“Okay,” Laurie told them. “We’ve got the same problem as usual. The paper is due out next week, but we don’t have enough stories.” Laurie looked at the girl wearing roller skates. “Jeanie, you were supposed to do a fashion story on the latest clothes. Where is it?”
“Oh, nobody’s wearing anything interesting this year,” Jeanie replied. “It’s always the same thing: jeans and sneakers and T-shirts.”
“Well then, write about how there are no new styles this year,” Laurie said, then she turned to the reporter who was bopping to his radio. “Alex?”
Alex kept bopping. He couldn’t hear her.
“Alex!” Laurie said more loudly.
Finally someone near Alex gave him a nudge. He looked up, startled. “Uh, yeah?”
Laurie rolled her eyes. “Alex, this is supposed to be an editorial meeting.”
“Really?” Alex replied.
“Okay, so where’s your record review for this issue?” Laurie asked.
“Oh, uh, yeah, record review, right, uh, yeah,” Alex said. “Well, uh, you see, it’s a long story. Uh, like I was going to do it but, uh, remember that trip I said I had to take to Argentina?”
Laurie rolled her eyes again.
“Well, it fell through,” Alex said. “And I had to go to Hong Kong instead.”
Laurie turned to Alex’s sidekick, Carl. “I suppose you had to go to Hong Kong with him,” she said sarcastically.
Carl shook his head. “No,” he replied seriously, “I made the trip to Argentina as scheduled.”
“I see,” said Laurie. She looked around at the rest of The Grapevine’s staff. “I suppose the rest of you have been too busy hopping around the globe to get anything written as well.”
“I went to the movies,” Jeanie said.
“Did you write a review?” Laurie asked.
“No, it was too good,” she replied.
“Too good?”
“It’s no fun writing reviews of good movies,” she said.
“Yeah,” said Alex, the globe-hopping record reviewer. “It’s no fun doing a review of a good movie because you can’t say anything bad about it. The only time it’s fun to review something is when it’s bad. Then you can tear it to shreds, he, he, he.” Alex started rubbing his hands together as he went into his mad scientist routine. Alex had the best mad scientist routine in school. He also did a great imitation of a wind surfer in a hurricane.
“We need stories for the paper,” Laurie said resolutely. “Doesn’t anyone have any ideas?”
“They got a new school bus,” someone said.
“Whoopee!”
“I heard that Mr. Gabondi’s going on sabbatical next year.”
“Maybe he won’t come back.”
“Some kid in the tenth grade put his fist through a window yesterday. He was trying to prove that you could punch a hole in a window and not cut yourself.”
“Did he do it?”
“Nope, got twelve stitches.”
“Hey, wait a minute,” said Carl. “What about this Wave thing? Everyone wants to know what it is.”
“Aren’t you in Ross’s history class, Laurie?” another staff member asked.
“That’s probably the biggest story in school right now,” said a third.
Laurie nodded. She was aware that The Wave was worth a story, and maybe a big story at that. A couple of days ago it had even occurred to her that something like The Wave was probably just what the sluggish, disorganized staff of The Grapevine itself needed. But she had set the idea aside. She couldn’t even explain her decision consciously. It was just that creepy feeling she’d begun to get, the feeling that maybe they should be careful with The Wave. So far she’d seen it do some good in Mr. Ross’s class and David said he thought it was helping the football team. But still she was cautious.
“Well, what about it, Laurie?” someone asked.
“The Wave?” Laurie said.
“How come you haven’t assigned that story to us?” Alex asked. “Or are you just saving the good ones for yourself?”
“I don’t know if anyone knows enough about it to write about it yet,” Laurie said.
“What do you mean? You’re in The Wave, aren’t you?” Alex asked.
“Well, yes I am,” Laurie replied. “But I still … I still don’t know.”
A couple of the staff members scowled. “Well, I think The Grapevine still should have a story reporting that it exists, at least,” Carl said. “I mean, a lot of kids are wondering what it is.”
Laurie nodded. “Okay, you’re right. I’ll try to explain what it is. But in the meantime, I want you all to do something. Since we still have a few days before the paper has to come out. Try to find out everything you can about what kids think of The Wave.”
Ever since the night she had first discussed The Wave with her mother and father at dinner, Laurie had purposely avoided the subject at home. It didn’t seem worth creating any more hassles, especially with her mother, who could find something to worry about in everything Laurie did, whether it was going out late with David, chewing on a pen, or The Wave. Laurie just hoped her mother would forget about it. But that night while she was studying in her room her mother knocked on the door. “Babe, can I come in?”
“Sure, Mom.”
The door opened and Mrs. Saunders stepped in, wearing a yellow terrycloth bathrobe and slippers. The skin around her eyes looked greasy, and Laurie knew she’d been putting wrinkle cream on.
“How’re the crow’s feet, Mom?” she asked in goodnatured humor.
Mrs. Saunders smiled wryly at her daughter. “Someday,” she said, wagging a finger, “someday you won’t think it’s so funny.” She walked over to the desk and peered over her daughter’s shoulders at the book she was reading. “Shakespeare?”
“What’d you expect?” Laurie asked.
