Average Joe and the Extraordinaires

  He spotted Mod sitting with only a few of his friends at their usual spot. He wanted to make sure that Mod was doing okay, and to also gauge the temperature of Kate.

  Joe: “Hey, Mod!”

  Mod: “Wow, Joe! You can talk? I can’t believe it! It must be a miracle, because I could’ve sworn this whole time that your vocal cords were stolen by the government or aliens or Australians.”

  Joe: “Very funny, Mod. You know I would’ve called if I could.”

  Joe took a seat across from Mod and was again treated to the stares, whispers, and giggles of those around him.

  Mod: “Well then, why didn’t you? It’s been almost two weeks since the stadium and they proved your innocence almost a week ago. Why am I just now talking to you?”

  A lot had happened between sitting on Borland’s couch and now. Not only did Joe have to stay in Borland’s protection for a few days after the incident at Pierogi’s Place, but he also had to wait for the police to clear him. Once he was finally cleared to go home, the media whipped into a frenzy and his parents decided that it would be better if they all stayed in. But Joe had seemingly shut down and he still wasn’t sure why.

  Joe: “I’m sorry. It’s just … you know … I needed time. I still need time to deal with everything that happened.”

  Mod: “And that’s just it, nobody knows what happened. None of us know what you saw or why you stayed.”

  Joe: “And I can’t tell you for good reasons.”

  Mod: “That bad huh?”

  Joe: “Yeah…”

  Mod: “I’m fine with that. Not too sure about Kate though.”

  Joe: “You and me both. But I’m telling you, the less you and her know, the safer you’ll be.”

  Mod: “I wish I was there with you. Whatever happened, you shouldn’t have faced it alone.”

  Joe: “It’s okay, Mod. I wasn’t alone. Just hearing you say that though makes me feel a lot better. I’m just glad you two got out safely.”

  Mod nodded.

  Joe: “I’m going to lay low until this all blows over. As you can see, I’m a little too popular today.”

  Mod grinned.

  Mod: “You can never be too popular.”

  Joe: “I don’t like the spotlight as much as you do. For now I’ll let you enjoy your food, free of stares.”

  Mod: “Psshaw, you kidding me? I’ve never been gawked at by so many hot babes before in my life. Stay! Heck, I might even get a phone number out of this.”

  Joe laughed.

  Joe: “You’ll never change, Mod, I swear.”

  Mod: “Change? Why do that? When life gives you lemons, eh…”

  Joe: “Yeah…”

  They talked for a while about Mod’s girl troubles, until they were interrupted. Fleez and Dozz had pushed themselves into the table the boys were sitting at, each on either side of Mod. One of Mod’s friends ended up being pushed from the end of the bench when Fleez and Dozz sat down. His lunch fell to the floor with him.

  Fleez: “I just came over here to continue our conversation from earlier, Josephus. It didn’t exactly end on the right footing. For one, you didn’t let me explain my terms.”

  Mod looked extremely uncomfortable between the two boys. Joe had only now noticed how big they both were. Both Fleez and Dozz were over six foot, but Fleez was a lot bulkier. He was now wearing a green tank-top, and Joe took note of how chiseled and large his biceps were. With that in mind, he had no idea why he was going to say what he was about to say.

  Joe: “My answer is still no. I have a lot on my mind right now.”

  Dozz: “He’s definitely got balls, Fleez.”

  Fleez: “Well, he wouldn’t be the badass we know he is without ‘em. Now listen, Joe, the truth of the matter is you don’t have much of a choice here. Wait—no, that ain’t right. You have a lot of choices, but they aren’t the ones you think you have. We have choices too. We could just make you join us and easily establish our own badassery that way, but you’d probably just let us, and that’s no fun. It wouldn’t get us anywhere either. So me and Dozz here—whoops—sorry, Dozz and I, will instead make a friend of your friend. Yeah, this little guy here.”

  Fleez patted Mod on the shoulder and Dozz gave him a few rough slaps on his back.

  Fleez: “He’ll be our little ‘friend’ for the rest of his high school life, or until you come to your senses.”

  Dozz: “I’ve always wanted a little red-headed brother. What color do you think his hair would turn if we burned it?”

