That'll Be The Day

by Mark Edward Caudel

  Chapter 2—THURSDAY

  Megan was twenty-one years old and very pretty. Chris loved his sister. He often compared other girls to her, which made things even more difficult for him when it came to relationships since she was a tough standard for most girls to measure up against. What he liked about her most, though, was how easily he could talk to her. He could talk to her about anything, and she always gave him a point of view well worth listening to. Her woman’s perspective was sometimes just what he needed to make sense out of his life at an all-male school. The fact that she was in her senior year of psychology seemed to help, too. Chris always asked her for a ride to school when he wanted to talk to her about something.

  “We’ve got this guy who’s mixed up in a gang or something.” Chris did not want to tell her it was Sammy.

  “So what makes you think he’s in a gang?”

  “Well, he’s been seen with some pretty serious gang member types. There’s not much doubt.” Chris did not bother to explain the tactics Blaise and Joey often used to gather information.

  “People usually get involved in gangs because they have a need to belong to something. Maybe he feels important there. You have to ask yourself what are the perceived advantages to being in a gang, and then try to figure out what caused him to choose that over what he had before. Do you have any idea what this guy was like before? Why do people do what they do? We think what others do is foolish, but people make choices based on their own personal evaluations of what they believe to be their only or best option. I guess the next question is what can you do to help? People don’t always want your help, but hell, it’s worth a shot.”

  Chris was pretty deep in thought about what Megan was saying. He stared out the window without really looking at anything. He turned his head back toward his sister saying, “I think he’ll talk to me.”

  Megan nodded her head. “If you get anywhere with this guy, if you manage to talk him into leaving the gang, remember that it could mean real trouble for him. It could get pretty dangerous. Whatever you do, don’t you and your buddies try to intervene. If you have to, call the police.”

  They pulled into the parking lot at Holy Cross. Megan smiled as she watched her brother get out of the car.

  Chris walked around the car. “Thanks for the ride, Sis, and thanks for talking.” He leaned in and kissed the top of her head.

  “Any time, Chris. Have a good day, and say hi to Blaise for me.”

  “Will do.” Chris waved as Megan drove away, beeping the horn.

  Blaise pulled up in front of Johnny’s house at seven forty-five. Johnny was waiting on the front porch with his backpack hanging on his right shoulder, holding his navy blue school blazer in his left hand. He got in the car and placed his backpack on the floorboard between his feet. “Good morning, Blaise.”

  “And a good morning it is! It’s a beautiful morning, Johnny. I’m happy to be alive, and I’m happy to see you. Damn, it’s a great day to be alive!” Blaise was driving and talking and moving his head to the music on the radio. “How are you, man?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Just okay?”

  “I think so. I mean, well—okay is good. I’m good.”

  “Johnny, you can be okay if you want. Or, you can be great, or amazing! You can be happy, pumped, ready for anything. You can be sad, or you can be glad. The question is what do you want to be?”

  “Glad, I guess. How come you’re so happy?”

  “I told you, man.”

  “You told me?”

  “Yeah! I said it was a great day to be alive. I said I was happy to see you. Did I forget to mention that I’m in love?” Blaise was playing the steering wheel like a drum. “I’m in love with a beautiful girl, and she loves me, Johnny, and I’ve got good friends, and I’ve got a good family, and I had a good breakfast.” Blaise leaned to one side. “Dang! I’ve got some gas, though.”

  “Jeez!” Johnny said, rolling down the window.

  “What’s in the bag, Johnny?”

  “What bag?”

  “The bag between your legs, and I don’t mean your scrotum.”

  “Oh. You know. Books and stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “Why do you want to know what’s in my backpack?”

  “I’m not trying to be nosy or anything, but you can tell a lot about a guy by what he carries around in a backpack.”

  “Well, I don’t have any explosives, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I’m not worried. I just want to know you better.”

  Johnny looked at Blaise. He narrowed his stare and said, “Really?”

  Blaise looked at Johnny again. “What?”

  “I just can’t help but feel like you’re up to something. I mean, two days ago you didn’t even know who I was. Now you want to know all about me, and you’re like being really nice to me and giving me a ride to school and all. A guy’s gotta wonder a little, ya know?”

