The Final Shortcut

by G. Bernard Ray

  Chapter 4

  The summer had passed quickly but not without its share of memories. Along with the other “End of Summer Festival” activities, Marty had hitched a trailer full of hay to the tractor and gave free rides to all comers. Junior appointed himself as Head Pullman of the line, loading and unloading riders. He seated everyone, and even cautioning some older children about jumping around on a moving vehicle. Ellen must have shot ten packs of Polaroid film of her little gentleman. When Doctor Ray came around with his granddaughter, Celeste, Junior’s demeanor changed drastically from Churchill to Casanova. His chest swelled as he took Celeste’s hand and helped her to a comfortable bale. His eyes hardly strayed from her angelic face. They hardly spoke a word during their ride around the festival site. But they both blushed and twitched showing signs of a natural attraction. On two occasions she reached out and hit him on the shoulder, a sure sign of first grade flirting. When he helped her down from the trailer, she stepped up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before running back to Grandpa. Ellen, of course, chronicled it all on film. After enjoying some of the other rides, Junior spied Celeste next to the city park’s small pond feeding some ducks. With slight urging from Marty, he walked over to join her. But before he could get half way there, Wesley Groomes the bully of the school, run out of the trees to deliberately frighten her. She slipped, fell in the muddy bank and began to cry. Covered in mud she tried to get up but slipped again. Wesley just laughed. Junior picked up his pace and promptly ran to the rescue. Even though Wesley was two years older, it didn’t slow Junior as he grabbed him by the arm and slung him into the water. The little ponds’ bank was very slick and Wesley fell three times trying to get out. At least a dozen people witnessed the brief encounter. They laughed loudly and applauded Junior’s chivalry as he helped Celeste out of the mire. Wesley was livid, red in the face and fuming as he shook his fist in the air.

  “I’ll get you back for this you ugly punk!” But if Junior heard him, he didn’t make it known. Marty and Ellen’s pride shown on their beaming faces as they walked Celeste and Junior back toward Doctor Rays’ picnic table.

  He looked up at Marty and said, “That’s a fine young man you got there, I think he’s going to fair just fine from now on.” Celeste gave Junior another kiss and everyone smiled widely, especially Junior.

  The early morning air was laden with fog that hung low and thick, clinging to the trees and sticking in the throat. Slight dust stirred as the baby blue Chevy Suburban wound its way down the mountainside making time toward Bontonville. Juniors’ excitement at finally starting school was obvious. As they pulled up in front of the “Wilton T. Barnes Memorial School,” Ellen cried a few tears of joy at the thought of her son taking this pivotal step, her inner fears lain aside. Junior sat up tall in the seat looking at the mass of children, parents, cars and buses converging on this small two-story building. The open house had been after church the day before so that all the new students and parents could meet their teachers. First grade classes only had twenty-six kids this year so they were all in one big group on the lawn. Their teacher Mrs. Lumpkin was making sure she had all her charges before taking them inside. Junior recognized her and nearly jumped out of the seat.

  “There’s my teacher, Mrs. Lumkey. Can I go to school now?” Marty chuckled out loud and opened the door,

  “I’ve heard that most kids are scared to go to school the first day.” He looked at Ellen’s tears running down her cheek into her broad smile and he knew just how she felt without a single word. “Kiss your momma goodbye now.” Junior did as he was told and added a big hug, then turned and gave Marty one too. “Be good and mind Mrs. Lump-kin.” Marty enunciated her name hoping junior would get it right next time.

  “OK.” He said as he trotted off to join his class, proud to be one of the grown up kids now. Ellen grasped Marty’s hand tightly and took a deep breath.

  “I hope he will be all right.” Turning to face her husband she noticed a tear forming in his eye. She made him stay parked until all the class had gone inside, only then would she let him drive her home.

