Stormer’s Pass

by Benjamin Laskin

  Speaking of which, I’m sure you haven’t heard, but I was written up in the big city paper recently as a possible all-state quarterback for next season. Pinecrest thinks that’s really something. I’m getting a lot of attention. Even Katie’s father finds me tolerable. I’ve gone from dope to hope in a single bound. I should be worried.

  In fact, I do worry. You see, I’m not sure I even want to play ball anymore. Between school, work, and football, I would have no time for anything else. Once upon a time that was fine because I didn’t think there was much else. But there is. There’s everything else.

  People are always asking me about you. You are a celebrity of sorts. The girls are jealous of you, and the guys, well, ever since that episode in the alley they have been under your spell. You have grown so large in their imaginations that when they speak of you it is like they have known you for years. In a way, they have. After all, you’ve been watching us since we were freshmen. Some of the guys have even confessed to me that on more than a few occasions you have been in their dreams!

  Needless to say, they want to see you again. They’d like a second chance. I can’t blame you at all if you answer that you’d rather not. I told them this too. They said they’d meet you wherever you wanted. Tell me what you think.

  I’ve been burning the midnight oil and have devoured that latest list of books you recommended. Heady stuff, but I’m hungry for more.

  Well, I have to get back to work. I’ll write again soon. I’m putting together a list of questions and comments that I’ll send along next time. Keep well.

  Your friend, Max

  30

  Rogue Scholar

  Ms. Winters’ ‘arctic lemonade’ stand had become a regular feature in front of the library. Because the town council and the Ladies Auxiliary had cut the funding for the library in half, Virginia had to devise some means to make up the difference. It was a hot summer, and Virginia Winters couldn’t have been more pleased. Business was booming.

  The recipe was her own, and every evening she dutifully prepared the next day’s batch. Max and Steve volunteered their services, as well as those of their comrades. The location was ideal, right on Main Street in the center of town where nearly everyone who had anything to do in town had to pass. The park across the street with its towering trees and bountifully shaded lawn and benches proved an attractive lure for her customers.

  “How are we doing?” Randy asked.

  “Shh,” Cheeks said, “you’ll make me lose count… Twenty-one, twenty-two…twenty-three dollars and seventy-five cents.”

  “Not bad,” Randy said, pouring himself a glass of lemonade.

  “Hey,” Cheeks scolded, “you’re drinking all the profits!”

  “You’ve had more than me.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m doing all the talking. Did you see the way I smooth talked those last customers? You should be taking notes. I’m a natural. I wonder if I can put this on my résumé…”

  Randy sipped his lemonade. “Max sells more than you.”

  “Hah!” Sinclair clucked. “Max couldn’t sell water to a dehydrated camel jockey.”

  “He sold seventy-seven dollars worth yesterday.”

  “He did?”

  Randy nodded. “He also collected nineteen dollars worth of donations in the jar.”

  “Damn,” Cheeks said, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “Are you sure?”

  “I was there. I saw.”

  “How did he do it?” Cheeks asked, jealous.

  “He didn’t do anything. Mostly he just sat and read.”

  “Now I know you’re lying,” Cheeks said.

  “That’s all he ever does anymore. He and Steve are in the library right now. Ms. Winters gave them their own keys so that they could let themselves in early and lock up late.”

  Cheeks checked his watch. “Well, they’re late now. They were supposed to relieve us ten minutes ago. I have things to do, places to go, people to meet. I’m hungry and this lemonade is starting to make me sick.”

  “Psst,” Randy said, jabbing Cheeks with his elbow. “Customer alert. Babes!”

  Cheeks spun around, transformed. He tucked his shirt into his shorts, combed his thin, red hair with his fingers, and cleared his throat. Strolling up the sidewalk came Katie Austin, Regina Brodie, April Jarrett, Patty Kimball, and Dawn White. They were laughing merrily and their arms were laden with packages.

  “Let me handle this,” Cheeks said. “We’re gonna make a killing.”

  Randy, who was shy and easily intimidated by girls, especially in a group, was happy to stand aside. He had a sneaking suspicion that the girls’ laughter was at his and Cheeks’ expense; a suspicion based on experience.