  “I see your point, but you’re wrong. Two days ago I did know who you were, just like I know everyone else in our school. It’s true; I never spoke to you before yesterday, and sure, there’s still a few guys at school that I haven’t gotten to know real well, but it’s not like I tried to not speak to you. Believe me, Johnny, I know everyone. I know what grade they’re in. I know what they do and with whom they hang. I know who’s making trouble and who doesn’t like me. I know just about everything that’s going on.” Blaise paused for a moment and sighed. “All right, I’ll admit that when Chris showed up with you at lunch I took advantage of the opportunity to become friends with you, and part of my reason for wanting you to be my friend is so that, hopefully, you could help me with my algebra, but what’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing, I guess.”

  “And even if you can’t, I’d still like for us to be friends. Everyone needs friends.”

  “So what’s the deal? You really having trouble with algebra?”

  Blaise gasped. “No, I just think you’re cute, and I want to spend my nights with you, pretending I need help.” He gripped the steering wheel like he was trying to pull it out off the column. “Yes, I’m having trouble! I was doing okay for a while, but then it started going fast. And those friggin’ linear equations! And what’s up with Mr. J. wanting us to graph everything? I’m all right with completing the square and even the quadratic formula, but then he wants us to graph everything. Graph this, pal.”

  “It’s cool, Blaise. I can help you. I’ve actually helped some people before. I think I’m pretty good at it, helping people understand it, I mean. I’ve noticed that Mr. Johnson has a hard time getting it across sometimes. His problem is that he doesn’t have patience for guys that don’t get it the first time. I think a good teacher should be able to go about explaining things a different way if it doesn’t register the first time around.”

  “Exactly,” Blaise agreed.

  Johnny was starting to feel comfortable around Blaise. “So, what’s in it for me?” he said grinning.

  Blaise gave Johnny a serious look and said, “You get to hang out with me, smart-ass.”

  “Wow! I must be the luckiest guy in the world.”

  “Damn near. And if you’re really lucky, I’ll teach you a few things, too.”

  Johnny laughed. “Oh yeah, like what?”

  Blaise steered his car into the parking lot at Holy Cross High and whipped around into a space. He turned around, leaning over the back of his seat and reached into a gym bag. After fumbling around inside it for a moment, he pulled out a necktie. “For starters,” he said as his fingers quickly manipulated the tie around his neck, “I’m going to teach you how to dress. Take off that lousy clip-on PIECE OF CRAP!” Blaise carefully ducked out from under the perfectly tied half-Windsor and handed it to Johnny.

  “What’s wrong with my tie?”

  “It’s fake,” Blaise said shaking his head. “We don’t do
fake. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Johnny finished synching up the tie.

  “All right, then. You look good.” Blaise gave Johnny a slap on the back saying, “Let’s go.”

  Walking toward the entrance to Holy Cross Blaise said, “Can we get started today? Right after school if that’s okay with you. I’ll drive you home.”

  “You mean for math?”

  “Yeah. Is that cool?”

  “Yeah, that’s cool. You wanna do it at my house?”

  “You got snacks?”

  “I’m sure we’ve got something.”

  They walked into the school’s main hallway. Guys were moving all around them, heading for class. Several of them greeted Blaise: What’s up, Blaise? How’s it going Blazer? Morning Blaise-man. No one said anything to Johnny. He started to wonder if maybe he was still invisible to some people. That was all right with him, though, as long as the people who could see him were kind.

  As Blaise started heading toward his first class Johnny stopped. His class was in the other direction. Blaise turned while continuing to walk. “Meet me at the car after school.”

  Johnny, feeling free to go, said, “All Right,” and stepped away.

  “Thanks Bud.” Blaise took off at a full pace. He would get to class with a few minutes before the bell and talk to Chris. Brother Bead’s English Literature class was not a worry: Blaise had read the entire anthology early in the year. He was coasting, relying on his memory when quizzed.

  Chris was sitting at his desk writing in his notebook as Blaise took a seat next to him. “Good morning Christopher. How’s it going?”

  “It’s going,” Chris replied, not looking up. “You?”

  “Super.”

  “I saw Sammy on the way in. He’s going to meet me after school.”

  “Good deal. Johnny’s gonna help me find my vertex later. Remind me to get his phone number for you so you can get a hold of me.”

  “I’ve already got it.”

  “You’re always one step ahead, Chris.”

