He checked his mirror and flipped on his blinker then turned left onto Arapahoe from Broadway.
A few minutes later, they were back at the high school. Dave parked in his space behind the track shed. He reached into the back and grabbed his blue gym bag then opened the door and cut off the ignition. “Come on,” he said as he crawled out of the Volkswagen, pulling his bad leg out from underneath the steering wheel. “Let’s go. We don’t have time to dick around. I got a lot of shit to do.”
Larry nodded and folded up his coloring book then stuffed it back into his blue book bag. He got out of the car and shut the door behind him then walked around to his father and clutched his hand. Together, they walked across the icy parking lot, their feet slipping and sliding like a pair of drunken penguins.
When they got inside the gym, Larry squealed and took off running, his arms out to the side like he was an airplane. He flew down the sidelines along the wooden bleachers, then made a sharp turn at the water fountains and spun around in circles underneath the basketball goal.
“Larry, what are you doing?” Dave said in a restrained whisper, trying as best he could to shout without making any sound.
“I’m fwying daddy, I’m fwying.”
“God damnit, I told you we don’t have time for this shit. Now, get your ass over here and down these stairs.”
“Okay daddy, here I come!” Larry squealed then dipped his right arm sideways and made a wide left turn towards center court. As he straightened out, he began to gain momentum, fluttering his lips together making a propeller sound. When he got to the other end, he crashed belly first against the stage’s green padding, waving his hands and feet in the air, laughing, like a beached orca.
“God damnit, Larry, will you get down from there?”
Larry laughed a little longer then hopped down from the stage’s padding and ran over to his father.
“Come on, let’s go.” Dave squeezed the kid’s hand and yanked him forward. He opened the door to the basement and descended the dark stairwell.
When they got to the bottom, he halted the kid in front of his office, fished his keys from his pocket, and unlocked the door.
“Alright Larry,” he said, as he guided the kid into the office. “Daddy’s gonna need a few minutes of quiet time. Do you have something to keep you busy?”
The kid nodded, sat down on the carpet, pulled out his crayons and coloring book and laid them all out in a neat little line on the floor.
Dave limped across the office and collapsed into his office chair. He kicked off his shoes and reclined backward, feeling as the blood drained down to his legs. Damn, he was tired. His leg was really aching. It felt like he had a bear trap clamped around his ankle. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths inward, seeing if he could try and breathe the pain away. But, it wasn’t working. The knee was really throbbing, probably because of all the god damn running around today. Fucking Cheryl—why’d she always do this? Why’d she always spring this shit on him at the last minute? If she was gonna be working today, she should’ve planned for it. She should’ve told her sister about it last week. Didn’t she realize the stress he was under? Didn’t she understand the fucking pain he was in? The doctor was very specific—he said no overexertion, nothing that will cause the muscles to be overtly flexed. Not only did that mean no more running, it also meant no more chasing Larry all over the god damn city.
“Shit!” He slammed his fist down against the desk, which shook the mouse and caused the computer screen to flicker on. The clock at the bottom of the screen said it was almost one-thirty. That meant he only had another hour before the last period bell rang. What would one rock set him back, about fifteen minutes? That should leave him plenty of time to finish packing up the school bus. Yeah, it was a no brainer, and with a stronger knee, he could easily make up the fifteen minutes.
He grabbed the edge of the desk and rolled himself forward, opened the bottom drawer and reached inside. Like a surgeon preparing for a complicated procedure, he pulled out his pipe, lighter, and red, plastic pill bottle then set them all up in a straight line. He took a deep breath and wiped his forehead, pulled out a rock and set it on the end of the pipe. His hands were shaking, his leg was throbbing, but it didn’t matter, because in a few seconds, it would all subside. All the worry, all the frustration, all the agony, all the pain—it would all be obliterated like a sand dollar in a tsunami, drowned by a surge of adrenaline and joy.
