Struggles of a Country boy

by Herb Blanchard

  I'm a sophomore now. You guys can stick it. I'm not the lowliest of the low this year. Brad thought proudly to himself.

  The bad part of his homesteading the back corner of the study hall was the constant bombardment by the so-called studs on the make with their latest skirt and causing much tee-heeing and giggling of teenage girls sitting in the desks around him. Added to the silly girl sounds was the steady murmuring of the gossip mongers who also resided nearby.

  Brad made it a point to make sure the study hall teachers knew he was not part of this school sub-culture; therefore he was not liable for any of the noise or commotion emanating from the back corner of the room. He knew within a week the troublemakers would all be rounded up and separated by moving them to various parts of the huge study hall and when all of the shaking and sword rattling was over he would end up with the back corner of the room to himself. That is if he didn't count the nerds in their dark rimmed glasses with their pocket protectors full of pens and pencils and lugging around a foot tall stack of grocery sack covered school books up and down the halls. In the meantime he would tolerate the buzz of activity and listen to any of the gossip which might interest him such as what he had just heard.

  "She thinks she's better than we are. I heard that she told her father she wanted to go back to Elmdale High." Murmuring voices of indecipherable words. "She had a boy friend, but he dumped her this summer."

  "Well, she's just like her stepsister it was probably some older guy."

  "Yeah! They like the older experienced guys."

  "The only bad thing is she's such a great basketball player. It's too bad Elmdale's getting her back."

  Brad was stunned. It had never occurred to him Ginny wouldn't come back to Wilmet High. Her sister graduated from here and Ginny started here last year when she came to live with Bud and Yoshi. He slumped further down in the uncomfortable chair with his book completely forgotten as the pendulum of the huge study room clock swung off the remaining few minutes of the study hall.

  They must be talking about Ginny. But the jerks don't even know Elinor is her half-sister not her stepsister.

  If I ask any of them they'll have the story all over school before the dismissal bell that she's my girl friend. Damn! Who can I ask?

  In his mind's eye Brad went over the faces in the seats around him. What he sought was a friendly face belonging to a girl he thought he could trust to tell him the truth and not make fun of him.

  Brad had a sort of friendship with Annie Phillips one of the girls who like him,was a long ways from even the outer fringe of the 'in group' though she was very cute and petite. He never thought of her as a full card carrying member of any of the school’s sub-cultures even though she spent time with members of a couple different groups.

  Looking around and he found her sitting two rows over and two seats in back of him. He stole a look in her direction and thought about their relationship. They had been in the same classes since the seventh grade and he saw her off and on all summer for the last two summers when she baby sat for his neighbors, the French's.

  Damn! She's watching me. She is cute. Boy, what a great body. I wish I had the guts to ask her out. She probably wouldn't go out with me anyway so why bother. Besides, I don't have any money or any way to get into Wilmet to take her out.

  Her smile showed small, even white teeth behind red lips that his mother and the PTA had said were too red. "Especially for a teenager, but she's just like her mother anyway." Brad wasn't quite sure what they meant by that, but he knew it was not a compliment to either Annie or Mary, her mother. Mary worked as a waitress in Berube’s Lunch Counter and Newspaper Stand in Wilmet and Brad as well as almost all the high school kids knew her.

  It was just seconds before the end of the period bell when every one would return to their home room before the final dismissal bell at 3:10. Brad’s palms were damp and his mouth went dry as he moved towards the back of the room to get closer to Annie. He saw her look directly at him trying to catch his eye, but he avoided it when his courage failed him and he beat a hasty retreat back to his seat.

  Annie got swallowed up in the students leaving the study hall who were surging through the halls like a flock of sheep. In an flash of bravery Brad tried to find her but couldn't. When he got to his homeroom desk he realized she was already there ahead of him putting her books away.

  She's going to leave before I find out. I should have asked her coming out of study hall. She's going to be out of here in a minute for the weekend, I'd better say something.

