Johnny Gruesome

by Gregory Lamberson

  Gary produced a brass lighter and sparked it with his thumb. Leaning forward, Karen cupped her hands around the flame and drew on the cigarette until it lit. Inhaling, she felt a nicotine rush. As Gary pocketed the lighter, a familiar-sounding engine roared in the distance and Karen’s eyes lit up.

  “Johnny.”

  Todd Kumler turned at the sound of the car speeding down the driveway, sunlight glinting off its dirty windshield. The Death Mobile had a reputation as notorious as its owner, and the roar of its engine identified it as much as its appearance did. Frowning, Todd shook his head. Kids like Grissom should have been sent to a different school. Todd’s father owned a construction company and paid for half the books in the high school library. What did Grissom’s father do? Nothing. He was just a drunk. “That wreck’s a real eyesore.”

  Derek Delos grunted beside him. “No shit.”

  The Death Mobile circled The Lot, its wheels spraying slush at students who jumped back.

  “It should be taken off the road,” Cliff Wright said, leaning against the waxed Mazda his father had bought for him as an early graduation present.

  An edge crept into Todd’s voice. “He’s heading this way.”

  The Death Mobile angled toward them without slowing. The demonic skull on its hood grew larger, taunting them.

  “Son of a bitch,” Derek said.

  The deadly looking vehicle turned at the last second, and Todd thought he saw Johnny laughing at them. The car sliced into a parking space two spots away and skidded to a stop, spattering the wrestlers’ shoes with gray slush.

  Cliff checked his Mazda for stains. “That asshole!”

  Todd glared at the Death Mobile.

  In the side-view mirror, Eric saw Todd staring at them. “They don’t look very happy.”

  Johnny switched off the ignition. “Who cares? Fucking jocks.” Color flashed before their eyes as Karen skipped around the front of the car. Gary followed her, not nearly as enthusiastic, hands stuffed in his pockets. Bending forward, Karen mashed her lips against Johnny’s window. When she stopped, a lipstick butterfly remained on the glass.

  Johnny grinned. “Now I ask you, how can you pass that up?”

  “Easy—I know where those lips have been.” Eric opened his door and got out of the car.

  Johnny leaned across the seat. “You’ll never get laid with that attitude.”

  Eric slammed the door in Johnny’s face. Johnny got out on the other side, and Karen threw her arms around his neck and kissed his mouth. Johnny wore the regalia of a heavy-metal warrior: a black leather motorcycle jacket over a black V-neck T-shirt, faded jeans pulled over steel-toed boots. Eric observed Gary, who stood at the front bumper, the wind blowing his choppy bangs. He seemed fascinated by the kiss.

  When Johnny pulled away, Karen said, “Are we still on for tonight?”

  “Absolutely. Eric’s coming, too.”

  Before Eric could protest, Karen acknowledged him with a playful smile. “All right.”

  Gary snorted. “I thought you were too much of a pussy to party on a school night.”

  Eric stared at Gary’s broken tooth. “When did you start thinking? If you’re not careful, you’ll give yourself a headache.”

  Karen and Johnny laughed, and Gary’s face turned scarlet. Across The Lot, Eric spotted Rhonda Young heading toward the school. She stood only five feet tall, and her maroon coat reached her ankles. A pair of fuzzy earmuffs framed her long dark hair, and across her chest she held copies of the Red Hill High Observer, which she had edited,. Her wide glasses gave her an aura of sophistication, and she moved with grace.

  “Let’s get inside so Eric won’t be late for homeroom,” Johnny said in a knowing voice.

  “Hmmm?” Realizing he’d been caught staring at Rhonda, Eric blushed.

  Laughing, Johnny slid an arm around Karen’s waist and guided her forward, with Eric and Gary falling into step beside them.

  “Hey, Carter!”

  They stopped in their tracks. Recognizing the predatory scowl on Todd’s face, Eric noted he had set his gym bag on the roof of Cliff’s Mazda.

  “What is it, Todd?”

  Todd spread his hands wide apart. “What are you doing with these headbangers?”

  Eric tensed up. “Mind your own business, will you?”

  Todd stepped forward. “I’m squad captain. Watching out for the team is my business, and I don’t like seeing you with this trash. It’s bad for our image.”

