Moments later the doctor returned with his nurse. Both looked grim.
“Miss Dushell.”
“Let me have it, Doc.”
“Well, I found scarring in your uterus, deep scars, like you thought. I would guess the scars are years old, possibly from childhood. Is there anything you would like to tell me?”
“No.”
“I can step out and you can talk to Nurse Patrice.” His voice was much deeper and authoritative this time.
“There’s nothing to say. I wanted to know for sure and you told me. May I dress now?”
He tried once more. “Is there anything you would like to say to either of us? Perhaps a counselor, someone you felt comfortable with?”
“No! Can I get dressed?” she raised her voice, getting annoyed.
“Get dressed, Miss Dushell.”
They left the room to give her privacy. When she finished, she walked out. The doctor was down the hall looking at another chart, about to go into the next room. She walked to him. “I’m sorry I yelled back there.” She spoke softly.
“I understand. You’re of age so I have nothing to report. Your file is confidential if you are wondering.”
“Thank you.” She turned, then stopped. “Doctor?”
“Yes?”
“Does the scarring prevent me from having children? I mean, if I wanted them, can I have them?”
He gulped. He gave a warm smile, but the ends twitched. “I’m sorry, Miss Dushell. You will never be able to have children. I’m sorry.”
The doctor escaped into the room before she could thank him for his honesty. She regretted yelling at him, it wasn’t his fault. She left the office to go home and wait until dark so she could go back to work. She prayed her mother wasn’t there. She couldn’t take seeing her right now. God, let her not be home.
The car started. She made a turn onto a busy one-way street and was immediately cutoff by a crazy driver in a red sports car. Brittany swerved and drove into a sidewalk mailbox. The car came to a screeching halt and the airbag deployed, knocking her back.
“Uggg!” she fumed. She beat at the bag and then the steering wheel. She beat with fury. Images of youth flashed through her mind, she stopped and slumped over the wheel, crying.
“Goddamn, you! I won’t be remembered! I won’t be remembered!”
Brittany cried so hard she couldn’t stop. She simply sat, hunched over the steering wheel, crying.
Chapter Eighteen: Mike
The bell rang. First hour was a breeze, everyone loved Mrs. Frazier. English was never a promising class, but to have a caring teacher made all the difference. The next hour would be the killer. Mike Jones had the unfortunate luck of drawing Franklin Howard as his homeroom teacher. He and the other unfortunates spent an hour and a half with this man. They formed a mutual hate society, all save Amy, his pet.
Mike entered the darkened dungeon with a heavy heart. He gave a stray look to Mr. Howard as he passed his desk. He sat with a group of three boys in the back of the class. None of them cared for the class or teacher and spent their time talking on other subjects. Today it was Raina, the long-haired brunette, an exchange student from India.
“She lives next door to me, bro,” said Ben.
“Yeah, right,” said Mike.
“It’s true, bro,” said Ben. He leaned in to whisper. “She lives with Bobby Dunkin, sharing a room with his sister, Rhonda. Rhonda says she sneaks out the bedroom window, at least once every two days. On the real, bro.”
Mike looked skeptical. Ben looked sincere. Was it a trap? He decided to believe him. He gave a mischievous smile. They fist-bumped and together stared at the thin, chesty goddess. Mike thought of running his fingers through her massive black locks. With a nod from Ben, he made his move.
The teacher arranged his class in six rows of six students each. Mike sat in the last seat in the next to the last row, surrounded by his friends. Raina sat in the second seat in the first row. Getting a note to her would be tricky. Mike glanced at the teacher, he wrote on the blackboard. Now was the best opportunity he would get. He would not see her the rest of the day.
Taking a sheet of paper from his notebook, Mike wrote an age-old letter. It was quick and could get to her before Mr. Howard turned around. He folded the paper, addressed the outside to Raina, and tapped the guy next to him. He whispered, “Pass this to Raina.”
The boy took the note, read the outside name, and tapped the girl in front of him. “Raina.”
The note traveled toward its target and all looked well. Mike nervously glanced at Mr. Howard, anxious for the students to move faster. Why didn’t I take it to her? The words rolled in his head. It was too late. All he could do was watch. The note made it to the next to the last hands it would travel through. The next in the chain, Sabrina, followed directions. Before she could deliver it to its target, a massive hairy hand wrenched the note from the teenager.