  Fleez: “Good question, Dozz! We should find out, you know how the principal’s always going on about academic curiosity and whatnot.”

  They both got up laughing. Mod looked mortified, especially after Dozz gave his shoulder another tap.

  Fleez: “Here’s a little demo, Josephus.”

  Fleez took out a mason jar from a brown paper bag that he had. He unscrewed the lid and produced a wad of something that filled the air with a horrid and bitter odor. Dozz followed suit. Loudly and in tandem they proclaimed:

  “Welcome, everyone, to pukeball, everyone’s favorite wacky, wretched, and whacked out event. We are your hosts.”

  Fleez: “Fleez!”

  Dozz: “And Dozz!”

  Fleez: “Today’s guest is Mod, which is short for…”

  Dozz: “Mod—er, or maybe Modicum, as in modicum of girls that like him, modicum of athletic talent, modicum of coolness—”

  Fleez: “Or maybe just words that he’ll never hear from a girl ever. Haha, get it Dozz, get it? Cuz when you break it down, it sounds like Mod-I-oh never-mind!”

  The kids at the other tables ate up the act and howled with laughter throughout. An adult had walked up to Fleez and Dozz. It was Mr. Serano the math teacher. He typically monitored the lunchroom during Joe’s lunch period. Kids usually despised when he approached their table, but Joe welcomed it today. Finally, an end to this craziness, Joe thought.

  Mr. Serano: “Keep it down, you two.”

  Fleez: “Aww man. You’re gonna stop pukeball?”

  Mr. Serano: “Did I say that? I said keep it down.”

  Mr. Serano looked at Joe and walked back to the front of the lunchroom, where he sat. Fleez smiled a nasty smile and pumped his fist. Joe was speechless, so was Mod.

  Fleez: “Now, Dozz, let’s continue.”

  He and Dozz held up the nasty wads in their hands for all to see.

  Dozz: “Behold exhibit A, the fabled pukeball. It slithers with life in my hand. It wants … it wants to splat … real good.”

  Fleez: “Without further ado, here’s the main event!”

  With that they chucked the foul-smelling wads at Mod, which splattered gross grayish-green muck all over him. Everyone sitting at the table, including Joe, shuffled away from the havoc. Fleez and Dozz threw the wads with such force that Mod stumbled to the ground after one caught him as he tried to dodge.

  They were more vicious with the second round, and decided to coat his face with the stuff. Joe was forced to watch in horror as his friend suffered. When it finally did end, Mod was standing and covered from head to toe with muck. He kept his hands in front of his face in case they weren’t finished. Joe decided then that he’d grab him and get the heck out of Dodge. He walked two steps before he saw Kate and stopped in his tracks. She grabbed up Mod, her eyes never leaving him, and whispered something to him, most likely to console him. Joe couldn’t tell what she was saying over all the laughter. They were gone in a heartbeat.

  Dozz: “Fear not, serfs. All you innocent casualties can rest knowing that no real puke was used in this spectacle, only mustard, vinegar, old mayonnaise, pickle juice, and shame.”

  Fleez looked at Joe, grinning while Dozz continued.

  Dozz: “Don’t miss our next show. We’re here all day, folks.”

  Chapter 17

  The Price of Popularity

  Joe couldn’t stomach being at school any longer. It was just a bad day for it. He decided to leave once he heard that Mod went home right
after the lunchroom incident, which neither Fleez nor Dozz got in trouble for. It had caused a stir by the lunchroom doors after Mod was escorted out. A few teachers were huddled outside the doors, talking, and Joe even glimpsed Principal Patrias standing amidst them. As he walked past he heard Mr. Serano say, “Kids will be kids,” and both he and Patrias had looked at Joe.

  Once Joe got past the gaggle of faculty members, no one tried to stop his early exit. Joe had a feeling that none of his teachers wanted him there anyway. On his way to his car he saw the girl from before with the red hair again, and that made him miss Kate. She had been so heroic earlier, helping her brother like that. Joe had no idea how she had even known her brother was in trouble. It wasn’t her lunch period, and Joe knew she had a class at that time. He figured someone must’ve texted her.