  Damn it, Eric thought. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I’m not even wearing a school jacket.”

  “You think that makes a difference?”

  Johnny let go of Karen’s waist and fisted his hands. “Who are you calling trash?”

  Seeing he’d struck a nerve, Todd flexed his muscles. He had a fifteen-pound advantage over Johnny. “It talks!” Derek and Cliff chuckled. “I’m calling you trash, Gruesome. You, your slutty girlfriend, and your dope-dealing sidekick.”

  Eric blew air from his cheeks. No avoiding trouble now.

  Moving closer to Todd, Johnny spoke through clenched teeth. “The name is Grissom.”

  Todd snorted. “That’s funny, you look gruesome to me.” Derek and Cliff snickered.

  Johnny stepped into the empty parking space separating them and spread his arms wide apart. “Okay—all three of you.”

  Grinning like jackals, Derek and Cliff joined Todd, and the trio advanced on Johnny. Eric had seen Johnny fight more times than he could count, but the contests had always been one-on-one, and he realized he might have to join the fray this time.

  The instant the jocks stopped moving, Johnny bolted forward, startling them. He shoved Derek and Cliff back and stood facing Todd. “You two Hitler Youths just get to watch.”

  They started forward again, but Gary stepped before Derek, blocking his path. Seeing his role in the drama, Eric stepped before Cliff. Cliff may have been his teammate, but Johnny was his best friend. He didn’t think he could take Cliff, and he hoped he didn’t have to try, but he knew he could at least hold him back.

  Johnny glowered at Todd, who glanced over his shoulder to see if he still had backup. Karen wet her lips with anticipation. When Todd turned back, a blur of motion that connected with his left eyebrow knocked the uncertain expression off his face. Derek and Cliff jumped out of the way as Todd flew between them and crashed into the Mazda.

  Cliff slapped his forehead. “Watch the car!”

  A cry of excitement spread through The Lot, one voice joining another until a chorus sang, “Fight!” Students ran to the Death Mobile and the Mazda from all directions, forming a flesh-and-blood arena around the two combatants.

  Rising, Todd rubbed his brow. “You just made a big mistake, you long-haired freak.”

  Johnny beckoned him forward. “Let me make another one.”

  Todd lumbered forward, and he and Johnny circled each other like teenage gladiators. Looking at the cheering crowd, Eric shook his head. Just like the ancient Romans, they craved blood.

  “Come on, Todd!”

  “Kick his ass, man!”

  “Show him what you’ve got, Johnny!”

  Todd swung at Johnny, who ducked and retaliated with a counterpunch to Todd’s solar plexus. Todd doubled over, confidence draining from his face. Eric winced, imagining the boy’s pain. Todd lunged at Johnny with a primal scream, his fist connecting with Johnny’s left shoulder so hard that Johnny pirouetted on the ice. Clutching his wounded arm, Johnny stopped before Eric, his face hidden by his hair. Eric held his breath, dreading the pained expression he expected to see on Johnny’s face. Todd advanced on his nemesis, ice crunching beneath his feet.

  Raising his head, Johnny winked at Eric and grinned. Then he spun around and drove his fist straight into Todd’s mouth, splitting his lower lip. Todd’s feet flew up from beneath him and he crashed on the ice. The crowd of students cried out their surprise and approval in unison. Todd managed to roll over and rise on wobbling knees. Blood streamed down his chin and onto hi
s jacket. Johnny burrowed into him with a series of pistonlike kidney punches, plowing him across the ice. Unable to fight back, Todd wrapped his arms around Johnny as he would in a wrestling match.

  With their arms entangled, Johnny and Todd struggled against each other. Then Johnny pivoted on one heel, slamming Todd against the Death Mobile with a loud bang that caused Cliff to flinch. Johnny laid into Todd, pummeling him, his leather jacket squeaking in the brittle air. The spectators roared, and Eric saw Gary scrutinizing the fight with narrowed eyes.

  His face spotted with blood, Todd tried to block Johnny’s relentless assault. “I give!” Desperation rose in his voice. “I give!”

  Johnny continued his offensive, determined to penetrate the protective layer of Todd’s jacket. Karen flicked her smoldering cigarette butt at the mushy pavement, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Johnny raised his right fist to deliver the decisive blow, the silver rings on his fingers outlined in red.

