Jack was too tired even to nod. But after a while, when he began to feel more like himself, he rose to go.
Reynolds got up, too. He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Almost in passing, he said, “Jack, I think it’s going to be interesting having you in this school.”
Jack went back to class.
Except this time when he entered the class, it was different. Oh, everyone still looked up at him, but this time, there were a lot fewer “sizing him up” looks. And, there were certainly no “Who are you?” looks. It was clear they’d all figured out who Jack McMasters was. Some even gave him a slight nod of welcome. A few actually smiled—not about Jack, but for Jack. Jack’s eyes searched for Charlie. He was way in the back of the room. Charlie winked and gave him an encouraging nod.
Maybe his day was finally improving. Maybe. Then he saw Ryan Kerrigan sitting in that front desk at the far end of the room. Kerrigan was glaring at him. Jack couldn’t read anything but malice in those cold, blue eyes. Kerrigan wasn’t going away any time soon.
Mr. Reynolds may have been finished with him, but Mrs. Campbell wasn’t. At lunchtime she announced they could all go, except Jack. She made him eat his sack lunch at his desk. Halfway through lunch, he saw the kids stream past their classroom to go outside, but instead of letting him go to, Mrs. Campbell told him to return to Mr. Reynolds’s office.
Now what? I thought Reynolds was finished with me! Would this horrible day never end? Just don’t call my dad. Anything but that.
Reynolds looked calm, almost happy to see him.
Bizarre!
“Jack, sit down, and for goodness sakes relax. You’re not in trouble. I just wanted to talk to you. I’ve been doing some thinking. You remember when you first got to my office after the fight?”
“Yes?”
“I got the impression your body was shutting down on you. Do you know what I’m talking about? Like your body really wanted to sleep?”
“Yeah, I guess so, sir.” Jack was getting progressively more uncomfortable. How’s he know so much about what was going on inside me?
“Did it start when you got to my office or when Ryan pushed you to fight?”
“It’s hard to tell. I’m pretty sure after Kerrigan first shoved me down, when I got back on my feet, my brain just started shutting down.”
That same brain was working fine now, saying, Are you nuts, Jack? Why am I telling Mr. Reynolds all this? But, there was just something about Reynolds that made Jack drop his defenses. Jack’s brat-radar just wasn’t going off. Even though Reynolds was an adult, Jack trusted him.
“I thought that might be the case,” said Mr. Reynolds. “I think you’re going to have to work on that. If you keep shutting down, he’s going to keep coming after you.”
“I know . . .”
“I wasn’t always a principal, Jack. I was in the US Army, in the Korean War, like your dad.”
“How’d you know my dad was in Korea?” Jack said, suddenly bewildered. “You just met today.”
“The United National Korean Service Medal on his uniform.”
Of course. These guys always notice what’s on soldiers’ uniforms, the patches and stripes, ranks and ribbons that I.D. what they’ve done and where they’ve done it.
Reynolds said, “When I was in Korea, I experienced the same shutting down problem you had this morning. A particularly bad problem to have in the middle of a war.”
“What did you do?” Jack asked. Part of him was curious, hoping for a miracle cure. The other part couldn’t imagine anything that could help. Deep down, Jack worried he really was a weenie.
“Well . . . I learned some techniques that helped me to not shut down. They came from a very unusual source. Obviously, we can’t work on this your very first day here, but I wanted you to know I think I can help you. If it’s a problem, come see me.”
“Yes, sir. Can I go back to class now?”
Finally the dismissal bell rang, and everyone jumped up to leave. While Jack was getting on his coat, Charlie came up and said, “I’ll show you where we catch our bus.”
They walked out of the school together and onto the bus. They made their way to the back and sat together.
“It takes a bit, but this bus eventually drops us off right at The Glass House. By the way, my name’s Charlie Carron.”
“Hey, Charlie. I’m Jack McMasters.”
“Yeah, I kinda figured that out.” Charlie’s dark eyes were full of humor.