  He sailed through the streets and enjoyed the pleasant air. The day wasn’t as hot as it normally was of late. He rounded the corner from Gator Street into his own neighborhood. He drove a few blocks down from his own house to the house of the Malingtons. The driveway was opened, but Joe parked on the street. Mr. and Mrs. Malington must still be at work, he thought. He walked up the steps to the door and knocked on the outside screen door. There was no answer. He knocked again and still no answer. He went to the side door and knocked, but there was still nothing. He took a peak into Mod’s window and saw that he wasn’t in his room.

  If he’s not here, then where is he? he thought. But he knew where Mod was, truthfully. There could be only one place, well maybe two places, but of the two he knew which one Mod would pick today.

  He dashed to his car and drove off in pursuit of his friend. He took Gator Street down two miles and turned on Crownwell Drive. Down Crownwell he found another street called Gains and took that down for a few blocks until he got to Sapton Street. The clock tower was on the corner and it was a joy to look upon. It rose high, at about seventy feet, and had a dark blue rooftop. The bricks themselves were a sort of light blue as well, so light they almost appeared white.

  Joe parked his car in the alley and walked into the clock tower through the back door. Inside, it was cooler than out, and much quieter. He wasted no time and walked to the staircase. The inside of the tower had an old-time feel. It felt like you were transported to the past when you looked at the bricks, the metalwork, the furniture, and even the kitchen appliances. The staircase itself was made of old black iron, from the stairs to the rails. Joe climbed, dreading every step. He knew that once he reached the top his legs would start to burn. It was a tall climb, but Joe didn’t fear it. Despite being very old, this tower's staircase was very sturdy. The old iron was nothing if not strong. At the halfway point Joe looked upwards to see if someone was here, but he didn’t need to see any signs to know that someone was.

  At the top Joe’s prediction came true. To his displeasure, his thighs ached from the climb. It had been a while since he had done it and that was coming back to haunt him. He looked around for a bit and decided to ascend even higher. He climbed more stairs to the platform that led to the low ledge that he had to climb to get to the open window near the western clock-face. Sitting here was Mod. He looked out into the rest of Orangetown, his red hair catching the breeze. He looked sad. Joe was used to the boy being so animated, but now he was quiet and still. He seemed to not even notice Joe. His ukulele sat lifeless in his lap. Joe knocked softly on the brick.

  Mod: “Come in.”

  Joe laughed. It was strange to think of the clock tower as someone’s home, but in a weird way it was kind of like a second home to him and Mod and Kate.

  Joe: “Wow, you brought that thing back out! You used to always play this to cheer me and Kate up.”

  Mod smiled and played a whimsical melody that eventually turned into a sound that Joe was very familiar with, just not on ukulele. Joe started giggling uncontrollably. He waited for Mod to break in with his lyrics. Mod did not disappoint.

  Mod: “Gotta keep it classy. Don’t wanna be ashy. Makin’ it rain at the club. Ladies showin’ a brotha love. It feels good to be a G. Livin’ high like only me. I show love to my crew. But that I think you knew. Big Mo up in ya ear. Tellin’ you what you need to hear. I don’t bow down and play like a pranksta’. Because this G is a certified gansta’!”

  Joe laughed uncontrollably. It had been a while since he heard Mod recite those lyrics.

  Joe: “Haha, man, I’m surprised you remembered that old rap.”

  Mod: “Of course I do. That was my first real shot at fame. Do you still remember your part?”

  Joe: “No not really.”

  Mod: “Psshaw, liar. I can tell that you do.”

  Mod started playing the tune again on his ukulele. Joe smiled.

  Joe: “I’m not your average Joe, cuz I’m a real cool bro. I came here to stop the show, give you peeps that old school flow. I ain’t just a show stopper, I’m also a body rocker. I don’t stop … believin’ and achievin’ at the next level because I’m history’s number one rebel! Lil’ Joe is on the mic, and when I spit it’s always tight. Doin’ it the way that’s right, I’m so cool it’s outta sight!”

  Mod and Joe: “Oooooh! Oooooooh!”

  Mod: “That’s hot fire.”

  He touched Joe’s shirt and made a hissing sound and quickly removed his hand as if he’d been burned. They both started laughing uncontrollably. Joe’s stomach and face started hurting after a while from all the laughing.