“Well, anything except The Wave,” Mrs. Saunders said, sitting down on her daughter’s bed.
Laurie turned to look at her. “What do you mean, Mom?”
“Only that I met Elaine Billings at the supermarket today, and she told me Robert is a completely new person.”
“Was she worried?” Laurie asked.
“No, she wasn’t, but I am,” Mrs. Saunders said. “You know, they’ve been having problems with him for years. Elaine has talked to me frequently about it. She’s been very worried.”
Laurie nodded.
“So she’s ecstatic about this sudden change,” Mrs. Saunders said. “But somehow I don’t trust it. Such a dramatic personality change. It almost sounds like he’s joined a cult or something.”
“What do you mean?”
“Laurie, if you study the types of people who join these cults, they’re almost always people who are unhappy with themselves and their lives. They look at the cult as a way of changing, of starting over, of literally being born again. How else do you explain the change in Robert?”
“But what’s wrong with that, Mom?”
“The problem is that it’s not real, Laurie, Robert is safe only as long as he keeps within the confines of The Wave. But what do you think happens when he leaves it? The outside world doesn’t know or care about The Wave. If Robert couldn’t function in school before The Wave, he won’t be able to function outside of school where The Wave doesn’t exist.”
Laurie understood. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me, Mom. I don’t think I’m as crazy about it as I was a couple of days ago.”
Mrs. Saunders nodded. “No, I didn’t think you would be, once you thought about it for a while.”
“So what’s the problem?” Laurie asked.
“The problem is everyone else at school who still takes it seriously,” her mother said.
“Oh, Mom, you’re the one who’s taking this too seriously. Do you want to know what I think? I think it’s just a fad. It’s like punk rock or something. In two months no one will even remember what The Wave was.”
“Mrs. Billings told me that they’re organizing a Wave ra
lly for Friday afternoon,” Mrs. Saunders said.
“It’s just a pep rally for the football game on Saturday,” Laurie explained. “The only difference is they’re calling it a Wave rally instead of a pep rally.”
“At which they will formally indoctrinate two hundred new members?” Mrs. Saunders asked skeptically.
Laurie sighed. “Mom, listen to me. You’re really getting paranoid about this whole thing. Nobody’s indoctrinating anyone. They’re going to welcome new members to The Wave at the rally. Those people would have come to the pep rally anyway. Really, Mom, The Wave is just a game. It’s like little boys playing soldier. I wish you could meet Mr. Ross because then you’d see there’s nothing to worry about. He’s such a good teacher. He’d never get into anything like cults.”
“And you’re not disturbed by it at all?” Mrs. Saunders asked.
“Mom, the only thing that disturbs me is that so many kids in my class could allow themselves to get caught up in something so immature. I mean, I guess I can understand why David is into it. He’s convinced that it’s going to turn the football team into a winner. But it’s Amy I can’t understand. I mean, well, you know Amy. She’s so bright and yet, I see her taking this so seriously.”
“So you are worried,” her mother said.
But Laurie shook her head. “No, Mom. That’s the only thing that bothers me, and that isn’t much. I promise you, Mom, this is a molehill and you’re looking for a mountain. Really, trust me.”
Mrs. Saunders rose slowly. “Well, all right, Laurie. At least I know you’re not involved in this situation. I suppose that’s enough to be thankful for. But please, babe, be careful.” She leaned over, kissed her daughter on the forehead, and left the room.
For a few minutes Laurie sat at her desk but did not go back to her homework. Instead, she chewed on a Bic pen and thought about her mother’s concerns. She really was blowing it way out of proportion, wasn’t she? It really was just a fad, wasn’t it?
CHAPTER 10
Ben Ross was having coffee in the faculty lounge when someone came in and told him Principal Owens wanted to see him in his office. Ross felt a tremor of nervousness. Had something gone wrong? If Owens wanted to see him, it had to be about The Wave.
Ross stepped out into the hall and started down toward the principal’s office. On the way more than a dozen students paused to give him The Wave salute. He returned them and continued quickly, wondering what Owens was going to say. In one sense, if Owens was going to tell him that there had been complaints and that he should stop the experiment, Ross knew he would feel some relief. Honestly, he had never expected The Wave to spread this far. The news that kids in other classes, kids in other grades even, had gotten into The Wave still amazed him. He simply hadn’t intended it to be anything like this.
And yet there was another consideration, the so-called losers in the class—Robert Billings, for example. For the first time in his life, Robert was an equal, a member, part of the group. No one was making fun of him anymore, no one was giving him a hard time. And the change in Robert was indeed remarkable. Not only had his appearance improved, but he was starting to contribute. For the first time he was an active member of his class. And it wasn’t just history. Christy said she was noticing it in music too. Robert seemed like a new person. To end The Wave might mean returning Robert to the role of class creep and taking away the only chance he had.
And wouldn’t ending the experiment now also cheat the other students who were taking part in it? Ben wondered. They would be left hanging without a chance to see where it would eventually lead them. And he would lose the chance to lead them there.
Ben abruptly stopped. Hey, wait a minute. Since when was he leading them anywhere? This was a classroom experiment, remember? An opportunity for his students to get a taste of what life in Nazi Germany might have been like. Ross smiled to himself. Let’s not get carried away, he thought, and continued down the hall.