Mike’s heart dropped. He had taken his attention off Mr. Howard. He prayed. Don’t read it, don’t read it, don’t read it.
Too late. Mr. Howard had the note. He read the name, Raina. An evil smile crossed his lips. He looked at the students in the row. They quickly lowered their heads, pretending they were working.
Mike pretended as well. Though his book was open, his eyes found themselves searching yet not wanting to find their target. He stole a glance. The teacher looked dead at him. Busted. Mike looked back at his papers and nervously scribbled several lines of nonsense. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the man moving toward the front, to his desk. Mike braved another look.
Mr. Howard scanned the rows and settled at Mike’s desk. He read the outside name again. This time, he slowly unfolded the piece of paper, taking great joy in opening it. A sparkle shone in his twisted eyes. He turned around, pretending to read the note in privacy. One by one, the students turned to pay condolences to Mike. Each looked sympathetic as they met his gaze. Mr. Howard gave them a new reason to hate the man.
Mr. Howard turned, his expression, one of a child standing in front of a candy store. This would not go good. He cleared his throat.
“To Raina.” He read the outside cover.
Bewilderment covered Raina’s face. She looked behind her to the low groans, unable to understand the weight of the words. She turned back to Mr. Howard.
Patience was Howard’s long suit. He waited until he had her full attention and the uproar died. The look of deliciousness let Mike know the man was not going to let it go. Mr. Howard’s old fingers turned the note over. Again, he cleared his throat.
“Raina, would you go out with me? Check yes or no.”
Mr. Howard chuckled.
He wasn’t alone. The room burst into ‘oohs and awws’ followed by tremendous laughter. Raina turned to see where Mr. Howard was looking. Amy, the pet, sat behind Raina and pointed directly at the perpetrator. Raina’s eyes met Mike’s. She gave a look of revulsion and turned back around. The look seared itself into his brain. The room erupted with laughter.
Mike looked to his friends for support. They laughed with the others. Ben lied.
Mike stood with fury in his eye. He faced Mr. Howard. “You didn’t have to do that, you asshole!”
“Ooh,” said a student.
“Get him,” said another, trying to incite a conflict.
“Know he didn’t,” a girl exclaimed at the top of her lungs.
Mike was so angry he didn’t feel brave.
Mr. Howard fired back, “Jones, office, now!”
“Whatever, bitch!”
Mike grabbed his books and backpack. His friends held their heads low, murmuring their applause as quietly and undetectably as possible. None risked outright exposure, which was the advantage of being in the back. Mike glowered back at the smirking Ben, before making his way to the front. Noises grew louder as he boldly walked through the aisle toward their teacher. Mr. Howard glared at the class and they fell silent.
“Move, Jones.”
Mike left the classroo
m and went down the hall to the Principal’s office. He went inside and waved at Tila, the secretary. She gave him a hard look and shook her head. Tila pointed to a chair and he sat with a smile.
Minutes later, Mr. Howard came in. He checked for Mike before walking to the counter. “Is Bill free?”
“Yes, sir,” said Tila, “go on back.”
Mr. Howard motioned for Mike to join him. Together, they walked down the narrow hall and entered the open door on the right. “Bill?” Mr. Howard shut the door for privacy.
“Hey, Franklin, what’s going on?”
“Mr. Jones, here, had the audacity to curse me in my class. I imagine he thought he was home on his reservation.”
Mike flared. He didn’t wear the clothes or look anything like those people.
“All right, son,” said the principal. His hand shot out at Mike, a gesture to keep him in his place. By the look, the principal didn’t care for Mr. Howard either. He smiled, trying to calm the teen. “We don’t need that sort of language, Franklin.”
Franklin Howard stared at him in disbelief.
“Apologize, Franklin,” said a stern Principal Tally.
“What!” the man blustered.
“Apologize or face the consequences, Franklin. You know better than to say something like that. Apologize.”
“Fine!” he huffed. “I apologize. Can we get down to business now?”
“Go ahead.”
