Part 5 (1/2)
”How should I know?” Johnny Opel-Mr. O the kids call him-is leaning back in his springy chair, two bites into his customary morning Mcm.u.f.fin.
McCarthy runs his hand over a nearby grease-s.h.i.+ned keyboard, tickling the keys, and the machine beeps back at him. Everything in the computer lab is greasy because of Mr. Opels morning Mcm.u.f.fins. Its disgusting, but theres no one else in town qualified to teach computers. ”I thought only you and I had access to that room.”
”I know I have a key. I dont know who else does.”
”Put a new tape in, and change the locks. Let me know if anything else turns up.” McCarthy wouldnt put it past Mr. Opel to have stolen the tape himself, but then again, given the mans tremendous slothfulness, there is no way he would have been at school early enough.
”Aye-aye,” Mr. Opel says, the idiot saluting him ironically.
Johnny Opel cant believe his s.h.i.+tty luck. Being the computer teacher meant he was also in charge of the surveillance cameras placed in five spots around school. In all the seven years hes worked at Columbia City High, this is the first time hes actually had anyone ask to see a tape. The cameras are on a twelve-hour loop. Anything more than half a day old is erased by the future. He only checks up on the cameras once every two weeks to clean the lenses and make sure all is running. He supposes the last time he checked, he left the door unlocked.
He takes a pull on his Big Gulp, swishes the Pepsi around in his mouth, and finally swallows. He gathers Jimmy Kirkus-son of Todd, a guy who used to tell him he had a rock-star name when they were back in high school together-did something bad in the gym last night and now the tape is gone.
Of all the s.h.i.+tty luck.
Jimmy spends the day on those backwoods trails that connect the town in startling ways. Kids so knowledgeable he could run a smuggling business. Through backyards and across the occasional road, but mostly in the woods, he goes from court to court like him and Dex used to. But its different now. Colder than he remembered it being. When he and Dex ran them-in all kinds of weather too-they were too hopped up on the prospect of hoops to feel cold. Now, the temperature takes up most of his awareness.
Everything is dripping. The noise seems huge. He slips often, his mind still so fuzzy. He vomits ropey slime-Top Ramen he ate last night before he went down to the Brick House-and it slides into the fallen leaves, steaming wildly. Jimmy takes an orange leaf encased in ice and licks it to get the taste off his tongue. He slips again and mud streaks his sweats. Thankfully, he avoids landing in his own vomit. His knee will be bruised badly by tonight. Add it to the list. His head rings in pain. Headache? More like headbreak.
He wipes his hands off on the front of his sweats.h.i.+rt and feels something there. He reaches in and pulls out that card the nurse gave him in the hospital. Not as bad as it seems. Jimmy laughs aloud. Sarah Parson, RN. Pretty for an older lady. Weird, how shes the daughter of his dumpy English teacher. Breath so bad you tasted it even before you smelled it. English cla.s.s was the worst.
So this was her daughter. Do nurses have business cards? Jimmy doesnt know, but theres something in it that seems a reach. Not as bad as it seems. He rips it in two, and then he rips it again. Lets the flakes pepper the wet gra.s.s cupping his vomit.
Hes talking to himself, under his breath. Just ordering my thoughts, not crazy, he tells himself. He really could hitchhike to Mexico. He imagines his life there like a beer commercial. Hammocks and hot chicks and lime crowning bottle tops-always dressed stylish, always headed to great waves or live music. Get away and stay away. h.e.l.l, they dont even play basketball down there-all soccer. He practices the Spanish Pedro has taught him over the years. Cabrn, puta, senorita, mam chula. Pedro. Where the f.u.c.k is Pedro?
His imagination takes him to another place. Hes older, coming back to Columbia City for a ten-year reunion. Slick clothes, nice car, hot wife. All the other things checked off. Basketball? Naw, he could have ran with it, but he decided instead to start a company/be a lawyer/write a novel. Hes fit while Pedros put on a few pounds and lost his hair. At the bar he orders wine. Something with an accent in the name. Later, he corners his old best friend, or, better yet, catches him hitting on his wife. Then its all, what the f.u.c.k? But Pedro isnt cool about it, so bang, a punch in the gut . . .
Jimmy is shaken out of his thoughts by sounds. Dribbling and shouts. From the woods he spies people playing basketball in the middle of the day. People just shooting around. High school dropouts and overweight men on lunch breaks.
And then he decides, all at once, a snap in his head that cracks his brain in two. f.u.c.k ball.
At school his absence is adding weight to the rumors. Everyone has a theory. Kid was high. Kid was deranged. Kid actually was jumped. And finally: Kid just did it so thered be no question of him playing this year-the Fishermens last in the talent-heavy 6A Division-and come back next year when he can push around the little guys in 4A, have an easier go. Jimmy Soft-c.u.m-Kamikaze Kirkus never was good with pressure.
Princ.i.p.al McCarthy makes an announcement on the intercom. ”For students upset by the recent events regarding a certain cla.s.smate”-he sounds on the edge of tears-”Mrs. Cole will be available during periods one, four, and seven in the guidance office, as well as all breaks, to talk.”
Soon there is a line to see Mrs. Cole. All boys. Shes blond and shes curvy and they swear to G.o.d that if you can get tears going sh.e.l.l put your head on her epic chest and hug you till the lights blink. Sure beats geometry.
