The Rough English Equivalent (The Jack Mason Saga Book 1)

by Stan Hayes

  “Well,” Mr. Martin said, “Perhaps we ought to hear what Jack has to say first. If that’s all right with everyone.” He paused for a quick glance at the three faces, and continued. “Would you like to tell us why you decided to support your friend in this particular way?”

  Jack took a moment to look at each of the three, then said, “It’s just like I told Coach. If Ricky’s off the squad, then so am I.”

  “I think we all understand how you feel, Jack,” said Mr. Martin. “Loyalty’s essential to friendship. Ricky, Patricia and their families have a very serious problem, and so has the school system. Everyone’s going to have to concentrate on dealing with their part of the problem. I can’t understand what you think leaving the team will do to help solve it.”

  “It’ll solve my problem, sir.”

  “Your problem? What is your problem?”

  “My problem’s being sure my friend knows I’m with him- a hundred percent. I think that’ll help him solve his problem.”

  “Did he ask you to quit?”

  “No sir. Matter of fact, I may have to fight ’im when he hears about it.”

  A faint smile flickered over Martin’s face for a fraction of a second. Then he said, “That’d be a strange reaction to what you’re doing- strange, at least, for him. Wouldn’t it?”

  “You wouldn’t think so,” Ricky said, returning the principal’s smile with a shake of his head, “If you knew Ricky.”

  Coach Whitehead responded to Jack’s headshaking with his own. “You’re sayin’ he wants yuh to play next year?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Howyaknow?”

  “I told you. He’s my friend. I know ‘im.”

  “It seems to me,” said Martin, “that you’d want to respect his wishes.”

  “I would,” said Jack, “if he was right. He’s not. He’s my friend, but that doesn’t mean he’s always right.”

  “Are you always right, Jack?” asked Martin.

  “Nossir. Not by a jugful. But I think I’m right about this.”

  “Well, here’s the deal, son,” said Coach Whitehead. With you and Terrell, Bisque High looked like it’d repeat as state champion next year. It would’ve been real hard to without Terrell, but it’ll be impossible to do with both of you out. The way I see it, this way we all lose. Terrell loses, the school loses, and so do you. Bein’ all-state last year and a cinch to make it again next year, you could write your own ticket to dern near any school you pleased. You know how many scouts there was around here in th’ post-season last year. I wish there was somethin’ we could do about Terrell, but there idn’t. But it’s within your power to help us overcome losin’ him, and do somethin’ important for your future too. That’s what we’d all liike to see you do, includin’ Terrell.”

  “Not all of us, Mr. Whitehead,” said Serena.

  The principal looked over his glasses at her. “What are your feelings in this matter, Mrs. Mason?” he asked.

  “My feelings are that Jack’s made his decision to support Ricky in the way that he feels that he must. When we first sat down, you said that Ricky, Trisha and their families have a very serious problem, and they certainly have. That’s what this meeting should’ve been about; what Jack and his fellow students will learn from what’s happened to Ricky and Trisha. Particularly about whether the school system, and Bisque in general, is right to turn these children into outlaws because they made a mistake. Instead, we’re talking about football. Football, for God’s sake! What can you men be thinking about?”

  Martin’s poker face said, “What we’re thinking about is the long-term welfare of the children that Bisque families place into our care. That welfare includes reinforcing the values that they learn at home, and at church. It certainly does not include the erosion of those values by allowing behavior such as this to go unpenalized.”

  “Oh, they’ll be penalized, all right. And plenty,” said Serena, standing up. “In this town, you can be sure of that. And since your options as employees of the system are so severely limited, helping them deal with the penalties looks like it’s going to fall to their friends. Unless you have anything else to add, I think we’ve pretty much covered everything that relates to this situation. And I’m sure Jack needs to get to class.”

  Everyone else stood up. “Thank you for coming in, Mrs. Mason,” said Martin. “I’m sorry- “

  Serena held up her hand in the manner of a traffic cop. “You go on, honey. I need just a minute with Mr. Martin. Would you walk out with me, please?” She extended her hand to Coach Whitehead. “Nice to see you, Coach.”

