Brutal Youth (46 page)

Michael Crawford—Compulsive masturbator, with a fetish for chubby girls and …

Audra read the whole thing, her jaw clenching.

“You’re supposed to glance at it, not read it!” screamed Prager. Everyone began jeering at Audra, and Bilbo snatched the binder out of her hands long enough to read the first few lines about her before she yanked it back from him. “It’s the real deal,” he confirmed.

Audra fast-walked to her convertible and tossed Hannah’s notorious notebook into the trunk, slamming the lid with a thunderclap. “No one reads it. Not anymore. I’m taking it to the picnic. And we’ll all destroy it together—agreed?”

Everybody looked at everybody else. There didn’t seem to be a better plan.

The black garbage bag the pages had been wrapped in drifted along the street.

Audra signaled to her boyfriend. “Get the fuck off of her, Michael.”

Hannah crawled out from under him, eyes glowing. “You’re a whore,” Audra said to her. “You know that?”

“Yeah,” Hannah said. “I know.”

The other students were scattering, wandering away from Hannah’s Jeep, leaving the doors open and the spare tire rolling toward the curb, where it bumped and fell on its side.

“I’m going to the picnic anyway,” Hannah said, though no one was really listening to her.

“Go ahead,” Amy told her. “But if you go back into your house, you should know LeRose and some of the guys are staying behind to slash your tires. No copies for you, Hannah. You’ve lost.”

Most of the cars were pulling away now, and as Mortinelli drove off, LeRose’s shiny Mustang pulled in behind Hannah’s Jeep, preventing any retreat back into her garage. Mullen and Simms volunteered to stay behind, too, and pulled in beside him.

Hannah gathered up her scattered belongings, tossing them back into the Jeep. She rolled her spare tire back and struggled for a while to hoist it back onto its tailgate pegs. LeRose and Mullen and Simms just watched.

When it was all put back together again—minus the notebook—Hannah gunned the engine of her Jeep. The fight was over.

Hannah drove forward. And her watchmen followed.

FORTY-SIX

Davidek rode silently in the seat beside his father, the minivan coursing down the unlined road like a strip of rainwater curving down a plane of glass. They were weaving through the shaded green woods of Harrison Hills Park, where the annual Hazing Picnic had been held since forever.

The minivan emerged from the trees along a field of shaggy grass freckled with dandelions, where some sophomore guys were drawing lines for football with a chalk spreader. Blue and red balloons struggled to escape from every post of the big wooden pavilion. Senior girls were taping down the corners on a dozen wooden picnic tables draped in white paper, and arranging a big potluck buffet.

Adjacent to the pavilion was a wooden stage, with an arch along the back hanging a thick black curtain. All students who spent their freshman year at St. Mike’s knew that stage as the place they once stood to make a public ass out of themselves. A few remembered it with good humor; some tried not to remember it at all. Everyone, sooner or later, showed up to see it happen to someone else.

The Davideks parked on the grass at the end of the road along the edge of a big looping turnaround. There were more trees growing along the bank high above the river, and Davidek’s father walked over to look down into the canyon below.

“Don’t fall in!” a voice called out to them.

Davidek wheeled around into the wide, flat grin of the stranger he knew as The Big Texan—the man who had convinced his parents that St. Mike’s High School was a good place for them to send their son. The man loomed over him, teeth gleaming, and stuck out a meaty hand. The Big Texan looked like someone awaiting praise for a good deed. “How’s my second-favorite student? Good to see you, buddy boy.”

“I’m good, sir,” Davidek said, shaking the man’s hand.
Second-favorite?

Davidek’s father came up and stood beside his son. The Big Texan’s smile stretched wider. He said to the boy, “Did your dad ever tell you what it was like on our Hazing Day? Hell, it
rained.
” He let the last word trail on, as if it still pained him. “We had a good time anyway.… Well, maybe not your dad. I guess that day
would
be a better memory for a senior than a freshman—no offense.”

Davidek’s mind began putting together pieces. “
You
were … my dad’s senior?”

The Big Texan shook the boy’s shoulder. “I was
not,
” he laughed. “And good thing, too! My buddy, Lester Branshock, had your dad, but they didn’t get along. No, sir. Cats and dogs! Your dad was a fighter!” The Big Texan put up his dukes, jabbed at the air, then laughed again. Davidek’s father didn’t.

