Dweeb

by Aaron Starmer

  Improvisation in this room was impossible. It was just cinder blocks, and desks, and bunks, and books. Eddie had two options: he could either study or stare at the poster on the wall. That stupid poster. Perseverance? Being bored wasn’t perseverance. Perseverance was running a race with your ankles covered in blisters. Perseverance was the opposite of doing exactly what was expected of you.

  It was late in the afternoon when the rush of air from the door opening roused Eddie from his book, and Nurse Bloom quietly stepped inside. Eddie was glad to see a face belonging to someone other than McKenzie or Snodgrass, but that face was all terror—brow up, lips fallen, eyes wide. Without making a sound, Bloom mouthed, “What in the … ?”

  Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she made a bee-line for the back of the room, whispering “Back here” as she passed in between their desks. She crouched down and opened her arms, calling everyone into a huddle. They all rose from their desks and joined her.

  “Is it true?” she whispered.

  “That we did it?” Denton said. “Of course not.”

  “What if we did do it?” Wendell posed, his face flushed with excitement.

  “But we didn’t do it,” Denton said, annoyed.

  “For how long are you down here?” Bloom asked.

  “For like a week,” Eddie responded sadly.

  “A week,” Nurse Bloom whispered sympathetically. “Oh, you poor guys.”

  “Uh-huh,” Elijah said dryly. “Supposedly this is better than sticking up for ourselves.”

  “Yeah, fellas,” Nurse Bloom said. “If you didn’t do it, why not just say it?”

  “It’s not that simple,” Denton explained. “Snodgrass has ridiculous piles of evidence. We certainly don’t look innocent.”

  “And if we do this,” Bijay said, “everything will be fine. It’s not so bad down here, you know.”

  “Oh no, it’s horrible,” Bloom said. “I’m going to talk to Snodgrass. Surely this is all a mistake. We’ll have you home to your parents this evening.”

  “Really?” Elijah said, a rare smile breaking over his face. “That would be amazing.”

  “Count on it,” Bloom said.

  “But you should know that we’re willing to stay,” Denton chimed in, “should the situation prove a tad dicey. We have reputations to uphold.”

  “Well, let’s worry about things getting dicey when they get dicey,” Nurse Bloom said. “And let’s worry about you guys right now. So how’s everybody feeling?”

  Eddie shrugged limply. Physically, he felt tired. Emotionally, he felt tired. Did she have a cure for tired?

  With a firm “hmmm,” Bloom stood up and walked over to one of the bunks and sat down on the mattress. At her side she set her purse, a hefty piece of expensive-looking white leather.

  Eddie stared at the bag as Nurse Bloom reached inside. She pulled out a stethoscope and placed it on the bunk. Then she pulled out a sphygmomanometer.

  Most kids probably didn’t know what a sphygmomanometer was. Eddie knew well—every time he went to a doctor, they wrapped one of these things around Eddie’s arm, pumped it up, and measured his blood pressure. He hated it.

  “All right,” Bloom said. “Who’s first?”

  “For?” Elijah said.

  “I just want to check that you’re all in good health,” she said. “I wouldn’t be fit to wear this if I didn’t.” She tugged at the lapel of her white lab coat.

  Wendell coughed back his excitement and started to step forward.

  Through his exhaustion, Eddie felt a surge of nervous energy. He slipped past Wendell and sat down next to the nurse.

  “Fire up that sphygmomanometer, lady,” he said, holding his arm out.

  “Impressive,” she said. “You know what it’s called.”

  “Only an idiot wouldn’t,” Eddie said nonchalantly. “I’ll spell it for you if you want.”

  She laughed. “That’s okay. I wouldn’t know if you’re right or wrong. I’m a terrible speller.”

  Then she pressed the stethoscope to Eddie’s chest, wrapped the sphygmomanometer around his arm, and began pumping it up.

  He watched it with disdain. It wasn’t bravery that made him go first. It was closer to the opposite. Doctors, nurses, medicine, they were speed bumps in life. Best to just get past them and move on.

