hurt him. Will we, Jess? And anyone that lays a hand on him will have me to deal with."
Mr. Sonnett takes a deep breath like he's just about to dive into a waterhole swimming with cottonmouth rattlesnakes. "I understand your concern, Mrs... Mrs..."
"Miss Loretta Hammer," I say. I figure he needs a little help with that one.
"Thank you, Bobby," he says. "Miss Hammer, I think we all have Bobby's best interest at heart here. I know I do. I agree with you that he's one fine young man. And I can see that there's more going on in Bobby's life than his problems here at the high school and that maybe that should be taken into consideration. I appreciate all of you coming down here. This hasn't been easy for any of us. In light of the situation, I think I'll cut this short. I just want to say that the decision on Bobby staying in school for the rest of the year will not come exclusively from me. The School Board will make the final decision. Whichever way it comes out, I hope you'll remember that we have to make a decision that's also in the best interest of the high school. And quite honestly, we have a touchy situation here right now." Then he turns to look at me again. "Bobby's sure had his share of adolescent behavior problems this year."
Mr. Sonnett stands up and so does everybody else. As my two sets of parents go out the door, Mr. Sonnett turns to me. "Stay for a few more minutes, Bobby," he says. "We need to talk some more."
*
"Why'd you take a swing at me," Mr. Sonnett wants to know. "When I broke up the fight between Stanley and Melvin, Thomas stopped you from hitting me. What made you want to do that?"
It's my turn to look at the hardwood floor. I'm thinking that I didn't just want to hit him. I wanted to kill him. We are both standing with his big wood desk between us, but he's looking just a little over my head.
"I thought you hated me," I say.
"Hate you? I don't hate you."
"Why did you kick me out of school, take football away from me?"
"Cause you were disrupting the whole school. I have to maintain discipline here, Bobby."
"So if a kid gets involved in a ruckus, even if it's not on the school grounds, you've got to take his future away from him. That's just the way it goes, huh?"
"I didn't take your future away from you."
"Maybe not completely, but you sure made a dent in it."
"I like to think I've done a reasonable job of maintaining discipline here at Chowchilla."
"Here at the CUHS prison."
"Now you stop that. You're just mad all the time. When you have a lot of anger, it sticks to everything. You can't think straight. It's kids like you that stand in the way of other kids getting a good education so they can go to college."
"Maybe so. But your attitude about me is showing through too. That's the reason you think I'm here. Just to keep other kids out of college. So keeping me out of school as much as you can is a good deal. Well let me tell you something. I've got plans too."
"Well, tell me about your plans, Bobby. I need to hear about them if I'm going to talk to the Board."
"So you wanted me to stay in here with you so I could help you find an excuse to get rid of me for good. It's going to be a permanent expulsion this time. I can see it coming. Bet you already have the papers drawn up."
"No, Bobby. That's not why I have you in here. I've never, never had a student take a punch at me. I want to understand why."
"I've already told you. Cause you've ruined my future."
"What is this future you're so concerned about. What is it that I'm keeping you from doing? It's you that's getting low grades, not me."
"I wouldn't be in such bad shap
e if you hadn't kicked me out of school for a week. Me and half of the rest of the school."
"But what am I keeping you from?"
"How about, 'Going to college,' for an answer? Think you can handle that one? I want to go to college."
Mr. Sonnett looks like I just shot him. First he just stands there and I think maybe his face gets a little white. He swallows some air.
"College?" Then he stops like he's waiting for the world to start turning again. "But you're not even in college preparatory classes. And... you want to go to college?"
"Why do you think I'm in Mr. Wood's class?"
"So that's what's up. God! He told me the strangest story about you and bridges the other day. Everything is a secret with you, isn't it? Why didn't you tell me, Bobby."