  Brad practically ran across the intervening four rows of chairs before Annie appeared to hear the racket of his passage and looked in his direction. She finished putting her things away in her desk before turning halfway back towards Brad. This time he found the nerve to catch and hold her intense blue eyes. She held is gaze and she waited at her desk for him.

  Her smile grabbed and held him giving him the courage to speak.

  "Were those guys talking about Ginny Simpson?"

  "Oh, hi Brad. Yeah, they were. I knew it was you who went with her this summer, but I didn't say anything. And yes, she is back in high school in Elmdale."

  "Thanks. But we really didn't go together. I just went to her house to a cookout when Elinor came home to visit."

  "Come on, Brad, tell me the truth. I saw you with Ginny before school got out last June. Besides, Ernie French told me you had a thing for her and went over to her house lots of times this summer."

  When she smiled, Annie's blue eyes turned up slightly in the corners giving her an impish look even while she was intently studying his face and eyes.

  "Ernie’s a liar." Brad tried to hide his discomfort. Annie was hitting too close to his real feelings.

  "Want to take me for a Coke, Brad. "I believe you and I don't really like Ernie either."

  The flush of embarrassment deepened the pink of her cheeks and Brad watched her right earlobe, the only one he could see behind the flow of healthy and shiny straw blond hair. It had turned red and he wondered what could be the cause her discomfort.

  "He tried to take off my bra and pinch my nipples last summer when I was baby-sitting for his little brother. He really scared me and he only stopped because I threatened to tell his mother."

  "No. I - I've got to get milk and eggs for my mother and take them home."

  "Ri-i-ight. Annie's pleasant quiet laugh softened the spoken word of disbelief and she squeezed Brad's right forearm with a small gentle hand before turning and walking towards the back of the room leaving Brad standing alone by her desk.

  "Call me sometime, Brad."

  With a smile of thanks and a wave of his right hand, Brad watched the small blonde's shapely backside go across the back of the room and into the hall.

  I'd better get to Joanna’s room, she said she wanted to start my algebra lessons again. Besides, I'll bet she knows about Ginny. Brad thought as he followed Annie into the hallway.

  He was watching Joanna Bishop's trim figure and saying nothing as she wrote some practice problems on the blackboard for him. He really hadn't said much at all since he came into her classroom.

  I bet she knew and never said anything to me all week. If Elinor didn't tell her, then she would see Ginny wasn't enrolled in any classes.

  I wonder if Charlie knows about it?

  Joanna didn't look up or even slow her rapid pace across the blackboard.

  "Your very quiet, Brad. Do you have a problem? Or maybe you'd like to ask me something?" She spoke in her deep sexy voice which she saved for out of the classroom and her friends.

  Many times in the first year her voice caught Brad by surprise and every time his reaction would bring a deep and sexy, but gentle laugh from her.

  He watched her as she continued to create problems across the width of the board.

  "You knew she wasn't coming back. Why didn't you tell me?"

  Why am I so upset? She isn't here and so no
w I don't have to worry about her.

  "I expect you're talking about Ginny? Truthfully Brad, I'm very confused about what you want to know and if you really care."

  Joanna turned and walked to where Brad sat on the back of a chair. She laid the papers and chalk she was carrying onto the desk in front of him. For several seconds she studied his eyes. Her steady green eyes level with his.

  "I don't know what happened between you, Brad. But obviously I was wrong in what I thought and you care a lot about her. I know from talking to her that she thinks a lot of you, also. Or, at least she used too."

  Deep in thought, Joanna placed her right hand on his shoulder. Her red lacquered thumb nail slowly traced up Brad's throat to his jaw bone where it hesitated before she moved her whole hand and continued to caress the line of his jaw with slow gentle strokes of her thumb.

  "Actually you would have had a chance to put some input into her decision to go back to Elmdale High."

  "What do you mean? No one said anything to me. I haven't seen anybody in the family since the cookout."

