The Long Run (42 page)

We play softball and baseball and soccer. And we get to go to the Ferryland Garden Party, which is always great fun. We build forts and go mountain climbing and hiking and fishing. And we swim in the ponds nearby. And every now and then, on a bet or a dare, someone swims in the freezing ocean. And we borrow the cadet boat, an oversized dory, and row outside the bay and catch tom cods and flat fish and even sculpins. It's always such fun. Last year we built a sail and sailed the dory around the bay for hours. Oberstein used an old goalie stick for a rudder. Blackie says that when he dies, if he gets to the pearly gates, he's gonna ask St. Peter to send him straight back to the Holy Cross Cadet Camp forever. “That's my idea of heaven,” he says.

Bug has the best time of any of us at camp. He spends all his time chasing the girls up the shore. One night last year, after supper, he brought three girls and a few bottles of spruce beer to the bunkhouse, and we played strip poker. But the girls wouldn't take off their underclothes. Bug deliberately lost every game of blackjack so he could strip down fast, which made the girls giggle a lot. “Oh no,” he'd say, “I'm busted again. There goes another sock.”

If he keeps up his shenanigans, Bug might not make it to camp this year. We're all getting really worried about him. Ever since he caught McCann in the laundry room, he's acting really crazy. Blackie was right. It was too good to believe that Bug wouldn't get strapped. McCann said he was strapping him for what he said in class. But Blackie says he got it for blabbing about catching McCann in the act. He's starting to act weird. Oberstein thinks there's something seriously wrong with him. A disorder, Oberstein says.

The first time it happened, we couldn't believe our eyes. “Firebug,” Murphy howled with delight. Bug clicked a cigarette out of his case, lit it, put the lit end in his mouth and kept it there while I counted out a full twenty seconds on my Mickey.

“He eats fire,” Kavanagh said. “He actually eats fire.”

“The incombustible man,” Oberstein called him.

The next incident was out behind the soccer field. We were at the incinerator, roasting potatoes on hangers, and Bug bragged that he could pass his hand through the fire without getting burned. Blackie told him not to do it, but we all dared him, and he did it as we chanted four Mississippis. He got a bad burn. Soot blackened his skin, but he just laughed and squeaked that it didn't hurt him one bit. But we all knew it did. We were all thrilled at first, then upset. Blackie brought him to the infirmary, where Rags bandaged his hand in gauze and salve. Rags was really concerned. He said it was a pretty bad burn, and asked them a lot of questions. Bug said he did it playing by the incinerator. Rags said Bug would have to go to the hospital for a checkup if it didn't heal quickly.

“I'm fireproof,” Bug bragged all week.

“You're mad,” everyone said.

All week we told him he was crazy. But he just laughed at us, craving all the attention and getting saucier by the second.

Then it happened again. At the Bat Cave. He tried the cigarette trick again and burned the inside of his mouth. “The most unkindest burn of all,” Murphy said. It musta really hurt because Bug was hell to live with all week. When we told him he was really gonna hurt himself, he taunted us by taking off his shoes and socks and wiggling each bare foot close to the flames. He put them so close, the skin around his toenails became an ugly red. Oberstein insisted he had acquired some abnormality. The more attention we gave him, the cockier he became.

“You can roast a wiener while I put my foot in the fire,” he boasted. “I'll keep it there till the wiener's done. If my foot burns, I'll stick my own wiener in the fire.” He wanted to try it, but we wouldn't let him.

“Gotta stop playin' with fire, Bug,” Blackie almost begged. “You better not let the brothers know about it. The brothers find out about it, you'll go to the Mental.”

“How can you even think of putting your hand over a flame?” Ryan said. “
Christ
.”

“I told you, Einstein, I'm like the superheroes.
Invincible!
”

“Jesus, this'll be a real problem for all of us if the brothers find out,” Blackie said.