  The first day was more for getting acquainted and letting the students in on what was expected of them in the months to come. Mrs. Lumpkin was four feet nothing with dark brown hair and a demeanor that won her class over in just a few minutes. She got all the kids to introduce themselves and played a few educational games to help her evaluate what she had. She could tell right away that Junior was going to be an eager learner. Her intuition helped her to place the children around the room, so she put Junior across the room from his biggest distraction, Celeste Ray. At the end of the day Junior was jubilant, he talked nonstop all the way home about all his new friends, his teacher and everything they had done and learned. He was proud to carry home his new books and hoped that he would get the chance to read for the class. Ellen was beaming with pride, relieved in the thought that her little man was going to be a normal kid just like the rest. Junior prattled all through supper and after. Until, exhausted, he fell asleep on the couch with his books still in his lap. Later that night as Marty and Ellen settled into bed they talked and snuggled, feeling relieved that their son was on his way to greater things.

  The next day started just like the first and Junior bounded away from his parents with glee.

  “All right class, take out your paper and pencil. We‘re going to learn about the alphabet.” Junior already knew the whole alphabet and could write it fairly well, he knew Mrs. Lumpkin would like his writing. He couldn’t wait to show her how well he could read too. Finishing well ahead of the other kids Junior sat quietly and looked around the room. The boy sitting directly across from him was making faces at him, sticking out his tongue and grimacing his mouth. So Junior grimaced back, Jimmy Marlin made another face by pulling the corners of his mouth wide with his fingers. Junior giggled silently and stuck out his tongue at him. Then Jimmy pulled the left side of his mouth down and pulled his left eye down mimicking Junior. Then pointed at him and laughed. Junior lost his smile. Then he did it again and he realized that Jimmy wasn’t playing; he was making fun of him. Junior turned his head and looked out the window, when he looked back Jimmy was doing it again.

  “Stop it!” Junior said in a muted tone.

  “Stop it.” Jimmy mocked him and made the face again this time with a small audience of their peers.

  “STOP IT!” Juniors’ face was red with fury.

  “Boys quiet down; don’t disturb the rest of the class.” The teacher spoke and the class quieted for a moment. Junior was still mad but he didn’t look up from his paper for several minutes. When he did, Jimmy was ready with the same pulled down mouth and eye.

  “Stop it.” He said still mimicking him. Junior stood up. His face burning hot knuckles white with tension. He stepped out of his desk and took one step toward Jimmy.

  “Martin,” Mrs. Lumpkin called his name, “Sit back down.” Junior glanced in her direction but he never heard a word. He faced his tormentor, his vision narrowing. He put his left foot forward and drew his right fist up to his chest. Jimmy mocked him again with the teacher’s words,

  “Sit back....” But before she could finish his sentence, Junior punched him square in the mouth with such force it propelled him out of his desk, straight across the aisle and into the base of the next row of desks. Junior was already on his way to deliver another punch when the teacher stopped him in mid swing. The look on his face frightened her. But her presence was enough to break Junior out of his rage and he relented, standing back out of the way. Jimmy was screaming at such a fever pitch that half of the girls in the class began crying. His nose was a mass of blood and when he drew his hand back from his mouth it held three teeth. Junior stood back with an elfin grin, he felt much better now. Noticing his own hand was bleeding he stuck it to his mouth and tasted the blood from his torn knuckle. He didn’t notice any pain and he was very pleased with himself.

  “Why did you hit him?” Mrs. Lumpkin looked at Junior expecting an an
swer. But he just smiled slightly and continued to lick the blood from his own hand. His expression gave the teacher cause to stop asking. Somewhere inside her professional mind a big red flag was waving. “You follow me to the nurse’s office, OK?” Juniors’ expression never changed but he followed her and Jimmy to the aid station as instructed. Junior looked at Jimmy who was still crying loudly and stuck out his tongue.

  “Stop it.” He mocked and Mrs. Lumpkin felt a chill down her spine.