  “I wanted to ask you something,” she said as they walked down the school’s front steps. “Where did Trisha get pregnant?”

  Martin stopped short, a step below her, and looked up. “What did you say?”

  “I said, ‘where did Trisha get pregnant?’ “

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” said Martin.

  “Would you say that it happened here?”

  “Here? You mean on school property? Certainly not.”

  “Then on what authority are you suspending Ricky Terrell?”

  Martin’s mouth opened slowly, soundlessly, and shut. Then he said, “The policy of the school board- “

  Serena smiled. “I doubt that there is such a thing, other than what’s made up as they go along.”

  Martin’s poker face returned. “I don’t think I should discuss this situation with you any further outside of- ”

  “No,” Serena said, “You wouldn’t. There’s a little Hitler in the best of us. Well, Mr. Martin, take this back to your precious school board. If I were one of Ricky’s parents, I’d sue everyone in sight. I hope they do. You people’s sanctimoniousness makes me sick. Just one last thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  Her eyes were green onyx. “Leave Jack alone.” She turned and strode down the long, wide walk to Main street.

  Miss Nola was, as was her habit, on time. “Hi,” Serena said, smiling as she opened the door.

  “Hi yourself. This is very nice,” she said as she looked around the apartment’s living room. “I knew you lived here, but I really hadn’t thought about what it would be like. Was your apartment in New York like this?”

  “It was, but bigger. Jack and I get along just fine, though. Please, have a seat on the sofa. Coffee’s almost ready.”

  “Thanks. I’m glad to hear you like it. I’m sure some people around here think you’d probably rather be in a house, or that Jack would. I think I’d enjoy living here, though.”

  “Well, we both like it; it’s sort of like keeping the door open to New York. We lived there until Jack was six, you know. He has a lot of memories of the city.”

  “I understand you all went out to Los Alamos.”

  Serena looked at her with unconcealed surprise. “You know about Los Alamos. Not a lot of people around here do.”

  “Oh it’s not quite the secret that it used to be. Even Walter Winchell talks about it; he mentioned something about it on television not long ago.”

  “Well, God knows what the Bisque grapevine’s version is by now, but all I can say is that we were there for awhile, and that Bisque never looked better to me than when we got off the bus. ’Scuse me while I get us some coffee.”

  “Certainly. Well, we were all real glad to have you back,” she said as Serena disappeared into the kitchen. “And I’ve really enjoyed having Jack in my class this year. I hope this football business blows over in a hurry, so that he can concentrate on his schoolwork.”

  Serena returned with two cups of coffee and Toll House cookies. “So do I. It’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard of. Always has been.”

  “Now you sound like your Mama. She never put up with this town’s nonsense; not for a minute.”

  “No,” said Serena, “she didn’t.”

  “I grew up in her shadow, you know; she was five years older than I was, which was a lot when you’re a girl, but she was always really nice to me. I went t
o Agnes Scott because she did. She was a real revolutionary, at least for around here. Silly as it sounds today, we used to say that she had ‘spunk.’ She was so different from Bonnie, it was almost like they weren’t sisters.”

  “So I’ve heard. She used to say that Aunt Bonnie’d accuse her of wanting to be an only child.”

  “Rest her soul. She was the oldest, and as soon as Rose got to be school age it seems like she just got left in her dust. Rose should’ve done what you did; I know I wish that I had.”

  “What’s that?” Serena asked her.

  “Gotten out of this Godforsaken little backwater at the first opportunity.”

  Serena smiled. “But then who’dve gotten Gene Debs, Buster and me through World History?”

  “Some other old maid, I suppose. Honey, I told you when you left that you were doing the right thing. And even though you’ve come back, I have the feeling that you won’t be here forever.”

  “Well, Miss Nola, the war changed a lot of things.”

  “Which war do you mean, honey? The big one, or yours?”

  The smile tightened a notch. “Both, I guess, but in any case I have Jack’s welfare to look out for now.

