B005N8ZFUO EBOK

by Lubar, David

  I glanced at the window to make sure it was big enough for me to squeeze through in an emergency. As far as I could see, there wasn’t a fire escape. At least there weren’t any bars. On the other hand, this was the third floor, so I hoped I’d never have to use the window as an exit.

  One of the two beds in the room was under the window. From the rumpled look, and a couple of burn marks on the sheets, I figured it was Torchie’s. The other bed, along the opposite wall, was unmade, but a pile of sheets and blankets were stacked on it, along with a photocopied booklet that said Welcome to Edgeview on the cover. I took a quick glance through the booklet, saw nothing important, then tossed it into the small garbage can next to the bed. There wasn’t much else in the room, just two old wooden desks, two small dressers, also made of wood, a pair of lamps, and a closet. A picture of Mars, torn from a magazine, was taped to one wall near the foot of Torchie’s bed. Great. Except for the lamps and garbage can, everything in the room looked flammable. To top it off, the place already smelled like the inside of a fireplace. I tossed my bag to the floor by the closet.

  “What are you here for?” Torchie asked.

  “What do you care?” I asked back.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just wondering. Figured, being roommates and all, I should get to know you. And maybe you’d want to know about me. Some of the people here aren’t too friendly. Not me. I like people.”

  I held up my hand to shut him off. “I’m here because I seem to have a bit of a problem respecting authority. That’s how they put it. Well, that’s how the polite ones put it. I’ve also been called a major pain in the butt, a disturbing influence, a smart mouth, and a snotty-nosed little puke, among other things.” I didn’t bother adding some of Dad’s more colorful phrases. There was no point telling this fire freak my life’s story. Not that he’d care.

  I stared at the charred pieces of papers scattered around the desk and the bits of extinguisher foam dripping slowly onto the rug. What a mess. It looked like a giant cow had let loose with one monster of a sneeze. “And you’re here because you have a hard time with math, right?”

  “Huh?” Poor Torchie seemed a bit puzzled.

  “Just kidding.” I could see this was going to be a lot of fun. I reached down toward my bag. But I didn’t want to unpack yet. That would make it real. “So, you feel like showing me around? Principal Davis didn’t exactly give me a detailed introduction to the place.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Torchie led me into the hall and started giving me the tour of Edgeview Alternative School.

  MEMO PAD ON PRINCIPAL DAVIS’S DESK

  FROM DALE BRIGGS’S NOTEBOOK

  TAKING THE TOUR

  “Lip and Bloodbath live in that room,” Torchie told me, pointing to a door near the stairs. “Lip’s no problem by himself. Heck, he’s almost a midget. But Bloodbath likes to beat on people. He’s in our grade, but he’s almost sixteen. Keep out of his way.”

  “Thanks.” This was useful information. It was nice knowing where the toilets were and stuff like that, but I was a lot more interested in learning who could hurt me. “Why do they call him Bloodbath?”

  “That’s his last name.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope,” Torchie said. His voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s Lester Bloodbath.”

  “Anyone call him Lester?” I asked.

  “Nobody who’s still alive.” Torchie shrugged, then led me around the rest of the hall, telling me who was in most of the rooms. There were a lot of nicknames, none of which I’d be proud to own. One kid was called Goober Gobble, for reasons I wouldn’t want to think about on an empty stomach. And there was the unfortunate Patrick Pardeau, who had to go through every day of his life being greeted with his initials. “Hi, PeePee.”

  “That’s Waylon,” Torchie whispered, pointing to a small kid who was walking down the hall away from us. “But we call him Hindenburg.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Torchie grinned. “You know what the Hindenburg was?”

  “An airship. Like a blimp, except it’s rigid,” I said, remembering a picture I’d seen. “It’s a bag full of gas.”

  “Yup,” Torchie said. “And so’s Waylon.”

  “That little guy?”

  Torchie nodded. “He’s deadly. Don’t ever get in a small space near him. Especially when they serve cabbage or beans at lunch.” He stuck out his tongue and made a farting sound.

