Flagrant Misconduct

by E. Clay

  Jimbo found his homeroom class and made his way to his assigned seat. His teacher, Mr. Hill, passed out the class schedule to all of the students. When Mr. Hill reached Jimbo’s desk, he smiled.

  “Welcome to Triton. You will be playing football, right?”

  “No, sir, this year I just want to concentrate on wrestling.” When Jimbo opened up his curriculum for the semester, he dropped his head in disbelief. His father placed him in mainstream education, something Jimbo had not experienced since the fourth grade. He requested to speak with his counselor to amend his class schedule, but that required parental consent. Jimbo’s first-period class was with Ms. Blair. Ms. Blair was in her late fifties and was a strict disciplinarian. The only thing she had in common with Jimbo was that they weighed about the same. Rumor had it that she had met Muhammad Ali in Vegas once, and he took her out…but it took ten rounds. She was scary and had a booming voice for a lady. She actually had students bring her lunch to her because she was too lazy to walk to the cafeteria. She immediately disliked Jimbo because many of the students whose parents worked at the school enjoyed preferential treatment. She went out of her way to make life miserable for teachers’ kids, preachers’ kids, and cops’ kids. She thought they were the most spoiled students. Jimbo just tolerated her, knowing it was just a matter of time before he was in the special education curriculum.

  Later that night, Jimbo called me up and told me about the mix-up. While we were on the phone, his dad walked in and Jimbo handed him the enrollment form. He read it and said, “No way on this god-forsaken earth.” Then he crumpled it up and threw it in the trash. Jimbo cut me short on the phone, but from what little I knew about his dad, I knew this was a losing battle.

  I saw Jimbo the very next day after school. He told me his dad was looking for a tutor to help him in his transition to mainstream education. Jimbo joked about it.

  “Maybe she will look something like Farah Fawcett,” he said.

  “Or she might look like Ethel on I Love Lucy,” I snickered. Jimbo had a Farah Fawcett poster in his room; he thought she was the most beautiful woman on the planet. I had two nominations, Diane Carroll f r o m Julia, and Elizabeth Montgomery from Bewitched.

  The next day, Jimbo was deflated. Not only was he going to have to endure Ms. Blair for a whole year but he also had to deal with the pressure of adjusting to mainstream education. On his way to fourth-period lunch, he saw his counselor, Mr. Ballenoff, and asked him to recommend a tutor. Mr. Ballenoff was a really nice man who was always honest with his students.

  “Do you want the best or the most popular with the students?” said Mr. Ballenoff.

  Jimbo paused for a second, thinking about how far behind he was ‘the best.’

  “That would be Mrs. Towles, then, but I have to warn you: She has her own style of tutoring.”

  “Isn’t she married to the assistant principal, Mr. Towles?”

  “Yes, that would be her. She is also head of the music department.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Ballenoff. I will contact her later today,” said Jimbo. On the way to lunch, Jimbo saw a row of faculty pictures on the wall. Mrs. Towles had a stern look in her photo, unlike most of the other teachers on the wall. It almost looked like a military photo; she was completely expressionless. But she was the best, and she represented Jimbo’s best shot at making it in the main stream. After the last period, Jimbo knocked on the door of her classroom. She peered up over her glasses and said, “How can I help you?”

  “I heard you tutor students, and I kinda need some help,” Jimbo said.

  “You are Coach Pernelli’s boy, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, that would be me,” he said. Jimbo said he felt uneasy with Mrs. Towles from the moment he set eyes on her. She was arrogant and condescending, especially when she addressed the issue of academic eligibility. Jimbo didn’t know his grades were tied to his participation in sports. That had never been an issue in his special-education classes at Westside, but mainstream education was different. Now the pressure was on. Jimbo just wanted to get started, but he had no idea how high an academic mountain he would have to climb to retain his sports eligibility.

  One week later, Mrs. Towles requested Jimbo report to her classroom after last period. Jimbo eagerly knocked on the classroom door and walked into her classroom.

  “Come in, Joshua Pernelli.”

  As he sat down, he looked up and asked when they could start.

  “I have reviewed your inventory test results, and I am declining the offer. You belong in special education, and your father has done you a disservice by placing you in mainstream education. Your scores are the lowest scores I have seen in almost four years, and tutoring sessions would be a waste of my time as well as yours. I will speak to your dad tomorrow.”

  “Am I excused now, Mrs. Towles?” Jimbo said.

  Mrs.Towlesnodded.Jimboleft,feelingvery discouraged and puzzled.