  Deflating the sphygmomanometer with one hand, Bloom reached into her purse with the other and pulled out a disinfectant wipe and a syringe.

  “Whoa!” Eddie said, pulling his arm back. “I didn’t sign up for that!”

  “I know, I know, I’m an evil witch,” Nurse Bloom teased. “There’s nothing I enjoy more than making sure that little boys have functioning livers and kidneys.”

  “Liver and kidney function is quite important,” Denton remarked. “I have mine tested frequently.”

  “Fine,” Eddie said, giving her his arm back and closing his eyes. “If Oliver Twist can take it, so can I. But as they say at track meets: make it quick.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “This is one of the few things I do well. I’ve never been a genius, like you guys. But what I do, I try to do my best. I have to say, I do admire each one of you for being exceptional in your very own way. Together you’d be unstoppable.”

  Bloom cleaned the crook of Eddie’s elbow with the wipe, and in one fluid motion, expertly inserted the needle. As she drew back the plunger, the syringe filled with blood so vibrant and red it seemed to bring an extra glow to the drab room.

  Chapter 9

  BIJAY

  Nurse Bloom made a promise before she left. “This evening, tomorrow morning at the latest, we’ll get you out of here.”

  It was a comforting thing for Bijay to hear. He had been to Nurse Bloom’s office only once, after he nearly fainted in social studies. But from that one visit, he had come to know Nurse Bloom as a comforting person.

  “Who sends their son to school with a fever?” she had said, her cool wrist against Bijay’s radiating forehead.

  “Grandson,” Bijay clarified.

  “Oh, that’s right, sweetie,” Nurse Bloom said. “You live with your grandparents, don’t you?”

  Bijay nodded. “They didn’t send me with a fever. I just didn’t tell them.”

  “Oh, Bijay,” Bloom said. “You really should. It’s important.”

  “I’m not supposed to whine about things,” Bijay said. “I’m one of the lucky ones, you know?”

  “You’re lucky this is just a tiny fever,” she said with a concerned frown. “But I’m still going to call your grandparents. You’ll need to spend the rest of the day in bed. And if this fever gets any worse, you’re going to have to call a doctor.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Bijay said.

  “Bijay,” she said, looking him in the eyes, “just because you’re young doesn’t mean you aren’t important. It doesn’t mean you don’t deserve only the best. Remember that for me.”

  Sitting and eating dinner with the other boys now, Bijay had nothing but faith in Nurse Bloom. She seemed the type to keep her word.

  “This would be the part in the Bollywood movie for the big song.” Bijay smiled.

  “The big song?” Denton asked.

  “The finale,” Bijay explained. “Dancing, streamers, fireworks, the whole shebang.”

  “I’m not singing until I’m aboveground and on my own again,” Elijah said, poking at his food.

  “You heard what Nurse Bloom said, right?” Bijay asked.

  “That’s right,” Wendell seconded. “She’ll be back for us.”

  But Nurse Bloom didn’t return that evening. They waited patiently. They didn’t even open their luggage.

  By nine-thirty, the lack of sleep from the night before had taken its toll. Bijay couldn’t concentrate. He could hardly talk to the others. He climbed onto a bunk and fell asleep on top of the covers.

  Bijay had never cared for his dreams. They were anxiety-filled fables, the type of heart-thumping nightmares about coming to school naked, miss
ing tests, suffering through horrible embarrassments. He woke up every morning and thanked his lucky stars that he didn’t live in the world of his dreams.

  The dreams he had Saturday night were no different. If anything, they were even more awkward and intense.

  When he woke on Sunday morning and looked around the room at the cinder blocks and the desks, he was still thankful, but just barely. The dreams didn’t seem so horrible when compared to reality. Bloom hadn’t come, and to Bijay that meant only one thing: something terrible had happened to her.

  “Maybe Snodgrass fired her,” Eddie posited as they sat at their desks thumbing through their books.

  “Maybe worse,” Elijah said.

  McKenzie came and went. The studying continued. And as the day wore on, Bijay grew more nervous. He kept worrying about Bloom. He felt as if his body would burst.