  This is turning into a bloodbath, Eric thought.

  “STOP IT!”

  Turning, Eric saw Carol Crane, his first-period English teacher, push her way through the stilled crowd. She wore no coat, just a cardigan sweater over a blouse. The wind blew her curly brown hair, and her long skirt wrapped around her legs, leaving little to the imagination. Eric had never heard her shout before. Johnny’s fist trembled in the air as Carol stepped before him.

  “I said, ‘Stop it.’”

  With a disappointed look, Johnny lowered his fist and stepped back from the car, his chest rising and falling.

  Rubbing her arms for warmth, Carol examined Todd. “Get to the nurse’s office right now.”

  Avoiding his classmates, Todd jerked his gym bag off the top of Cliff’s Mazda and staggered in the direction of the school. Johnny stared hard at the battered boy, who passed him with lowered eyes.

  Carol faced Johnny. “You come with me.” She scanned the faces of the spectators, and Eric looked at the ground. “The rest of you get to class.” Turning, she strode back to the school, following Todd.

  Johnny shadowed her footsteps, his eyes descending from the small of her back to the shape of her ass. As students clapped his back in a congratulatory manner, an appreciative smile formed on his lips.

  Chapter 3

  Seated in the principal’s office, Johnny stared at the dark green carpet as Carol stood describing the fight to Michael Milton. He had been here many times before. The squat man behind the wide desk sat with his back to a window that overlooked The Lot. Mr. Milton’s mustache curled over his upper lip and his thick glasses framed his craggy face, his dark hair slicked back from a widow’s peak. He wore a purple shirt beneath his suit jacket, and a narrow black tie with silver stripes.

  Wannabe Mafia motherfucker, Johnny thought.

  Mr. Milton’s growing frown accentuated the harsh acne scars on his cheeks. “Mrs. Crane says you assaulted Mr. Kumler on school property. True or false?”

  Johnny sighed, a bored expression on his face. “So what if I did?”

  Carol rolled her eyes. “I have to get to my class,” she said in an exasperated tone. She stepped toward the door, but Johnny opened his legs wide, blocking her path. His eyes rose from her crotch, a hint of a smile on his lips. He considered himself lucky to have such an attractive teacher. She stared back with icy eyes, her mouth tightening. Oh, yeah, she knew exactly what he was thinking. Sitting up, he allowed her to pass.

  As the door closed behind her, his eyes met Mr. Milton’s gaze. The man did not look amused. The principal leaned back in his leather chair, folding his hands over his round belly.

  “When are you going to learn that you can’t use my school as your personal stomping ground?”

  Johnny met the principal’s gaze. “He started it.”

  “I’m sure he did. It’s always the other guy, isn’t it? You never do anything wrong, do you? You’re an innocent man, just like Jean Valjean in Les Misérables.”

  “Jean Valjean wasn’t innocent. He stole a loaf of bread and robbed a church.”

  Mr. Milton’s eyes narrowed into reptilian slits. “Let me guess: you saw that in a movie.”

  Johnny shrugged.

  “Maybe if you ever actually read a book you wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

  “I read books. Just not the kind you want me to read.”

  “I’m not interested in your literary taste.”

  Saying nothing, Johnny just stared at the corpulent man.

  “I’ve got a news bulletin for you, mister: your reign of terror is over.”

  Johnny snorted. “Yeah? Is there a new sheriff in town?”

  Mr. Milton’s mouth drew back into a carnivorous grin. “Keep it up. You’re looking at one person who isn’t afraid of you.”

  Good for you, Johnny thought.

  “I’m suspending you for a week, wise guy. Starting right now.”

  “What? That asshole was looking for trouble!”

  “Come on, Grissom. We’ve both played this game long enough to know the rules. How many times have you sat in that chair? More than I can count, and I taught math for twelve years. I should think you’d be happy to take a break. You can stay home and smoke pot or whatever it is you do with your free time.”

  Johnny clenched his jaw. “You told me that if I missed any more days I couldn’t graduate.”