  Two days later, Jimbo was passing the principal’s office when he heard elevated voices coming from inside. Mrs. Towles was being challenged about her decision to decline tutoring Jimbo Pernelli. The athletic director, Mr. Sutherland, and Coach Pernelli were irate. Mr. Glover, the principal, seemed to be neutral on the issue. Mrs. Towles insisted Joshua belonged in special education, and that set Coach Pernelli off on a barrage of cross words.

  “No way is my son going to enroll in special education here at Triton. That I know for sure.” Coach Pernelli left in a huff without excusing himself. Jimbo saw his dad leaving the office, and his dad didn’t even acknowledge him.

  That Friday, Jimbo got word that Mrs. Towles had agreed to tutor him, and that instruction would begin on Monday. Instead of having study hall for second and sixth period, Jimbo had Mrs. Towles. He wasn’t sure what had changed Mrs. Towles’s mind, but it must have taken a lot of persuading. Jimbo had eight weeks to earn passing grades and become eligible to qualify for wrestling districts.

  Chapter 16

  The Mary Effect

  At the end of sixth period, Jimbo was eager to finish his lesson with Mrs. Towles. As soon as he heard the bell, he leaped out of his seat and said, “Gotta go, Mrs. Towles. See you tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Towles told Jimbo to stop by the library and pick up the book Catcher in the Rye, by J. D. Salinger. On the way to wrestling practice, he passed the library. He backtracked and peeped in. Behind the counter were two ladies. One was gray-haired and in her sixties, and the other looked like an angel. She was about 5'6", with olive-colored skin and shoulder-length brown hair. She also wore glasses, which gave her a scholarly look. She had a perfect smile and was the librarian’s assistant. Her name was Mary Suarez, and she was a junior. Mary didn’t do cheerleading, she didn’t play any sports, and she wasn’t particularly popular, but she was incredibly, genuinely sweet. Jimbo was strung out from that moment on. Jimbo walked in and asked Mary if she had the book Catcher in the Rye.

  “I think we have one left, but let me check first,” she said with a smile. She returned to the counter and said, “I am sorry, but the last book was checked out.”

  Jimbo smiled back and said, “Mrs. Towles wanted me to bring it to class tomorrow.”

  “But Mrs. Towles is in the music department.” Mary said.

  “She is tutoring me.”

  “Well, if I get a copy in, I will be sure to let you know. What homeroom are you in?”

  “I’m in C232.” The next day, Jimbo walked to his second-period tutoring lesson. As he entered, he began to explain to Mrs. Towles that he was not able to find the book she requested he bring. But before he could explain, she handed him the book.

  “You found one,” said Jimbo.

  “No, a student brought one by first thing this morning,” Mrs. Towles answered. Jimbo perked right up and smiled from ear to ear. For the next forty minutes, he could hear Mrs. Towles, but his mind was elsewhere.

  On the way to fifth period, Jimbo ran into Mary between classes.

  “I can’t believe someone returned their copy right aft
er I left,” said Jimbo.

  “No one did. You have my personal copy, but I want it back after you are done,” Mary said with a big smile.

  “I will be sure to return it. My name is Joshua. What’s your name?”

  “My name is Mary, Mary Suarez.”

  One of the finest qualities in a woman is beauty unaware of itself. That was Mary. She was all about books and reading, according to Jimbo.

  Later that day, Jimbo called me at home. I was glad to hear from him.

  “Clay, man, I met my dream girl the other day at the library. I think she’s Pernelli material.”

  “J. P., chill for a sec. You don’t even know this girl.” Our conversations for the next few weeks centered on Mary and nothing else. I think everyone remembers their first real crush at school; it completely takes over your life. Jimbo was no exception; he was love-struck. Jimbo would have done anything for Mary. I was just hoping he would take it slowly.

  Three weeks later, J. P. called me and asked if I wanted to go to his homecoming dance.

  “But I don’t have a dress,” I replied.

  “Not with me, chump. On a double date!” Jimbo responded.

  “Are you taking Mary?”

  “Yeah, but I haven’t asked her yet. I thought a double date would be a great way to take the pressure off of our first date.”

  “Cool, just one problem—first I have to find a date.” Fortunately, there was a new girl, Dina, in school who had just transferred from Chicago. We had the same lunch period, so I thought I would ask her.