  Call me weak—I laughed. I also felt relieved. With Hindenburg labeled as the school’s gas man, there’s no way I’d get stuck with a nickname like Fartin’ Martin. Not that I had any problem in that area, but the easy rhyme made that sort of thing a danger.

  Torchie introduced me to several kids, but my brain was already getting overloaded with names and faces, so none of it really stuck right away. I’d guess most of them didn’t remember my name, either. Not that I’d expect them to. All in all, it was kind of a relief actually meeting some of the students. I’d figured I was getting dumped on an island filled with nothing but ax murderers and cannibals. So far, I hadn’t seen either. Just seventh, eighth, and ninth graders.

  “What are the classes like?” I asked as we headed down from the dorm rooms to the second floor.

  “Depends,” Torchie said. “Some of the teachers are big-time strict. I think one or two of them should be locked up somewhere themselves. Miss Nomad is nice. She’s the English teacher. Once we get her talking, she’ll chatter for the whole period, so we really don’t have to do much work. Just say Shakespeare and she’s good for an hour. Mr. Briggs, the science teacher, is pretty cool. He’s the one who came in with the fire extinguisher.”

  I didn’t care about the teachers right now. I wanted to find out more about discipline, since I seemed to get a major dose of it wherever I went. “So, are you in trouble for that fire?”

  Torchie nodded. I noticed that some of his hair was singed at the tips. “Yup, I’m in trouble,” he said.

  “What’ll they do to you?”

  He shook his head. “That’s the scary part. You never know what they’ll think up. They keep trying different stuff on us. It’s like we’re some kind of rats in a lab. Honest. They try something different every time.”

  “Does it work?” As I asked him that, I realized it was a stupid question. If the punishment had worked, Torchie wouldn’t have been barbecuing papers in his room.

  He spread his arms out in a gesture of total innocence. “How can it work? I didn’t do nuthin’. They keep trying to cure me, but I didn’t start the fire. That lighter was empty. Just like these.” He reached into his right pocket and pulled out a handful of disposable lighters. He flicked one a couple of times, throwing a shower of sparks. “See? No flames. I just like the sparks.”

  Oh boy. I could tell there was no point trying to get Torchie to face reality. I’d known kids like that before. You could stand there and watch them do something—hit another kid, break a window, steal from a store. And then, if you accused them, they’d look right at you and say, “I didn’t do it.” I’d known all kinds of liars. Some enjoyed it. Some couldn’t help it. And a few poor losers didn’t even know they were lying.

  But that was his problem. I wanted more details about what might happen to me. I imagined dozens of kids locked in dungeons, dangling from chains while a huge, sweaty guy wearing a leather apron heated up torture tools. The image made me shudder and laugh at the same time. I could just picture what would happen if they went near Hindenburg with a red-hot poker. Kaboom. Lots of little Hinden-bits flying through the air. “What sort of stuff do they try for punishment?” I asked. “They ever hit you?”

  Torchie shook his head. “Not too much. They might take away privileges, or make you watch some stupid old video on how to behave, or force you to listen to a lecture. You’ll find out.”

  “Guess I will. Come on, show me the rest of the place.”

  I followed Torchie down to the second floor. He pointed to one room at the end of the hall. �
�Teachers take turns staying there overnight and on weekends. I don’t know why they bother having someone else around, since Principal Davis almost never goes home. Past that side of the stairs is more dorm rooms. The rest of the floor is classrooms.” He opened a couple of the doors so I could see for myself.

  The classrooms were pretty much the same as any other classrooms I’d ever been in. Poorly erased blackboards and uneven rows of chairs and desks left no mistake what went on during the week. Most of the stuff didn’t match. I noticed at least three different kinds of desks in the first room, and lots of different chairs. I guess even the furniture was stuff nobody else wanted. Edgeview seemed to be a final rest stop on the way to the scrap yard. One classroom didn’t have any desks or chairs. All I saw was a rug spread out on the floor.

  “That’s Mr. Briggs’s room,” Torchie said as we looked in. “He brought the rug himself. He keeps experimenting with different learning environments. It’s a good place to catch a nap.”