I don't believe this, but I see tears in his eyes. Then he stops for a minute like he's thinking. "Maybe that's why I've been so hard on you. I had some trouble too getting where I am. I wasn't always a model student. And I don't believe I've seen all the sides of Bobby Hammer either. A couple of weeks ago, Mr. Wood was in here talking about you. He called my attention to your Iowa Test scores. You have excellent ability in several areas. You were close to the top of your class in mathematics and the sciences. A little low in some of the other areas, but overall, your test scores were excellent. And now maybe after seeing your family I can answer my own question about why you aren't performing better? Mr. Woods is right. You do have the interest, don't you?"
"I do. I have more than you could imagine. I'm disappointed too. I don't know why I can't do better." And now I can feel my eyes starting to wet up a little. "But I know what I want to do. And you can go to the Board and talk to them behind my back about what a lousy kid I am. But I can tell you one thing. I'm not giving up on myself. You do what you have to with me. The thing is," and now I've started crying, so I turn my back on him. I don't want him to see my face anymore. And my voice is just this real loud whiny thing. "My older brother didn't make it through high school. I need something he didn't get, if I'm going to make it. But I don't need to be kicked out, beat up, scolded or sent to jail. I need help. My brother didn't get any help. I need it real bad. And I promise you this. I know I can't graduate without your help."
"I'm not going to tell the Board you're a lousy kid. I don't think that. For what it's worth," and he comes over and puts his hand on my shoulder and talks to my back, "I'm with you on this. I'll do my best for you when I talk to the Board. When I met your family just now, I started to wake up a little. I can't imagine what you've been going through. Most kids your age can't stand one set of parents, and you have two."
"One more thing," I say.
"What's that."
"I want to attend my classes until I find out from the Board if I can stay in school."
"You mean now?"
"Yes. I've got physics in fifteen minutes."
"Bobby..." He walks back over to his desk, looks through my folder. "God, you are persistent. I'll lose my job over this. But that's my problem. Okay. Okay. Go on to class, for christsake."
I turn around. He's still looking through my folder.
"But no Studyhall or PE, your last two classes. Make Civics your last class of the day. Then you come directly to my office. I'll have the verdict by then."
*
I've been sitting in Mr. Sonnett's office for an hour and a half. What could be taking him so long? My classes didn't go so good. More boring than usual. We had a pop quiz in Civics, and I think I flunked it. Everybody stared at me. I have this problem thinking people are staring at me, but today it was true. They weren't laughing either. I think they're worried about me.
All at once, here comes Mr. Sonnett, mumbling something about never having seen so many hardheaded people. He goes straight to his filing cabinet, jerks out a file, probably mine, then looks up at me.
"I feel like I've sold my soul to the devil on this one. But I got you one last chance. The rest is up to you."
CHAPTER 45: Trip to the Junkyard
I'm standing in front of my locker looking for my history book and some scratch paper. I wonder where I put that pencil? I'm here all alone because I'm late for class. I've been talking to my counselor about what I have to do to get graduated. Looks pretty bleak. I hear someone walking up the cement steps so I look around to see who else is late. It's Brenda so I smile at her, then turn my head back because she's made it plain we can't be any more than friends. I hear the sound of her footsteps coming closer and then they stop. I get uneasy with the silence knowing she's standing behind me so I turn to look, figuring she'll be getting into her locker on the other side of the walkway. I jump a little because there she is standing facing me about two feet away. I've never seen a girl look so afraid.
"Bobby, don't say anything, just let me talk for a minute." She hides her face in her hands and then peaks through her fingers at me and I see that her face is real red. "I'm ashamed, Bobby. I really am. I found out that when people were talking about me and what I'd been doing with some boy, that they weren't talking about you and me. They were talking about me and someone else. Someone I don't care about nearly as much as I do you. I brought all my problems on myself, Bobby. I wasn't very... discreet. Didn't have anything to do with you." She hides her face in her hands again and I don't hear any whimpering but tears run through her fingers. "I have a bad rep... a bad rep..u..ta..tion."
She snivels a little, catches a trembling breath. "It's my own fault. And you know something?" Then she sniffs and looks me straight in the eyes. "They still don't know anything about us. After me accusing you of causing my problem, you didn't tell anyone. You didn't even try to defend yourself against me, all the names I called you. Nobody knows anything about us, Bobby. And I have you to thank for that. They don't even remember that we went out together. Except for Mother and Daddy, of course. I told Mother it was you and she told Daddy. So they know for sure it was you. Everybody else just thinks I don't like you. I've said some uncomplimentary things about you."