  Mr. Milton sat forward. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t flunk you over this. That would be punishing myself, wouldn’t it? Because it would mean another year of putting up with your crap. But this is the last inning, sport. One more strike and you’ll be out on your ear. I’m talking expulsion. Got it?”

  Johnny felt his anger boiling inside him. “Yeah, I got it.”

  “Then get the hell out of my sight. I don’t want to see you for another week.”

  Rising, Johnny stared at the principal with contempt. He wished he could just reach across that desk and dig his fingers into that fat neck and—

  Mr. Milton lowered his eyes at the paperwork strewn across his desk, dismissing him. Johnny tried to slam the door on his way out, but the automatic closer denied him even that simple satisfaction.

  Johnny steered the Death Mobile over the long driveway to the detached two-car garage behind his house. He wanted to kick Kumler’s ass all over again. Killing the engine, he got out and made his way through the snow to the front porch. Of course, his father hadn’t shoveled the driveway. He opened the door and stepped inside, stomping snow off his boots. The television flickered in the living room, and he heard his father stir. As he climbed the stairs, Charlie Grissom appeared beneath the living room arch, his clothes as unkempt as his hair.

  “What are you doing back here?”

  Johnny continued upstairs. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Charlie crossed to the bottom of the stairs. “That’s not an answer. Why aren’t you at school?”

  “None of your business.”

  Charlie’s complexion darkened. “Answer me, goddamn it! I’m your father.”

  Johnny looked over his shoulder with a dismissive expression. “That’s a laugh.”

  Balling his hands into fists, Charlie stormed up the stairs, his body swaying with each step. “You little son of a bitch …”

  Johnny whirled around. “You want to know why I’m home? I want to know why you don’t have a job!”

  Charlie’s breath came in short bursts as he reached the top of the stairs. Johnny waited until the last second, then darted into his bedroom and slammed the door in his father’s face. Charlie twisted the knob, then pounded the wood.

  “Come out and face me like a man! I can still kick your ass.”

  Turning from the locked door, Johnny powered his CD player and a burst of speed metal blazed from the speakers while Charlie continued to yell on the other side of the door.

  “You have to come out of there sometime …”

  Johnny cranked the volume, drowning his father’s words. He flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, where a jagged crack r
an like a lightning bolt through peeling paint to the dusty light fixture.

  Jesus, life sucked.

  Sitting on the foam rubber wrestling mat, Todd stretched his legs, his bruised face and raw knuckles aching. He’d gone to the emergency room with his mother, but refused to miss practice despite the purple swelling over his left eye and the two stitches in his lower lip. The whole season depended on the outcome of their next match, and he didn’t plan to slack off just because Gruesome had bested him.

  The wrestling team used the smaller auxiliary gymnasium because the basketball team rated the main gym. The odors of foam rubber, sweat, and Ben Gay stifled the air.

  Todd felt someone nudge his sore ribs. Cliff, stretching beside him, nodded across the gym.

  “Look who’s here.”

  Twisting his trunk, Todd saw Eric standing in line behind a half-dozen other boys, waiting to weigh himself on the upright scale outside Coach Wrangler’s office. Like the other wrestlers, he wore an off-white practice uniform with headgear and knee pads.

  “Son of a bitch.” Todd grinned at Cliff and Derek. “Come on.” He hopped up and his lieutenants followed him over to where Eric stood. A sophomore who noticed their approach stepped back with an alarmed expression on his face. Eric stared straight ahead, ignoring them.

  “Just the wuss I wanted to see,” Todd said. Derek and Cliff smiled without showing their teeth. “Too bad you’re all alone now. Where’s your pal, Gruesome?”

  Eric sighed. “Why, do you want him to give you another beating?”

  “Oh, shit,” Cliff said.

  Todd poked Eric’s chest. “I could take him any day of the week. He just got lucky.”

  “Give it a rest, will you? We’re not in junior high anymore. Haven’t you started enough trouble for one day?”

  Todd pointed at the discolored tissue around his left eye. “You see this? I’m holding you responsible for it.”

  Eric studied the black eye. “It looks like an improvement to me. Gives you some character.”

  Derek shook his head in disbelief. The boys on line gaped at Todd and his future victim. Narrowing his good eye, Todd clenched his fists. Eric braced himself for the impending onslaught.