  I was about to turn around when I got this feeling someone was staring at the back of my neck. Then I turned around and found that the feeling was a fact. For an instant, I thought I was about to meet a teacher. That’s how big the guy behind me was. When reality sunk in, I checked the hall for a quick escape route.

  “I’m Bloodbath,” the guy said, stepping close enough to cut off any hope I had of sprinting away. He looked about half the size of the bus driver, which was still a lot bigger than any kid had a right to be. No fat—alt the weight was muscle. The way Torchie had talked about him, I expected him to be some kind of troll. But he could have passed for one of those actors who makes a couple of movies, gets real popular with the girls for a year or two, and then vanishes from sight. He had that kind of face.

  He wasn’t alone. There was another kid with him. He barely came up to my shoulders. I was pretty sure, based on Torchie’s description, that the other kid was Lip. Lip was so ugly I had a hard time taking my eyes from his face—it was like staring at a traffic accident.

  Bloodbath glanced over at Torchie, then tilted his head slightly. He didn’t say a word. But Torchie got the message. He swallowed, blinked a couple of times like a puzzled turtle, and took off. He started out walking, but broke into a jog as soon as he got a few steps away. I had the impression he couldn’t wait to leave. What a pai. Yup—we roommates sure stick together.

  Bloodbath turned his attention back to me. “Welcome to Edgeview,” he said, putting a large hand on the doorframe next to my shoulder. A small silver ring dangled from his left nostril. I had this crazy urge to reach out and yank the ring off, but I knew if I did, it would be my last act on planet Earth.

  I waited, figuring that, just like Principal Davis, Bloodbath had plenty more to talk about.

  “Ding dong,” Bloodbath said. “You hear that? That’s the school bell.”

  As he said school bell, he gave me a shove, pushing me into the empty classroom. “And guess what?” he added as the two of them followed me in and closed the door. “It’s time for your first lesson.”

  NOTE RECENTLY ADDED TO LESTER BLOODBATH’S PERMANENT FILE

  The top of Lester Bloodbath’s desk

  TEACHING WITHOUT A LICENSE

  I thought of a million things to say. The problem was that out of those million things, there were probably at least nine hundred thousand that would instantly get me on Bloodbath’s bad side. Chances are, he didn’t even have a good side. He seemed like the sort of kid who’d hurt his friends as quickly as he’d hurt anyone else. I figured the best thing to do was to let him think I was a spineless wimp who’d stand there and take whatever he did to me.

  “Lesson one,” Bloodbath said, moving very close to me. “This is my school. The teachers might think they run it, but I’m in charge. Got it?”

  “You’re in charge,” I said. As ridiculous at that sounded, the parrot routine seemed the safest way to go. It took a lot of effort to keep my voice from sounding like I was mocking him. But so far he hadn’t knocked my head off, so I guess I was doing okay. He reminded me of those explosives that blow up if you touch them the wrong way. Sometimes they even blow up without being touched.

  “Two, anything you get, you share with me. You get a package from home, you share with me.” He moved even closer, pressing his chest against mine. I tried not to gag as his breath washed over me. “Understand?”

  “No problem,” I said. “You can have everything I get from my folks.” That was a painless promise. I wasn’t expecting anything. Mom might have a moment of weakness and think about mailing me a box of cookies or something, but Dad wouldn’t let her do that. you don’t reward bad behavior, he’d say to her.

  Bloodbath was so close now, I could count the hairs in his eyebrows. “Three, you tell anyone about this and I’ll kill you. Got it?”

  I nodded. I didn’t trust myself to open my mouth. One wrong word and he’d kick the crap out of me. And if there was anything I had a talent for, it was saying the wrong word. Lots of wrong words. The craziest thing is that, as tense as I felt, part of me wanted to laugh in his face.

  Bloodbath smiled. “Good. Now, just to make sure you understand my rules, here’s a little something to help you remember.” He stepped back and nodded at the other kid.