  “Ladies, ladies,” Cheeks greeted as the girls approached, waving his pudgy arms in the air. “How about some cool, delicious lemonade to soothe those pretty, parched throats of yours? Put down your bundles, relax, and come savor a few precious minutes of this glorious summer day with a glass of refreshing arctic lemonade!”

  April said, “You buying?”

  “Me?” Cheeks stammered, his hand recoiling to his chest. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind, April. It’s for a good cause, you know? To save the library.”

  “But we don’t have any money,” Patty said. She turned a coy smile on Randy. “But you’re right, we are very thirsty.”

  Randy reached for his wallet.

  “Put that away,” Cheeks scolded. “They have money. Look at them, they just bought half the town.”

  “Exactly,” Patty said, “that’s why we’re broke. We spent all our money on clothes.”

  Again Randy reached for his wallet. Cheeks intercepted his friend’s hand with a swat.

  “What is more important,” posed Cheeks piously, “the love of knowledge or the love of fashion?”

  “Ah,” Regina said. “But in much wisdom is much grief; and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.” She grinned and bounced her eyebrows. “Ecclesiastes 1:18.”

  This brought cheers of approval from her friends.

  “Okay, okay,” Cheeks said. He pushed his glasses back up onto his puggy, freckled nose. “But look at it this way, ladies. Just as the body needs clothes and clothes need a closet and a closet needs a home; the mind needs books, books need a shelf, and shelves need a library!”

  “I don’t see how any of this matters,” April said. “If you’re dying of thirst the last thing your mind wants to think about is books.”

  “It was a nice try, Cheeks,” Randy said.

  “But don’t you see, April?” Cheeks exclaimed. “If you weren’t so vain you wouldn’t have to die of thirst. You could afford to buy a glass of lemonade and save your lives!”

  “But if you weren’t so selfish and greedy, you could buy me my lemonade and then I wouldn’t have to die. You could even give it to me, then it wouldn’t cost you anything.”

  “That’s stealing, April,” Cheeks said, appalled.

  “Well, it’s better than murder, isn’t it?” she replied smugly.

  “Murder?!”

  “Of course,” she said. “It’s all your fault that I’m dying.”

  “Did you hear that, Randy? It’s my fault that she dies. You know what that makes you? My accomplice!”

  “No way, I tried to buy her the lemonade but you wouldn’t let me.”

  “Premeditated murder!” Patty said. “You are a vicious little man, Cheeks.”

  “I’m being framed!” Cheeks squealed. “It’s always pick on the little chubby guy. Well, forget it!” He crossed his arms in defiance.

  The girls burst into giggling laughter.

  “Oh, Sinclair,” Katie said sweetly, “we’re just teasing you.”

  “Yeah,” April said. “Lighten up. We’re not the bitches you boys think we are.”

  Randy said, “I don’t think you’re a bitch, April.” He blushed. “Any of you.”

  “That’s because you’re too nice,” Patty said. “But Cheeks here, he knows better. D
on’t you, Cheeks?”

  “Hey,” he protested. “I try to be nice but you girls won’t let me!”

  “Calm down,” Katie laughed. “Can’t you see they just like getting a rise out of you? Here—” She slapped a ten dollar bill on the table. “Five lemonades. And you can put the change in the jar.”

  “Okay!” Randy said. “Coming right up.”

  “Told ya,” Cheeks whispered, bending down for ice. “I had them eating out of my hand…”

  “Look,” Dawn said, “here come Max and Steve.”

  “Now what could they possibly have been doing in there?” Patty remarked. “Regina, when did Steve learn to read?”

  “About four months ago. He reads to me everyday.”

  “What? The sports page?”

  “Poetry,” she said. “Byron, Shelly, Keats, Yeats. Some of his own too.”

  Patty and April stared at the hulking figure with uncomprehending eyes. Max, who was well-built and easily topped six feet himself, looked dwarfed next to his friend. The boys spoke energetically to one another as they approached; Steve gesticulating freely as he did whenever he was excited. Upon arriving at the lemonade stand they shelved their discussion, having agreed to pick it up later.