  The next day, I saw Dina at fourth-period lunch. I knew this would be better than asking her in the hallway in passing. All the Blacks sat together anyway, so I shadowed her from the snack bar to the lunch table so I could sit next to her. I was looking for the right moment to ask her, but there were just so many interruptions—or maybe I was just too nervous. I was conscious of making sure not to ask her while she was eating. Before I knew it, the fifth-period bell was ringing and I hadn’t asked her yet. As she was finishing her lunch and collecting her books to leave, I said, “Hey Dina, can I walk you to your class?”

  “Sure Clay. What’s up?”

  I popped the question just as we were just exiting the lunchroom. I used the direct approach because I wasn’t one for using lines; they just sounded way too corny and lame. Although I would have loved to think I was smooth, I wasn’t. I was just direct, and I was okay with that. I was really surprised that she said yes, because she was absolutely the finest sista[vii] from around the way.

  One of the reasons I was able to drum up the courage to ask her was that she was new. Being new meant that if she had dissed me, news of my rejection would not have been a public service announcement all over school before last period. Dina was one of the Cougarettes and did modern dance. Dina was special, too; she moved differently than the other cheerleaders, in a very mature way. Whenever the Cougarettes performed at halftime, all you saw was Dina. She was a natural-born entertainer. Dina had several signature moves of her own, none of which could be taught in school. She had an older brother called Jerry who was a senior.

  Jerry was an interesting character. He was about 5'7" and no more than 140 pounds, but no one messed with him. Jerry wore a black-and-blue jacket with the word ‘Disciples’ and a six-pointed star on the back. The jacket was almost like a cloak of invincibility for him. Even the burnouts, who always made a habit of harassing minority students on their own between classes, steered way clear of Jerry. It was interesting to observe how someone his size wielded so much reverence without an established reputation.

  I had everything all arranged for the homecoming on October 28th. I bought a powder-blue jacket with dark-blue piping around the pocket seams. I had a reversible vest that was dark blue on the outside and had a light blue checked pattern on the inside. I also bought a pair of navy blue knit slacks from Sears to match my vest. They were two sizes too long, but they were on sale. I wasn’t too worried because my platform shoes gave me at least a four-inch lift anyway. I called Jimbo to let him know that everything was okay for the 28th, but he hadn’t even asked Mary yet.

  “Okay, who is the chump now, J. P.?” I said.

  “Clay, what’s the best way to ask Mary out?”

  “‘Mary, will you go to homecoming with me?’ How about that?” I said.

  I was a little ticked off. I was really looking forward to going out with Dina, and I didn’t want to blow it because J. P. had gotten cold feet at the last minute. After all, it was his homecoming; Dina and I were guests.

  The following Friday afternoon, just before fourth period, J. P. saw Mary in the hallway. Immediately, he backtracked, hoping she had not seen him. But then he turned around and bumped right into her, dropping his books. While he gathered his books off the floor, he kind of squinted his eyes and said, “Mary would you…” and before he could finish, she said, “yes.”

  He was confused because there was no way she could have known what she was saying yes to. But it was pretty obvious when two homecoming tickets slipped out of his study folder as he dropped it. Jimbo was thrilled that she had said yes, and he called me that evening and told me all about it, twice.

  Almost two weeks before homecoming, Jimbo called me and asked if we could double date that Friday. It was Mary’s idea; she thought that homecoming shouldn’t be a first date. It was all planned: Mary decided she wanted to go to a movie and then dinner afterward. Jimbo was the only one with a car, so he picked me up first and then Dina and Mary. From the moment Jimbo picked me up, he was different from his normal self. You could tell he was excited, but in a very measured and calm way. What I thought was most strange was that his intonation and the inflection in his voice were very different when he spoke to me. He was speaking very proper and smart like. He wasn’t fooling me, though. He reminded me of Slim, one of my Uncle Daryl’s friends, who used to speak in a fake British accent to pick up chicks. I think Jimbo was practicing on me.

  I kept on saying “Earth to Jimbo, earth to Jimbo,” trying to get him back to his old self, but he stayed in character. Mary let him choose the film. I wanted to s e e Saturday Night Fever; Dina wanted to see Exorcist II, The Heretic. On the way to the film, we passed theaters showing both movies and pulled one featuring Madame Rosa, a French movie. Guys do stuff like this to impress girls they really like, I guess. I tried to hide my disappointment, but Mary had heard about the movie and had apparently gotten good reviews. I could not believe I was paying good money ($2.50 per ticket, $5.00 total) for a foreign film. I could have almost filled J. P.’s Dodge Charger for the price I paid for these tickets. As soon as we sat down and I realized it was in subtitles, I was about three blinks from serious REM sleep. Dina was right behind me. We both slept through the entire movie, with her head on my shoulder. I just remembered waking up, rubbing my eyes, and seeing the end credits rolling.