  “Yeah,” the kid said. His voice reminded me of someone who’d sucked a lungful of helium out of a balloon. He grinned, giving me a view of stained teeth jutting like a fifty-year-old picket fence from his rotting gums. “Here’s a little something to help you remember.” He punched me in the stomach.

  My first thought was, Huh? I glanced down at his fist, which was still flat against my shirt, barely depressing the fabric. The kid had the weakest punch I’d ever felt. He’d hit me with about as much power as someone would use to burp a baby. My second thought was that it might be smart if I pretended he’d hurt me. Then they’d leave me alone. But that thought came a couple of seconds too late. If I dropped down now, I’d look as phony as one of those professional wrestlers who spends about five minutes reacting to a kick in the face.

  “Lip, how many times have I told you?” Bloodbath asked. He reached out, grabbed Lip’s shoulder, and yanked him aside. “You’ve got to put your body into it. Your whole body. And turn your shoulder. Like this.”

  Bloodbath lashed out and hit me in the stomach. As his fist shot into my gut and drove all the air out of my body, I bent over, then crumpled to the floor. For an instant, I didn’t feel anything other than a huge numbness. That didn’t last. Moments later, the pain flared out like an explosion. I curled up, waiting for the hurt to go away and wondering if I’d ever be able to breathe again.

  I could dimly hear Lip through the waves of pain, saying, “Yeah, I get it. Kind of like swinging a bat.”

  I curled up tighter, hoping that Bloodbath wasn’t going to start throwing kicks into my ribs or let Lip practice his punches on me. But it sounded like they were leaving.

  “Catch you later, pal,” Bloodbath said, walking out of the room and closing the door. I glanced over to make sure he’d left. A second later, he stuck his head back in. “Oh, don’t forget to shut the lights off when you leave.”

  I turned my head away and closed my eyes. Even as I lay there, fighting the urge to throw up a breakfast I barely remembered eating, I thought about how I was going to get back at him. This was not the end of it. One way or another, Bloodbath would pay for hurting me. It might take a while, but I didn’t think either of us was going anywhere in the near future. I’d have plenty of time to get even.

  The door opened again. I heard muffled footsteps. “Don’t feel bad,” Torchie said. “He greets all the new kids that way.”

  I tried to answer, but I still couldn’t catch my breath. So I lay there with my face in the rug. At least it was a nice rug—very deep and plush.

  “Hey, cheer up,” Torchie told me. “He’ll probably leave you alone for a while. He gets bored pretty easily. Come on, let me give you a hand.”

  Torchie grabbed my arm and pul
led. I managed to get to my knees. The pain was just a dull ache now—no worse than if a car had rolled over my stomach. I signaled for him to stop, then took several deep breaths. I felt like I was trying to force air into a hot water bottle. Finally, I got to my feet.

  “So, want to see any more of the school?” Torchie asked. “The cafeteria and the gym are on the first floor.”

  “No. I’ve seen enough. Thanks.” The effort to talk cost me more than I was willing to give at the moment.

  I followed him upstairs toward the room. Our room. There were a lot more people in the halls than before. I figured they were checking me out. Almost all of the kids we passed stared at me, probably trying to guess how badly Bloodbath had hurt me. Word spreads faster than fire in a place like this. And most of the students had probably been through the same little ritual with Bloodbath. I had to show them I was tough. I stood up straight and managed to walk to the room without grabbing my stomach or groaning.

  “You got a nickname?” Torchie asked after I’d collapsed on my bed.

  “Nope.”

  “Lots of the kids here have them.”

  “I’ve noticed.” It didn’t hurt as much, but I still wasn’t eager to talk.

  The conversation went on like that for a while, with Torchie carrying almost all of it. He kept talking as he got to work cleaning up the soggy mess of fire-extinguisher foam and charred paper on top of his desk. In the next half hour, I learned where he was from (Newlins Falls), where his parents were from (Irish and Scottish on his mom’s side, Swedish with a dash of French Canadian on his dad’s side), what he liked to eat (burgers, lasagna, grilled cheese sandwiches), and full biographies of his last seven pets—three fish, two hamsters, a bird, and a lizard named Scooter.