Brutal

by Michael Harmon

  “A win?”

  “Football, my little innocent. He's the star receiver. He caught for five billion yards last year and attained the ‘most likely to live in the past when you're thirty years old award.’ You know, one of those guys sitting on a barstool talking about the halcyon days of glory back in high school.”

  “Oh.” I wasn't about to mention what happened to Velveeta.

  Theo wore an Iron Maiden T-shirt today, and he looked cute. He slid me a glance. “Why? Got a crush on him?”

  “Hardly. Just wondering.”

  He laughed. “Whatever.”

  “What if I do have a crush on him?”

  He shook his head. “Then you have a nice way of showing it. I saw you give him the finger.”

  We walked.

  “Something happen to make you give him the bird?”

  “No.”

  “Awesome. I love people that randomly flip off strangers.”

  “Not to me. Someone else.”

  He sighed. “Velveeta.”

  “How'd you know?”

  “There's nothing not to know. Colby Morris makes a sport of it.”

  “A sport of picking on him?”

  He nodded. “Ever since he got here last year, some of the guys saw some fun in him. The kid is a magnet for that kind of shit.”

  “The whole school is in on it?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, but Colby is the main one. And the vacant lot is the gossip of the day. The paper thing. Velveeta's the school entertainment.”

  I frowned. “I was starting to like you.”

  “What did I do?”

  “You think it's funny.”

  “No, I think it's pitiful, but look at the guy, Poe. He aches for those guys to walk all over him, and Colby Morris is a natural at things like that. At least now. He used to be cool.”

  “And you just sit there and laugh.”

  “No, I don't. But you can't stop it. God, some weeks it happens every day.”

  “Yeah, but I don't have to like it.”

  He smirked. “Well, then, maybe you could borrow some halo polish from Colby, Mother Teresa.”

  “That's totally uncool, Theo. You don't have to sit there and gloat.”

  He smiled. “Take a breath. I don't like it either, but what am I supposed to do? Talk to Mr. Halvorson about it? Have a sit-in for anti-harassment? Jesus, Poe, this place was like a vacuum waiting for a guy like Velveeta to show up. It's unstoppable.”

  “And I suppose the school doesn't do anything?”

  “Look around. This place is status quo central. It ain't a problem if the problem doesn't matter.”

  “Great.”

  “Listen, if my dad being the mayor has taught me anything, it's that the system works a certain way for a reason. It's not just evil by chance. It's the worldview.”

  “Worldview?”

  “Yeah. We're not individuals, girl. We're a unit. The philosophy of collective fucked-upedness. See, if the unit as a whole is operating in a cool way, as the unit known as Benders High is, there are no problems. Velveeta is but a small glitch in the system of pumping out mindless world villagers to be productive members of society. Karl Marx had a point, you know? Give ‘em a test or ten, tell ‘em what they're good at, and bam, you've got your workforce. Velveeta is a minor distraction from the work of creating robots.”

  “You sound like an anarchist.”

  “Better than being a social communist.”

  “True. But we need school for, like, uh, being able to read?” A jolt of shame went through me. Was Poe Holly actually defending an institution? I decided that Theo was so far out there that he was the one that needed reeling in. He made me look like a pansy when it came to counterculture attitude.

  “School is just like church. The core is good, but it's all the stupid parts that make it stupid.”

  “Brilliant, Theo.” I rolled my eyes. “Stupid things generally make things stupid.”

  “Good, then we agree. Does that mean I can take you out for a burger after school?”

  “Are you asking me on a date?”

  He shook his head. “I don't believe in dating. I believe in casual encounters with other worker bees.”

  “I feel special.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I'm joking. Why don't we call it a predate? I'm still not sure you're good enough for me. I am the mayor's son, after all.”

  After school, Theo met me at the flagpole and we walked toward town, talking about music and politics and everything else that I liked. I felt like I'd known him all my life. Like we were conjoined twins or something. He loved music with a passion, all classic heavy metal. Judas Priest, Motley Crüe, Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, old Metallica (before they sold out, he said), and Motorhead. He also told me he wanted to be a political satirist. A natural slide in, he said, because of watching his dad operate.

