by Sean Cullen
Brendan stood with Harold and Dmitri, but they didn’t join in. They had all been victims in their time and found nothing to laugh at in another kid’s humiliation.
“I’d like to get that guy,” Harold grumbled.
“He is a jerker, that’s for sure.”
“Jerk, Dmitri,” Brendan corrected. “Not jerker.”
“What?” asked Dmitri.
“I said he’s not a jerker. He’s a JERK!
In the uncanny way the world has of wanting to get you destroyed, the laughter chose this very moment to fade out and the whole class heard Brendan pronouncing, very clearly, the word “jerk.” There was an audible gasp.
Chester Dallaire stiffened. He turned his large face and skewered Brendan in a glare of hatred. Brendan felt like an escaping convict caught flat-footed in the beam of a searchlight.
“What did you call me, Clairabelle?” he growled. Brendan hated this nickname Chester had fashioned out of his last name. It was annoying in a way only truly idiotic insults can be.
Brendan flushed. He hated being reminded of his braces. He felt like he was going to be sick. Brendan opened his mouth to make a quick denial, but before he could say a word, he saw the blushing face of Miles, tears running down his cheeks as he pulled his gym shorts up. Instead, he just stared back at Chester with what he hoped was a defiant expression on his face. His heart was playing a drum roll against his ribs. He prayed he wouldn’t wet himself. He felt Harold and Dmitri shuffle closer to him. He wasn’t sure if they were showing support or trying to put his body between them and Chester’s fists. Probably the latter.
Chester frowned. He barked a laugh, “Ha. Clairabelle doesn’t think this is funny. Is there anybody else who doesn’t think this is funny?”
There was a predictable silence. Chester was about to make further comment when Kim’s voice cut him off.
“I don’t think it’s funny,” she said, pushing away from the wall where she’d been leaning. “And I doubt anybody else does either. If they weren’t all afraid to talk, they would agree. Brendan obviously doesn’t care for your sense of humour. Harold and Dmitri also think you suck.” Brendan could hear Dmitri and Harold gulp. She sauntered easily over to Brendan and stood beside him. “I think you like picking on people smaller than you because you’re a loser and a coward. But I’m not afraid of you.” She cracked her knuckles and looked straight into Chester’s face. Her expression showed no anger or bravado. It wasn’t a challenge. It was a simple statement. The conviction in her eyes made Chester hesitate.
“Who said to stop stretching?” Mr. Davenport’s peevish voice broke the tension. He stood in the doorway holding an enormous leather ball. “On the floor, people! On the floor.”
Chester stared at Kim a second more before turning to Brendan and drawing a thumb across his own neck in an obvious “you’re dead” gesture. Chester turned to walk away when the strangest thing happened. One of the floorboards beneath his feet gave way with a loud shriek. He squawked and tried to shift his weight, but the floorboard under his other foot gave way too. His legs drove downward and he was stopped only by his groin slamming into the floor.
Brendan gawked with the others. Everyone erupted in laughter as Chester clutched himself while trying to lever his lower half out of the floor. Brendan couldn’t believe his eyes. He happened to look over at Kim to find she wasn’t laughing. She stood with her hands on her hips, smirking slightly.
“Now that’s funny,” she said. Then she pointed at Brendan. “You’re lucky I feel so sorry for you.” The bell rang to mark the end of class. Kim spun on her heel and headed for the girls’ change room without looking back.
Brendan turned to watch as Chester’s pals hauled him out of the floor by the arms. They helped him limp toward the boys’ change room.
Brendan went to examine the floorboards where Chester had fallen through. The floor had just given out. It was an accident, right? A pretty convenient one. He turned in time to see Kim’s back disappear through the change room door.
“All right, everybody,” Mr. Davenport called. “We’ll have to end class there. Go to lunch.”