He took a few hits and reclined backward feeling as the pain began to dissolve. When he opened them back up, he saw Larry staring at him, his curious eyes fixed on the pipe and the red pill bottle. “What’s that?” the kid asked, crawling towards him, stretching his neck upward like a curious giraffe.
“What…this?” Dave said, as he picked up the pill bottle, dangling it like it was his lucky rabbit’s foot.
The kid smiled and nodded, his eyes transfixed as if he was hypnotized.
“This is daddy’s special medicine.”
“What’s it for?”
“My leg.”
“Does it hurt?”
“What?” Dave chuckled and set down the bottle. “No, silly. It’s good for me. Makes daddy big and strong. See.” Dave pulled up his sleeve and flexed his bicep, grunting like he was a weight lifter doing a curl.
“Wow.”
“Pretty neat, huh?”
“Yeah. Can I try some?”
“No you can’t try some. This is for grownups only.”
“Pwease.”
“No.”
“Pwetty pwease.”
“I said no, Larry. End of discussion.”
The kid started pouting like a puppy that had just been punished for peeing on an expensive rug.
Dave did a couple more hits until the rock was finished then checked the clock—he only had another forty-five minutes. He gathered up the pipe, lighter, and plastic medicine bottle and swept them all into his bottom desk drawer. Then, he got up from the desk, went around to Larry, and crouched down so that he was eye level with the kid’s stubby nose. “Alright, Larry, I want you to stay in here while I get some stuff ready, and I don’t want you leaving until I get back—that means no exploring or playing around in the gym. Okay?”
The kid didn’t respond, just nodded. He was still upset for getting scolded.
“Larry, I need you to answer me. Yes or no. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Alright then.” Dave stood up and snatched the bus keys off the silver file cabinet then shoved them in his pocket and walked to the door. “I’ll only be a few minutes, and when I get back I want you to be ready to get on that bus, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Alright, I’ll see you soon. Be good. No screwing around in here.”
“Alwight.”
“Bye Larry.”
“Bye daddy.”
Chapter 8
The Magic Bus
DAVE was finished. It took him an hour, but he finally did it. He’d washed out the coolers, packed up the volleyballs, and even brought the bus around to the front of the gym. Now, all he had to do was get Larry and they might just make it back out there before the last period bell rang. He hoped to God the kid was ready. He didn’t have enough time to mess around with him.
He took a deep breath and wiped his forehead then pulled open the doors and stepped inside the gym. Thank God. The place was still empty, but he better hurry, because it wouldn’t be for long. Any moment now, this place was gonna be crawling with those annoying basketball players hooting, hollering, and bouncing off the walls.
He turned and walked as fast as he could down the sidelines, the pain in his knee now shooting up his hip. When he got to the locker room, he stopped at the basement, then pulled open the door and descended the steps. As he got to the bottom, he began to smell the stench of crack burning in the air. It was strong—stronger than usual. It didn’t smell this bad when he left, did it? Huh. Guess he was just gonna have to pull out the old air freshener
. He sure as hell couldn’t leave it smelling like this.
He shook his head and dug into his pocket then pulled out the key and shoved it into the lock. As he turned the knob and pushed the door open, he nearly swallowed his tongue at what he saw—Larry standing on top of the file cabinet, furiously scribbling his blue crayon all along the office walls.
“Larry! What the hell are you doing? What are you doing to my god damn walls?”
The kid stopped scribbling and turned his head slowly, drool dripping from his mouth and out onto the floor.
“Larry?”
The kid’s pupils were shaped like two flying saucers and he had alien green snot slithering down from his nose. “Hi dad,” he said in a robotic monotone, like that creepy girl from The Exorcist film. “I did the walls. Do you like it?”
Dave stood there in complete astonishment, his eyes locked on the mad swirl of blue crayon. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It looked like a gang of Smurfs had an orgy with the Blue’s Clues television dog.
