12
The football game at Zorrell College was a blast for all who attended. It was cold outside – only ten degrees – yet no one seemed to mind. The townies were used to the weather, as well as the juniors and seniors. So all the freshman and sophomores could do was suck it up and pretend they didn’t mind. Almost two-thousand people crammed into the stadium to watch the final game between the Zorrell Hellions and the Madison Chargers, and they delighted in roaring as loud as they could, so even God would cover His ears.
Bill and Greg sat at a table farthest from the window in the Deli, watching the light, powdery snow fall down. Even with the heat on, Bill wore his down parka zipped all the way to the top. Greg lounged in his chair wearing only a polo shirt, looking as if he couldn't have cared if it dropped another ten degrees.
"We're gonna lose two hundred dollars today," moaned Greg.
"Why?"
"All the bread's gonna go in the trash, along with most of the stuff we cut. That's why I told you to cut a third what we usually do."
Bill nodded. "You ever think of doin' delivery?"
"Yeah, a lotta people been askin' that. But you just take a look at the pizza boys' cars. They're all dinged up by the spill-outs. You ever drive in weather like this? There's so much black ice out there you're truly taking you life in your hands. And even when you finally get there, late, you gotta put up with all the irritated pretty boys 'cause their sandwiches didn't arrive in time for kickoff. No thank you."
"You remember Senator Ford?" asked Bill, wistfully.
"You mean the one who's gonna be President Ford?"
"Yeah. I was just thinkin' 'bout how she spoke to me."
"Yeah. She told you to reach out for what you want and take it." He leaned forward. "You finally decide?"
"I . . . I really want a girlfriend."
Greg nodded with a smile. "You know, girlfriends ain't all they're cracked up to be. They're expensive, and you gotta buy 'em things and go to their stupid gay movies and notice their hair and clothes."
"Whaddya mean?"
"I mean that if you're gonna put out the money, why not make it worthwhile? Why not make it into what it's supposed to be; a night of good fun."
Bill shook his head. "Nah, I really want someone to listen to me. Someone to care about my day, about what I did. Someone to sleep over."
"Ain't that fuckin' sweet!" cried Greg, and he punched Bill in the shoulder. "Sounds like you've got someone in mind."
"Yeah, but she likes someone else."
"Yeah, well, it's always like that. Who is she and who does she like?"
"It's a girl named Rachel, and she likes Paul, another of my friends. He's . . . he's black." Bill clumsily blurted out the last word, not understanding why he even felt the need to mention Paul's race.
"Black, eh?"
"Yeah . . . so?"
Greg chuckled to himself. "Bet her parents won't like that at all. You think she's got the backbone to date him?"
Bill thought back to the many times he saw them together, and how she always pulled her hand away whenever they got in mixed company.
"No, but she's lasted this --"
"Then there's your answer," said Greg, cutting him off. "Ask her out to movies. As her anywhere -- I'll bet she'll be glad to go somewhere where she doesn't have to hide who she's with. It's a pathetic world that we can't accept things like that, but you gotta play to win, no matter what the rules are."
"I don't know, Paul's my friend, and --"
Before Bill could blink, Greg lunged out his chair, and pinned Bill's head on the table. At that moment the lights flickered off, leaving only the reflected light of the snow outside to illuminate the room. Bill whimpered, but Greg pressed harder. He struggled to move, but Greg had an unmovable grip that had the weight of ancient strength. Bill felt like he was pinned under a stone of the pyramids; something that had been around exponentially longer than he had, and had weathered storms too intense to be believed.
"You feel this, boy?" hissed Greg, with breath that was musty and old. "This is me taking what I want. It ain't pretty, it ain't right, but I got what I want." Slowly he stood up, releasing Bill's head as the lights came back on. "When you have the balls to do that, Rachel or any other woman you want'll be yours. And when you take that first step, the rest of your life will open up in front of you. If not, then people like me will keep on pressing your head against something hard and keep taking what we want."
13
The night was cold and spirits drew close together for warmth. Zorrell was hunkered down for the night, as not even the most daring of drunk freshman would dare to challenge the chill outside. Alliance was the same; in the basement the kids hung in front of the cold glow of the LCD screen, playing something overblown and bloody.
The door opened and closed, and after a short while Bill made his appearance.
"How was work?"
"Boring," he said, flopping on the floor next to Heather. "Nobody came in, nobody ordered anything."
"Just you and Greg?" asked Paul.
"Yeah," answered Bill, not able to meet Paul's gaze.
"He's kinda strange," said Ethan, as he maneuvered his controller to the far right. "He always looks like he wants to beat someone up."
"Yeah, but --"
"Okay, okay, now that we're all here," interrupted Heather, "I've got something to show you. Just wait right here!"
She bolted up and thundered up the stairs in her stockinged feet.
"What do you think it is?" asked Rachel.
"Who knows, who cares," said Lizzie, with her mouth full of jelly donut.
Back down she thundered, carrying something wrapped in sheet.
"Move!" she angrily shouted, as she pushed Ethan's heavy feet off the table. The others gathered gasped in fear, as few challenged Ethan down in the basement.
"This better be fucking good," he grumbled, pausing the game.
"Alright -- here it is!"
She whipped off the sheet, revealing a potted plant. No one quite knew how to respond.
"It's . . . a plant," said Bill, flashing an ingratiating smile to Rachel. "Something new?"
"I know," replied Heather snidely, "it looks like just a plant. But this was in Phillip's room; don't you remember?"
"Oh yeah, it was," said Paul. "I had forgotten about it."
"Well, after he died, that morning I found it in my room. Now, I know you're all going to think I'm crazy, but something's different about this plant."