Brendan joined Harold and Dmitri as they headed off to change, buzzing with excitement over Chester’s humiliation. As he listened to them re-enact the event, he glanced over to where Marina Kaprillian stood with her little entourage of friends. As soon as he saw them they fell silent for an instant then burst into girlish giggling. Then something amazing happened: Marina Kaprillian, the object of his adolescent desires, looked at him and smiled. The confrontation with Chester hadn’t threatened his equilibrium, but one look from her caused him to trip over his feet and fall headlong into the doorframe.
They sat and ate in silence, Dmitri his stinky sandwich and Brendan his cold soup. Luckily, the doorframe hadn’t split his skin, but he had a large goose egg on his scalp. Mercifully, it was above his hairline so he could effectively hide it. Mrs. Barsoomian had shaken her head when she saw Dmitri and Harold helping him up the hall to the nurse’s office. She had examined him, held her fingers up, and asked him to count them and made him count backwards from one hundred. At last, she was satisfied that he hadn’t suffered a concussion and sent him on his way with a bag of ice and a gentle scolding.
Brendan was feeling gloomy. His clumsiness had ruined his moment of triumph, made him look like a fool after looking the hero. He wanted to talk about it but Dmitri wasn’t in the mood. He was in study mode, his face buried in his textbook. Restless, Brendan got up to take a walk.
He headed up the main corridor past the doors to the auditorium. The walls of the hall were hung with old photographs of the school’s history, black and white images of young men frozen in time, their haircuts stiff and their bodies pale as ghosts. Robertson Davies Academy had once been a boys’ school. It had become co-ed only two decades ago. He paused to examine an old photo of the 1936 Senior Varsity Lacrosse Team, young faces earnestly staring out at the camera from long ago.
At first, he didn’t realize he was hearing voices. He looked up and down the hall. There was no one nearby. He listened harder.
“Your presence here will attract attention,” a female voice hissed.
“Nevertheless, I feel Brendan needs watching…”
The voices were coming from the auditorium. He recognized the smooth tones of Mr. Greenleaf.
Greenleaf seemed a little annoyed. But with whom? Feeling sneaky, Brendan crept closer to the closed doors of the auditorium. They were solid wood with two small windows at head height. He could just peek into the window and see who the sub was talking to. That wouldn’t be spying, would it? No!
It was dim inside the auditorium. The only light was from the windows high up the walls by the stage. The seats ranged away in dim rows a few feet from the doors. Mr. Greenleaf was leaning against a seat in the back row, his arms crossed. He was talking to someone Brendan couldn’t see.
“… have no control over where I go and what I do. I was just a bit worried. My sister is coming into town and I knew I’d have to keep an eye on him. She has her own ideas, you know.”
Brendan almost gasped out loud when he saw Kim step into view. She pointed at Mr. Greenleaf and hissed, “I got the assignment. We’ve only just managed to locate him and I’m supposed to be watching him. You have no business being here. He doesn’t know anything and I want it to stay that way for as long as possible.”
“As do I, dear.”
“Don’t dear me. Just your presence here complicates things. It could trigger the…”
“What are you doing?”
Brendan whirled to find Dmitri staring at him. His rapid movement caused him to lose his balance. He tripped and fell against the door, which rattled loudly in its frame.
“Nothing,” Brendan whispered. He grabbed Dmitri by the strap of his knapsack. “Let’s go get some fries. I’m hungry all of a sudden.”
“What? Fries? I don’t…”
Brendan pushed him along the hall and through the closest doo
r to the cafeteria just as the auditorium door swung open. Brendan breathed a sigh of relief. I don’t think they saw me.
Dmitri was staring at him as if he were insane.
“What?” Brendan demanded, trying to lighten the mood. “I really wanted some fries.”
The rest of the day crawled by for Brendan. He went from class to class in a daze. He couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything his teachers were saying. More than once, he was reprimanded for not paying attention. His goal became to simply make it through the day and go home as quickly as possible.
He was determined to ask Kim about Mr. Greenleaf. She obviously knew the guy better than she said she did. Why had they been talking about him in the auditorium? If Dmitri hadn’t come along he might have heard something important.