I nod my head, yes, because I know that's true.
"I've known this for months but couldn't bring myself to face you. I couldn't face myself. But now it's so close to the end of school, and after graduation we may never see each other again. I don't expect us to be friends after what I've done, but I just can't carry this around for the rest of my life. Helen's taught me that. I'm sorry I hurt you, Bobby, very sorry. And I do like you. We could've had a lot of fun together." And then she laughs. "I didn't mean it that way," and blushes again. "You really are a gentleman." She's still crying.
I can't stand anymore of this, so I reach for her and hug her for a minute.
"Ah," she whispers, then kisses me on the neck. "Thank you," she says, and walks off with her head down.
I stand there for a second with the cold feel of her little bits of sweat, tears and spit drying on my face and neck. Every time I touch her, she gets wet stuff all over me. Brenda always leaves juice. Bev leaves welts and bruises.
Then she turns back. "Helen tried to commit suicide," she says. "But she's okay now. Her parents have a psychiatrist working with her. I just thought you might want to know. She told me that she and Lenny were married. So you don't have to keep that secret anymore."
She walks a little further away from me. "Oops, almost forgot," she says. Guess she has a lot of stuff cooking today. "Helen said to tell you that Lenny used to keep his journal in his car. Up under the dashboard. She also said to tell you that Charles is wrong about having Lenny's car. It must be a different Hudson. The journal and her wedding ring are probably still in the car if you can find it."
"What?" I ask. "It's not Lenny's car?"
"The inside's not the same color. She knew something was different. She asked Charles. He said he didn't have to repaint the inside." And now Brenda has turned around and walking toward me again.
"So his car is still in the junkyard."
"You know where?" she asks.
"Yes. The Berenda Junkyard."
> "That's not far. Take me with you, Bobby. Let's go get it."
I don't know if it's the thought of Lenny's journal or Brenda's body that has just taken my breath away. Since the weather has turned warm, she's gone to these sleeveless dresses and this one doesn't have shoulders, dips a little in front too.
"You mean right now?" I ask. "But we've got one more class before the day's over."
"You ever heard of a senior cutting class?"
"I can't do that. I promised Mr. Sonnett."
"A promise is a fact with you, isn't it?"
"I'll be at my car before the last bell quits ringing good." If Bev finds out about this, it's curtains for me.
*
"It's a '48 Hudson," I tell him one more time. I've been trying to talk to this sixteen-year-old kid for fifteen minutes about the Hudson, but he keeps arguing with me. I feel like grabbing him by the hair of the head and wringing the right answer out of him. Maybe the thing I'm mad about most is that when he talks to me he keeps looking at Brenda's tits.
"I think I remember it now. We sold it about a year ago."
"No that was a different one," I tell him.
He hollers at an old guy in the back. "Chet! We got another '48 Hudson?" He doesn't get an answer, so I figure the guy's hard hearing. The kid turns to another customer.
I turn to Brenda, whisper in her ear. "If your breasts could carry on a conversation, we'd a seen the Hudson fifteen minutes ago."
She starts laughing so hard she has to walk away from me.
"Chet'll be here in a second," the guy says with a grin. "He's not as old as he looks, but he's a lot slower. That your girlfriend with you?"
I look at him but don't give him an answer.
"A girl like that a'd be worth a couple of black eyes."
I watch Brenda with her back to me, window-shopping the junkyard.
"Who wants that Hudson?" booms a husky voice.
"I do," I say, turning back around.
"We got one over in the southeast corner. Been there five, maybe six year." The old man hasn't had a shave or a bath in five, maybe six day. His shirttail's out and the hair on his chest looks like black worms. "What you want off it?"
"Just want to look."
"You standing here wasting our time for a look?"
"My brother died in it. I just want to see it."
"Oh, shit," he says, real quiet like. "That be the case, be my guest. You want some help finding it?"