"Whatever," stressed Ethan, as he resumed the game. "Like I'm supposed to give a shit about a damned flower."
Heather reached over, and in a lighting motion yanked the power cord out of the XBOX. Everyone there dropped their jaws and stared, as Ethan slowly got to his feet.
"Dumb damned little bitch!" he yelled, as he wound back his hand. "You had this comin' for a long while!"
Paul leapt to his feet and held his arm. "No, Ethan; don't do this."
Ethan snatched his hand out of Paul's, and after flashing him a hateful gaze, reluctantly flopped back down into the chair. "A damned plant?"
Heather was stunned for a moment, her mind suddenly focused on Paul's selfless act. She knew Ethan was going to hit her; she had braced herself for the impact. But Paul, so much smaller and weaker than Ethan, stopped it. She saw the simple goodness within him; his selfless nature. She felt as when she gazed into Adrian's eyes for a moment, and saw that his future would be one of a kind wife, loving children, and it curdled her blood. The thought of him getting what she was denied was intolerable to her, so she pressed on.
"This plant is different," she said, refocusing. "You remember how bad I was at chemistry? Well ever since I had this plant, I've gotten hundreds on tests without even studying!"
Bill nervously laughed. "So what? Maybe things finally clicked for you."
"Just come over and touch it."
They all stared at first her, then the plant, with none of them moving.
"If it's just
a stupid plant," pressed Heather, speaking to Ethan, as she knew he really was the weakest of them all, "why don't you touch it? Just put your finger on one of its leaves."
Ethan slowly moved towards it, with Paul trying to stand in front to slow him down.
"Move aside, Paulie -- I'm just gonna do what she says."
"Let him go, Paul -- he'll see," said Heather.
Paul warily stepped aside, and Ethan came to stand over the plant. He reached down his hand, as if he was going to touch a leaf, but instead he grabbed the whole top of it and wound it back.
"Let's see how special your stupid plant is now!"
But as he went to throw it, he found he couldn't release it. Hs arm just went back to his side, limp, yet still grasping the plant.
"What the --"
As he pulled up the plant, he found the leaves were wrapped around his fingers.
"What is that thing?" yelled Paul, as he went to pull off the plant. "Get it off him!"
"Wait!" yelled Ethan, "it's alright." Gently he put it down, and slowly the plant unfurled its leaves from around his fingers. Ethan slowly raised his hand, examining it.
"Well," asked Heather proudly, "what did you think?'
"I feel . . . different; more than I was." He looked back down at the plant, with a subtly different aspect to his gaze.
"What's it like?" asked Lizzie, as she came next to him. "How do you feel?"
"I feel like I could stop eating."
At those words, Lizzie lunged for the plant, but before she could reach it, Heather snatched it out of the way.
"Uh-uh," she said, wagging her finger, "it's my plant, and only I decide who gets to touch it."
"So you'd let the gaming walrus touch it, but not me?" snapped Lizzie, feeling the anger surge to full bore inside her.
"What'll you pay me?"
"Come on, Heather," said Bill firmly. "Don't act like an ass."
"Fine. Come on, you can all try it."
Lizzie harrumphed. "Who needs your stupid shitty plant anyway. I got better things to do."
She stormed out, leaving the rest to gather around the plant. They stood in silence watching, waiting for something strange to happen.
"You need to touch it," said Heather, motioning them forward.
Adrian looked over at Rachel, then at Heather, who nodded and gestured to him to touch it. He reached a hand forward.
"You sure about that?" asked Paul. "I mean, this thing was in the room with Phillip. It must have been involved in his death, and I'd hate to think that we're profiting over his death."
"It's a plant, Paul!" cried Adrian. "You might know about physics, but that's about it."
"And you know nothing about that!"
"Fuck it! I'm tired of playing it safe."
Adrian reached out and touched a leaf. It curled around his finger, and suddenly Adrian felt like he understood so much more about the human condition. He could see through all the petty deceptions people made; all the lies they told themselves and others. He suddenly had supreme confidence; not necessarily in his own abilities, but in the knowledge of the shortcomings of others.
"Not bad, not bad," he said. "You gonna give it a try, Rachel?"
"No," she answered firmly, "I'm fine without it."
"How do you know?" asked Heather. "I can't tell you all I've gained since I touched it! Don't be afraid; don't be a coward!"
"She's not," said Paul, stepping in front of her. "I'm not touching it either."
"Figured you wouldn't," muttered Heather.
"You sure about that, Paul?" scoffed Adrian, flashing eyes of defiance. "You sure you don't need a little help? I mean, you might be doing alright in physics, but you're no superstar. You don't come from money, so how do you expect to pay back the big bill that's waitin' for you at the end? Teaching?" he said, laughing. "We all see the cars our profs drive. No, Paul, you're going to need to be something very special to make people colorblind."
"Wait a minute!" yelled Bill, shoving Adrian back. "That's a load of shit! I can't believe you said that."
Adrian harrumphed, as he folded his arms across his small chest. "Believe it, 'cause Paul knows it's true, deep down. We all might live with one another inside these walls, but the outside world is a very different place."
"Well I'm not touching it either," said Bill, trying to look strong and independent, though his mind was filled with thoughts of power and prestige. "Not if it makes me say things like what you just said."
"The plant'll be here," said Heather, "so you three don't need to make up your minds right now. But for all any of us knows, it could wither and die tomorrow. I know I'm going to make the most of what it's given me; be a shame if you couldn't do the same," she said, letting her eyes rest on Rachel. "And Paul, I won't forget what you did for me, earlier. My door's always open for you. Come in anytime, and join us in our radiant splendor . . ."