Part 7 (1/2)
”Too old for what?”
”You seem like you work really well with your hands and you're smart. There are a bunch of local programs where you could train to be an electrician or in another skilled trade.”
Drew chuckled. ”Wow. Is this your good deed for the day?”
”I'm not being rude. I'm actually trying to help. You act like everyone who has money thinks they're better than everyone else, and what I'm saying is that I think you can do better than what you're doing. I meant it as a compliment.” It hadn't occurred to me that it would offend him. Wow. It seemed I could even screw up being nice to people.
”Well, then, I'll take it in the spirit you intended.” Drew heaved himself off the bench and plugged in the floor polisher. ”Since we're pa.s.sing around advice, do you mind if I give you some?”
I could tell I wasn't going to like anything he said, but I couldn't very well refuse. ”Are you going to tell me to keep my nose out of things?”
”Nope. One of the problems in the world is that people aren't willing to stick their noses in more often. We all ought to look out for each other better. My advice is for you to loosen up a little. For someone who has the whole world on a silver platter, you're wound way too tight.”
”I don't have the world on a platter.”
”Fine. For someone who has the world on a salad plate, you're wound way too tight. You should step out of the box more often. See what the world has to offer.”
”I stepped out of the box the night I broke the statue, and look where that got me.”
”Exactly! You had a chance to get to know me as a result. Talk about lucky. Think what could happen if you tried again.”
”No, thanks.”
”You can't play it safe all the time.”
”I don't play it safe all the time.”
”Are you telling me that you weren't just calculating how much water on the floor it would take before the electrical cord for the floor polisher becomes an electrocution risk?”
I crossed my arms. He could make fun of me if he wanted. There were 550 accidental electrocution deaths in the United States last year. Most of those took place at work. Call me a fool, but water and electricity don't mix. That's why it isn't advised that you blow your hair dry in the shower. I stepped forward and grabbed the handles of the polisher. Drew raised an eyebrow, but then flipped the switch on the handle. The polisher nearly shot out of my hands. It felt like trying to hold a rodeo bull in place. I spun in a couple wide circles, trying to get it under control.
”Interesting technique,” Drew yelled out over the sound of the machine.
”If you you want to polish the floor, then you can do it your way.” I turned my back on him and wrestled the machine to my will. Eventually it began to behave and glided up and down the gym parquet floor in a rough approximation of rows. I would stop every so often and squirt (a safe amount) of the combination liquid wax and cleaning gel onto the floor in front of me. I shot a few glances over at Drew, but he was busy walking up and down the bleachers, using a paint sc.r.a.per to clean the bottom of each bench, then starting over at the beginning of the row to sweep the trash down to the next level. want to polish the floor, then you can do it your way.” I turned my back on him and wrestled the machine to my will. Eventually it began to behave and glided up and down the gym parquet floor in a rough approximation of rows. I would stop every so often and squirt (a safe amount) of the combination liquid wax and cleaning gel onto the floor in front of me. I shot a few glances over at Drew, but he was busy walking up and down the bleachers, using a paint sc.r.a.per to clean the bottom of each bench, then starting over at the beginning of the row to sweep the trash down to the next level.
It seemed strange not to talk, but the polisher was so loud and the gym so big that it made conversation practically impossible. It wasn't that I wanted to be insulted by Drew, the jolly janitor, but I had realized how nice it was to talk to someone about anything other than what had happened. Drew was right about one thing. As the hour went on, I felt less stiff and sore. My muscles limbered up, and when I turned the machine off, I looked back over the floor and felt a huge sense of satisfaction. I had accomplished something. It might not have been much, but it was something.
Drew was at the far end of the gym gathering all of the trash into three giant black bags. We'd finished sooner than I'd expected, and I wondered if that meant we got to knock off early or if we were expected to tackle some other ch.o.r.e. I had just started to make a dent in the extra credit history homework. I could use the extra time. I began to wind up the cord.
The doors to the outside burst open, and a group of guys spilled into the gym. It must have been snowing outside, because they were covered with a mix of slush and mud. One of them, a junior, gave a whoop when he saw the waxed floor. He took off at a run, dropping to his knees and sliding six or seven feet. He left a long dark smear of mud in the center of my floor.