  After the boys had been tended and the parents notified, Jimmy was off to the emergency room where Junior was waiting for his father. He hadn’t spoken a word since the fight; hadn’t shown any sign of pain. It was as though he was miles away in thought, still with a slight grin. The nurse tried to give him some candy, tried to get him to say something. But he just looked up at her and then looked back at the wall with no change in his demeanor. The knuckles of the index and middle fingers were gashed down to the bone, blood seeped through the bandage enough that the nurse was about to send him to the doctor for stitches. She knew he must be in pain even though he didn’t say anything. He flexed his hand against the bandage and the blood started to flow faster.

  “Don’t move your hand. You will only make it worse.” She scolded him. “I’m going to send you to the doctor and he’ll have to sew your hand back together.” Junior looked at her still grinning, “You mean like Frankenstein?” They were looking at each other in silence when Marty came in.

  They met Doctor Ray at the emergency room mostly for convenience, as he was the Marlin family doctor also. After mending the boys and soothing the parents, everyone went home, any repercussions would be determined later. Jimmy wasn’t seriously hurt, a gash in his lip and a bloody nose combined with the loss of three baby teeth. Junior got four stitches across his knuckles, which he took with only a slight wince. He seemed fascinated by the whole procedure and never complained even when the nurse gave him a shot. After a while his endorphin’s pain relieving effects began to wear off. His knuckles swelled and tightened around the stitches.

  Marty had never had to scold Junior very much, only had to spank him twice. Watching him nurse his ailing hand made it even harder to be the parent. While they drove home, he was able to drag out all the details of the fight, and the reasons he got mad.

  “You can’t hit people because they make you mad.” Marty tried to find the words he needed to help his son. “Some kids aren’t very nice and they pick on other kids because they are different.” Junior just looked down at his bandaged hand and began to fidget. “Like we talked about before, it was going to be hard.”

  “He was making faces at me, like this.” Junior pulled down his cheek and mimicked Jimmies taunting.

  “Next time, just look away and ignore him.”

  “He was laughing at me.” His voice wavered and he tensed every muscle, balling both fists tight.

  “Well…” Marty stumbled on his words trying to quiet the situation. “Well just turn your head and laugh back at him.”

  “He was LAUGHING…AT… ME!” He yelled out each word, his face awash with rage.

  “JUNIOR!” Marty was taken aback by Junior’s sudden outburst. “Well, don’t think about it anymore. We’ll be home soon and you can forget all about it.”

  His son sat poised for eruption, his eyes aglow with evil look that gave Marty goose pimples. This tiny version of him seemed very different now. “Now you just calm down and try not to think about it.” He tried to reassure him, needing reassurance himself.

  “…laughing at me.”

  Marty felt lightness in his chest like his heart was fluttering and he noticed that his hands were trembling. He looked over at Junior who was relaxing and beginning to look back toward Daddy; a far away look plastered on his impish face. How could this six-year old cause such a rush of emotions in him, what made him seem so alarmingly different? He didn’t know but one thing for certain, it was scaring the hell out of him.

  The next few days at home were long and tearful. Ellen cried for four hours when she saw him, totally blaming herself for everything since Woodstock. His look; his anger was all her fault. Marty hardly slept from consoling his wife and explaining to Junior why she was crying. Clyde came by every day and played with Junior. He always felt like a big brother to him.

  It was only four days before the next incident with Wesley Groomes, a third grader with a grudge. He was still mad about being thrown in the duck pond and decided to exact some revenge. During recess Wesley jumped him from behind. But Junior proved to be a stubborn victim. Their brief melee turned to a wrestling match with Junior coming out on top. Easily managing Wesley, he trashed him quickly and repeatedly. But a teacher quickly broke it up and they were forced to shake hands, then split up. But Wesley couldn’t resist a parting jab.

  “This ain’t over freak!” The words slapped Junior like a whip across the back. He glared at Wesley as his father, Reverend Groomes, took him away.

  “OW!” Junior snapped his head around as the nurse grabbed his wounded hand. “You’ve torn a stitch loose.” She immediately took him away to redress his hand and his anger was abated.