He planned to wait for Kim after school and have it out with her. So he was quite disappointed when the close-of-day bell rang that she managed to slip out of physics without saying anything to him. He got caught in a clot of students, trying to swim against the current. In his typical clumsy way, he managed to drop his bag and spill the contents out everywhere underfoot. By the time he chased down all his pencils and pens, hurried down the main stairs, and burst out the front doors of the school, Kim was long gone.
He stood there, at a loss. He realized that he didn’t even know where she lived. He didn’t even know which direction she took. She drove a scooter and wore a silver helmet, he knew that but nothing else. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he knew very little about her. She had attached herself to their little group on the first day of school two months ago and had defended them from the worst of the first-year hazing.
He headed down the steps for the walk home. The sky was still bright but darkness came early at this time of year. The air was crisp and fresh. He took a deep breath and finally started to feel like himself when he felt a sudden burning on his chest that took his breath away. Before he could react to the sensation, a hand fell on his shoulder.
“Going my way, Brendan?” The smooth musical voice sent a shiver down his spine.
He looked up into the face of the substitute, Mr. Greenleaf.
^32 Pantsing was invented in ancient Persia only moments after the first pair of pants were invented. Pantsing is achieved by gripping the trouser leg of the victim, usually from behind, when said victim is unaware, and tugging the pants down firmly until they rest around the victim’s ankles. Experts are able to include the underpants in the action. As an added level of humiliation, the Pantser should wait until the Pantsee is engrossed in a conversation with someone he or she is desperate to impress.
A LONG WALK HOME
The instant Brendan felt Mr. Greenleaf’s hand on his shoulder, the itch in his chest suddenly flared. He gasped involuntarily and clutched his chest.
Mr. Greenleaf’s face showed obvious concern. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” Brendan mumbled. He forced himself to ignore the burning itch and lower his hand. He smiled weakly. “Must be allergies or something.”
Mr. Greenleaf dropped his hand from Brendan’s shoulder and the boy felt an instant lessening of the discomfort. “Where are you off to now, Brendan?”
Brendan shrugged. “Home.” Brendan instantly regretted admitting his plans. “It’s quite a long walk; through the park and across the U. of T. campus, then down into the market.” He tried to make it sound far to discourage Greenleaf from walking with him.
“Ah, the same way I happen to be going. Shall we stroll together for a while? I don’t want to cramp your style. I’m just across the park, okay?”
Brendan shrugged again. “I guess.” He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t want to let it slip that he’d heard anything in the auditorium. Add to that the display in chemistry and the strange way he’d been feeling, he would rather not have had any company on the walk home, let alone this weird guy, but he couldn’t think of any way to get out of walking with him. He started out across the street and the substitute matched his stride.
He glanced sidelong at Greenleaf as they waited at the crosswalk for the green light. What’s the deal with this guy? To Brendan and all of the kids he knew, there were some things that just weren’t done. One of them was being seen walking around with your teacher after school. Teachers and students were supposed to move in different circles, and those circles were never meant to overlap. That was a law of nature and every high school kid respected it. But here I am breaking the Universal High School Code.
“Coming?”
The light had turned green while Brendan was musing. Mr. Greenleaf was looking back at Brendan from a few steps out into the crosswalk. His grey eyes twinkled with amusement.
After crossing busy Queen’s Park Circle, they ambled down the path that led under the trees of Queen’s Park.
“Parks…” Mr. Greenleaf broke in on his thoughts. The tone of his voice was bitter. “They always make me a little sad.”
“Sad?” Brendan looked around but didn’t see what was so sad about the green grass and stately old trees. Squirrels clustered around people sitting on blankets. The grey furry creatures begged for scraps, scrambling for crusts of bread and potato chips.
“Sad.” Mr. Greenleaf nodded. “Parks are a pale, tame version of the way the world used to be. Before the buildings and the cars and the roads, the world was green and lush, untamed and unpredictable. There were wild creatures. You never knew what might happen. It was darker and more alive. The trees and the rocks were more than objects, they had voices of their own.”