  “Yes, indeed. There’s an awful lot of you in him, Serena; Jack’s a really bright young man. Did he inherit your artistic talent? If he did, he doesn’t share it with us at school.”

  “Not much, at least not drawing, and I guess if he had there’d be some sign of it by now. I was drawing by the time I could talk. He’s got a lot of his father in him, too; he’s had straight A’s in math since first grade, and his vocabulary passed mine up a year or two back.”

  “Well, I hope you can help him see all this football business for the nonsense it is, and put it behind him for good,” Miss Nola said with an abrupt shake of her head, loosening a long yellow pencil that was lodged, forgotten since school, in the mass of her pinned-up white hair.

  “I don’t think he’s going to need much help, Miss Nola; I wish you could’ve been in that office today. I’ve always been proud of him, of course, but I saw another side of him today, for the first time. He dealt with them respectfully, but as their equal. He just told them there was nothing they could do to change his mind.”

  “Good!” she said, relodging the pencil as she picked up her cup. “As far as I’m concerned, football’s gotten to be way too important a part of high school. It’s a dead end, particularly for the smart ones. Takes up way too much of their time, and for what? Cheap heroics, and first dibs on the pretty girls,” she said, her cheeks contracting in a quick wry grin. “Which, now that I think of it, is why we’ll never be rid of it. But you’d think now that people could see how stupid it is, with millions dead in the war. Old men sending young men- no, boys- out to get hurt or killed for what the old men want. I think about it every time I see an injured player being carried off the field. That’s football, as far as I can see it- just a part of the ongoing charade that rationalizes sending the young to war.”

  “That’s exactly what went on there today, Miss Nola. Two old men clutching to their perches by keeping the flock under control. Oh, I know there’s got to be a strong defense against the tyrants of the world. But we’ve got to look out for who’s doing the leading.”

  “Yea, verily, child. That’s the job, and it’ll never be easy. Look at what that maniac Hitler was able to put the world through, bending the people of one of the most advanced countries in the world to his will. Well, global madness begins with small acts of madness, and Jack struck a blow for sanity today when he told them no. He’s under an awful lot of pressure.”

  “And I don’t think it’ll end for awhile. I told Mr. Martin when I left today that I won’t stand for them treating Jack unfairly.”

  “You know I’ll keep an eye out for that,” Miss Nola said with an abrupt nod of her head. “And they’ll hear from me if I see any of it going on.” She stopped to take a sip from her cup. “There’s another aspect of this situation that I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Oh?” said Serena. “What is it?”

  “You know the Bishop sisters.”

  “Oh yes. They’re the ones that drive Moses Kubielski’s old white Buick.”

  “They’re the ones. They’re in my class this year. Cheerleaders; striking young things, and bright. They share a disease- Tourette’s Syndrome- and rumor has it that they’re clairvoyant to some degree.”

  “Yes, Jack’s told me about their telling them what plays the other teams’ll run. Sounds pretty fishy to me. I’m sorry to hear about the Tourette’s, although I don’t know that much about it.”

  “Yes, it’s tragic,” said Miss Nola. They’re subject to behaving scandalously, with no warning at all. Their mother told us that the tendencies’re minimized as long as they stay close to each other.”

  “Hm. Psychic Siamese twins.”

  Miss Nola paused momentarily to ponder the idea. “Yes, I guess you could characterize it that way. That’s not a bad analogy. Such lovely girls to have something like that to deal with.” She paused again. “This is what I wanted to tell you. They told me that since Jack had refused to play football because of Ricky’s suspension, they were going to drop off the cheerleading squad.”

  “Really? Well, it’s a nice vote of confidence for Ricky- or Jack, I suppose.”

  “You could look at it that way- but that’s not really the reason. Dolores told me something else.”

  “What was that?”

  “She said that Trisha’s baby isn’t Ricky’s.”

  Serena looked keenly at her. “Then whose?”

  “Preston Rogers’.”

  “Who’s out of the school’s reach, of course. Does she- do they- know this for a fact, or is this something that they just ‘know,’ like the football plays last year?”

