Chapter 5—SUNDAY
Johnny was sitting on the floor with Joshua, making robots out of Legos, when the phone rang. Joshua jumped up to get it, but Johnny said, “Oh no you don’t,” and jumped over the couch in front of his little brother. “Hello.”
“Johnny! What’s up?”
“Hi Blaise.”
“Hey, can I give you a ride in the morning?”
“That’d be great. Thanks. What’s going on?”
“I’m just kicking back. Went to San Francisco yesterday, though.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. Lotta fun.”
“So what else is going on? I had a visit from Agent Garland Friday night, Blaise.”
“Oh yeah. How did that go?”
“How did it go? The dude comes over and tells me about this war we’re about to get into, and he tells me I’m your idea man. You don’t say anything to me, but then Terry tells me you’ve decided that I’m supposed to figure out how to get this guy out of a gang. Who is this guy anyway?”
“Oh, sorry about the surprise. I couldn’t find you after school on Friday, but you need to get with Chris tomorrow. He’ll fill in all the blanks. Johnny, you ever go to San Francisco?”
“I’ve been there a couple of times. What’s Chris gonna tell me?”
“Kathleen and I went there for the day. It was great.”
“Who’s mixed up in the gang world?”
“You got a girlfriend, Johnny?”
“Blaise, I asked you a question?”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Who’s in a gang?”
“Please, Johnny. Just talk to Chris about it tomorrow. So you got a girlfriend, or not?”
“No. I don’t. Why?”
“I’m just asking. Maybe you could double with Kathleen and me some time. How ‘bout it?”
“I said I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“You don’t need a girlfriend to go out on a date. You just have to ask someone out. Better yet, Kathleen has this friend…”
“Woa, woa, now wait a minute. You’re not fixing me up with…”
“She’s a nice girl, Johnny. Pretty.”
“Yeah, she’s so pretty her friends have to find people who’ve never seen her to go out with her. No thanks.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you. Okay, I’ll show you a picture first, and then you can decide, okay?”
“That’s fair enough.”
“Then it’s settled. How’s Friday night?”
“You’ve gotta show me the picture first.”
“I will. Believe me; you’ll want to go out with her. Trust me.”
“When am I supposed to talk to Chris?”
“Tomorrow. You ever had a girlfriend before?”
“When tomorrow? Not really.”
“You guys work it out. Whaddaya mean, not really?”
“I’ve never really gone out with anyone before.”
“But you think about it, right? I mean you like girls.”
“That reminds me, I had another run in with Vince. He told me to tell you that some things never change. What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Long story.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Why does liking girls remind you of Vince?”
“He thinks I’m gay. Or at least that’s what he says, and well, he made some comments about you and Chris and me going for each other, that’s all.”
“Don’t worry about it. He’s just bitter.”
“What’s he bitter about?”
“That’s part of the long story.”
“I said I’ve got time.”
“You wanna grab a burger? I can pick you up in fifteen minutes.”
“Sure. I’ll be waiting. Bye.” Johnny hung up the phone.
To Johnny, grabbing a burger meant going to McDonald’s or Burger King. Blaise took him to an out-of-the-way diner called The Red Rose where a guy named Jack took your order and then went back in the kitchen to cook it. Jack spoke with a foreign accent that Johnny could not place. Jack gave them menus and said he would be right back. Blaise did not look at his. While Johnny was busy reading the one-page laminated menu, Blaise told him that his best bet would be the number four—a double cheeseburger with bacon and fried onions. Hamburgers were served with your choice of fries or onion rings. Johnny’s suspicion was that in a place like The Red Rose a person could probably ask for anything, anyway.
When Jack returned, they each ordered the number four with fries. Johnny asked for a Coke with his, and Blaise ordered a strawberry milk shake. Jack collected the menus promising to have their food ready in just a few minutes.
“Last year,” Blaise said, “you won’t recall since you weren’t around, we had our election for this year’s student officers. Every year since anyone can remember, seniors have won the election for president and vice president. Last year, Chris and I won the election and it wasn’t even close. We won by a landslide.” Blaise paused while Jack brought his shake and Johnny’s Coke. “You should have seen the place when it was announced. Guys were yelling and jumping and high-fivin’ and hugging each other. Everyone was shaking our hands and telling us what a victory it was for the juniors and the lower grades. Man, it was wild. I knew we would win, though.”
“How did you do it,” Johnny asked.
“We had a number of things going for us from the beginning. First off, the only guy the seniors could come up with to run was Vince. I don’t know why, except that by the time so many guys get to be seniors, they start thinking about getting out, and school isn’t the number one thing anymore. Then, we came up with a platform—something the seniors never thought of, I guess. We wanted to push for a more unified school. We promised to do away with the hard class distinctions that have long been a way of life at the Cross. Just because a guy’s a senior doesn’t mean he’s got a right to lord over everyone else on campus. You know what I mean?”