  “How we doin’, Sinbad?” Max placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders and began to massage them. “A little tight, aren’t you?”

  Sinclair Sinbad Cheeks Goldberg winced under Max’s kneading grip. “Stress,” he croaked.

  Steve checked the cash box. “Not bad you guys.”

  “Thirty-three dollars and seventy-five cents,” Cheeks said. “Including donations.”

  Max finished his massage with a quick rub and a vigorous slap on the back. “Better?”

  “Next time,” Sinclair groaned, “a simple handshake will do.”

  “Thanks a lot guys,” Max said. “I really appreciate you helping us out.”

  “Don’t mention it, Max,” Randy said. “Anytime.”

  “Randy,” Cheeks said, “don’t give him any ideas. Is this what you want to be doing every Saturday morning for the rest of the summer?”

  Randy shrugged. “I thought it was fun. We met a lot of nice people—” He nodded toward the girls, who smiled sweetly back. “—had some good laughs, and got all the lemonade we could drink.”

  “Don’t worry, Sinbad,” Steve said. “We have Jake and Alex penciled in for next Saturday. Knock yourself out.”

  “What about us?” Patty asked.

  “You said you didn’t want to,” Max rejoined.

  “You never said anything about a back rub either,” Patty purred.

  “It’s a deal,” Max said, very businesslike. He pulled pad and pen from his back pocket. “How about Wednesday?”

  Patty said, “April?”

  “What the hell,” April sighed.

  “Good. Thanks.”

  “Max,” Katie said, signaling him over with a tug of her head.

  Max took Katie’s hand and strolled with her across the street to the park. They stopped at the drinking fountain. Max bent down for a sip, but the water came out rusty brown. “Yuck,” he said. “Even the water is rotten in this town.”

  “It’s just the pipes. This fountain is probably seventy years old.”

  “I know. I just think it’s symbolic.” Max led her past a recently erected statue of a lumberjack to the shade of a luxurious pine. They sat down, legs crossed, facing one another. Katie picked up a pine needle and twirled it absently between her thumb and forefinger.

  “Symbolic of what?” Katie asked.

  “Of what’s happening in this town. Of certain people.”

  “You mean people like my dad.”

  Max shrugged.

  “What can you do?” she asked rhetorically. “Besides, Pinecrest is growing and prospering, and that’s what most people seem to want. I admit I don’t really care what happens here anymore. I’m leaving, and when I’m done with school I have no plans of coming back. And you,” she smiled, taking his hand, “…you’ll be leaving too.”

  Max smirked. “Me? Right.”

  “What do you mean? Of course you can leave. Next year. There will be dozens of colleges knocking on your door to offer you a scholarship. You’ll play wonderfully this season and that will be your ticket out. Maybe even, well…”

  Max shook his head, anticipating what she was about to say.

  “Why not?” Katie said. “Wouldn’t that be great? You and I together. There! Don’t laugh!” She shot out her hand to wipe away his mocking grin. Max caught her hand, kissed it, and tossed it back.

  “Even if I did get a scholarship, how can I leave? Who’s going to take care of Ricki and Samantha? My mom can’t do it properly. Besides, she hasn’t been feeling well at all lately.”

  “But, Max, you have to think about yourself too. About your future. Surely you can work something out.”

  Max didn’t have the heart to tell her what was really on his mind; that he had all but decided not to play football. He knew that she wouldn’t understand, and was afraid she’d think him ridiculous. He couldn’t blame her. He had nothing to offer in his defense that would sensibly justify his actions. “We’ll see,” he said.

  “Don’t be so passive,” Katie scolded. “You can be such a pessimist. You can do anything you want to do, Max Stormer.”

  “Whatever, but I’m not a pessimist.”

  “No? Then what are you?”

  “I’m, well…” He grinned. “I’m a neo-Romantic suffering from a hangover of post-modern Weltschmerz.”

  “No, you’re not,” she retorted. “You’re a would-be pseudo-intellectual who badly needs the lusty loving of a beautiful woman to bring you back to earth.”