  "Remember Charlie asking you if you wanted to go with us to the Simpson's about two weeks before school started? You told him you would ask your folks and get back to him?

  "But you haven't seen Charlie since. Remember?"

  "Brad nodded sheepishly knowing he had goofed.

  "Besides, you haven't ask your parents permission to do anything for months. You've been doing just as you please all summer.

  "Anyway, that was the night the decision was made.

  "There was too much residue left over from Elinor going to school here and then when Ginny moved in with Bud and Yoshi it put the same stigma on her. Maybe not as strong, but when you have no real close friends, it can be damn rough!"

  Brad seemed to be studying the floor when he quietly asked what he really wanted to know. "Is she still living with Bud and Yoshi?"

  "She's living in Elmdale with her aunt. Sylvia Bertoni, her mother's sister. She runs the Sylver rooming house on Maple Street. I for one can't see any point to her coming back to Wilmet High. She's really better off in the bigger school and with the kids she grew up with who remember her Italian mother not her half Japanese sister and Japanese stepmother."

  "She isn't going to come back here again then?"

  Brad bit the inside of his mouth in an attempt to stop the tears he felt welling up in his eyes.

  I don't want to cry in front of her. She'll think I'm a big baby.

  He tried to turn away from her but Joanna held his face with both hands. In her eyes he could see the sympathy she felt for him.

  "It's hard to lose a friend, Brad. Even when you didn't know or would admit the person was a friend. You can still call her, or even go to Elmdale to see her."

  Right! I can see me asking to call Ginny in Elmdale. That's a ten cent call we can't afford. Or asking Dad to drive me there so I can take a girl to the movies.

  He didn't care about his tears anymore. Joanna’s hands were comforting. Their touch made him feel warm and a lot stronger than he had felt moments before.

  "You do confuse me, Brad. I'm sorry it's this way, but that's the truth of the matter and I'll probably never figure out what you're thinking. I doubt if you will ever share your complete thoughts with me. I don't think you can share them with anyone. I hope some day you'll learn how to do it. But anyway, I'm here anytime you decide you want to talk to someone.

  You and Ginny have a lot in common. Do you know that? More than you or anybody else probably realizes. You're both deep and very fragile. You would be good together if you ever find out how to approach each other.

  Brad?" She spoke so soft Brad wasn't sure she had actually spoke to him until he looked into her eyes. There was no need to answer her. The tears were welling into the corners of her brilliant green eyes. They made them more compelling than ever.

  "Charlie and I have broken up."

  Brad could hardly hear her so he leaned across the desk towards her. He caught whiffs of the subtle spring flower perfume she had put on early this morning and he was so close to her he could feel the warmth of her face on his.

  "It was my doing not Charlie's. I just couldn't take anymore of his mother's bullshit.

  I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that."

  "It doesn't matter I know what you mean she isn't exactly a friend of mine."

  "She’ll do anything to stop him from marrying anyone. It wasn't just me, any woman who goes with Charlie is going to have to deal with her. I guess I'm not strong enough to handle her. Charlie is a nice guy and will be a good catch but I don't want to wait for my mother-in-law to die so I can have a whole husband."

  Brad stood up to get her a Kleenex from the box on her desk. When he handed it to her he tentatively put his right arm across her shoulders. He expected her to pull away, but instead she leaned sideways and pressed her left hip against him.

  They stood motionless for several moments just touching at the hip and were quiet except for Joanna softly blowing her nose and trying to dry her tears.

  Joanna turned, looked the caring boy in the eye before kissing him softly on the forehead.

  "Thanks for listening, Brad.

  "Now, let's do some work before we have to go home."

  Brad smiled while he studied her face.

  "Do you think I will ever learn this stuff, Miss Bishop?"

  "Of course you will. With a teacher like me, how can you fail, Brad?"