  Early the following Monday morning, Wesley had heard all the ribbing from his friends he could stand. No more was he going to be bested by a first grader. During the first recess he sought out Junior and threw down the gauntlet.

  “Hey ugly!” he shouted from a dozen yards away, “Hey freak boy!” Pulling down on his cheek he tottered around in a tight circle, “Look at me I’m a freak boy.” From across the schoolyard Junior heard the taunting and stood stone still, eyes fixed. Blood pumped heat into his face. He could hear Wesley laughing. The other kids began laughing. Laughing at him! He started walking slowly toward his nemesis.

  “Uh oh, the freak boy’s gonna get me.” Wesley exaggerated his movements reveling in the attention.

  Junior finished the last few yards at a dead run, Wesley was grinning and waiting, and at the last second stepped out of the way. But Junior was raised in the woods and he quickly changed directions. Easily vaulting the larger boy, their momentum propelled them both to the ground. When Wesley tried to catch his breath, he couldn’t. Junior had both hands firmly around his neck. He was crouched on his chest, bouncing on his lungs. Wesley could hear his windpipe cracking and he tasted blood in his throat. Trying to fight back was futile; Junior was unrelenting, squatting over him like a gargoyle, a bit of drool leaking from his distorted mouth. Wesley was nearly unconscious before Coach Tourek could pull him off. Barely breathing blood was running from the corner of his mouth. Another teacher had to help the gym coach hold Junior back. His strength was unimaginable for such a small boy. He was still thrashing about when Mrs. Lumpkin turned on the water hose and cooled off the situation. After a good soaking Junior had calmed down, Coach Tourek took him across the schoolyard to keep him quiet. Sheriff Clyde was on his way, along with the ambulance and everyone within two miles.

  Junior sat calmly and watched the crowd moving about, watched them load Wesley into the ambulance wondering what all the excitement was. A nice teacher from another class had given him a towel to dry off with, but he couldn’t recall how he got wet. The coach had been talking to him, his words, muted and indistinct. Everything around him began to meld into a blur, all sound faded away. Junior was in a world of is own. He didn’t notice his injured hand bleeding, didn’t care about his new black eye. He just put his head in his hands and stared into space.

  It was months before any Baumann or Hicks could go into town without hearing the whispers on the other side of the counter, the looks from across the street. There was nowhere to hide in a small town where everybody knows everyone’s news. And this was big news. All the facts and just as many fallacies were being told and retold. Wesley had two cracked ribs and a fractured trachea. Junior blacked out the whole day, remembering only that he went to school that morning. Some folks liked to think he was a bad child, some said he was evil. Most folks knew most of it was talk and reserved judgm
ent, hoping to hear the real story one day. Only a handful of folks knew what really happened after that day. Reverend Groomes was demanding legal action. The school board was frantic worrying about their reputation. Legal advisors and city officials discussed what should be done for poor little Junior. The decision was handed down that he would have to seek professional counseling and that they should think about enrolling him in a private school. The Reverend agreed not to press charges if Marty would pay the medical bills and put Junior in counseling.

  He was enrolled in the Emily Harris Learning Center, almost forty miles from home. A private school for children with special needs, filled mostly with disabled and mentally retarded children. Not exactly what Junior needed but it was the only thing comparable that would meet their needs. He spent the next two years there with great progress and no further incidents. His ability to absorb information was uncanny. Already reading three years ahead of his grade level and rifling through the other subjects as well. Principal Stott had suggested they find another school that better suited Junior’s needs and gave him a couple referrals. He explained that they were geared more to medical care and special education. They weren’t equipped to help children with his potential. Marty knew that Junior had become aware that all the children there were different. And he realized why he was there. Because he was ugly, a freak.

  While Marty was filling out paperwork to take Junior out of the learning center, an old smoking buddy came through the office door. “Now if you will contact us later, we will send the authorization along to the new school. Have you found a place yet?” She looked up and recognized her high school friend. “I thought that name sounded familiar.” Marty smiled, his mind whirring with an idea and he seized the opportunity.