“We were all just boys back then,” he said. The Big Texan nodded, as if this grieved him terribly. “Yes, we were,” he said, and patted Bill Davidek’s shoulder. “Good of you to come, Billy. On the phone I didn’t think you would.”

Then, winking at the boy, the Big Texan said, “Carl should be here any second. He’s taking care of that problem you helped him with.”

Davidek thought:
Carl?
And his father pushed in the last piece of the puzzle for him. “Pete, what problem is Mr. LeRose talking about?”

“Just this troubled girl your boy unfortunately got for his senior,” The Big Texan said, giving Davidek’s father the lowdown on Hannah. Davidek watched them talk, and thought of LeRose lying bloody out in the parking lot, and how he had just run out to save him because he hoped someone would do the same for him. And that good deed was why the fallen boy’s father had come to their house, pressuring the now-grown freshman he and his pals once bullied to send his son to the same school.

And Davidek’s father had given in.

Davidek’s old man finally taught him something worth knowing: The things we surrender to when we’re young, we keep surrendering to the rest of our lives.

*   *   *

Just then, a procession of vehicles announced by the fanfare of honking horns and cheers emerged from the woods of Harrison Hills, led by Audra Banes’s white convertible and followed by a stream of other cars that had ambushed Hannah Kraut just an hour earlier. Students hung from the windows, cheering as the vehicles roared up onto the grass.

A group of sophomores looked up from where they had been stoking a blaze in a stone fire pit just outside the pavilion. The campfire crackled with a demonic orange glow, and the long branches they had dragged from the woods were sticking out of the blaze, which was slowly gnawing them down. Everyone at the picnic turned toward the caravan of newly arrived cars.

Audra hopped from her convertible and opened the trunk, raising the stack of bound paper in the air like the severed head of an enemy barbarian. The mob of admirers followed her as she walked past Davidek, on her way to the bonfire. “I’ve got it!” she assured everyone. “It’s over.”

Davidek closed his eyes. Audra spotted him out on the other side of the fire as she held the notebook over her head. “Oh, hi, Peter,” she said. “Thanks, by the way. It all worked out!”

With that, she tossed the binder into the blaze, sending up a column of sparks. Davidek could read just a few words in the center of the page: “Michael Crawford: Compulsive masturbator…” before it blackened and the binder folded in on itself. Everyone applauded.

In the distance, Hannah’s Jeep was emerging from the woods, followed by LeRose’s Mustang, and Mullen and Simms in the Pea Green Love Machine.

When Hannah parked, she walked stiffly toward the swing sets, where she rocked back and forth, her shoes brushing the dust.

Davidek knew then that it was true. He wanted to go talk to her, but all the people he wanted revenge against were crowding around to congratulate him.

*   *   *

Ms. Bromine stood with Father Mercedes by the potluck spread, watching the growing crowd of picnic-goers. “Honestly,” she said with a mouthful of taco, “it speaks well for our students that they rose up and stopped her themselves. You should tell that to the parish council.”

Father Mercedes grunted. He was watching the Parish Monitors wander the park grounds aimlessly. He was disappointed they wouldn’t get to hear what Hannah had collected. Disappointed
he
wouldn’t hear it, too. “I don’t see anything positive in students acting like vigilantes,” he said. “I’m sure the Monitors will make note of that as simply more evidence of the lawlessness here.” At least, he hoped so.

Ms. Bromine munched her taco. Sometimes she didn’t understand the priest.
Honestly, I wonder whose side you’re on, Father
. She thought about saying, but didn’t.

Mercedes had shifted his gaze to Mr. Zimmer, who was directing the students who were laying chalk lines in the field for the football game. “Have you ever heard stories about a teacher at this school having inappropriate contact with a student?”

A speck of taco fell out of Ms. Bromine’s mouth. She thought about Noah Stein’s humiliating kiss last year, but decided that might not be what the priest was talking about. Anyway, Stein was gone for good now. “It draws a lot of TV cameras, doesn’t it?” Father Mercedes asked.

“Things like that … well…” She didn’t finish the sentence.

Two of the senior boys tossing the football out near Mr. Zimmer had removed their shirts, and beads of sweat glistened on their chests. Ms. Bromine avoided even glancing at them.