  “The latter, I’m afraid,” said Miss Nola. “But they’re absolutely convinced.”

  “It may be academic at this point, since Ricky’s admitted responsibility.”

  Miss Nola’s hand stroked her chin, her head reciprocating in a small arc. “He may have been her lover, but Trisha wouldn’t be the first girl, in Bisque or elsewhere, to have had more than one at a time. That’s one of the oldest stories in the world.”

  “Even if Ricky’s not the one,” said Serena, “I’m not sure what you and I can- or should- do about it.”

  “Well, these things tend to take on a life of their own, once they’ve seen the light of day. Remember, ‘the truth will out.’ I just wanted you to know about it, or the possibility of it, since Jack’s involved. He probably knows already. Gossip runs fast over Bisque’s grapevine, but Bisque High’s puts it to shame.”

  “Well, whatever the truth is, Jack’s motive’s the same,” said Serena. “He stood by his friend.”

  “Yes. And since Ricky’s suspension isn’t as much for his potential fatherhood out of wedlock as it is for just having sex in the first place, the truth, when it emerges, won’t change that. But one thing’s for sure.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Both of those boys’ future, and yours, ought to unfold on a bigger stage than Bisque.”

  “Miss Nola,” said Serena, “You’re preachin’ to the choir.”

  An apple-cheeked androgyne in a Coke-cap hat grinned down conspiratorially from the café’s new Pause That Refreshes clock as its hands inched up on six. “Sounds like y’all won,” observed Moses.

  “Yeah, I guess,” said Jack, twirling an ice fragment in a series of small circles around the table with the end of his straw. “Damn if I don’t believe that grown-ups spend most of their lives just tryin’ to get people to do what they want ’em to do.”

  “Yeah,” said Moses, “And watch out for the ones who try to get you to want to do what they want you to do.” Ever hear of a guy called Sartre?

  “Sart? Nope.”

  “Guess he’d be a little strong for high school anyway. He’s a frog; Frenchman. Wrote a play called No Exit back during the war. There’s a line t
hat people quote from it sometimes; ‘Hell is other people’.”

  Jack laughed. “That’s pretty good. I’d like to read it sometime. Bet it’s not in the library, either.”

  “I’ll see if I can’t get hold of it. A lot of people think that he’s got the right idea about life as it is today. A philosophy called existentialism.”

  “Hm,” said Jack. “What do you think of it?”

  “I haven’t spent any time with his work, so I don’t have an opinion. Just remembered that line as it applies to your experience over the past few days.”

  “Falls in there pretty good, I think. This whole damn thing’s screwy. Screwy as hell, you might say. What a pregnant girl and football- or school, either, have to do with each other. Reminds me of a book we’re readin’ now; The Scarlet Letter.”

  “Oh, yeah. Hawthorne. What timin’. Ambitious, for kids in high school English.”

  “We’re not doing it in English. Miz Thomas assigned it in History. Said it’d help us understand the Puritans.”

  “I’ll be durned. Well, how d’ya like it so far?”

  “Pretty heavy goin’ for me, the way he writes. A lot like Hardy. Remember how I choked on Return of the Native? Maybe it’s just the way I read. But I can see this much; Hester, Dimmesdale, Chillingworth- they’re fuckin’ hypocrites. What they do in the book’s pretty much the same thing that they did down there in the principal’s office today. People who we’re supposed to look up to doin’ stuff that could really hurt other people just so things’ll stay convenient for them. Instead of God, they just substituted fuhbawl. And they kept the shunnin’ part of it intact.”

  Moses took a few seconds to absorb Jack’s insight, and a few more to come to grips with the fact that it had come from him. The kid’s growing up in a hurry, he thought. What he said was, “So no spring fuhbawl practice for you guys this year. Whacha gonna do with all this free time, bub?”

  “Don’t know. Whatever it is, Ricky and I’ll be doin’ it together.”

  “I knew that. I thought maybe if you guys wanted to stay in shape, you might like to spar around a little.”