something was wrong, because Brenda not playing soccer was like me not playing baseball, and I could never even imagine that. But at the time, all I could imagine was me and her meeting after school the next day.
“What time?” I asked.
“After classes,” she said, for the second time.
“Sure thing,” I said. “After classes.” I suddenly had a shirt full of spiders, though I fought the urge to wiggle until she walked away. Then I wiggled and filled up like a helium balloon.
Instead of floating off to class, I walked a couple of loops through the Arch, then ducked into the mail room. I was the only one in there. There were two walls lined with fake-gold boxes, and a long wooden counter where bigger packages could be retrieved. You could also purchase school supplies, and just about any other item you wanted stamped with the name of Hamden Academy in bold.
The last wall was all cork, and covered in tacked notices I never read because they only listed stupid things about clubs or dances or whatnot. During the wrestling season, the boards held nothing but fliers about their matches. But this day was different, because it wasn’t even close to wrestling season, yet they’d taken it over already. The only thing up there — all over every inch of the boards — was a WANTED poster, with a photocopied picture of some wrestling shoes. On the bottom, it read: Dead or Alive. It didn’t make sense, of course, but the message was clear. At least it was clear to me. I should have known Mr. Wright was nuts to think that the deal with the wrestlers was going to go away just by moving Terence downstairs. I’d seen this kind of thing before.
The next day, right after last class, I walked under the Arch, over the road, and across a grassy meadow to the old wooden mansion where the fourth-year women lived. The brown paint peeled in some places, but the house stood in pretty good shape. A stoop led to a wraparound porch and a screen door. I wiped my palms on my dress pants as Brenda came down the wide staircase of the open foyer. She had changed into old jeans and a gray Hamden T-shirt. Her hair bounced in a ponytail.
“Hello,” she said businesslike. “Ready to go?”
“Sure,” I said, hurrying to get the door for her.
We walked away from her dorm on a path around the grass. Instead of handcuffing herself to me in a flurry of regrets and apologies, she brought up what was already an old subject of the new school year.
“So, um, have you spoken to Todd yet?” she asked.
“Nah,” I answered as we passed the chapel. “Meeks is trying to get ahold of him.”
“You didn’t talk to him at all over the summer?”
“Nope,” I said, as we followed the limestone stairs down to the basement of the academic building.
In an empty classroom, she sat at a front row desk as I hopped up onto the large teacher’s unit. We sat silently for a minute, her eyes on the shaded hill that sloped toward the campus gates, my legs flopping as I thought of something clever to say.
“I know he’s going to be missed around here,” Brenda declared, still staring out the window.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “He was the mayor, alright.”
She kept her eyes away from mine and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Have you heard anything about why he didn’t come back?” she turned suddenly to ask.
“No,” I said, kicking the desk with my heels. “Why do you care so much, anyway?”
“What?”
“I thought you guys broke up?”
“We did,” she insisted.
“Get over it then.” I didn’t mean to say that, or say it like that, at least, but it came out cruel anyway.
“I am. I mean, I’m try…” she fumbled a little before her face curled up like she’d just sucked on a lemon. “I’m just wondering if people knew why he wasn’t coming back, OK?”
“OK,” I said, kind of calm, but then that strange tone came back. “What’s everybody asking me for anyway? What am I, his spokesman or something?”
“He
“What time?” I asked.
“After classes,” she said, for the second time.
“Sure thing,” I said. “After classes.” I suddenly had a shirt full of spiders, though I fought the urge to wiggle until she walked away. Then I wiggled and filled up like a helium balloon.
Instead of floating off to class, I walked a couple of loops through the Arch, then ducked into the mail room. I was the only one in there. There were two walls lined with fake-gold boxes, and a long wooden counter where bigger packages could be retrieved. You could also purchase school supplies, and just about any other item you wanted stamped with the name of Hamden Academy in bold.
The last wall was all cork, and covered in tacked notices I never read because they only listed stupid things about clubs or dances or whatnot. During the wrestling season, the boards held nothing but fliers about their matches. But this day was different, because it wasn’t even close to wrestling season, yet they’d taken it over already. The only thing up there — all over every inch of the boards — was a WANTED poster, with a photocopied picture of some wrestling shoes. On the bottom, it read: Dead or Alive. It didn’t make sense, of course, but the message was clear. At least it was clear to me. I should have known Mr. Wright was nuts to think that the deal with the wrestlers was going to go away just by moving Terence downstairs. I’d seen this kind of thing before.
The next day, right after last class, I walked under the Arch, over the road, and across a grassy meadow to the old wooden mansion where the fourth-year women lived. The brown paint peeled in some places, but the house stood in pretty good shape. A stoop led to a wraparound porch and a screen door. I wiped my palms on my dress pants as Brenda came down the wide staircase of the open foyer. She had changed into old jeans and a gray Hamden T-shirt. Her hair bounced in a ponytail.
“Hello,” she said businesslike. “Ready to go?”
“Sure,” I said, hurrying to get the door for her.
We walked away from her dorm on a path around the grass. Instead of handcuffing herself to me in a flurry of regrets and apologies, she brought up what was already an old subject of the new school year.
“So, um, have you spoken to Todd yet?” she asked.
“Nah,” I answered as we passed the chapel. “Meeks is trying to get ahold of him.”
“You didn’t talk to him at all over the summer?”
“Nope,” I said, as we followed the limestone stairs down to the basement of the academic building.
In an empty classroom, she sat at a front row desk as I hopped up onto the large teacher’s unit. We sat silently for a minute, her eyes on the shaded hill that sloped toward the campus gates, my legs flopping as I thought of something clever to say.
“I know he’s going to be missed around here,” Brenda declared, still staring out the window.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “He was the mayor, alright.”
She kept her eyes away from mine and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Have you heard anything about why he didn’t come back?” she turned suddenly to ask.
“No,” I said, kicking the desk with my heels. “Why do you care so much, anyway?”
“What?”
“I thought you guys broke up?”
“We did,” she insisted.
“Get over it then.” I didn’t mean to say that, or say it like that, at least, but it came out cruel anyway.
“I am. I mean, I’m try…” she fumbled a little before her face curled up like she’d just sucked on a lemon. “I’m just wondering if people knew why he wasn’t coming back, OK?”
“OK,” I said, kind of calm, but then that strange tone came back. “What’s everybody asking me for anyway? What am I, his spokesman or something?”
“He
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