Jack exhaled. “I hate the first day at a new school.”
“I know what you mean. So, where you been?”
So he told Charlie about California, Colorado, Japan, Oklahoma, and Texas. Reciting all the places he’d lived to Charlie somehow felt good. That where you been ritual performed by so many brats all over the world. The way so many brat friendships begin.
“So, where you been, Charlie?”
“Oh, lots of places. I was born in Italy. My mom’s Italian. She and my dad met during World War II. We were stationed in Torino, but she’s from a place called Positano. They say it’s a beautiful place right on the ocean, but I’ve never been there. At least not that I can remember. Then we moved to Fort Bragg, you know, in North Carolina. We spent two years there. Then moved to the P.I. You know what that is?”
“Yeah, I guess. The Philippine Islands, right?”
“Right,” said Charlie, surprised. “A lot of people don’t seem to know that.”
“I met a kid on the ship coming over. He’d been stationed in the P.I. at Subic Bay. His name was Alex Knox. You know him?”
“Nope, but we weren’t at Subic. We were in Manila.”
“No big surprise. He’s Navy, not Army.”
“I don’t know many Navy brats. Anyway, afterward we went to Kentucky for a couple of years, and then here. I’ve been here about three months.”
“You like it?”
“Oh, yeah! You wanna come over?”
“Sure. Just let me check in with my mom so she doesn’t flip her lid. You know, first day of school and all.”
“Deal. I’ll come with you.”
The bus dropped them in front of The Glass House. Jack did the world’s fastest introduction of Charlie Carron, and they were off to Charlie’s place. His quarters were on the first floor of the other stairwell, on the far end of the building.
When Jack met Mrs. Carron, he couldn’t help but like her. She was a short, dark-haired, heavyset woman who asked about a thousand questions, mostly about his family.
“Mom, you writin’ a book?” groaned Charlie, rolling his eyes at Jack. “She’s famous for asking questions no one else would ever dare ask.”
Jack didn’t care; he actually enjoyed talking to her. But when she asked if he was hungry, well then he really liked her. Jack told Mrs. Carron he was just about on death’s doorstep from lack of food. Grinning at his starving-kid act, she said she might be able to find them something.
“That’s great, Mom,” Charlie said, as he dragged Jack off to his room.
A little while later, Mrs. Carron came in, carrying two bowls of steaming-hot pasta, with some kind of meat sauce. “Here, try this mostaccioli with Bolognese sauce.”
Jack had no clue what she’d just said, but one bite made him think he’d found heaven. The noodles looked like miniature pipes. The sauce was nothing short of spectacular. Jack began thinking it was best to come to Charlie’s place every day after school. At the McMasters house, if you asked, “Can I have a snack?” you usually got a response like, “Don’t eat too much or you’ll spoil your dinner.” Jack’s mom was all about the dinner. Charlie’s mom was all about serious food any time at all.
“Want to see something smokin’ cool?”
“Sure,” mumbled Jack around a mouthful of noodles.
Charlie went digging in the back of his closet while Jack turned back
to his pasta.
Eventually, Charlie emerged with a large shell casing. To Jack, it looked like a bullet without a tip. It was the larger brass part that once held the gunpowder. But at eighteen inches long with a two-inch-wide opening, it was fifty times larger than any regular bullet. It probably weighed eight pounds.
“Wow,” Jack whispered. “Where’d ya get this?”
“Found it in the woods. I actually tripped over it.”
“What?”
“See, I was out in the woods behind here. It’s amazing back there. Anyway, I’m runnin’ full speed, catch my toe on something, and go flying. Next thing, I’m face-down on the forest floor. I sat there trying to get my head to stop spinning. Ya know how it does that sometimes when ya go flyin’?”
Jack just nodded, and Charlie kept talking.