Oh my god. Brendan’s heart sank. He’s a nutcase. I’m stuck with a nutcase in the park. He quickly scanned the area to make sure that if this weirdo were to do something to him, there would be plenty of witnesses. He was relieved to see that quite a few people were taking advantage of the last warm days of the fall. People were walking dogs, couples were strolling the paths hand in hand and there were joggers and a woman with some twins in a double stroller. Brendan relaxed.
“You think I’m crazy.” Greenleaf chuckled. “I don’t mean they spoke out loud. Well, not all of them anyway. Still, they had their ways of reaching us.” He stared off into the distance for a moment as they walked along the path toward the other side of the park. Suddenly, derisively, the man growled, “Now even the poor squirrels forget their natural distrust of man. Their nature has been subverted. Now they beg for handouts instead of running and hiding from man.”
“Free bread is hard to resist,” Brendan said. They were passing a park bench where an elderly man in a baseball cap was holding crusts of bread out to the grey squirrels. The squirrels would actually scrabble up the legs of the man’s jeans and sit on his knee while they ate the bread. Most people thought it was cute, but Brendan had to admit there was something kind of pitiful about the way they begged for the food. The squirrels were fat and almost tame. 33
There was ferocity in Mr. Greenleaf’s tone that belied his cultured, elegant manner. Brendan turned his gaze on the park surrounding him and tried to imagine it as a wilderness filled with danger but couldn’t quite manage it. Granted, the squirrels could be quite vicious if you didn’t fork over a crust of bread in short order, but that hardly counted as dangerous.
“Brendan?” the teacher said suddenly. “You spell it wrong.”
“Huh?” Brendan grunted. “What do you mean, wrong?”
“In the old Irish language it is spelled B-r-e-a-n-d-a-n.”
Brendan said, “Yeah. That’s how my parents used to spell it, but when I got to school everyone kept spelling it wrong so I just changed it. Easier that way.”
“Ha,” Greenleaf snorted. “People always like things the easy way. Shortcuts. Simplification. Something is always lost when you take the easy way. When you take the shortcut, there was something you missed seeing the long way around.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Brendan mumbled. Why am I trapped walking with this crazy guy? Why didn’t I say I lived the other way and just go hide? You’re such a du
mb-wad, Brendan. “Whoa!”
As the thought occurred to him, it was as though the gods of Dumbwadness reached down and knocked him off balance for a laugh. The toe of Brendan’s running shoe managed to find a dip in the path. He tipped forward, his hands going out to block his fall, the books under his arm scattering like birds. Here I go again. He resigned himself to falling on his face.
He never hit the ground. Mr. Greenleaf snared his elbow in a grip of steel, pivoted on his heel and flung Brendan around until he stood upright again facing the other way. Brendan blinked in surprise.
“How did you…?”
Mr. Greenleaf smiled smugly and offered Brendan his books, balanced in a neat stack in the man’s hand. Brendan looked around at the ground. Not a single book had fallen. Dumbly, he took his books.
“How did you do that?” he asked again. Mr. Greenleaf gave another of his little bows and laughed. “I’ve always been fast on my feet. I wasn’t always a stodgy teacher in a dusty classroom.” Greenleaf fastidiously wiped his hands on a pale green handkerchief he produced from his pocket. “People aren’t always what they seem. Sometimes they are much, much more. Sometimes, it takes a little while for them to realize their true nature. Some people aren’t even people in the traditional sense.”
Brendan stared blankly as Mr. Greenleaf tilted his head back and laughed again. “I’ve confused you, haven’t I? Never mind. Let’s just say all people are people! Some are less than they think. Some are more than they know. And some can’t even imagine what they truly are.” The teacher’s eyes caught Brendan’s and held them. He felt like a deer halfway across a highway as a truck bore down. “I have a feeling you’re one of the latter, Breandan.” Greenleaf said the last word with a strange, foreign inflection that seemed somehow to insinuate that missing “a” in a deep and affecting way. Brendan felt a wave of dizziness wash through him. All he wanted to do was break loose from the substitute’s stare.