  “I didn’t snore did I?” I asked Dina

  “No you didn’t, but you did drool a bit.”

  “Are you serious?” I said, wiping my mouth.

  “Psych your mind—just kidding,” Dina said.

  After the movie was over, I was ready to dis J. P. for choosing such a lousy film, but both Mary and J. P. were raving about it. It was weird listening to J. P. attempting to speak French to Mary. Mary seemed to be buying it, but I wasn’t.

  “Dina, did you like the film?” I asked.

  “The best part was the ending,” she said sarcastically with her arms crossed.

  The strange thing was that J. P. was still in character. He was almost believable, but I knew better. I called this the ‘Mary Effect.’

  Chapter 17

  Homecoming 1978

  Homecoming was on October 28, a Friday night. Jimbo’s Charger was in the shop again, so I begged my dad to let Jimbo drive the four of us in his station wagon. (I had only a motorcycle license at the time.) J. P.’s dad dropped him off at our house and I let him in. He was looking pretty sharp in his black tux and his Stacey Adams. My dad
threw him the keys and said to take care of his golden hawk. We picked up the girls. Mary looked like Pocahontas in a formfitting black dress with sparkly sequins around the neckline. Dina looked like the ‘Jet Beauty of the Week’[viii] in a sexy yellow chiffon gown with a gold necklace draped around her neck. When Dina got into the car, she immediately put her arms around me. This was going to be a night to remember. I took out my dad’s Jackie Wilson eight-track and replaced it with ‘Strawberry Letter 23’ by the Brothers Johnson. It was just the four of us, and we were nodding our heads to the beat as we cruised with the windows down. I swear, every traffic light we approached was either green or turning green. We all thought that was a sign that the night was gonna be righteous.

  When we got there, the DJ was playing ‘Got to Give It Up’ by Marvin Gaye (the extended version). The dance floor was jam-packed, and the disco ball was refracting a million lights across the room. Although it was hot and people were sweating on the dance floor, it didn’t matter; the energy was feverish, and everyone was gettin’ down. The DJ played all my favorite songs from Earth, Wind and Fire; the Isley Brothers; Chic; and a new artist named Prince. I realized being at Westside gave me an eclectic appreciation of White genres of music. I was already hooked on blue-eyed soul artists such as Ambrosia (‘That’s How Much’), Daryl Hall and John Oates (‘Sarah Smile’), and Average White Band (‘A Love of Your Own’), but I also acquired a taste for artists such as Fleetwood Mac (‘Rumors’), Boston (‘More than a Feeling’), Gary Wright (‘Dreamweaver’), and Jefferson Starship (‘Jane,’ one of my favorites, released the next year). The first time I heard the song ‘Baby Come Back’ by Player, I thought it was a Black group. I came to the conclusion that good music was just good music. Jimbo and Mary didn’t dance that much, but they were all cozied up and having a great time laughing and teasing each other. On the other hand, Dina danced her behind off and pretty much kept me on the dance floor the entire night. Dina pretty much ruled the dance floor. She knew all the latest dances, particularly ‘The Rock’ and ‘The Freak.’ However, what really impressed me was that she could ‘Step’[ix] better than anyone. I couldn’t keep up with her, but she didn’t care. I was most confident just doing ‘The Bump’ and ‘The Bus Stop,’[x] which my sister Cheryl had taught me in our living room. Then, the DJ played ‘Wishing on a Star’ by Rose Royce, my all-time favorite slow jam. I grabbed Dina, and J. P. grabbed Mary. I had never seen J. P. so happy in all the time I had known him. This time, he was just his usual self, and it was great! When you saw J. P. and Mary slow dancing, it was like watching magic being made; it looked as though they were already in love with each other. At the end of the night, we all hated to leave because we were having so much fun. But I had promised my dad we would have the car back by 12:30 a.m., so we started making our way to the exit. J. P. and Mary were holding hands, and I had my arm around Dina’s waist as we walked into the chill. As we headed out to the street, all of us were looking in different directions like meerkats; we were looking for my dad’s car. I thought I was losing my mind because I knew J. P. had parked it underneath the lamppost, but it wasn’t there. I got real nervous. I knew my dad would seriously trip because it was our only car.