Revenge of the Star Survivors

by Michael Merschel

  So I was left to amuse myself by staring intensely at the pages and seeing whether I could cause any to ignite with my heretofore untapped telekinetic powers. I failed. But while I stared, the intercom did erupt with a loud electronic tone. This was what happened when the office receptionist was about to summon someone. I expected to hear her next.

  But the voice was a girl’s: “Um . . . oops! Wrong . . . hailing frequency.” And then a click.

  Mr. Lopez shrugged it off; the intercom system was old and full of quirks, and the office staff was not known for its machinelike efficiency.

  But I knew a coded signal when I heard one. Ricki had spotted the envelope, and it was time for me to take it.

  I hadn’t formulated a full plan, just the first phase. But I knew this might be my only chance. So while I sat at my desk, I put the operation into action: I held my breath, pursed my lips, and tried to force air out of my eyeballs.

  I knew this wouldn’t actually cause my tear ducts to bubble—but it did make my face purplish and my breathing came in odd gasps afterward.

  I stood up and approached Mr. Lopez, who was reading the sports section of the newspaper. “I don’t feel so well,” I said with a moan. “Can I go see the nurse?”

  He took one look at me, widened his eyes, scrawled out a pass and told me to hurry. Maybe my reputation was helping me for a change.

  I staggered away.

  Once around the corner from his classroom, I slowed my pace. Fooling a teacher like Mr. Lopez is easy; fooling the nurse would be something else. And then what would I do? This would merely put me in the office. How was I going to get that envelope?

  My stomach flipped. Yes. That, unfortunately, was the only answer.

  I took a detour to my locker for supplies. In this case, a plastic bottle. The one I’d stuffed in my lunch bag. The one I’d carried out of the cafeteria last week when I’d seen my enemies blocking the path to the recycling bin. The one I had then shoved in my locker.

  I opened my locker, and then the bottle. The days-old milk smelled of death, or as close to it as I ever hope to come. I peered inside to see how much was left. It was just enough. I swirled the chunky remnants around, closed my eyes, put the bottle to my lips and gulped them down. Just barely.

  Then I set off for the office. Slowly, because I needed time to work my nerves into a real frenzy. So as my mouth began to feel as if a rancid slug had slithered across my tongue and down my throat, I started thinking about how afraid I was of getting caught. I thought about Hunter, Pignarski and Sneeva. I thought about maggots. I thought some more about Hunter, Pignarski and Sneeva. I thought about this mysterious ceasefire and how it was going to end at some point. I thought about the pent-up rage they would have.

  I thought about my future on this planet—how there was no hope for rescue, how there was no hope for relief, how I was likely to spend the rest of my life as the new guy, the scrawny guy, the zero, the last-place runner, the kid who plays with his friends in a sewer pipe.

  I thought of aliens, how we are always aliens, always surrounded by people better and cooler and more coordinated and smarter and stronger than we are, how they want to bruise us and chase us into corners and laugh at our clothes and our hair and our eyes and our skin and swing baseball bats within an inch of our sanity.

  And then I was in the office, staring at the receptionist.

  “Nurse McDowdy, please,” I said, weakly waving my hall pass. I was shaking. Ricki was in a far corner, collating papers at a seat next to the intercom controls. She did not look up. Which was good, because I didn’t want her to see what was about to happen.

  I was allowed behind the reception desk, to the little hallway where the offices for the principal, counselor and nurse were. The nurse’s office was directly across from the counselor’s. Blethins’s door was open. She was not there, but I could see the envelope on top of her in-box.

  I was almost ready. I felt clammy; my chest was tight; my stomach was churning with fear and humiliation and despair and more fear and sour milk chunks.

  “You again?” Nurse McDowdy stood in the doorway to her chambers and sneered. As her lip twisted, I stared at the small mole there, the one with three dark hairs. That helped.

  “Well, what is it?” she asked.

  I looked at her, and down the hall I saw Principal Denton, boring into me with his inhuman eyes. And with that, I was ready.

  “Ralph!” I said.

  Out of politeness, I had intended to speak into a waste-basket; my only goal had been to establish a reason why I should be loitering in the office area. But Nurse McDowdy had blocked access to any convenient receptacles. And I spoke with such vigor that my argument was soon spelled out not only on her open-toed shoes but was splattering all over the hallway.

  It was a rather pointed statement, I thought.

  “Ew!” she shrieked. She grabbed for a paper towel from her office dispenser, but finding none, ran toward the rest room.

  Principal Denton puffed out his cheeks, pivoted on his heels, and walked back the way he came.

  I was alone in the hallway and would be for several minutes, I figured. I almost smiled. Who knew that fear and a weak stomach could be a hidden superpower?

  I stumbled into the chair in Counselor Blethins’s office. I grabbed a couple of tissues to wipe my mouth. And then I grabbed the envelope, gently slid the papers out and began to read:

  Loretta T. Festus Middle School

  Disciplinary Tribunal Report

  Attending: George Denton, principal

  Nancy Blethins, counselor

  Edna Beacon, ARC coordinator and faculty

  representative

  It is the majority opinion of this tribunal that no out-of-school disciplinary measures are warranted against the students mentioned in report 14220 and that the measures enacted thus far are sufficient in regard to the situation.