  It was affecting the others too. Denton was the first to crack. “You stink!” he hollered at Wendell, slamming his book closed.

  “Me?” Wendell said, cowering in his chair.

  “I’m sorry, Wendell,” Denton said, “but you’re like a frankfurter dredged in Marmite. Simply rancid.”

  Bijay couldn’t look at them. He didn’t know why Denton insisted on criticizing everyone. And he hated that Wendell never stood up for himself.

  “My … BO?” Wendell asked softly.

  “I know we don’t have a shower,” Denton said, “but you could at least change your clothes.”

  “I could … do … that,” Wendell said.

  Bijay looked up to see Wendell quietly pace across the room, pull his bag down from his bunk, and open it up. He seemed to be keeping his composure, but when he opened his bag, his face changed. His eyes became watery.

  He lifted a piece of paper from the bag, unfolded it, and read quietly to himself.

  “What is it?” Bijay asked.

  “Just a note … from my parents,” Wendell said, coughing back his emotion. He folded the paper up and stuffed it in his pocket.

  “Would you read it to us?” Bijay asked.

  “I’d rather not.”

  The other boys sprung from their seats immediately and attacked their bags, jiggling the zippers and struggling with the buckles to get them open as fast as possible.

  They retrieved their own letters, and hurried back to their desks to read them in privacy. Bijay watched as they smiled to themselves and took their time reading them over and over again. He stood up and went to his bag. He carefully sifted through his clothes, knowing what he would find.

  After a few minutes, Eddie walked up to Bijay, who was still standing at the bunks empty-handed.

  “What does your letter say?” Eddie asked.

  “My grandparents don’t really write letters,” Bijay said with a shrug.

  “Do your parents write them?” Denton asked.

  “My parents are dead,” Bijay said plainly, and he immediately regretted it.

  “Oh,” Denton said as he tried to hide his own letter behind his back. “I’m—I’m dreadfully sorry to hear that. Forgive me, Bijay, I didn’t know.”

  “That’s cool. I hardly knew them. So it isn’t really sad,” Bijay said. His intention was not to make Denton feel awkward; he was just relaying information.

  “In Bangladesh people still die of diseases that are preventable. Is that true for India as well?” Denton asked carefully.

  Bijay nodded. “They do. They die of things like cancer too. Like anywhere.”

  “Oh,” Denton said, his face turning pink.

  “Yeah …” Bijay trailed off.

  Bijay loved to perform onstage, but when it came to his real life, he felt guilty being the center of attention. He thought of walking back into the bathroom to be alone, but it wasn’t even private back there. The only place for privacy was outside of the room. With no Nurse Bloom to help them, it would be days before he would see the other side of the door. Reality had truly sunk in.

  McKenzie brought their dinner in the early evening. It was uninspired, a mix of roasted chicken, steamed spinach, and boiled potatoes.

  The chicken was dry and the potatoes were flavorless. The spinach was spinach. Bijay took a feeble bite, then dropped a drumstick onto his plate and looked over at the books. There were still hundreds of pages to get through.

  If his grandparents knew what he was doing, they would be ashamed. How on earth would anyone be proud of him for going along with this? It was enough to make him want to gorge himself on fifty Double Double Triples.

  “You know, if we were in school tomorrow, we would be eating Mackers,” Bijay said. “But all we have is this junk.”

  “My mom makes tacos on Sundays,” Wendell said. “I love taco night.”

  Denton stopped eating. He dropped his knife and fork onto his plate and stood up. “They knew!” he yelled.

  “Shh,” Eddie whispered. “You’ll put McKenzie on the warpath.”

  “How did I not think of this earlier?” Denton said, still worked up but trying to keep his voice down.

  “Think of what?” Elijah said.

  “My parents,” Denton went on. “They knew we were in trouble even before we did.”

  Bijay wasn’t sure what Denton was getting at, but he saw Eddie’s face light up in recognition.

  “I hate to say it, but he might be right,” Eddie remarked. “Mine did too. My dad gave me fifty bucks before I left. He doesn’t normally do that. Why would he do that?”

