The Outlaw: No Heroes

by Alan Janney

  “I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “Do you think I want to cheer on the thin sidelines at a dinky college? He wants what I want.”

  “Which is?” I asked warily.

  “You.” She sounded and looked like a predator. “You can win him a state championship. You can put him in the news for the next two years. You have athletic ability, the arm strength, the intelligence, and the looks to be splashed all over the internet and the newspapers and the sporting journals. And he’ll always be standing beside you, posing like a proud mentor, Geppetto and his creation. You’ll get the college scholarship and he’ll get his dream job. It’s a mutually beneficial partnership.”

  I nodded, trying my best to absorb the football culture. I was still new. I didn’t want anyone to know I had to get football lessons from the cheerleader.

  “Is that how you see our relationship?” I asked. “A mutually beneficial partnership?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Don’t you?”

  “A partnership,” I repeated. Not very romantic.

  “Right!”

  “How do we benefit?”

  She stopped dancing for a heartbeat, searching my face. “Are you really asking that?”

  “Tell me in your own words. About our benefits.”

  “For starters, we look great together, Chase. We’re supposed to be together. Next year we’ll be voted Homecoming King and Queen and there will be no second place.”

  “That’s not really a benefit for me,” I said. “I only came here tonight because I wanted to see…” Katie. “…you.” And Hannah. “Homecoming titles mean nothing to me.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Chase,” she said. “I’m not shallow. I’m not vain, either. I’m just repeating what others have said. Everyone says we’ll win. Next year. But the Homecoming title is a stepping stone to greater successes. If you don’t win, the college scouts will ask why not.”

  “What other benefits?”

  “We are in the perfect relationship,” she said. “We’re both so busy that we wouldn’t have time for a regular person. Together, in our busy hectic schedules, we won’t be hurting each other’s feelings.”

  “What about when we get lonely?”

  “Lonely?” she laughed. “Being the best is lonely. That’s part of the package. At least this way no one gets hurt. We’re lonely together.”

  “The benefit for me is that I get to date a beautiful girl?” I asked.

  “Don’t you watch the NFL draft? The quarterbacks sit with their families and their girlfriends or wives. You couldn’t go to the draft alone, Chase. You’ll need me.”

  “What do you get?” I asked.

  “The second after the camera shows us getting drafted into the NFL, every person in America is going to search the internet for my identity,” she beamed. “Instant celebrity.”

  “You’re pinning all your hopes on me getting drafted into the NFL?” I chuckled. “Sounds like a long shot.”

  “Well,” she said coyly, and her hand began applying more pressure on my back, drawing me near. “There are other…benefits too.”

  “Such as?” I asked.

  “Such as…” she repeated. The distance between our mouths began to decrease, breath by breath. My pulse quickened and our feet stopped moving. Her chin tilted upwards as I lowered towards her. Our noses brushed…

  “Fire!”

  We froze, our eyelashes fluttering against each other, our lips a heartbeat apart.

  “FIRE!”

  An alarming pillar of dark black smoke was billowing towards the ceiling. An acrid odor reached us as the fire leapt up in a blast of heat.

  “Oh my gosh,” Hannah yelped. “There really is a fire!”

  The screams were ear-piercing as the thousand persons in the room devolved into a panicked mob. Our classmates began stampeding towards the exits, not noticing who they trampled.

  I pulled Hannah into my arms and held her against me, and we stood calmly like a rock in a rushing stream. The crowd parted and flowed around us, and when bodies crashed against me I didn’t move. I could tell we’d have plenty of time to get out.

  The clouds of ash triggered the sprinklers. The din increased in volume as we all got sprayed. Hannah threw back her head and laughed.

  “What are you laughing at?” I shouted as the cold water began to stream down my face.

  “This is wild!” she cried.

  “Why aren’t you scared?”