  As we walked through the neighborhood, Velveeta turned the corner ahead of us, heading home. I watched him for a moment, and a pang of sickening pity accompanied the fire in my belly over my dad telling me not to hang out with him. “Mind if we invite him?”

  Theo looked at the gangly stork walking. “I thought this was a predate.”

  “Come on. Give him a chance. He's actually really nice.”

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  I called to him and he stopped, turning around. He grinned as we neared, scratching his ear. “Hi, Poe.” Then he looked at Theo. “Hi.”

  Theo held out his hand. “Theo.”

  Velveeta didn't smile. “I know. Seen you about a million times at school.”

  “We've never really met.”

  I cut in. “We're getting burgers. Want to come?”

  He looked down the street. “Burgers?”

  “Yeah. Hungry?”

  He thought about it for a minute. “Naw, you go. I got stuff to do.”

  I thought about the vacant lot. “Come on, it'll be fun. You can do your stuff later.”

  He shuffled. “You sure?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I'm starving. Come on.”

  He smiled. “Okay. I don't got money, though. Can I borrow some till tonight? My stash is at home.”

  Theo smiled. “Your stash?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. My bank.”

  Theo sighed. “Oh. Got ya.”

  The burger place, off the main tourist strip and a local hangout, was full of kids. Velveeta shuffled, nervous. Arnie's, Home of the Big'un, was a hopping place. We ordered, got our food, and sat down. I popped a fry in my mouth before we started eating, looking at Theo. “You like it here?”

  “No. But I wanted to impress you with how mainstream I was.”

  “Right.”

  “Actually, I'm a burger junky I LOVE Arnie's burgers. Live on ‘em if I could.”

  I smiled, flirting. I didn't even know I knew how to flirt. “So the real anarchist comes out.”

  He leaned back, stretching. “You know me. I'll stand up for any cause if it's easy, fun, and irritating to people. Principles get in the way of hedonism and personal pleasure.”

  Velveeta took the top bun from his burger, dug in his pocket, brought out a crumpled ball of tinfoil, opened it, took a chunk of warm, oily yellow cheese from it, plopped it on top of the cheese already there, and squished the bun back on. Theo and I stared. Then he opened his mouth wider than I thought humanly possible and took a bite. He chewed a few times, then looked at us, mayonnaise gathered at the corners of his mouth. “What's hedonism?”

  Theo gaped at him. “What the fuck? Jesus, man, was that cheese?”

  Cheeks stuffed with burger, Velveeta frowned. A piece of lettuce stuck to his teeth. “Yeah. Had some left from lunch.” He set the burger down, taking the lid off again and picking up the remaining part of the chunk. Mayonnaise and lettuce coated it. “Want some? It's good.”

  I laughed into my fries, getting a kick out of Theo's expression. “He likes cheese.”

  Theo smiled. “There's a difference between liking and a fetish, dude.�
�

  Velveeta looked at the chunk of cheese in his hand, then put it on the paper beside the burger.

  Theo frowned. “Dude, just put it back on. I was joking.”

  Velveeta put the lid back on his burger, keeping his eyes down. “Naw. I was just joking, too.”

  Theo looked at me apologetically, shrugged, then took a bite. “Hedonism means pure pleasure,” he said.

  Velveeta smiled again, back on track. “I heard of that. Like in the Girls Gone Wild videos. They got all kinds of hedonism going on.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Girls Gone Wild?”

  “Yep. Got the whole collection. You can order ‘em from the TV. Nothin’ but a big old party all the time with girls in their bathing suits. Lotsa lesbos, too. You seen them, Theo?”

  He smiled, glancing at me, then looking away. “Part of one. The ads are on all the time.”

  A moment of awkward silence followed before Velveeta looked around the restaurant, craning his neck from side to side. “You ever seen hooters before?”