*   *   *

Over by the stage, Davidek saw Green talking with some of the boys who had installed the sound equipment. Green was opening a guitar case for them, and they stood back admiring as he held out the instrument.

“Yeah, Bilbo said I could play a couple songs for my part in the talent show,” Green was telling them. “I’ve always wanted to play in front of people. But I’m a little nervous.” He placed the strap around his neck and started strumming. Davidek couldn’t hear it very well, but the boys with the sound equipment were bobbing their heads.

The crowd at the picnic wasn’t just St. Mike’s students, but parents, almost all the teachers, and a lot of kids from other schools who came just to hang with their St. Mike’s friends. Davidek saw his dad talking with some older guys who were wearing matching T-shirts saying:
ARCHANGEL ALUMNI.
There were a lot of those shirts around. And lots of Parish Monitors, too, looking glum as they patrolled the park grounds, writing in their notepads.

After lunch, the first event was the Freshmen–Senior football game. Mr. Zimmer and Mr. Mankowski were referees, but the whole game was a fraud designed to let the seniors trample the underclassmen while breaking as many rules as possible. Davidek spent most of the game trying to avoid being near Green.

When the game ended, the freshmen were defeated, 224 to nothing.

*   *   *

Lorelei watched the game play out while sitting alone at the pavilion, nursing a piece of cake that was too big for her to finish.

On the other end of her picnic table sat another girl from her class, chewing on some gummy bears. Lorelei didn’t know her well, but lately she noticed the outcasts more. Now that she wasn’t one of them anymore.

The other lonely girl said something, and Lorelei asked, “Sorry, what?”

Seven-Eighths cleared her throat politely. “I said, what is your senior making you do? For the talent show?”

Lorelei shook her head. “I don’t think anything.” If Mullen and Simms even tried, Lorelei now had enough friends to force
those
two losers out onto the stage instead.

Seven-Eighths was impressed. “I had a senior, but she hasn’t really bothered with me since the start of the year.… It feels weird to feel
bad
that no one is picking on me.”

“Lucky you,” Lorelei said.

“Lucky us,” Seven-Eighths replied.

*   *   *

Finally, the moment they all were waiting for …

Audra Banes walked to the microphone and raised her arms in the air to the not-so-adoring faces at the foot of the stage, who were whistling and applauding weakly. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “We now begin an eight-decade tradition. The long-awaited … and much-dreaded…”

There were some heavy
ooh
s from the audience.

“… St. Mike’s freshman
Talentless
Show!”

A few people chuckled and Audra said, “Oops! I meant
Talent
Show!”

The first act was her own: The freshmen of her friends Allissa, Sandra, and Amy came out crooning “My Guy” to moonfaced Justin Teemo, dressed like super-nerd Alfalfa from the Little Rascals, complete with a cowlick standing up in back. After that came a group of guys in Hawaiian grass skirts, shaking their big balloon boobs to some island drum music. One of the guys was Smitty, who peeled off his shirt and flexed his considerable muscles for the crowd. Sister Maria—all too aware of the Monitors’ notetaking—came over to Audra and whispered, “Please, it’s not a strip show,” and Audra went out and told Smitty to pull the shirt back on.

The show went on for about an hour. Most of it was pretty lame. One group of seniors made their freshmen run around, trying to catch tossed Skittles in their mouths. (The crowd booed.) Mary Grough dressed Zari as a homeless person and wouldn’t let her change until she’d begged one full dollar in pennies from the crowd. (The rest of the show went on, in the meantime.)

Near the end, Hannah brushed by Davidek and said, “We’re coming up soon on the schedule … get ready.”

Davidek said, “What are you talking about?” But she was gone, weaving through the crowd toward Smitty, who by then was back in the audience, but was still wearing his grass skirt and straw hat.

Hannah whispered something in his ear, and Smitty argued briefly—then grudgingly followed her. Davidek moved to the edge of the crowd for a better view, and he wasn’t alone. More eyes were watching Hannah than the stage.

Hannah reached inside her Jeep and pulled a lever that made the hood of the vehicle cough open. Smitty stood beside her, hanging his head, while Hannah reached under the hood and pulled loose a package strapped to the underside with an orange extension cord.