“I’m with you so far.”
“We tackled the issues. We told the students that we would fight for their rights to have equal time, space, and resources. We proposed student activity committees that would represent the diverse members of the student population. Vince got up and basically just told everyone that he was a great leader and that, if elected, he would, well, put Coke and candy machines all over the place. I really think that he just thought people would vote for him because he’s on the football team and he’s big. Any way, we rocked the house, and we’ve been rocking it ever since.”
“So, Vince is pissed off because you beat him in the student council election last year.”
“Yep. Wounded his pride.”
“Who ran for VP?”
“Chandler Cross. That’s another thing. Vince and Chandler never worked together on their campaigns. They don’t even like each other. Chandler’s a great guy, really, but we ran like we were on a ticket. They didn’t stand a chance against our combined efforts. The office of vice president was always kind of vague, too, and in our campaign, we made it clear that the vice president would play a serious role in student government. You see, the constitution never gave him any duties other than a vote on the council and filling the office of president in the event of his absence. Now he’s an ex-officio member of every committee, he chairs the Student Action Committee, and he represents the school at events around the city. He really does more work than I do.”
Jack arrived with the burgers. They thanked him and Johnny looked at his plate with wide eyes. “Wow. This sure isn’t McDonalds.”
“Oh Johnny boy, this is the best hamburger you’ve ever had,” Blaise said as he picked up the one in front of him. He took a bite and closed his eyes. After chewing it a while he said, “This is a heart attack waiting to happen.”
Johnny laughed and said, “Mmm. It is good. You know how to pick ‘em.”
Blaise wiped some sauce off his chin. “Any way, like
I was saying: Chris is really the man. I can’t tell you how much he gets done. He’s brilliant, really.”
“So why isn’t he president?”
“You don’t get to be president by being the smartest guy.”
“How do you get to be president?”
Blaise grinned. “You’ve got to be pretty smart, true enough, but you’ve also got to have a charismatic personality and be damn good looking.”
“Chris is good looking, and he’s got a pretty good personality.”
“Yes sir, but he’s too type A.”
“What’s that mean?”
“He’s too neat. Too organized. His greatness shows, causing other people to feel inadequate. He doesn’t mean to, of course. He cares a great deal. The way he cares is by dealing with what needs to be done. Myself, on the other hand, I take time out to comfort and reassure people. I worry about the details later, or better yet: let Chris take care of the details.”
“So what you’re saying is, while the proof is in the pudding, it’s the packaging that actually sells the pudding.”
“Exactly.”
“And that’s how you got to be president. You, a junior.”
“That’s how, but not why.”
“There’s more to this amazing story?”
“One day last year Chris comes up to me and says, ‘you want to be president of the student body?’ I tell him ‘that’ll be the day’, and before I know it, he explains this brilliant strategy to me. Next thing ya know, there’s a revolution. You see, Johnny, it wasn’t my idea.”
“But you wanted to be president. Right?”
“After Chris convinced me that we could pull it off. Yeah.”
“So you guys pulled it off, and Vince has had a case of the ass ever since.”
“That’s about it. Too bad, though: it’s a shame to see a guy waste so much energy on the past. This is his senior year—he ought to be enjoying it.”
“You like it, too, don’t you? Being president, I mean.”
“I love it.” Blaise looked out the window, off into the distance. “But, ya know, I wish I was able to do more. I see so many guys who just waste their lives. They could be so much more, do more with what they have. They don’t see the future. Guys like Vince who can’t get over things not turning out their way; guys that can’t get past thinking with their dicks; guys that get caught up in drugs and booze. The worst thing I see is people who are ungrateful for what they have. They’re unhappy. They don’t see how easy it is to really enjoy life. The way I see it, high school should be fun. People get way too serious—in high school, for God’s sake, Johnny!”
“How so?” Johnny said.
“By thinking that this is the world.”
“Don’t you think for a lot of kids this is the world? I mean, what else do they know?”
“I agree in as much as this is all that we have experienced, but we also know there is a bigger world beyond our lives at Holy Cross. Just think about it: how many people do you know who have graduated from high school and gone on to college, jobs, families of their own? Some of their stories are sad, but for the most part, they live their lives well. They find their place. We have to find our place, too. It’s not that difficult to envision any kind of life you might want to pursue after high school.”
“You mean a guy’s got to think about his future and not be totally wrapped up in the here and now?”
“That’s right. You’ve got to ask yourself where you want to be five years from now, ten years from now. What kind of life do you want to have? How do the things we do now effect our future?”
Johnny thought for a few seconds as he finished his last French fry. “Well, I think understanding that what you do now is going to have a bearing on your future, all right, but for most of us, I don’t think we go about doing things with that in mind. It’s just understood. Doing the right thing is just a way of life, and, well, doing the wrong thing can become just as habitual.”