  “Because I’m invincible! We’re the best!” she called back. Over half of our peers were already out of the building, and their screams had faded enough that I could hear the administration herding them near the doors. For the moment we were alone and ignored, and Hannah looked so good laughing, with water rivulets gathering in the hollow of her throat and beads of moisture clinging to her lashes.

  “My girlfriend is crazy,” I laughed, and I grabbed her cheeks with both hands and pulled her mouth onto mine. At first she responded stiffly but then her body melted into me as the heavens drenched us.

  We were separated almost immediately in the parking lot. The police manhandled us towards our cars. I turned around once and lost her. The ambulance lights were Spider-Man shades of blue and red, and they started super-imposing painful images into my vision. Each time a new truck motored into the parking lot its sirens scattered my concentration. I eagerly dove into the relative peace of my car, where my soaked clothes made me rapidly miserable. As I waited for my turn to drive off, I could see flashes of movement through the parked cars; the police were ducking hand-cuffed individuals into squad cars.

  Who could they be arresting? Was this arson? I didn’t make it home for another hour, by which point my head was an exhausted drum and I barely made it into bed.

  I didn’t find out until Monday that Katie had received a new message from T after the fire.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Monday, October 8. 2017

  Dad was waiting for me when I came downstairs for breakfast Monday morning. I had slept better last night than I had the previous two, but still not well. Hopefully I would be headache-free today.

  “Morning, Pop,” I yawned and got out the cereal.

  “I just checked the mail,” he grunted. I noticed a letter was lying under his thick hands on the table.

  “Yeah?”

  “Progress reports from your school came.”

  “Uh oh,” I said. “I’ve been worried about my Trig grade. What’s the damage?”

  “Trig?” he barked. “Trig? You’ve only been worried about Trig?”

  “Whoa,” I said defensively. “What’s with the attitude? How bad is it? D?”

  “You’re failing Trig,” he snapped. “Plus, you have a D in English. And a C in Spanish.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. He watched me with baleful eyes as I tugged the paper away from him and unfolded it.

  “Jeez,” I said. He hadn’t been exaggerating. My scores were brutal. “I’ve got some work to do, huh.”

  “You’re damn right you do,” he growled.

  “Since when do you care about my grades?”

  “Until all your grades are Bs or better, you’re grounded.”

  To my horror, I laughed. I didn’t mean to, it just fell out. “Dad,” I said, trying to wipe the smile from my face. “Be serious.”

  “I’m completely serious.”

  “Grounded? You want to ground me?” I asked incredulously.

  “I don’t want to ground you, I am grounding you.”

  “You can’t ground me, Dad,” I argued. “I’m on the football team.”

  “School, practice, games. That’s it,” he held up three fingers. “Otherwise you’re here with your nose in a book.”

  “Are you drinking early today?”

  “Watch your mouth.”

  “Now you want to be a parent?” I practically shouted.

  “I am your parent.”

  “Since when? After I paid for my own car? Prepaid my car insurance and phon
e bills? Bought my own school clothes? I still buy my own gas. Drive you to the doctor. Pay your medical bills. By the way, you still need physical therapy. And I’m out of money. I have about two weeks’ worth of gas and I’m done. What then?”

  “Worry about yourself, not me,” he snarled.

  “I’m more a parent than you are!” I yelled and to my surprise he flinched. My voice came out as a physical force; the dishes rattled in the cabinets. “I’m practically raising myself! This is your parental contribution? To ground me when you’re pissed off?”

  “I know what’s best for you!”

  “Grow up, Dad. Grow up and I’ll listen to you. I lost two parents when Mom died. Get your head out of your beer bottles and be a father.”

  He glared at me with red eyes and said, “You turn eighteen in a few days. Decide if you’re going to live here or if you’re going to leave. My house. My rules.” He stormed upstairs.

  I took ten deep breaths to calm down and forcefully pried my fingers off the wooden kitchen stool. I had to focus on something else. We were running low on fruit so I made a mental note to go grocery shopping. Eat. I should eat.