  Max nodded. “That too.”

  “Mom and dad are going out of town for the weekend. Some big deal about a fancy resort dad is getting built here. I’ll make you dinner. I’ll make you drinks. I’ll make you love. I’ll make you an optimist.”

  Katie stood, never taking her stern but flirtatious eyes off her boyfriend. He blinked dumbly, and mouthed the word, ‘wow.’ She gave him her hand and yanked him to his feet. They headed back to the others, a new, perceptible bounce in Max’s step.

  Max said, “It’s a good thing ole Shopy never knew a girl like you.”

  “Who?”

  “Arthur Schopenhauer, a nineteenth century German philosopher of the pessimistic persuasion. Grouch, wit, genius. Also a misogynist. He never married and hated his mother. I don’t know how anyone can qualify as a genius if he hates women, but had he known you when he was my age I doubt he would have ever become a philosopher.”

  “Don’t let me stand in the way of you becoming a philosopher,” Katie said, her hand sliding into the back pocket of his jeans.

  “I’ll take my chances,” he said. “Besides, I want to be a philosopher of the living—of the body as well as the mind. Sure, give me modes and monads, nous and noumenon, a priori and a posteriori—”

  Katie clamped down on his bottom. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

  “Sexy stuff, isn’t it?”

  “I take it back. You’re not a pessimist. You are a rogue and a scholar.”

  “A rogue scholar!” he exclaimed. “I like that. I’m such a punster.”

  Katie groaned and shoved him playfully away.

  “Hey, hey,” April said. “No fighting in front of the library. Steve here was just saying that a library was deserving of the same reverence as a church. Quit your horsing, this is holy ground!”

  “Stop it, April,” Regina said, unamused. “That’s not what he said.”

  Regina was growing used to sticking up for her new boyfriend. She resented his reputation as a dumb jock and thought his poetic pretensions charming and sincere. Steve was the only person who took her musical aspirations seriously, and she derived encouragement from his enthusiasm.

  “Besides,” Regina continued, “the library is a great place for a fight. Every book inside that building is the outcome of a strug
gle. There’s quite a ruckus going on in there right now if we had the ears to hear.”

  “Nah,” Cheeks said. “That’s just Ms. Winters on the phone to the Ladies Auxiliary.”

  “And what can I get out of a church,” Regina continued, “that I can’t get out of a library or a solitary walk in the woods?”

  “What about God?” Patty declared.

  “Isn’t God everywhere?” Regina rejoined. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if now and then people stood aside and just let God be God. Maybe He’s trying to tell us something, but we can’t hear Him because we’re too busy speaking for Him instead of to Him.”

  “But Regina,” Dawn said softly, a slight tremble in her voice. “I see you in church every Sunday.”

  “And you’ll see me there again this Sunday. I go because my father goes, and because I know that it’s important to him that I do. I don’t mind. But after I leave for college I don’t know if I’ll be going to church much.”

  “I just never thought…” Patty said, disappointed.

  “In fact,” Dawn said, disturbed by the conversation, “except for Max, I see all of you in church. Most of the time, anyway.”

  “Not me,” Sinclair Sinbad Cheeks Goldberg said.

  “You don’t count, Cheeks,” April said. “You’re a Jew.”

  “Ah-hah!” Cheeks exclaimed. “The truth comes out at last!”

  “That’s not what I meant,” April protested. “I’m not prejudiced. It’s not cool.”

  “Not cool?” Cheeks repeated. “Isn’t that reassuring…”

  “Are you Jewish too, Max?” Dawn asked.

  Max smiled, touched by Dawn’s sweet, simple nature. “Dunno, but now that you mention it, I recall whispers around the house when I was little that my grandmother might have been.”

  “Yeah!” Cheeks exclaimed. “Welcome to the tribe!” He threw up his stubby arm to get a high-five from Max. Max laughed and gave him a swat.

  “Gosh,” Dawn said, truly confused. “I had no idea we were all so different. I mean, I always just assumed that everybody believed…that you were all good… I mean, I’m not the best… Gosh, I … Katie, what are you? What do you think?”