It was a while before Bug played with fire again. Dared by a few doubters at the Bat Cave one day, he took a hunting knife and heated it until it scorched the wood. Then he stroked his arms with the red-hot blade. He dropped the knife after a few seconds, but got another bad burn.

With each new gamble with fire, he became more arrogant and smart-assed, looking down his nose at the dumbos, as he calls us.

Blackie has started protecting him more than ever. Anything his heart desires, all Bug has to do is hint at it and it is his. Blackie treats him like a prince, even though his sauciness never changes one bit. In fact, it has gotten worse. Bug takes advantage of our kindness. If there is an extra slice of bread on the plate at mealtime, in unison we ask him if he wants it. He curls his lip and sneers and says, “Naw! Gimme Ryan's. He's got the fattest one.”

It's an odd situation to be in. One minute you want to punch his lights out, but every other minute you're looking over your shoulder to make sure he isn't trying to play with fire.

Worst of all, Oberstein's worried that Blackie's spending too much time worrying about Bug. “It's taking his mind off the race,” he says. “It's getting close. We gotta concentrate 100 percent on the marathon.”

Bug Bradbury's out on the window ledge. Bug's on the window ledge. Bug Bradbury's gonna kill himself. Bug's on the window ledge. Bug's gonna kill himself.

The most criers I've ever heard. The word spreads fast. Bug's out on the second-floor window ledge of St. Luke's dorm, threatening to kill himself.

At first, I think it's a dare. Our new game, madman of the mount. Lots of summer days, after swimming in the pool, we change into our play clothes and play games in the big yard. Lately we've been playing a lot of madman of the mount. Bug usually wins. The way it works is somebody makes a crazy dare, like climb up on top of the fire escape and jump off. Once Ryan dared everyone to strip to their underwear and race around the yard yelling, “The British are coming. The British are coming.” Bug was buck naked before you could say Jack Robinson. Another time he jumped down the long flight of stairs by the chapel on a dare from Blackie and bloodied his head on the archway.
Boom!
Right in the forehead. Knocked him cold. We thought he'd never get up. But Bug's tough as nails.

I race to the window ledge and can tell right away it's not a game. Bug is there, plain as day. And he's dead serious about jumping. Nobody knows what got into him, why he went out on the ledge. Oberstein says he flipped because Madman Malone strapped him for telling lies. Bug has taken to telling a lot of lies lately. He can't open his mouth without shooting the shit. And he's become a Mount crier—the worst we've ever had.
Canteen's open. Canteen's open. Canteen's open.
His favorite chant is always a lie. And he's started stealing too. He steals things out of pockets and desks and lockers, but if you catch him in the act he yells “Fifth Amendment” and argues with you till he's blue in the face. If you insist long enough, he hands the thing back to you, always shouting the same expression: “That's your right. To have it back. Take it, it belongs to you. That's your right.” It's like a game, and everyone except the brothers plays along.

Murphy says Bug told Madman that Brother McMurtry wanted to meet him in the infirmary, it was an emergency. Madman raced to the infirmary for a meeting with a few empty beds. He's become a compulsive liar, Oberstein says. He can't help it. You might be walking to the cafeteria and bump into him, and he'll tell you that Kelly's been looking for you all day or that there's mail for you, Ryan has it in his locker. Or he'll tell you he saw a rat in the washroom. Or he'll ask, dead serious, “Where are you goin'? We're all spoze to be goin' to the gym. C'mon, hurry up. Brother so-and-so just announced it on the PA when you were outside playing.”

He lies like a trouper. One Saturday afternoon Ryan and Murphy were headed to Virginia Waters, and he gave them a couple of cans of beans and a loaf of bread and tea bags for a boil-up. He told them Brother Foster allowed him to take the supplies from the kitchen stores for a camping trip, and that they could take whatever they wanted. They took a ton of stuff and went off to Virginia Waters. When they got back, they got strapped for stealing.