  Joe: “Stop, stop! I can’t take it anymore! You’re killing me here, man! We can't ever rap those horrible lyrics again as long as we’re alive on this earth. We need to make a pact.”

  Mod: “Pact schmact! You do that, I'm good. You know, when I rapped on stage like that, with you right beside me, it was one of the best moments of my life. I worked on the lyrics for that song for weeks. I had to get ‘em just right.”

  Joe: “I remember that the whole school loved it, except for the older teachers. We almost got in trouble for the lyrics, remember?”

  Mod: “Yeah, even though we watered them down like crazy. Stupid teachers never recognize genius when it’s in front of them.”

  Joe was glad that Mod’s sullen mood had lifted. He wanted Mod to stay in high spirits but felt that he did need to address the earlier situation. After a lull in the laughs, Joe found his moment.

  Joe: “So…”

  Mod beat him to the punch.

  Mod: “So you made Dozz and Fleez’s target list. How’d you manage that?”

  Joe: “Mod — I’m sorry man! That got way out of hand. I have no idea why they took it that far and why they took it out on you. It should’ve been me instead of you. I went to help you too, but Kate was already there so fast. I’d take it all back if I could.”

  Mod smiled and laid his ukulele on his lap. He looked out at the town sprawled down below him. Joe looked too and noticed how empty everything looked today. The people and cars were sparse today, but that made the bright blue sky above even more striking as it met with tiny skyward buildings in the distance.

  Mod: “It’s alright, man, seriously. My reputation took a hit … well, not really since I don’t even have one. But — you know, this is good.”

  Joe: “I fail to understand how.”

  Mod: “Well, Joe, you’re heavy-handed friends have actually done me a little favor.”

  Joe: “I still don’t see how.”

  Mod: “I’ll tell you. Before today you could ask most people in the halls what my name was and not one would know it.”

  Joe: “That’s not true.”

  Mod: “Psshaw. Only you, Kate, and a handful of others know who I am.”

  Joe: “And that’s not a bad thing.”

  Mod: “Not for you maybe. You have a girlfriend and now you’re famous. I don’t have any of that.”

  Joe: “You’re only in ninth grade. You have plenty of time to get a girl and a little popularity.”

  Mod: “I need that now! I don’t want to be a nobody forever. Or stay here stuck in this town. I want my r
enown, as the heroes of yore called it, to be high. I have a shot now. Thanks to Fleez and Dozz the whole school will be talking about today’s lunchroom circus and me by proxy.”

  Joe: “But they’ll be talking about how you were humiliated.”

  Mod: “The point being that they’re talking about me. All publicity is good publicity, Joe. They know how I look. Now we just have to get them to remember my name.”

  Joe: “They said that they won’t stop. They’re going to humiliate you every day unless I do something.”

  Mod: “Like what?”

  Joe: “I don’t know.”

  There was a silence between them that lasted a while.

  Mod: “I’ll be ready for whatever they throw at me, and don’t worry, I have a plan.”

  Mod smiled and that somehow made Joe uneasy. He wasn’t sure if Mod was being honest and he honestly needed to think of something to get the bullies off of Mod’s case. He nodded his head anyway.

  Joe: “Is Kate here with you?”

  Joe felt the need to whisper those words.

  Mod: “No. I had her drop me off here and she went back to school, saying something about a test.”

  Joe was almost relieved. He still had no idea what to say when he saw her, but he did want to see her. He and Mod hung out at the clock tower for the better part of the day, laughing and reminiscing about the past.

  Chapter 18

  Old Faces

  It was nearing night by the time Joe dropped Mod off. He didn’t see Kate’s car in the driveway so he opted to go straight home instead of stopping in. The drive home was quiet and would have been peaceful if not for Joe’s own nagging thoughts. He parked his car near the curb in front of his house and walked up the sidewalk to his front door. He fumbled around in his pockets for his keys and thought he’d lost them until he remembered he’d had them in his hand the whole time.

  Joe: “I’m such a dummy!”

  His parents must’ve left the air conditioning turned on, because it was much colder inside the house than out. Tonight was their dance night and Joe knew that they’d be learning some foreign dances, but didn’t know which ones.