”What the h.e.l.l are you doing!” I screeched. I ran out into the middle of the floor waving my hands as if I wanted to scare off a group of wayward geese that were p.o.o.ping all over my lawn. The guys stopped in place. I looked around. They were all wearing their outdoor shoes, some with cleats and hard soles. They'd tracked in mud, granite-colored slush, and a few random twigs. The floor was ruined.
”Easy, Kendrick. Who made you Miss Clean?” The junior tossed a filthy football into the net box at the end of the gym. ”We had to bring the equipment back. What's the big deal?”
”The entire floor has to be done again,” I said, pointing out the obvious.
”Isn't that what you have your townie for?” The junior motioned to Drew, who was still standing to the side. ”You keep them around for more than just looking at, don't you? Or do you just use them for kissing?” The other guys laughed. Drew crossed over to us in several short strides, and the Evesham guys suddenly bunched together.
”Is there a problem?” Drew asked. He may have been only a few years older than the guys, but looking at them together, it was clear it was the difference between a bunch of boys and a man. Drew was broad through the shoulders, and his face had clean lines, with no baby fat sticking to his cheeks. I could tell the guys were scared that Drew would start something with them, and I liked that. They outnumbered him eight to one, but they were still afraid. I stood behind Drew with my arms crossed. I hoped he would make them wipe up the slush off the floor with their tongues.
”There's no problem, man.” The junior rocked back and forth. I think he was trying to look tough, but it looked like he was trying out for a chorus role with a production of West Side Story.
”All right, then.” Drew stood his ground. The Evesham kids headed out of the gym, darting looks over their shoulders to make sure Drew wasn't following them. I pressed my lips together. I wanted to scream.
”Make sure there aren't any sloppy seconds left behind,” the junior yelled, and then they all laughed, slamming the door.
I whirled on Drew. ”Why didn't you make them clean that up? How can you let them get away with that?”
”You don't do a lot of meditation, do you?” Drew pulled the mop from the cart and started to wipe up the mess on the floor.
I stared at him, wondering if he'd lost his mind. ”What are you talking about?”
Drew motioned to the mess on the floor. ”This is just dirt. Save your wrath for something bigger than mud.”
”He was rude.”
”No, he was an a.s.shole. Me telling him that isn't going to change anything. He isn't suddenly going to fall on his knees and see the light. You know what's going to happen? He's going to run to the dean and say that he was returning the ball when I forced him to clean the gym floor. His friends will back him up, and I'll be the one in trouble.”
”But that isn't fair,” I said, knowing I sounded like a five-year-old. ”I would have backed you up.”
”Nothing personal, but I'm guessing Dean Winston doesn't have your picture on the wall for Student of the Month.”
My mouth snapped shut. He was right. Winston wouldn't believe me. Even if he thought I was telling the truth, he'd never admit it.
”You can go ahead and get out of here. I've got this covered,” Drew said, glancing at his watch. ”You put in your time.”
I was tempted to take him up on his offer. I still had homework to finish. The smart thing to do would be to thank him and get the homework done. The image of my empty dorm room flashed in my mind. I didn't feel like doing the smart thing.
”It'll go faster with both of us,” I said. ”Besides, I've started to get the hang of this polisher.”
”I noticed. I was just thinking how you were the Princess of the Polisher,” Drew said, smiling.
”Master of the Mop,” I said.
”Sultan of Sh.e.l.lac,” he fired back.
I laughed, and turned my back to fire up the machine. I heard Drew call my name, and I turned around to be smacked with a blob of slush smack in the center of my chest. I stared down at the wet splotch. I looked up, and Drew's face was twitching as he tried to avoid laughing. I bent down and picked up a handful of slush.
Drew held up his hands as if he were surrendering. ”I don't know what came over me.”
I flung the slush ball at him and missed. ”I meant to miss you. I'm showing you what a better person I am.”
”Of course.”
I waited until he bent over to pick up the mop handle, and then I hurled another slush ball at him, this time hitting him in the center of his b.u.t.t. He turned around, wiping the rest of the slush off of his jeans. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question.