Hero–Type (26 page)

"Shouldn't we all do the same?"

He pauses here for a moment. Just a moment. And then: "The last thing I want to say to you today is this: These debates are great. They're part of a tradition of American free speech. But we're done, and that's fine. We're finished. Both sides have—Well, in a minute or two, after Kevin speaks, both sides will have had their say. So let it rest there, South Brook. Thank you."

There's wild applause for John Riordon, All-State Stud and Suppressor of Free Speech.

The Doc thanks John. Says it's my turn.

The world swims in my vision. I feel faint. I can't remember what I was going to say.

I look down at my notes.

"Uh, Kevin?" The Doc clears his throat. "It's
your
turn."

Riordon. He just
had
to talk about his father again, didn't he?

"J
OHN'S TALKING ABOUT THE
P
LEDGE
and ribbons and flag burning. I'm not. I'm talking about the big picture. About liberty and free speech. And you know what? Compared to those things, who cares about a pledge or a ribbon or a flag? They're nice symbols, but they're just
things.

"I'll take a second to answer that last question of yours, John. I
do
support the troops.

"But not with ribbons. A ribbon is meaningless. The ribbons are for
us,
not for them. Support is
action.
It's too easy to put a ribbon on a car and then forget about it. You know, I said the other day that during World War II, people made sacrifices to support the war effort. These days, we're not asked to sacrifice anything. They just tell us to shut up instead.

"Supporting the troops isn't just a slogan. Jeez. It's
doing
things. Sending care packages. Donating money and blood. Maybe instead of all those American flag pins people wear, they should wear pins with two numbers instead: the amount of money they've donated and the number of pints of blood they've given.

"So here's what I'll do, what I've
done:
I'm giving what's left of my reward money to a veterans' group, so maybe the guys coming home can have some decent health care for a change.

"Which brings me to ... I'm glad John talked about his dad. Because I'd like to talk about mine.

"If you read the
Loco
last week, you might have seen my dad mentioned in the paper. The story said he was a traitor to his country. That wasn't true.

"Like John's dad, mine joined the army right out of high school. But that's where the similarity ends. Because John's dad went to Alaska and mine was shipped out overseas, serving in a front-line infantry combat unit.

"While he was over there, my dad got some medals. I bet John's dad got some, too. The army gives out a lot of medals. But two of my dad's were special. One was the Purple Heart. You only get that if you're wounded or killed in action. A lot of guys get them because a lot of people get hurt. My dad was hit by shrapnel from a roadside bomb. He was pretty messed up. To this day, he's not ... he's not totally better. No one at any of the VA hospitals can figure out what's...

"Funny thing, though. While my dad was recuperating in the hospital, some cook dropped the wrong spatula or something. Started a fire. The whole kitchen went up in flames. My dad was in the mess hall at the time, and even though he was still recovering, he ran into the fire twice to pull soldiers out.

"For that, they gave him something called the Soldier's Medal of Valor.
Not
a lot of people get that one. It was a big deal. They called him a hero. They wrote him up in
Stars & Stripes.

"I didn't know any of this. Unlike John's dad, mine doesn't talk about the army all that much. I had to find out why from my mom.

"See, it turns out that some guys in my dad's unit were killed in what's called 'friendly fire.' Which means that other Americans did it by accident. Only the army was pretending it didn't happen that way. They were telling everyone that it was enemy fire. And my dad knew that that wasn't right, that the families of those dead soldiers deserved to know the truth. So he went through channels and he tried to get the army to tell the truth, but they just kept telling him to butt out and do his job like a good soldier.

"So my dad got fed up and he went to a reporter who was embedded with a nearby unit and he told him the truth. And the army said my dad had given away military secrets, like where the deaths happened and things like that. Things that they claimed could help the enemy. So they kicked him out of the army."

I stop for a second. My throat is raw. I thought I would feel bad saying all of this, like I betrayed Dad or something, but instead ... instead I feel good.

"So my dad didn't teach me the same lessons that John's dad did. My dad never talked about any of this, so I had to learn from him by watching and just trying to figure it out on my own. Just like
he
had to figure it out on his own, out there in the desert.

"And this is what I've figured out: Yes, John, we've always had the freedom to shut up, but here's the thing—America was founded by a bunch of loudmouths. They started complaining and they didn't shut up until they won.

"You can love your country
and
still want it to improve. It's like loving someone who smokes. You tell them to quit—you
want
them to quit—because you don't want them to die of lung cancer. So you badger them and you criticize their choices, but you still love them more than anything in the world.

"I look at the Constitution ... I look at it and I see ... Look at it this way: There are people who want amendments to ban flag burning or gay marriage or whatever, but look at the Bill of Rights—it's about the rights we
have,
not the rights we
lose.
The Constitution doesn't exist to restrict freedom—it exists to
expand
it."

I can't stop myself now. I'm going to do it.

"So you can be as slick as you want. You can have fancy computer stuff and be better-spoken than me and better-looking and all of that, but none of that changes one simple thing. None of that changes the words 'Congress shall make no law.' No matter how much you try, you just can't change those words.

"Just because John is slicker doesn't mean he's right. I know I'm not polished, but that shouldn't matter. You can't change those words. They're still the same, whether it's John speaking them or me.

"So, you know what, John? I'm tempted ... If you
really
don't have anything new or original to say, I'm tempted to give you your own advice from the other day and tell
you
to just shut the hell up."