  Chris finally looked up. “Gotta be.”

  Sammy White could not concentrate. Earth Science with Brother James was not his favorite way to start the day. Chris wanted to see him at the end of the day. He had called the house the night before and caught up with him in the morning. The night before, Sammy was over at Jeff’s and they had smoked some pot and talked for a long time, about what he could not remember. They had recently joined an organization that promised them a steady supply of marijuana: all they had to do was sell a certain amount of it. It was too easy.

  Jeff was a close neighbor who moved in just a couple years ago. He went to Lincoln and was no more involved there than Sammy was at Holy Cross. Sammy would rather go to Lincoln, too, but did not dare ask his parents: he already knew the answer to that question.

  Brother James conducted class with his usual enthusiasm while Sammy tried to look like he was paying attention. He drew his fingers through his long blonde hair to get it out of his eyes, wondering what Chris wanted to talk to him about so badly. Chris was a model student, a model son, and too much for Sammy to put up with lately. They had grown up together and were quite close. They had celebrated their birthdays together, went on trips with each other’s family, and each one practically living at the other’s house half the time. But that was before. Chris became too serious for Sammy. He was all wrapped up in that student government thing. There were always important functions to be at or a meeting or he had to study. Sammy still loved his cousin, though. He did admire him, and he wished there was something he could do; something that could make it the way it used to be when they had fun together.

  Jeff was a good friend. He was always up for anything. The problem, however, was that Jeff was stupid. Sammy hated to think that the only friend he could make since Chris became so busy was a guy who was ignorant on so many levels. It was not like he was retarded or something, but more than likely it was just the way he was raised. Jeff’s father was one of those loud mouths who called everybody else an idiot. The man could not say anything without betraying his ignorance and bigotry. But Jeff was not so hard-headed, and Sammy could influence him. Sammy would try to argue a point when Jeff said something stupid, but Jeff would just roll over and immediately assume Sammy’s point of view. He was too easy, and Sammy missed the critical thinking and sharp edges of a good argument with Chris. He would talk to Chris, and he just hoped that it was not going to be about participating in some dick-headed activity like the time he tried to rope him into working on the school spirit committee.

  After school, Sammy met Chris by the main entrance. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  They walked through the parking lot and onto the service road that led to the river bike trail. Chris removed two Tootsie Pops from his jacket and gave Sammy his choice of grape or cherry. After walking on the bike trail for a while Sammy followed Chris through the brush to a spot on the river where they sat down on the grassy bank close to the water, a place that Chris had previously determined to be better for private meetings than fishing. The rolling river and natural beauty of the surroundings provided a relaxing setting as well as privacy.

  Sammy pulled the red candy out of his mouth. “I take it you didn’t bring me out here to talk about the spirit committee.”

  “No, Sammy, nothing like that.”

  “What is it then?” Sammy revealed his uneasiness by crunching into the soft Tootsie Roll center before finishing the hard candy.

  Rolling the stick between his thumb and finger to spin the candy in his mouth, Chris looked out over the river for a moment, then said, “Sam, what in the hell are you doing, man?”

  “Wudda ya mean?”

  “I mean I know you’re not doing very well in your classes, and I know you’re moving dope. What I don’t know is why. What I want to know is what is it going to take to keep you from screwing up your whole life?”

  “How come you know so much?”

  “You made the ineligible list.”

  “Who says I’m moving dope?”

  “Are you saying you’re not? Because if you’re not, man, I’d love to know that rather than what I’ve heard.” Chris looked at Sammy like no one else in the whole world mattered more. “I’d like to think that the guy who saw you picking up more pot than you could smoke in a year doesn’t know the whole story.”

  Sammy did not say anything for a moment. He stared at the river, and then turned to Chris. He could feel the emotion rising from his gut to his throat as if an immense pressure was causing his heart to become buoyant within his chest. His face warmed and water formed in his eyes to the point of blurring his vision. Through the mist he did not see the student body vice president who was too busy to hang out with him anymore, but rather, he saw his cousin whom he loved so much and missed. In that moment he recalled every time they had been together: every vacation trip and outing, every sleepover and prank, the pure magic of being boys when summer was one long holiday. Then, as the hot floodwaters in his eyes spilled over onto his crimson cheeks, Sammy said, “Oh god, Chris, I’m screwed! I am so screwed.”