  Signed,

  George Denton

  Nancy Blethins

  BACKGROUND INFORMATION

  Disciplinary Action Plan 14220

  Counselor’s report

  Student Name

  ID

  Grade

  Hunter, Ty

  311967

  8

  The student was referred to me over an incident related to bullying. (The last four words were crossed out, and someone had written in the margins, Change to “alleged encounter with another student.”/GD) Ty is a student who has been referred to this office for such incidents before. (That line also was struck, again with the initials GD.) Ty is established as an athlete at this school, and he has been warned that misbehavior could cost him his place on the baseball team. (A little v was written here, followed by, This warning has been sufficient to bring noticeable improvement in his behavior.)

  Ty’s history of problems probably relates to . . .

  I heard footsteps coming, so I quickly thrust the papers back into the envelope. And then, feeling panicky, I jammed the envelope into my Cosmos backpack and slouched back in the chair.

  Counselor Blethins peered into her office, surveyed the situation, and said, “Oh my.”

  My heart was racing, and for a moment I was afraid I was going to be ill again, involuntarily this time. But I took a deep breath and decided—no, I could keep control.

  “Clark!” she said. “What happened?”

  I lifted my head, gazed at her with upturned eyes and weakly shook my head.

  “Oh dear. Oh dear,” she said, looking up and down the hall. “Has anyone alerted Nurse McDowdy?”

  “I’m pretty sure she’s aware,” I croaked.

  I would be fine, I thought, if I just had a toothbrush—and a few more minutes to finish reading that packet.

  “You poor thing,” she said. “I’ll keep you company until she shows up.”

  I gave her a feeble smile and tried not to look at my Cosmos backpack. She walked around behind her desk and began nervously to arrange some papers. I had to get her out of there. Maybe I could ask
her to get me something, a glass of water perhaps. . . .

  “There you are. Here, drink this,” said an exceptionally agitated Nurse McDowdy, thrusting a Styrofoam cup of tap water into my hands so forcefully that it almost cracked. “I’m not allowed to give you anything without a note from a doctor. You’d better call home.” Satisfied with her work, she went into her office, grabbed her purse, and walked away again in the direction of the faculty lounge.

  Counselors who can’t counsel. Nurses who can’t nurture. Someone really needed to investigate whether the polarity of this place was inverted.

  In any case, I was stuck in the counselor’s office with a full audience, which soon included the custodial staff (a kind man named Ed, who was quietly dealing with my work) and a secretary, who was asking whether they should be calling my mother or my father.

  “Actually,” I said, “my dad is out of town, and my mom had to take the baby to the doctor today, I think.” It might have been true. I hadn’t really been paying attention. “And to tell you the truth, I think it was just something I ate. I’ll probably be OK in a few minutes.”

  Counselor Blethins smiled, said, “That’s good,” and found some more papers to shuffle.

  After a while, when it became clear that she wasn’t going anywhere, I declared myself well and asked for a pass to return to class.

  “Are you sure you’ll be OK, Clark?” There was genuine worry in her voice. I appreciated that.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, standing. “Except . . .” I had a thought and sat back down, quickly. “You know, I’m just a little bit wobbly. Do you think an aide could escort me back to class, just in case . . . you know?”

  Counselor Blethins smiled. “Oh, sure. We can have the student assistant help you. Ricki? Could you come here please?”

  Ricki arrived a moment later, staring with vacant cheerfulness.

  “Ricki, would you mind walking with Clark on his way back to class, just to make sure he’s OK?”

  “Yes, Ms. Blethins.” She nodded and turned away. I stood, zipped my backpack tight, and thanked Ms. Blethins for her concern. I followed Ricki into the reception area, where she was tearing off a presigned hall pass for us to use.

  Once we were a few steps from the office, she spoke without looking at me.

  “That was too gross for words.”

  “I stole the envelope,” I said.

  “And that’s just too stupid for words.”

  “I couldn’t finish reading it. Not enough time.”

  “You should have plenty of time when they expel you.”

  “Maybe I can sneak back and return it later without them noticing.”

  “And maybe I’ll just sneak onto the cheer squad without them noticing.”

  I turned and looked at her. “I could use a little moral support right now.”

  “You could use a breath mint too.”

  I clamped my lips and looked at the ground.

  “Sorry. I’m being honest,” she said. “It’s a flaw.”

  I winced at this. “Jeez, Ricki. Honesty is hardly a flaw. I mean, it’s one of the reasons I like you.”

  Did I just say that? “I mean, as a friend. You’re one of the only people I can trust right now. No, really. So, yeah. And do you have any gum?”