“Anyway, there were leaves everywhere so I couldn’t really see what I’d tripped over. I assumed it was a tree root. But when I looked back, I wasn’t that close to any trees. So I started feeling around in the leaves. Eventually I felt something hard sticking out of the ground. When I brushed the leaves away, there was the shell. Well . . . I didn’t actually know what it was, or how big it was, till I dug it out. It took me a while, ’cause it was buried in there tight.”
“How’d you get it out?”
“I marked the spot so I could find it again. You’ll see, the woods are huge. It’s pretty easy to get lost. At least, until you learn your way around. Don’t worry. I’ll teach you all the tricks. Anyway, I went home and snuck one of my dad’s hunting knives and dug it up. Man, I was amazed how big it turned out to be.
“Yeah,” Jack said, holding the shell, loving it. “Did it still have gunpowder in it when you found it?”
“Not a drop left. I think this one had been fired.”
“Where do you think it’s from?”
“It’s definitely a Nazi shell. You know about the Nazis, right?”
Jack looked at Charlie, considering the question. “Yeah. I mean I know they were our enemy and we defeated them. My dad fought over here during the war. But how can you be sure it’s a Nazi shell?”
“One day I had it with me, over at this other kid’s quarters. His dad came in and caught us playing with it. When he asked to see it, I thought we might be in big trouble. But his dad stayed cool, just studying the shell. He asked where I’d found it, so I told him I got it from another kid who said he found it somewhere around here. I figured it was best not to tell him too much. Anyway, his dad said it was most likely a Nazi anti-aircraft shell. He told us that during World War II there were Soldaten der Flakabteilung here. They were an anti-aircraft unit.”
“So right here where we’re living, there were Nazi soldiers during the war?” The question was hardly out of Jack’s mouth when he began to cringe inside. This guy’s gonna think I’m an idiot. Of course there were Nazis here during the war.
Charlie didn’t seem to notice. “Yup.” He disappeared back in his closet and came out with an old photo that said, “Nazis. 1937.”
“That’s just before the war,” said Charlie.
Jack studied the picture of the Nazi troops marching their famous goose step. The shell and photo made the Nazis somehow come to life. They were no longer just stories.
Jack said, “This Flakabteilung shell might have shot at an American plane.”
“The Americans or the British. Hard to believe.”
“Interesting word, Flakabteilung,” Jack said. “It sounds like the word Flak jackets. They protect from shell fragments. That makes more sense now.”
“If you like Nazi stuff, I have to show you something else. It’s in the woods.”
That got Jack’s attention. Before tearing out of the apartment, Jack scraped the last bits of sauce out of his pasta bowl and placed it in the sink.
“Mrs. Carron, this was the best pasta I’ve ever had,” he said and meant it. “If I’d had any better, believe me I would have remembered.”
Her big, dark eyes lit up. But just as the boys made it to the door, she yelled, “Charlie Carron, you get back here. Right now!”
“Did you boys forget something?” She looked from him to the floor.
“Oh, yeah,” Charlie said with a sheepish grin.
“Oh, yeah,” she said mocking him, but with humor.
Jack and Charlie pulled their big black rubber galoshes over their shoes and clipped them up. Jack might be on the other side of the Atlantic, but galoshes seemed to be standard issue for Army brats everywhere.
There was quite a bit of snow, but not so deep that it prevented them from moving through the woods. The land gently dropped away, and soon Jack could no longer see The Glass House, or any other buildings. The only sounds were their footsteps crunching snow. Jack looked up at the huge trees, with their limbs dark against the white, late-afternoon sky. All the leaves were long gone. The whole scene was black-and-white and shadowed.
Sensing motion in all that stillness, Jack paused as two black squirrels came out of nowhere. They sprang along the treetops, leaping from limb to limb in a game of chase. He studied them, thinking how excellent it would be to fly across those treetops like the squirrels. Then they were gone.
The two boys moved deeper into the woods.
Finally, Charlie stopped, saying, “What do you see?”
Jack took his time, doing grid search. Man, if it’s obvious, Charlie will think I’m a complete flake.
Jack finally gave up. “I don’t see anything.”