Blaise slurped the last of his milkshake, and then scraped the sides of the glass with the straw. He licked the pink foam off the straw with exaggerated tongue action.
Johnny said, “You’re sick, Blaise.”
Blaise just laughed and put the straw back in the glass. “At some point you’ve got to make up your mind, though. Do you want to make something of yourself, or do you just want to screw around?”
Johnny leaned on the counter and got comfortable. “If you do the right thing all the time, the future will take care of itself. If you do the wrong thing too much, you might not have a future.”
“Well said.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Blaise reached in his shirt pocket and took out a photograph. “Now look here. This is a picture of my girlfriend, Kathleen, there on the left, and that’s Lisa. Pretty, huh?”
Johnny looked closely at the photo. “Well, yeah.” He nodded, but continued to scrutinize the picture for signs of trickery. “What makes you think she’d go out with me?”
“Johnny.” Blaise leveled his eyes. “You underestimate my intuitive powers. I know what this girl is looking for in a guy.”
“Uh huh. What’s she looking for?”
“You, Johnny. She’s looking for you.”
Johnny almost laughed, but noticed that Blaise’s answer was void of smack. He just looked at Blaise and again he wondered how he managed to have such a friend.
It was pretty late when Chris and Sammy finally decided to do their homework. It had been a fun weekend, but the feeling that it was all over had settled on them both. Chris was re-reading an essay while Sammy was solving some math problems.
Chris wrote some notes after reading. When he was finished he put his pen down and watched Sammy. He waited until it looked like his cousin was finished before he said, “What do we need to talk about before we go back to school tomorrow?”
Sammy closed his book and placed his papers inside a notebook. He looked at Chris, took a deep breath, exhaled, and said, “Chris, the Mavericks aren’t a joke.”
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry I ever got mixed up with them, but the fact is I did. And the thing is, you don’t just walk in and say, ‘hey guys, I’ve decided your little group isn’t for me—see ya!’ If I were to do something like that, well, let’s just say they might not take it too well. They could just say it’s all right and warn me to keep secret everything I know, but on the other hand, they could kill me. I don’t think they’re into murder, though. They might just beat me within an inch of my life.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, Christopher. I’m dead serious.”
“How do you know this? Have you seen anyone try to get out before?”
“No. But look, man. There are rules. Okay, look. I’m having a hard time explaining this to you because, you see, I swore an oath. I promised to never reveal anything about the Mavericks. So, you know I’m in, and you know I want out. But I don’t know how to tell you why that’s such a hard thing to do.”
“So what you’re telling me is, even though you want out, you still feel bound to keep their code of silence.”
“It’s my word, Chris. I gave them my word.”
“Okay,” Chris said. He stood up and stretched. “You can’t tell me anything to help me understand why you’re stuck in this gang. You gave them your word. Your honor binds you to keep silent. I can understand that much. And you want out, but the only way out is to either get the crap knocked out of you or die?”
“That’s about it,” Sammy said. He raised his eyebrows and bit his lower lip for a second. “Got any ideas?”
“Sammy, I have no idea. I have no friggin' idea what you’re gonna do. I have no idea what any of us can do for you, either. All I know is, you can’t continue doing what you’ve been doing. That’s all gotta stop. But I guess if you just stop it’s the same as telling them you quit.”
Sammy just nodded his head.
“No matter what happens, you know I love you, man.”
“I know. Thanks. Sorry I made such a mess of things.”
“Well, it’s not a mess yet. Look, I’ve gotta talk to some guys tomorrow. If you can’t just walk out, then I’m afraid we’re gonna have to take you out. It could get pretty ugly, I suppose. But here’s the deal: There’s only a handful of us that know. We want you to stop. I want you to stop. Nobody’s judging you, and you’re not in any kind of trouble with the school or the police. We’re keeping it all under wraps. The thing is, Sammy, for God’s sake, you’re one of us, not one of them.”
“I thought I could be both.”
“You can’t be both. We’re not like other schools. Besides, you’re family. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Are you tryin’ to make me cry?”
“Yeah, I am.”
Sammy took a deep breath. “I hate it when you do that.”
“That’s not all you hate.”
“What else do I hate?”
“When I do this!” Chris lunged at Sammy and grabbed his crotch.
“Jeez!” Sammy shouted. He tried to push Chris away, but Chris had plowed his shoulder into Sammy’s chest, forcing him over backwards. Sammy brought his left leg up alongside Chris and flipped him over. Chris let go while in the air.
“Ouch.” Chris landed hard on his right side.
“You did grab my balls yesterday morning,” Sammy accused.
“No I didn’t. I swear, man.” Chris held his side, laughing hard. “You should have seen the look on your face. That must have been one hell of a dream you had.”
“I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Better be.”
“I am.” Chris crossed his heart.
“Okay then.”
Chris burst out laughing again and Sammy knocked him over the head with a pillow.
That'll Be The Day Page 5