And all because of crazy Jimmy Kirkus.
Mr. Kirkus gets home and sits on the couch. He allows himself something hes not had in all the months since the accident: time. For so long hes been filling his head and his hands with whatever they come across that his real thoughts feel like ghosts to him.
He stares straight ahead, puts his hands in his lap, and watches the frozen leaves still left on the trees outside drip, drip, drip. The heater is pinging. The refrigerator whirs to life. He has the state of mind that all good athletes have. Complete concentration. It comes in those too stupid to juggle more than one thought in their head at a time, or those so highly trained that thoughts levitate. Mr. Kirkus started as the first and has become the second.
Then abruptly there are the memories he almost convinced himself were gone. They are huge and so skittish that if he tries to grab them, theyll flee, bury themselves claws-up in the sand, wait until hes weaker to strike. So he leans back into the couch and lets them come.
He feels silly. Not a man to cry and here he is, crying for the second time this morning with the names Suzie, Dex, and Genny Mori running through his head. They jockey for s.p.a.ce, they elbow and shout to be heard. Then the phone rings. Its Teresa Ha.s.s from the high school.
”Jimmy didnt come to cla.s.s today, Mr. Kirkus,” she says in that nasally whine of hers. ”I have in the record that he was due back today.” When they were both in high school she used to always be snapping gum. Popped it like it was the punctuation on her sentences. She doesnt do it now on the phone, but Todd imagines it anyway.
He kicks over the coffee table. It skids and then stops. Where the f.u.c.k did Jimmy run off to? ”Well, yeah, hes sick,” he tells her. ”So thats why he didnt come.”
Before he was with Genny Mori, he and Teresa used to take lunches together and hook up in the van. It was how he got gum stuck on the hair around his s.c.r.o.t.u.m one day. When he moved it pulled so painfully, he skipped practice. Pretended he had pulled a muscle. James had laughed himself blue when he heard the story.
”Hes sick? Oh, Im sorry to hear that, Mr. Kirkus.”
She lets out a breath where Todd imagines the pop of gum. Gummy Ha.s.s, he and James started calling her after that day. Todd cant help it now, he is too drained from the morning hes had, so he laughs a little breathily as he remembers taking the scissors with him into the bathroom, giving himself a little below-the-belt haircut.
”Are you laughing?” Teresa asks. ”I dont think that after all your boy put himself through you should be laughing. You should be getting him some professional help.”
Todd stops because there it is. Gummy Ha.s.s already knows about what Jimmys done. h.e.l.l, the whole town probably woke themselves up by hollering down phone lines like, ”Youre never gonna believe what that Kirkus kid did.” Worst part is that at the heart of it, theyre probably talking basketball. About how with Jimmy crazy, the Fishermen arent gonna be any good this year. Last year in 6A and its going to be a fiasco. Like thats the thing that matters the most.
”Hes got a G.o.dd.a.m.ned headache, Teresa, and NO, I cant G.o.dd.a.m.n speculate on if hes gonna play ball this season or not!”
As Todd recalls, Teresa hated him after he stopped their lunchtime dates. He had started going with another girl and then after that, Genny Mori. Thats the way it always was for Todd-anyone who couldnt have him, hated him.
”I didnt ask about basketball, Todd. Youre not the only one who cares about Jimmy. You should see the line we got here to see Mrs. Cole. Students are really taking this hard.”
”The guidance counselor?” Todds voice is thin and bitter. ”Kelly Cole? And Ill bet shes wearing a low-cut s.h.i.+rt too. Let me guess, its mostly boys lined up.”
”Todd, thats no way to talk.”
”Whatre you vultures gonna do when there arent no Kirkuses left? Huh?” And then more bitterly, ”No way to talk!” He slams the phone down.
Later that day Teresa takes a concern to Princ.i.p.al McCarthy. The man is shocked by the accusation that what these boys are doing with Mrs. Cole is anything but profoundly mourning the almost loss of their dear friend. That is until he walks in on one counseling session to see that weird Pedro kid getting hugged fiercely into Mrs. Coles enormous chest, his b.o.n.e.r making a micro tent in his sweatpants.
Walk-in counseling is shut down.
The next three days Jimmy doesnt come to school. Teresa doesnt bother calling the Kirkus household. She just fills in the forms herself. Absent-Jimmy Kirkus-headache.
Rule 6. Have Something to Prove.
Monday, September 9, 1996.
JIMMY KIRKUS, FIVE YEARS OLD-ELEVEN YEARS UNTIL THE WALL.
All day Jimmy hadnt said a word to Mrs. Lilly or anyone else in the cla.s.s, out of an instinct for self-preservation. Even when Mrs. Lilly promised Jimmy the honor of leading the lunch line he refused to speak. He was still spinning from the events of the morning. Father walking him to cla.s.s, not saying a word. His mother at home sleeping off last nights s.h.i.+ft at the Seaside hospital. Taste of strawberry yogurt and toothpaste mixing ugly in the back of his mouth. One squeeze on the shoulder and then the big man gone. People looking at his father, whispering to each other. The other kids all with their moms, or their moms and dads, getting three, four hugs. Some of the parents even camping out on the sidelines of the cla.s.sroom during morning meeting, there just in case. Jimmy with no one. No just in case for him.
Speak? Naw that wasnt for him. Not on this first day of kindergarten. He needed every bit of himself and giving away words counted.