He not only lies all the time, he does crazy things. He's constantly licking his hands. He has a really long tongue, and he licks one hand after the other. Starting with each wrist, he goes all the way to his fingertips. We're all worried there's something really wrong with him. Once he showed up for Chapel wearing only his shoes and socks. And he's always burping in people's faces. He told Oberstein that he burps because he got his tonsils out, which is a lie. He says before he got his tonsils out the gas bubbled up and used to go to his tonsils, hit them, and go back down. Now it just goes straight up and out through his mouth and into people's faces.

Bug almost never gets away with lying to Blackie. He might try to lie to Blackie that he left his paperback in the gym, and Blackie will just smile, and Bug will giggle and say, “Okay, okay.”

Whatever Bug does, Blackie almost always approves of it. About a week ago, I was chatting with Bug about my baseball cards, and he was really bugging me about trading me a Mickey Mantle if I gave him one of my two Phil Rizzutos. Just to get him off my back, I said I'd think about it. That night, when I was asleep, he stole one of my Phil Rizuttos from my locker. I told Blackie about it, and he just laughed. “You should know better,” Blackie said. “And besides, you should of given him one. You have two. And giving something like that to Bug means a lot more than giving it to anyone else.” I told him he was crazier than Bug. He just shrugged and laughed. But in a way I knew he was right.

When the others hear Bug is out on the window ledge, they all run to the front of the building, where a small crowd has gathered. Everyone's staring up at him. He's about fifty feet up, standing there, his hands outstretched, like a crucifix. And he's soaking wet from head to toe. He looks as cute as a drowned rat. He must've taken a shower for some reason before going out on the ledge. He's barefoot and wearing a tumbling outfit. I'm terrified of the height. I close my eyes and wish it wasn't summer. I wish it was winter, and there was a mountain of swirling snow that rose almost as high as him so he could jump into it and scream “I'm king of the castle” and get up laughing and do it all over again.

“Jump!” O'Connor heckles. “Jump, Bradbury, you chicken-shit. You won't even break a leg from that height.”

Everyone laughs and moves closer, the thawing mud caking their sneakers.

“Jump, Bug, jump!” someone yells. And everyone joins in, laughing and chanting, “Jump, Bug, jump!” The chorus is reaching a feverish pitch when McCann and Madman Malone arrive on the scene. McCann hops through the crowd whacking heads and spraying spit everywhere, shouting at everyone to be quiet and to move the hell back away from the wall. When the chanting stops, he yells up at Bug to stay put, one of the other brothers is coming to get him. He orders several boys to run to the infirmary to get blankets to use as safety nets in case Bug jumps. While we wait for the boys to return with the blankets, Brother Malone moves closer to the wall. He looks up at Bug and speaks softly, “Brendan, be careful. Don't move. You could really hurt yourself if you fall.”

“I hate you. You shouldn't of strapped me.” Bug is sobbing, his shoulders bobbing up and down. He's out of control, and it looks like he could fall any minute. I pray he won't fall or jump or say anything about the wine stealing or the marathon.

“You were strapped for telling lies, Brendan. You must learn to take your punishment like all the other boys do when they misbehave.”

“Shuttlecock. Pistil . . . Pistil-cock and shuttlecock. I hate you.
Hate you
. Hate . . . hate . . . hate . . . you. You just wanna act the big shot all the time. You think you're King Tuk . . . But you're not, you're only King Shit . . . You shouldn't of strapped me. You didn't strap O'Grady when he clawed
me
. You're
baaaaad
.”

“No, Brendan. You were bad. You told a lie. And lying is sinful.”

“I hate you. Hate . . . Hate . . . Hate . . . Get back . . . Get back, or I'll tumble.”

And we watch in disbelief as Bug unzips his fly, pulls out his pecker and pees down on Brother Malone. We all rush madly away from the building.

“There. That's what you get for strapping me. You deserve it. You're
baaaaad
.”

As Brother Walsh arrives, teeth bared like a mad dog's, Madman steps back from the building, removes a white handkerchief from his cuff and begins slapping at his soutane.