  We stared at him.

  He nodded to himself, still looking around. “This place is sorta like that. ‘Cept there's no girl waitresses and they don't have uniforms like that. Those red shorts and tank top things.”

  I breathed, and Theo laughed. “Yeah, I've been to Hooters. Last summer in LA.”

  “You can order triple cheese on anything you want, and the hooter girls smile at you no matter what you look like.

  Part of the job, I guess, on account of Mr. Hooter, probably. My dad told me it was good customer service.”

  The bell over the front door chimed, and three girls walked to the counter. One wore a cheerleader outfit, and the other two could have been glam twin rejects from that show Malibu that MTV vomited out weekly. Velveeta looked at them, the smile disappearing from his face as his eyes went to his lap. He shrank down a little bit. I frowned. “Who are they?”

  Theo looked, then shook his head at me, mouthing “no.” Velveeta kept his eyes on his lap. Theo drank the rest of his pop. “Let's skate, huh? I'm done.”

  I looked at his half-eaten burger, then at Velveeta's, then at the girls in line. Theo frowned. “Let's go.”

  Velveeta rose, and I did, too. Theo led the way, and as we passed behind the Cosmo twins, they looked at Velveeta and laughed. In another few seconds, we were outside. Velveeta walked four or five steps ahead of us. I walked beside Theo. “Who were they?”

  “The one in the cheerleader outfit was Anna Conrad.”

  I frowned, out of the loop. Then I remembered. The note. She'd written it to Velveeta. “Oh.”

  Theo grunted. “Queen socialite of Benders High. I think she's slept with every guy in five counties.”

  “Including you?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. She stays away from me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because her dad ran against my dad one year. For mayor. My dad crushed him.”

  I watched Velveeta walk, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. “This town is a soap opera. God.”

  “You've got that right. And Anna is the singing angel in the center of it.”

  “What?”

  “She's the lead soloist in the Elite Choir. Actually, she's awesome. I heard her sing at the wine festival after the parade last year. Last I heard, she qualified for some national contest in Philadelphia.”

  That set me back, and I had a flash of jealousy Anna Conrad would have been second string to me if I'd taken the soloist position. “Great.”

  “Oh, it gets better. Her mother chairs the school board committee. Funding isn't a problem for the choir.” He smiled. “It also helps that her mom's one of the three judges that pick soloists every year.”

  “So I guess Anna is a walk-on, then?”

  “Maybe if she didn't have a voice, but she's got some pipes on her.”

  I thought about that, then thought about what Mrs. Baird told me. She knew Anna would be second soloist if I took the spot, and she obviously wasn't afraid to deal with her mother about it. I watched Velveeta walk. “Hey, Velveeta.”

  He looked back.

  “Slow down, huh?”

  He did, and we all walked together. Theo hopped on the curb, balancing as he went. “Sorry about that, man.”

  “Sorry about what?”

  “About Anna Conrad being there.”

  He frowned, definite friction between the two. “You got something to say to me?”

  “I mean about the note and everything. Bad timing.”

  Velveeta looked at his feet. “What note?”

  I nudged Theo, and he got the picture. “Nothing, man. No sweat. Those burgers are so big I can only eat half anyway.”

  We came to our houses and Velveeta waved us off, heading up his walk and disappearing in his front door. The Volvo was gone, Dad off doing something after school, and Theo and I found ourselves alone on the front porch. We sat, and after a moment, Theo spoke. “So, you like it here?”

  “It's okay.”

  He nodded. “I always wanted to live in Los Angeles.”

  I laughed. “Yeah. It's cool. I miss it.”

  “Lot of friends?”

  “No, not really. Just a few good ones.”

  “Must be hard coming here. With your dad and all.”

  I shrugged. “I never knew him. He's different.”

  “He's cool,” Theo said.

  I turned to him. “You think?”

  “Yeah. You can't really talk to my dad. You say something, and he talks at you the rest of the time. It's the born leader in him. At least that's what he says.”