“I want this . . . this, this student, expelled. I will not tolerate bad behavior. It sets a bad example for the others. You should have heard them, the way they whooped it up for his insolence.”
Principal Bill Tally gave Mike a thorough scan. His brown eyes seemed sympathetic, giving Mike hope. Maybe, just maybe, he was on his side. “Michael Jones, you will apologize to Mr. Howard.”
Mike was grateful. He turned to the teacher before the Principal could change his mind. Mr. Howard put up his hand to stop him. “Not here,” said Howard. A sadistic grin fell across his splotchy face. “In class, where the incident began.”
Mike turned to the Principal for support.
“Go on, Mike. You were wrong and there is always a price to pay. Go on back to class and get it over with. I don’t want to see you back here today. Go on.”
Mr. Howard was a troll, despite being tall and bulky. If they had been alone, the man would have jumped for joy. He happily held the door open for Mike. The teenager walked past him holding his breath. He stormed down the hallway and back to the classroom. Mike stopped in front of the noisy class, staring at his former friend, Ben. He gave a glance to Raina and immediately regretted it. It was if time stood still, her face showed the same mixture of confusion and rage. Surely somebody must have explained what happened by now.
Mr. Howard strolled in, unable to control his grin. Knowing him, he wasn’t trying. This was a victory and he enjoyed it. The room grew quiet.
Suddenly, a mischievous grin spread below Mike’s nose. The glint in Howard’s eye faded. Mike faced the stunned class and made his apology before the man could stop him. “I should not have called Mr. Howard an asshole. He is not an asshole.”
Three girls sitting up front put their hand over their mouth. Their eyes grew big and they looked around at the others. Perfect, that was the effect he wanted.
“I was wrong to say that he was an asshole.”
“Ooh,” said a number of students, busting out in giggles. Mike stood taller. The hateful teacher moved toward him so he had to speed up his apology.
“Mr. Howard told Principal Tally that I called him an asshole. Principal Tally said I should apologize for using the word, asshole. I hereby apologize to Mr. Howard for calling him an asshole in front of the whole class. Thank you.” Mike was so pleased with himself, he bowed. Not once, but to Mr. Howard and then to each and every individual row of students.
Many cheered. Mr. Howard moved close to him so Mike ran down his aisle and took his seat. Franklin Howard stopped and glared at his class. He extended a long thin finger. Silence fell in the room.
“Let’s get back to work,” he said coolly.
Class went on until the bell rung. At that time, the students rose to leave. Mike was one of the last, still enjoying his triumph. He passed by the big desk and a hand came out. “Not you, Jones.”
The remaining students hooted as they left the room.
“What now?” asked Mike.
“Come here, Mr. Jones.”
Mike showed no fear. He stood in front of the man. Mr. Howard got out of his chair. He towered over the arrogant teen. He was a menacing man of six feet. He looked down with ferocity. The intimidation would stop others. Mike looked up to meet his gaze with equal intensity.
“What?”
Mr. Howard lowered his face to the boy. “I’m going to make your life a living hell, boy. For every time you defiled my classroom, I will stick it to you at every opportunity. And take my word for it, BOY. You won’t pass my class and when I talk to your other teachers, I can assure you that you won’t pass their classes either.”
“You can’t do that.” Mike stood tall, challenging him. He couldn’t let the man see how scared he was. He would win this battle.
“Oh, yeah?” Howard asked, blowing his foul spit as he talked. “We teachers stick together against ‘red trash’ like you. Mark my words. I will see you back in this class next year. Oh, yes, Mr. Jones, I can take you another year. In fact, I look forward to it.”
His snarl was something Mike had come accustomed to. He knew the man and knew he didn’t bluff. Mike swallowed hard. His eyes faltered and lowered. Suddenly, he raised them again to meet the vicious stare of his nemesis. “Go to hell!”
Mike walked out in triumph. He felt victorious. He whistled as he walked down the hallway. Instead of going to his next class, he cleaned out his locker and carried all the books to the Principal’s office.
“You back already?” asked Tila.
“For the last time,” said Mike. With a happy heart, he laid his books on the counter in front of the secretary.
“What’s this?”