Principal Owens’s door was open, and when he saw Ben Ross enter the anteroom, he motioned him in with a wave.
Ben was slightly confused. On the way down to the office he’d somehow convinced himself that Principal Owens was going to chew him out, but the old man appeared to be in a good mood.
Principal Owens was a towering man who stood over six feet four inches. His head was almost completely bald except for a few tufts of hair above either ear. His only other noteworthy feature was his pipe, always present, which protruded from his lips. He had a deep voice, and when he was angry he might instill instant religion in the most hardened atheist. But today it seemed as if Ben had nothing to fear.
Principal Owens sat behind his desk, his large black shoes propped up on one corner, and squinted slightly at Ben. “Say, Ben, that’s a good-looking suit,” he said. Owens himself had never been seen around Gordon High in less than a three-piece, even at a Saturday football game.
“Thank you, sir,” Ben replied nervously.
Principal Owens smiled. “I can’t recall seeing you in one before.”
“Uh, yes, this is something new for me,” Ben allowed.
One of the principal’s eyebrows rose. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with this Wave thing, would it?”
Ben had to clear his throat. “Well, yes it does, actually.”
Principal Owens leaned forward. “Now, tell me, Ben, what this Wave thing is all about,” he said. “You’ve got the school in a tizzy.”
“Well, I hope it’s a good tizzy,” Ben Ross replied.
Principal Owens rubbed his chin. “From what I’ve heard it is. Have you heard differently?”
Ben knew he had to reassure him. He quickly shook his head. “No sir, I’ve heard nothing.”
The principal nodded. “I’m all ears, Ben.”
Ben took a deep breath and began. “It started several days ago in my senior history class. We were watching a film about the Nazis and …”
When he finished explaining The Wave, Ben noticed that Principal Owens looked less happy than before, but not as noticeably displeased as Ben had feared he might be. The principal removed his pipe from between his lips and tapped it on an ashtray. “I must say it’s unusual, Ben. Are you sure that the students are not falling behind?”
“If anything, they’re ahead,” Ben replied.
“But there are students outside your class that are now involved with this,” the principal observed.
“But there have been no complaints,” Ben said. “In fact Christy says she’s even noticed an improvement in her classes because of it.” This was a slight exaggeration, Ben knew. But he also felt it was necessary because Owens was overreacting to The Wave.
“Still, Ben, these mottos and this saluting bother me,” the principal said.
“It shouldn’t,” Ben replied. “It’s just part of the game. And also, Norm Schiller—”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Owens said, cutting him short. “He was in here yesterday raving about this thing. He says it’s literally turned that football team of his around. The way he was talking, Ben, you would have thought he’d just drafted six future Heisman Trophy winners. Frankly, I’d just like to see them beat Clarkstown on Saturday.” The principal paused momentarily and then said, “But that’s not what I’m concerned about, Ben. I’m concerned about the students. This Wave thing seems too open-ended for my liking. I know you haven’t broken any rules, but there are limits.”
“I’m completely aware of that,” Ben insisted. “You have to understand that this experiment can’t go any further than I let it go. The whole basis for The Wave is the idea of a group willing to follow their leader. And as long as I’m involved in this, I assure you it can’t get out of hand.”
Principal Owens refilled his pipe with fresh tobacco and lit it, for a moment disappearing behind a small cloud of smoke while he considered Ben’s words. “Okay” he said. “To be perfectly frank about this, it’s so different from anything we’ve ever had around here that I’m not sure what to think. I say, let’s keep an e
ye on this thing, Ben. And keep your ears open too. Remember, Ben, this experiment, if that’s what you want to call it, involves young, impressionable kids. Sometimes we forget that they are young and haven’t developed the, uh, the judgment we hope they’ll someday have. Sometimes they can take something too far if they’re not watched. Understand?”
“Absolutely.”
“You promise me I’m not going to have a parade of parents down here suddenly shouting that we’re indoctrinating their kids with something?”
“I promise,” Ben said.
Principal Owens nodded slightly. “Well, I can’t say that I’m crazy about this, but you’ve never given me cause to doubt you before.”
“And I won’t now,” Ben told him.
CHAPTER 11
When Laurie Saunders got to the publications office the next day, she found a plain white envelope on the floor. Early that morning, or late the afternoon before, someone must have slipped it under the door. Laurie picked it up and closed the door behind her. Inside the envelope was a handwritten story with a note attached. Laurie read the note:
Dear Editors of The Grapevine,
This is a story I have written for The Grapevine. Don’t bother looking for my name because you won’t find it. I don’t want my friends or other kids to know I wrote this.
Scowling, Laurie turned to the story. At the top of the page the anonymous author had written a title:
Welcome to the Wave—or Else
I’m a junior here at Gordon High. Three or four days ago me and my friends heard about this thing called The Wave that all the seniors were getting into. We got interested. You know how juniors always want to be like the seniors.
A bunch of us went to Mr. Ross’s class to see what it was. Some of my friends liked what we heard, but some of us weren’t sure. It looked like a dumb game to me.
The Wave Page 6