  I pulled the stool out to sit down and that’s when I noticed my fists had left imprints in the wood.

  “Lee,” I said, as he sat down before first period. “You have to help me.”

  “Have no fear, your sexy little Asian is here!”

  “Don’t be weird. I have an F in Trig.”

  “What?” he laughed. “No you don’t. Be serious, dude.”

  “I got my progress report, Lee. It’s an F.”

  “An F? Are you joking? That’s awful!”

  “I know this,” I growled.

  “It’s Trig, dude. I can do Trig in my sleep.”

  “Which is why you’re going to help me. I need tutoring. Lots of it.”

  “No problem, man. I do tutoring most nights. It’s how I support my electroshock science projects. I’ll give you the family discount.”

  “Thanks,” I said dryly. “Now shush, I want to hear this.”

  Our morning show anchor was reading a police update about the Homecoming fire. Authorities had taken three individuals into custody, charging them with arson. There had been no fatalities and no major injuries. Damages at the Hilton hotel amounted to a million dollars.

  “Did you hear anything else about the fire?” I asked Lee. “You always know stuff.”

  “Sure, I heard things.”

  “What’d you hear?”

  “It was another illegal immigrant protest, from a radical violent group.”

  “That’s not a protest,” I said. “That’s like terrorism.”

  “Yeah, basically. The violent group is getting worse, too, dude. It’s no longer just immigrants either. Several gangs are participating. All three guys the police arrested are Mexican or something. They claim they were paid to start the fire.”

  “Someone paid them to start the fire? Who?”

  “Dunno, dude.”

  Over the weekend, I had decided I needed to stop thinking about Katie. She’s my friend, and that’s it. It isn’t fair to Hannah for me to keep mooning over some other girl. I like Hannah. She’s my girlfriend. And I’m a nice, faithful guy. That’s my goal.

  It was nice in theory, but it would be harder to practice.

  “I know who T is,” Katie told me in Spanish class.

  “You do?” I asked. “Who?”

  “Well, I don’t know exactly. But I know he goes to this school.”

  “Oh…okay. How do you know?”

  “He texted me again,” she said. “At least I think it’s a ‘he.’” She handed me her phone.

  >> …I hope you didn’t inhale too much smoke. –T

  “Katie,” I said. “What makes you think this text is from someone at Hidden Spring High School?”

  “Because he knew about the fire.”

  “Most of Los Angeles knows about the fire,” I said.

  “Yes but he know about the fire right after it happened,” she replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I got this, like…five minutes after we left the hotel. So he has to be a student. How else would he know about it so soon?”

  “Right,” I said, my heart dropping. “How else would he know about it?”

  Maybe he started the fire? Or hired someone to? That’s a far-fetched idea. Why would Tee do that? Could he be trying to pinpoint which high school Katie attends?

  “Did you reply?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What’d you say?”

  “Do you still think this is from the guys who mugged us?” she asked.

  “Maybe. What’d you say?” I pressed.

  “I told him that we got out okay, and then I asked him if he did too.”

  “Now he knows for sure that you attend Hidden Spring High, Katie.”

  “I guess. So what?” she asked.

  “He saw your face the night we were mugged! How can you be so calm about this? He probably remembers what you look like, and now he knows what school you go to. So now he’s going to get a Hidden Spring High year book and scan the pictures for your face,” I said, thinking out loud. “And when he sees your face, then he’ll know your name.”

  “Why would he do that?” she asked, and for the first time I could tell by her voice that she was concerned.

  “Because then he can figure out where you live.”

  Katie sat with Lee, Cory and me at lunch. I didn’t say much; I was too absorbed in worries over money, Dad, grades, grounding, Tee, my concussion…over everything.

  “Why aren’t you sitting with Sammy?” Lee asked her.

  “We’re…having a fight,” Katie said. My ears perked up.

  “Oh yeah?” Lee asked, putting down his sandwich and smiling.

  “Don’t look so smug,” she frowned at him.