He glanced behind him to make sure there was no one in the hallway then hurried into the office and shut the door. Why? Why was this happening? Why here? Why now? But things only got worse as he hobbled into the office and moved his eyes across the top of his desk. The pipe was out and so was the lighter and little rocks of crack were scattered all across the office floor. He looked back up at Larry—the kid was grinning, like he’d just been caught with an empty box of doughnuts. “No Larry, please tell me you didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t do this to me.”
The kid nodded and started giggling then threw his hands up over his head. “I had the medicine daddy!”
Immediately, Dave began to feel woozy as if the carpet was sliding out from underneath his feet. He looked up at the walls—they were spinning, swirls of blue crayon crashing down on top of his head. No, no, no…this wasn’t happening…it couldn’t be real…it was just a dream. He looked back up at Larry—the kid was still giggling, his fat belly bouncing up and down through his tie-dye shirt. “God damnit Larry! What did I tell you? That stuff wasn’t for you, it was only for me!”
He dropped to the carpet like a drunken paraplegic and started crawling around, picking the rocks up off of the floor. There were six of ‘em left, but they were now covered with brown carpet boogers. He had to blow them off just to get them clean. Jesus, he didn’t have time for this. Any moment now that bell was gonna ring. Then it did, like an ambulance siren, splitting through the walls of his fragile head. “Shit!”
He picked up the rest of the rocks and placed them back in the medicine bottle, then gathered up his pipe and lighter and stuffed them into his jacket pocket. He grabbed his gym bag, pulled out the bottle of bourbon, twisted off the cap, and took a quick swig. “Come on Larry,” he said, as he put the cap back on the bourbon then stuffed the bottle inside his bottom desk drawer. “Let’s go. We gotta go. We gotta get out to that bus before those girls do.” He put up his hand and did a quick breath check—not too bad, he couldn’t smell a thing. He marched over to the file cabinet and grabbed Larry’s forearm and, in a surge of adrenaline, yanked him off the cabinet. The kid went wild and started screaming, pounding his fists and feet into the floor. “God damnit Larry, get up. We don’t have time for this. We gotta get out there. We’re gonna be late.” Dave leaned over and tried picking him up by the armpits, but the kid just went limp and fell back to the floor. “Please Larry, don’t do this to me. Please stop crying and get your ass up.” He tried grabbing the kid’s hands and dragging him across the carpet but the little shit was so heavy that he could only move him an inch. “Fuck!”
He dropped the kid’s hands, went around to the file cabinet, and pulled a box from the top drawer. The box was filled with an assortment of goodies—power bars, protein bars, and bright fluorescent energy drinks. He pulled out the protein bar that most resembled a Hershey’s milk chocolate and dangled it in front of Larry like he was waving a dog bone. “Oh Larry, look at what I got here.”
The kid stopped crying and rolled over off his stomach. He wiped his eyes and looked up at his dad.
“You want some of this?” Dave said, as he peeled open the wrapper, opened his mouth, and took a big bite.
The kid nodded and pushed himself up from the carpet then walked over to Dave and held out his hand.
“Uh-uh, not so fast,” Dave said, pulling the bar away from him. “I’ll give you some, but you gotta promise that you’re gonna be a good boy today. That means no crying and fussing while we’re on this trip. Okay?”
The kid nodded. Dave had him. Larry’s mouth was already salivating just at the sight of the bar. Dave broke off a piece and gave it to him. The kid smiled and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. “Alright,” Dave said, as he stuffed the rest in his pocket. “I’ll give you some more when we get on the bus. Oh, and one other thing. That stuff you took—daddy’s medicine—that’s just between you and me. I don’t want you running off and telling mom, okay?”
“Okay, daddy.”
“That’s a good boy.” Dave patted the kid’s curly red mop top then turned away and opened the door. “Come on,” he said, holding his hand out to Larry. “Let’s get going. We got a game to win tonight.”
When they got outside, the girls were already lined up by the school bus, bouncing up and down, trying to stay warm. They were dressed head to toe in their bright green and gold Catholic High Crusaders warm-ups, knee pads around their ankles, and gym bags by their feet.