I look out at the audience. It's totally silent. I run the last foot of the marathon.

"Instead, I'll just say: Keep talking. I support your right to do it, and besides, you're just digging your own grave."

What happens next isn't quite a Hollywood ending, but I guess I'll take it.

It starts with a raucous catcall that I recognize as Tit. Followed by a piercing whistle the likes of which only Flip can produce. And then applause from different spots all over the auditorium.

Flip spread out the Council. To make it sound like there's more people applauding than just a concentrated section.

And it works. Because some other people join in. Not a lot. Not even anything approaching a majority.

It's a minority. But a
loud
minority.

Not bad. We can start with that.

B
ACKSTAGE
, I
CAN STILL HEAR THE CROWD GOING NUTS
. Both sides are going at it now, trying to outdo each other. It takes the teachers a good ten minutes to calm everyone down enough to collect the ballots.

The Doc is furious. John's pissed, too.

"Kevin," the Doc says, barely controlling himself, "your job at the end was to calm them down, not get them all excited again."

"Yeah!" John says, sounding like a pathetic child.

I don't rise to the bait. "Look, Dr. Goethe. You can't do this once and expect it to let off all the steam. You need to do it all the time. You should make these things a regular occurrence or something. That's how safety valves work. You don't just use them once and then forget about them."

"I'm disappointed, Kevin."

"I'll be happy to talk about this issue any time, any place," I say.

"We're
not
doing this again, Kevin. Your Clarence Darrow days are over."

"Yeah," John chimes in. "This was supposed to be it."

"Do you only stand up for what you believe in when you have permission?" I ask him. I don't know who Clarence Darrow is, but you can bet your ass I'm going to find out.

If the Doc wasn't standing right here, I think Riordon would drag me down to the ground and stomp me into paste right there.

Mrs. Sawyer comes back. "Voting's done," she says.

The Doc has us join him back on stage to read the results. I don't know why he's even bothering. There's no way in hell this crowd gave me the victory.

"The votes are: six hundred and thirty-eight to John Riordon, four hundred and twenty-seven to Kevin Ross."

John's side goes nuts. I can hear boos from
my
side, and there are more of them than I'd ever dared hope for.

Wow—638 to 427. I thought he would blow me out of the water. I thought it would be a total landslide.

As the teachers start to wrangle kids and get them out of the auditorium and off to second period, I turn to John and grin. "Remember: any time, any place."

I
SHOULD BE FLYING HIGH
. I should be insane with triumph. But I'm not. I don't get it. I still feel like the same old loser I've always been.

It's one in the morning and I'm at SAMMPark, waiting for the rest of the Council to show up. Flip said to meet near the statue right inside the park entrance, so that's where I'm standing.

The Council shows up after a couple of minutes. Flip gets to me first and surprises me with a hug.

"Tough loss, man," says Tit.

I break away from Flip. "Was he that much better than me?"

"Nah," Tit says, throwing an arm around my shoulder. "People are just idiots. They vote for the guy they'd want to have a beer with instead of the guy who knows what he's talking about."

Flip adds, "The good news is, people don't outgrow it. Adults are just as stupid."

"How is that good news?"

Flip shrugs. "It's all Foolish, baby. It's all Foolish."

"Yeah, well ... I don't know, guys. I think I prefer things quiet. It's been ... It's been kinda chaotic, you know?"

Flip laughs. "The world is
dominated
by chaos. Except for the human race, which tries to impose order everywhere it goes. Despite the evidence around us—soil erosion, climate change, statistical variances in the gene pool—we still try to make nature walk in a straight line when it would rather zigzag." He sighs. He's on a roll.

He turns to the Council. "Sounds like Foolish behavior to me, boys. I hereby nominate the human race for membership in the Council of Fools!" He raises both arms and shouts to the sky. "Humanity! Join us! Join your masters! All opposed, say 'Nay'!"

And then nothing but silence and Flip's panting as he strains, listening.

"There are no dissenting votes!" he cries. "I hereby admit humanity to the Council of Fools!" He punches the air in triumph. "Dude," he says, grinning, "I just upped our membership by six billion. Not bad, huh?"

I look around. "Where's Fam?"

If he's disappointed that I didn't join him in his revelry, he doesn't show it. He just holds up his cell. "Standing lookout, in case the cops come by and try to interrupt."

"Interrupt what?"

He just snaps his fingers. The guys rush out of the park, then come back. Speedo and Jedi have Officer Sexpot, who's tastefully decked out in some barely there bondage gear. Tit is carrying another set of similar clothing.

"The plan, dear Kross, is sublime in its perfection. Designed to drive a stake through the heart of that which is held most sacred in this shitty little town. If you thought people were in an uproar over the ribbons and the Pledge of Allegiance and that shit, just wait until they see what we do..." He pauses and grins a wicked grin, as if he wished that a drum-roll would start up right now. "To Susan Ann Marchetti!" He points to the statue and steps back.

"Boys, you know what to do!" Flip grabs my arm and pulls me back to watch with him as the Council guys close in on the statue and start to climb up the pedestal.

"What ... What are they doing?" I ask, but even as I ask it, I realize—the statue is lifesize. The same size as Officer Sexpot.

"Oh, the torment!" Flip mock-moans. "Oh, the weeping, the wailing, the gnashing of teeth that will ensue in fair Brookdale when it's revealed that the town's patron saint and perfect little girl is actually a lesbian bondage fetishist locked in a classic sixty-nine with an officer of the law!"