  She reached into the little purse she carried and pulled out a mint.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “You too,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “I mean, I like you too. As a f-friend. And . . . And . . .” She was stammering now. “And I trust you. I don’t know how to help. This has gotten very, very complicated. But if I come up with anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks,” I said. We were at my classroom.

  She held the hall pass in her hands. “You might be able to use this,” she said.

  I looked at the pass. “Won’t you need that to get back to the office?”

  “No,” she said. “I mean this.”

  She slid her fingers together while pinching the pass. A second piece of paper slipped into her hand.

  “I took two. This one is presigned but undated. You’ll have to forge that. Be careful.”

  “I’m glad you’re on my side,” I said.

  “If you get caught, I never knew you,” she said, then turned and walked away.

  10.03.02

  I should have kept that folder in my backpack until I was safely off campus, but the need to know was too great. So after an agonizingly long hour in math, instead of going to lunch, I slipped into a closet, and by the light of my flashlight, continued to read.

  Ty’s history of problems probably relates to unresolved grief, control issues, anger and guilt stemming from the absence of his mother, who has not been present in his life for many years. His father has resisted suggestions of therapy on the grounds that it might somehow weaken his son’s competitive edge. His stepmother deferred decisions to Mr. Hunter. (His stepbrother, Lester Paul Martin Hunter, has been sought for sessions, but the student aides sent with the summons never seem to be able to find him.)

  In one-on-one sessions, Ty has shown signs of repressed hurt but refuses to acknowledge them. He expresses few ambitions beyond playing baseball. His father has suggested that any child who had a problem with his son’s behavior should probably learn to stand up and take it like a man.

  It is the opinion of this counselor that Ty’s combination of low self-esteem, low parental emotional engagement, high physical development and a peer group that encourages acting-out behavior make it highly unlikely that intervention at anything less than the highest level will have much effect. (This last line was crossed out by GD.)

  Amazing! This was more revealing than an Omegan Mind Siphon! But then I turned the page.

  BACKGROUND INFORMATION

  Disciplinary Action Plan 14220

  Counselor’s report

  Student Name

  ID

  Grade

  Sherman, Clark

  6270712

  8

  Clark Sherman moved to Festus in the middle of this school year. He is a student of apparently average academic standing who has not caused discipline issues independently of his encounters with Ty Hunter and friends. Again, the little v, followed by: (Although he has not distinguished himself academically or in any other way, he was the subject of a parental complaint that he was harassing a fellow student in the Independent Study sessions set up to accommodate his learning needs.—GD)

  Clark has had several sessions in Principal George Denton’s office, in lieu of formal counseling sessions with Counselor Blethins, at Principal Denton’s request. (GD drew a line through that last part.) Principal Denton reports that Clark has not made any complaint about his treatment by any other student. (Add: His primary concern was some of the unorthodox teaching of his Independent Study advisor, Edna Beacon.—GD) Edna Beacon has reported signs that Clark is fearful of some unnamed fellow students. (But he did not single out anyone nor lodge a formal complaint, which would be required before any action were initiated, GD adds.)

  District policy calls for parents to be alerted if their child is subject to disciplinary or counseling action, but the actions taken by staff at this point have not reached that level, so no parental engagement is mandated.

  BACKGROUND INFORMATION

  Disciplinary Action Plan 14220

  Supplemental teacher report

  Jack Chambers

  Physical Education

  Both of the student’s involved in this report have been in my class. I would call the behavior I have seen as “typical boy” and “mild roughhousing.” As students, Ty Hunter is a real “leader.” I would call Clark Sherman more of a follower. I suspect this will cause him difficulty being as he is small.

  Hunter’s deserves credit for his athletics as well. I would point out that he is undefeated as a pitcher this year, is on course to set a district record in K’s and stands an excellent chance of bringing the school and district much suc
cess this year and in the future as we continue to coach and develop him, which we could not if he were not allowed to remain a student athlete. I have fielded six phone calls from colleges asking to see his video, and if that doesn’t say what quality is, then I don’t know.

  JC

  BACKGROUND INFORMATION

  Disciplinary Action Plan 14220

  Prior incident summary:

  DAP No. 13724—Student Ty Hunter accused in bullying incident. Plan terminated after accuser changed schools and declined formal complaint.

  DAP No. 14161—Student Ty Hunter accused in bullying incident. Plan terminated after accuser changed schools and declined formal complaint.

  DAP 14200—Student Ty Hunter accused in bullying incident. Plan terminated after accuser rescinded complaint, then changed schools.

  My hands shook as I pawed over several other forms and legal documents, and then, at the end, one more note, typed on school letterhead:

  I dissent from this report, which I consider a travesty.

  Ty Hunter’s involvement in incidents like these has reached a level that mandates the most severe disciplinary action, as per district policy. But it is clear that the objective of this administration is to use loopholes and technicalities to protect its pet interests, while using innocent students as pawns. Shamelessly.

  I most strongly recommend that district administrators examine the issues fully: Ty Hunter is being protected only because of his athletic ability. He is a bully and should be treated as such. For the sake of Ty, his victims, this school and common decency.