“Hurry up coach,” one of ‘em shouted. “We’re freezing our butts off out here.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Dave said back to them, trying as best he could not to slip on the ice. “Hold your damn horses.”
When he got up to the bus, he stopped beside them then swung Larry around to the front of the line. “Alright everybody, listen up. This is my son. He’s gonna be joining us on the trip up to Estes Park.”
All at once the girls stopped talking. They cocked their heads and cooed and cawed: “Aw, he’s so cute.”
Sarah, the team’s middle blocker, walked over and bent down in front of Larry, and, as she did, Dave got an eyeful of those perky, young titties that he was jacking off to earlier. “What’s his name?” she said, smiling at Larry like a doting mother.
“It’s Larry. He’s gifted, so please don’t get him excited.”
“Larry, huh? Well, aren’t you just the cutest?” She was about to pinch Larry’s cheeks when the kid lurched forward and puked all over the ground.
“Oooohhh…gross!” the girls all exclaimed, herding backwards, covering their mouths, and pinching their noses.
“Aw for Christ’s sake,” Dave said then snagged Larry by the collar and pulled him away from the puddle of puke. “What’d you have to do that for?” The kid looked up at his dad and started crying, the tears mixing with the chocolate-colored vomit. “Well, don’t cry about it. It’s nothing to cry about.” Dave cursed under his breath as he reached into his gym bag, looking for something he could use to wipe Larry’s face. But there was nothing in there, so he untied his shoelaces, pulled off his last sock, and used it as a puke rag. The kid squirmed and squealed as Dave cleaned off the vomit. “Stop moving, Larry. You’re only gonna make it worse.”
“Oh my God,” Sarah said, looking at them in horror. “What’s wrong with him? Is he sick?”
“Yeah, he’s got a touch of flu, I think.”
“Oh no. Poor thing.”
“Yeah, poor thing.”
Dave finished wiping off all the vomit then flung the sock onto the yard. He had to clench his jaw to keep from losing it. What was this kid trying to do, get him fired?
He pulled the keys from his pocket, but lost his grip and dropped them to the ground. “God damnit.” He bent over to get them, but nearly lost his footing on the icy asphalt. Luckily, he grabbed hold of the bus’s side mirror and used it as leverage to regain his balance.
“Whoa careful coach,” Sarah said, jumping tow
ards him, her hands out to the side like she was gonna try and catch him.
“I got it, I got it,” Dave said, holding his hand up to her. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m just a little dizzy. I think I probably have what Larry has.”
“Oh no. Are you sure you’re going to be okay to drive?”
“Oh yeah, no problem.” Dave nodded his head reassuringly then crouched to the ground and snagged the keys. “See,” he said, as he jammed the keys into the lock and swung open the doors. “It’s no problem. I’m a professional.”
Sarah nodded somewhat suspiciously. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”
“Actually, would you mind counting the girls and making sure we’re all here?”
“I already did that coach. They’re all here. We’re good to go.”
“Well alright then, what are we waiting for? Let’s get this show on the road.”
Before Sarah could say anything else, Dave jumped on board, cranked on the ignition, turned up the heat, and revved up the engine. “Come on, Larry,” he said, holding his hand out to him. “I want you sitting up here with daddy.” The kid nodded and climbed on the school bus then took his seat just behind his dad in the front row. “Alright, let’s go girls. Hustle, hustle. We got a big game to win tonight.”
As the girls piled on, Dave pulled his seat forward and adjusted the mirror so he could see Larry’s eyeballs. Once the last girl was on, he released the emergency brake then pulled the long, metal lever that shut the doors. “Alright,” he said, as he looked into the rear of the school bus. “Is everyone on?”
“Yes,” the girls replied.
“Okay then. Let’s blow this taco stand.”
He released the clutch and slammed down the gas pedal and the bus took off roaring down the road.
Some Are Sicker Than Others Page 8