  THIRTEEN

  An hour ago it had still been dark when he had started hunting up the side of the mountain. For Brad the anticipation of a deer hunt in a foot of fresh powder snow was an exciting beginning to Christmas vacation. The clear Arctic air was tinkling like broken crystal wine glasses and each step of his heavy hunting boots brought a protesting squeak from the fine grained snow which had stopped falling just a short while ago. There wasn't a cloud to be seen anywhere from his vantage point high up on the south shoulder of Lynd Mountain. There was just an endless expanse of bright cerulean stretching from mountain top to mountain top.

  Brad studied the new snow around him in amazement. He had never seen snow falling when it was so cold nor could he remember snow of this texture before. He had no idea what the temperature was, he only knew it was colder than he had ever experienced in his young life.

  It was the third day since the Winter Solstice for 1952 and the sun's radiant heat was weak and puny against the surge of bitter cold Arctic air which had rushed in along with the first snow of the year. The sun's rays bouncing off the new undisturbed snow fields around him were strong enough to bring tears to his eyes that were barely able to run down his cheeks before they would freeze and fall off like miniature icicles. Within minutes after he stopped walking Brad's feet grew uncomfortably cold and he began stomping his feet against the bitter cold that was starting to seep into his thick leather hunting boots and through the single pair of wool socks he had on that filled up all the extra room the boots allowed

  He dropped over the east side of the mountain and started down the ridge on a game trail which ran to the southeast. It would take him into the huge patch of mountain laurel which covered several acres maybe a quarter of a mile and halfway down the ridge below him.

  He had not found any tracks in the fresh snow but he had found deer in the laurel patch before and he thought he had a good chance of finding a old amorous buck heading for the patch to woo the does Brad was sure had gone there to escape last night's storm.

  As he cautiously made his way down the mountain Brad swapped his single barrel, 16 ga. shotgun from hand to hand and then from under one arm to the other as his hands became colder in the old wool gloves he had on. Last night as he was getting ready to go hunting Brad started looking for some warm gloves but could only find these worn out ones of his father's. They had been tucked down and forgotten in a bottom corner of his mother's linen closet.

  When he reached the upper edge of the
laurel patch Brad climbed up onto a car-sized granite boulder trying to see over the six and eight feet tall evergreen bushes. Looking for a place to put his shotgun down, Brad stomped the snow down in a wash tub sized circle next to an overhanging maple sapling. He knocked the cold powder snow from the maple's limbs with his toe then leaned his shotgun against one of its spindly branches.

  Brad was becoming aware of how really cold it was as he started to feel a creeping deep numbness in his hands and feet. Even his knees and upper legs were feeling the affects of the sub-zero cold through his cotton long johns and flannel lined dungarees.

  He pulled off his gloves and unbuttoned the middle two buttons of his red wool jacket so he could pull the bottom of the red cotton sweatshirt out of his pants. Then he could slip his cold numbed fingers into his armpits. While his hands drew the heat from his body Brad continued stomping in an attempt to get the circulation back into his feet.

  The first sign of life he saw was about seventy yards further down the slope when something brushed against some laurel branches. Its movement sent the fine powdery snow off of the leathery green leaves that were curled like miniature green cigars to protected themselves from the bitter cold. The fine grained snow drifted through the air in a miniature blizzard. Brad stood stock still on the rock and he could feel his heart thumping against his ribs.

  Where is he? There has to be something moving under that snowfall since there isn't a speck of wind to knock any snow off the trees.. Easy, slow down!

  He hurriedly pulled his hands out from under his shirts and bent only far enough to pick up his shotgun by its barrel while he watched a bit of grayish-brown sliding behind the dense screen of branches and green leaves.

  There's another one! Downhill.

  It's coming this way.

  Be careful. Bring the gun up slow and get ready when it steps in the clear.

  He cupped his right hand carefully over the shotgun's hammer and slowly drew the cold steel back with his palm until it clicked on full cock with a muffled snap.