  “I’m not, dude! What are you fighting about?”

  “I don’t know,” she sighed. “He didn’t want to dance with me at Homecoming. He just hung out with his stupid buddies. It’s complicated.”

  “I would always dance with you,” Lee said, his face a mask of complete seriousness.

  “Thanks, Lee,” she said, and she rolled her eyes.

  “What?? I would!”

  Because of my concussion, I wasn’t allowed to practice football yet, so I went to Katie’s to work on my Spanish after school. I needed to raise my Trig grade, but I needed help in Spanish too. And Katie was hotter than Lee.

  Katie seemed glum but she agreed to help me. She pointed out that I still had several assignments in my binder that needed to be turned in. We completed them together and she quizzed me using her flash cards. It was a pleasant hour that made me temporarily believe nothing had changed between us. But that illusion ended when she begrudgingly took a phone call from Sammy, and I packed up to leave.

  Her mom stopped me at the front door.

  “It’s nice to see you here again, Chase. We’ve missed you,” she said, wiping her hands with a dishtowel in the kitchen.

  “Thanks, Ms. Lopez. It was nice to be here.”

  “How’s your head?” she asked.

  “Much better today, thanks. And thank you so much for the birthday present.”

  “De nada,” she said and waved off my thanks. “I was happy to get it for you. You’re the closest thing I have to a son. And Katie, she still talks about you, you know,” she said.

  “She does?”

  “All the time,” she nodded. “Don’t tell her I say this, but she talks about you more than her new boyfriend, Sammy.”

  I repositioned the heavy backpack on my shoulder and said, “I’m not sure how to respond to that.” Other than smiling like an idiot.

  “I know. I can see this in your eyes. You have a new girlfriend too. Katie provides me with regular updates. And so you are conflicted.”

  I nodded, “I am extremely conflicted.”

  “Sammy is just a phase. Your girlfriend? I don’t know if she
is. But I do know that you and Katie have a complicated relationship. This makes everything harder.”

  “You told us this would happen,” I reminded her.

  “When two people love each other, it never ends well,” she nodded. “And you love Katie. Yes?”

  “Of course. But recently, it’s been…more…I don’t know. Intense?”

  She laughed and patted me on the chest. “Ah, young love. It’s so painful. She loves you too. And you two are tied so tightly together that any separation will hurt.”

  “Right.”

  “We must neither of us ever tell Katie we say these things,” she said.

  “Agreed. Otherwise we’re both dead.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Wednesday, October 10. 2017

  Cory, Lee, Hannah and Katie all sent me Happy Birthday text messages before I even got out of bed. I was officially eighteen. I was also the oldest student in my class. That’s what happens when you start Kindergarten as a five-year old kid about to turn six, and then have to repeat the ninth grade after your mom dies and you fail every class.

  Instead of purchasing tobacco products with my newly earned adult privileges, I considered celebrating by hiding in my room all day. That plan wouldn’t work, however, because Coach Garrett had given me a week to get my grades up or else he’d bench me, even though my concussion symptoms had vanished.

  Dad and I had reached an uneasy truce. After reviewing our argument, I realized he had been correct. The fact that he hadn’t earned the right to tell me how to be a good student didn’t change the accuracy of his assessment: my grades were foundering. I agreed to be grounded, with exceptions for school, all football activities, tutoring, and visitors. So…kinda grounded.

  I studied English during lunch on Tuesday with Hannah, whose affection for me had abated when I explained my academic situation to her. The health of our relationship was becoming more and more performance based. Last night, Lee and I finished two assignments and I submitted them this morning. My brain was exhausted and my fingers hurt after several days of intense make-up work, but hopefully I’d raised my scores a letter grade in each class.

  Katie brought birthday cupcakes for us all and we sat at our lunch table laughing at the icing on each other’s’ noses. She even made a cupcake for Hannah, who I hadn’t seen yet. During my final bite, Katie asked Lee what he was reading.