“These are all my books. Please make sure I get credit for turning them in.” He gave the confused woman a warm smile. “I quit and I hope Franklin Fuckhead Howard burns in hell.” He went around the desk of the shocked woman and stole a kiss on her cheek, bowed, then left, whistling.
Mike didn’t go home to explain. Instead, he went to a sports bar two blocks away. He gave the owner a deer he killed on a hunting trip with his grandfather Pipi. Since then, the man let him come into the bar, but only during the day. Mike and two others frequently skipped school to get drunk with local bums. For his fifteenth birthday, they took him to a strip joint and waited while a lovely lady made a man out of him. Since then, he has been to four of Florida’s best strip clubs and fallen in love with more than six strippers, two of which made his sweet sixteen, sweet.
Quitting school was no big deal for him. In the back of his mind he knew he wouldn’t make it to graduation anyway. He saddled up to the bar and took a seat on a stool. “Hey, Tex.”
“What’s up, Mike?”
“Not much, how has it been?”
“Slow as dirt, like always. Jimmy is in the back.”
“I’ll see him later. Let me have a whiskey, neat. Make it a double, I just quit school.”
The woman looked at him, scolding with her southern eyes.
“Come on Tex, I missed thirty-one days in the first semester. You told me I wouldn’t last.”
“I told you to stop listening to those idiots. What are you going to tell your folks?”
Tex poured a drink and set it in front of him. She took her towel and wiped the bar.
“The truth.” He downed his drink and tapped the counter.
“Never tell the truth, boy.”
The voice came from behind him. Mike turned to see one of the bums, Stanley. To see him upright was a miracle. Stanley nearly drank himself to death after losing his job. He wanted to go out like that gu
y in the movie Leaving Las Vegas. Unfortunately, he lost consciousness in a fleabag motel one block from Miami General Hospital. They saved his life, but he lost a leg in the bargain. He tapped Mike with his cane.
“Don’t listen to him,” said Tex. “Get on out of here, Stanley. How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not serving you, ever again?” she set another drink in front of Mike, giving the bum the evil eye.
“Come on, Tex. What did I ever do to you?”
“Your booze came from here, you old fart. You are not making me part of your suicide. Get on ‘way from ‘round here.”
“Tex?” Stanley pleaded.
“No!”
“Tex,” said Mike, trying to help his friend.
“I said no. And if you give him one drop, you are out of here and on my shit list, too.”
“Sorry Stan,” said Mike.
“Oh, Mike, man. Come on, don’t listen to that Texas wannabe, we’re blood. Remember I took you to your first club. Bought you your first piece of—”
“Stanley!” Tex cut him off. She held a sawed-off shotgun aimed right at his head. “You git out of here and you git out now. Move!”
The man turned and walked out, cursing under his breath and loudly tapping his cane as he went. Mike thought about the sound it made and wondered why he hadn’t heard it the first time. He turned back to Tex, her face flushed with anger. “You can put it down, he’s gone.”
“Sorry, that’s a problem I gotta work on.”
“Hell, you did better this time, girl. You didn’t fire a warning shot.”
They laughed. Her anger management classes were working, though they had to be forced on her in lieu of jail time. Tex stopped laughing and picked up the remote. A television hung from a corner with the sound off. The captioning read, “Breaking News.” She turned up the sound and they listened.
A news reporter came on:
“This is Consuela Martinez coming to you from the USS Bohman. Today, a tragedy struck America. We lost our great leader, a great man, President James Connors. Vice President Reilly is here aboard this very ship, waiting for the arrival of Supreme Court Justice Tanner Oaks. Vice President Reilly says he will not leave the area until a full explanation of what happened has been determined. At this hour, we know that several explosions shook Mount Mitchell in the Appalachian Mountains, here in North Carolina. Vice President Reilly said that President Connors was on the mountain and attacked and killed by a terrorist group that lured him to the mountain on false hopes of peace. Fighting broke out and we have footage from locals of an air fight that we will bring you shortly. Repeating, President Connors is dead, killed by terrorists on Mount Mitchell. Vice President Reilly will be sworn in as President as soon as Chief Justice Oaks arrives here on board the USS Bohman. Stay tuned to this channel for all-day coverage and deep analysis. This is Consuela Martinez, Eyewitness News.”
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