  “And my mum kept on about how Friday was supposed to be the most delightful day in my life,” Denton exclaimed. “What was she on about? Good lord, I think I’m going to vomit.”

  Bijay couldn’t exactly relate. When he left for school on Friday, he hadn’t spoken to his grandparents. He hadn’t spoken to anyone.

  “You’re saying they set us up?” Elijah said. “I don’t know. My parents annoy me, but I don’t think they’d do that.”

  “I don’t know what they’ve done,” Denton said. “I’m just saying they knew something. In their letter to me, they wrote that I ‘deserve’ this. Deserve a reward or deserve a punishment? Who knows?”

  Wendell stood up and walked over to the wall. He stared at the Perseverance poster.

  PERSEVERANCE: What the mind can conceive and believe, it can achieve!

  The picture of the man dangling over the cliff didn’t mean much to Bijay. But to Wendell, it seemed to inspire pure anger. His hands were clenched into fists, and as he squeezed them tighter, the blood drained away, making them pale and blotchy.

  “Wendell?” Bijay said.

  Wendell’s stare didn’t budge, but he started speaking softly. “These zits on my face,” he said, “I woke up with them on Friday. I didn’t want to come to school, but Mom insisted. ‘Those zits won’t mean much where you’re going,’ she said. Where you’re going.”

  “Wendell,” Elijah said. “Let’s think about this. We don’t know what they were talking about. We don’t know anything.”

  Wendell turned his head. “They were saying goodbye.”

  “That’s not—” Bijay started to say, but the sound of Wendell’s fist pounding the poster cut him off.

  “This! Is! Such! Crap!” Wendell yelled. With each word, he pounded the poster with his clenched hand. The last punch sank in deeper than the rest and the sound of scraping concrete followed.

  No one moved. Wendell pulled his hand back and began rubbing it. A look of guilt settled on his face. Then he reached forward cautiously, pulled the bottom of the poster up, and peeled it from the wall.

  Behind the poster, Bijay could see a loose cinder block, sunken in deeper than the rest. Wendell pushed it gently. It slid back until it fell into the space behind the wall, landing on the ground with a crash.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Wendell said, hurrying to the door. He braced himself against it. “We’re in trouble, aren’t we? We’re in big trouble.”

  “We’re fine,” Bijay said hesitantly. He started to reach his hand out to Wendell, then pull
ed it back. He wasn’t sure what to do.

  Wendell waited for a few seconds, then flipped the light switch off.

  In the dark, Bijay could hear Wendell shuffle past. The bunk creaked as he climbed up into it. Then there was silence once again.

  “Um,” Eddie said, “what are you doin’, Wen?”

  All Wendell would say was “I’m so sorry … I’m so sorry” in a low, trembling whisper.

  After a while, Bijay whispered back, “It’s okay, everything will be fine.” He doubted anyone heard him, though. He was really just saying it to himself.

  Chapter 10

  ELIJAH

  “We should go,” Elijah said. He rolled over, wrapping the covers around himself until they formed a tight cocoon. He faced the wall, but it was too dark to see anything.

  “We should sleep,” Denton said.

  “Now’s our chance,” Eddie said, from the bunk below Elijah. His voice was fully charged. He seemed genuinely excited by the danger of the situation.

  “Our chance for what?” Denton said. “Once we get out, what do we do?”

  “We don’t know what’s back there,” Wendell said.

  “We—we—we—” Bijay stuttered.

  “We should sleep,” Denton said definitively.

  The whispers bounced back and forth in the darkness until they faded off to silence. It didn’t matter anyway. Elijah was tired of debating. He just wanted to get out and let fate decide what happened next.

  When the others fell asleep, he’d just take the poster down, and stick his head behind the wall and see what they were dealing with. He hadn’t forgotten about the growling, though. So better yet, he’d wake up Eddie and ask him to do it. Eddie was willing to do anything.

  It was a fine plan. Except for the fact that Elijah fell asleep about ten seconds after formulating it.

  He woke on Monday morning to the sound of Denton screaming “Bloody ’ell!”