  “He sounds funny.”

  “He is. He's great. But he's like a bull in a china shop.”

  “My dad is like a gnat in the room. It's like pulling nails to get anything real out of him.”

  “All the surface counselor crap?”

  “Yeah. Sometimes I feel like I'm reading a textbook when he talks.”

  “What's your mom do?”

  “Avoid me.”

  “Ha. Really.”

  “She's a surgeon. In South America saving people for a year.”

  “Nice.”

  “If you like doing the right thing for the wrong reasons, sure.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that my mom really doesn't care about people in South America. She cares about herself and what she looks like to her high-society snoot doctor friends.”

  He frowned. “Listen, Poe, my dad is a politician. Your mom is a doctor. She saves people.”

  I looked at him. “Don't start with that, okay? I don't care what she is.”

  “Whoa. Danger ahead. Didn't mean anything by it.”

  “I know. I just don't want to talk about it, okay?”

  Theo nodded, and just then, the Volvo rounded the corner. He stood. “Listen, I've got to split, and I can't really be seen around town with the school counselor.” He smiled. “I've got my own image to maintain.”

  I laughed. “Chicken.”

  “Cluck cluck. See ya later.”

  Chapter Nine

  After Theo left, I told my dad I forgot something at school and double-timed it back, hoping I wasn't too late. Mrs. Baird sat at her desk flipping through papers, and a girl, one I hadn't seen around campus, filed more papers into a cabinet near the stage. I knocked on the doorjamb, and Mrs. Baird looked up. “Oh, hello, Poe.”

  I stepped in, swallowing a big hunk of pride. “Hi. Do you have a minute?”

  She stood, coming around her desk. “Sure. What can I do for you?”

  I glanced at the girl filing papers, then walked further in. “Well, I've been thinking about what you said the other day. About singing.”

  She nodded. “Yes?”

  Anna Conrad flashed through my mind, and I smiled. “I'll take the soloist position.”

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter six of David's new self-help book, untitled as of yet, was about following through with ongoing issue
s. It basically means it's unhealthy to let something slide, because it will just fester and get worse. The road to recovery and understanding is communication, my father wrote. I sat on the front porch thinking about it. Pretty good, actually.

  I heard the front screen open and looked to the side. He walked out with two cups of coffee in his hands. Still as the painting I'd imagined when I first arrived, the neighborhood was dark and silent. Not even a wisp of breeze. He held a cup out to me. “I put creamer in it.”

  I took it, tucking my feet under me and inhaling the scent of the hot liquid. “Thanks.”

  “Mind if I sit with you?”

  I sipped. “Go ahead.”

  He did, and, as usual, was silent. You'd think that as a counselor, he would yap his head off all the time, but he never did. We talked, sure, but it wasn't the constant jabbering like with my mom. He crossed his leg over his knee. “Nice night. Sometimes you can almost smell the grapes.”

  I wondered how many nights he'd spent here in silence. Did he have a girlfriend? Friends? Was he truly a hermit? I breathed. “I thought you were gay when I first got here.”

  He cleared his throat. “Hmm. Why?”

  “The house, and the other pair of sandals by the door.”

  He nodded. “Ah. I can see how you would wonder.”

  “Are you?”

  He took a moment. “No.”

  A cricket sounded in the distance, followed by another. We watched a neighbor's car slide by slowly, the headlights piercing the darkness. “Why don't you ever answer anything?”

  “I did answer, Poe.”

  “Not really. Not like real.”

  “I'm not a homosexual.”

  My voice came soft, silken with the night. “What are you, though? Before I got here, I mean? What did you do?”

  “You mean my schedule? I would mostly come home and write.”

  “Do you have friends?”

  He nodded. “I do. And I occasionally have them over.”

  “Women?”

  “Occasionally.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  “Not at the moment. I dated a nice woman from Northburg recently, though. You remember Northburg? We purchased your iPod there.”

  “What was her name?”