“That’s just the point. You’re not supposed to notice anything. But see that slight mound in the snow down there?”
“Yeah. It just looks like the ground’s a little higher there.”
“You’re right. But, my-man-Jack, that’s no ordinary rise in the forest floor—it’s a Nazi pillbox. Come on!”
As Jack came around the mound, he could just make out the opening to a concrete bunker. Both boys crawled down inside the frozen structure.
There was a cement platform just below the opening, with metal rings anchored into the concrete walls. “This must be where the machine gunner set up,” suggested Jack. “And the spotter positioned here, right next to him.”
“I figure it was a listening post,” said Charlie. “They probably had a field phone, so they could report in on enemy activity.”
Jack agreed. “It has a perfect view of the woods.”
“Even better, it’s in a great place to defend the airfield if an attack came in this direction.”
Jack and Charlie hung out for a while, pretending they were Nazi soldiers waiting for the Americans to attack. Jack was great at pretending, but it felt strange to know that Nazi soldiers had actually manned this bunker. Perhaps they had fought and died right here.
Wow, Jack thought—real shells, real bunkers. World War II was real! He’d always known that, but somehow being here made it come to life.
“Charlie, do you think there are still Nazis around here?”
“Probably lots of the Germans around here were Nazis during the war,” said Charlie.
“Yeah, I know that. But what I mean is, are there still Nazis around?”
“Dunno,” said Charlie. “I suppose it’s possible.”
It was starting to get dark, so they headed back. On the way, Charlie pointed out a couple of noteworthy landmarks. He was beginning to teach Jack how to navigate the woods.
Back at The Glass House they each headed toward his own stairwell.
“See you at the bus stop in the morning, Jack.”
“See ya.”
Jack made his way to his own quarters. He had made a real enemy that day, but he had also made a good friend. Not a bad first day.
12
Flugplatz Spies
The next morning a mob of kids were out in front of The Glass House waiting for the bus. Day two, Jack said t
o himself, hoping he’d survive this one, too. He spotted Charlie waving from the crowd. Yesterday he had no one, today he had Charlie.
When the bus rolled up, he and Charlie plopped down in a seat together like they’d been friends since birth.
“Hi, Charlie,” said a blond girl seated across the aisle. She sort of had a Queenie look. Not the “I’m obviously superior” part, but certainly the natural-confidence, good-posture, socks-pulled-up part. Jack immediately thought, Yup, probably likes school, gets good grades, obeys the rules—at least most of them. Always has friends. She seemed the type who didn’t exactly skate through life, but definitely made it work for her.
“This is my friend Sam Sands,” Charlie said. “Her real name’s Samantha, but everyone calls her Sam.
“Hi, I’m—”
“Jack McMasters. I know,” she said.
“How do you know that?”
“You kidding? After yesterday’s recess, we all know who you are. I’m in your class, too, in case you didn’t notice.”
“I guess yesterday was a blur. Nice to meet you, Sam.”
“You better watch out, Jack, ’cause Ryan Kerrigan is a complete psycho. And he has lots of kids under his grip.”
Jack nodded that he understood. But inside, he felt his stomach tense. He didn’t need this crap. Suddenly, being a nobody seemed very attractive. Not the target of a psycho. He felt lightheaded.
Get me off this bus. Get me out of this new school.
Based on yesterday, the other kids might think he could handle himself against Ryan Kerrigan, but Jack knew that was a load of crap. Next time, he would panic and show he was the weenie Kerrigan had said he was. Yesterday he’d gotten lucky. He’d fought back and won, but only because Charlie had helped. If the teachers hadn’t broken things up when they did, he wouldn’t be looking so good right now. He knew Kerrigan could, and probably would, beat the crap out of him. Next time everyone would find out who he really was.
“Best thing to do is to stick together,” said Charlie. “Alone, he’ll kick either of our asses; together, maybe he’ll leave us alone. Anyway, one way or the other, we’d better try and avoid him.”
BRAT and the Kids of Warriors Page 14