Revenge of the Star Survivors

by Michael Merschel

What could I do?

  Nothing.

  There would be no broadcast. No triumphant laughter. No justice.

  Denton had struck preemptively. He’d probably made the same calculations I had about how easy it would be for me to ruin his plans. Or maybe he was just worried that in the end, I was too tempting a target for Ty, who would eventually, someday, come after me in a way that Denton couldn’t cover up.

  I knew I had never been his foxhole buddy. But he’d just put me right in his crosshairs and pulled the trigger.

  I had no backup plan. I felt beyond defeated.

  I thought, when a meteor falls to earth through the awesome heights of the upper atmosphere, it leaves a vivid trail in its wake. Something everyone can see. Even a sand-sized speck of space dust can light up the night sky.

  I was more insignificant than that, apparently.

  I was bird poop, falling unseen straight to earth, landing with a watery plop.

  No, even bird poop makes a mark on the world. I was lower than that.

  I was nothing.

  I hung my head and followed Denton down the hall.

  13.01.02

  We went directly to the main office. He confiscated my Cosmos backpack and handed it to a surprised Counselor Blethins.

  “This student attempted to assault me,” he said. “So we are initiating the disciplinary plan I told you about. Summon his parents and finalize the paperwork.”

  For a moment I thought she actually was going to resist. “Really, Principal Denton, I doubt that Clark—”

  “Counselor,” he said in a low voice, “I have a faculty witness in the ARC who will tell you that she saw things exactly as I describe them. And I would remind you that she replaced a faculty member who was not willing to act according to my wishes on a very similar matter. I would not want to have to terminate a second employee over this. But I will. You know I can always find a way.”

  Her eyes darted between him and me. Then she bowed her head and turned away.

  He led me into his office and closed the door.

  He had won.

  Absolutely.

  I thought it would be nice if, like the supervillain at the end of a movie, he explained exactly what he had been up to—why he’d declared war on me. Why he allied with Ty. And what he hoped to gain from it all. But he just sat at his desk, writing out notes, just another day at the office for him. One final reminder that my life was not a movie at all. There would be no clever tagline for me. I would just be X’d out with the stroke of his pen.

  I sat for what was probably most of an hour. I couldn’t really tell you how long; I felt so empty that I maybe was not existing in normal time. Eventually, Counselor Blethins came in and placed a folder on his desk. “His parents will be here as soon as they can, they said.” She looked at me, looked away and left.

  I remained silent for as long as I could take it.

  “Mr. Denton?” I finally asked.

  He didn’t look up.

  “What did you have against me?”

  The room was quiet, but for the usual random popping noises coming from the intercom.

  He paused in his writing and looked me over. “There’s a military term I’m fond of: Target of opportunity,” he finally said. “Ty saw you as such—by which I mean, you crossed paths with him on your very first day and incited him. That made you an instant enemy to me.

  “You see Sherman, we—that is, Ty and I—we’re part of a team. A real team. We’re each destined for great things, but it is only through each other’s success that we will achieve them. And when you’re destined for great things like we are, you can’t let anyone get in your way. Like the others over the past two years who have distracted him. And been foolish enough to challenge me.”

  He picked up his pen and returned to his memo. “It’s nothing personal, son. Which is why I don’t mind letting you know. Middle school—all of life—is about survival of the fittest. The weak get culled out, tossed aside. The true leaders emerge. Even a ‘zero’ should be able to grasp that.”

  That made me angry.

  “But I’m not a zero,” I said, standing. “I never was. That was your stupid computer’s fault!”

  “Yes, that was a shame for you,” he said. “But it worked well for me. Keeping you in low-level classes maybe made you a little easier to isolate and control.”

  I froze. “You’re telling me—”

  “I’m not telling you anything,” he said. “And if I did tell you something, you could never prove it. But really, don’t you think I could have fixed your scheduling problems if I’d wanted to? I’m the principal, after all.”

  I slumped back down in shock.

  “No,” he said casually, “you nerdy kids—you sometimes get ideas when you band together. It was much better to keep you culled out from the herd, where I could keep an eye on you. And keep you from getting ideas about challenging me. Or Ty.”

  My mouth felt dry. My mind raced. Maybe I should have asked my dad for help. Maybe he could still—

  “Incidentally, if you are thinking of telling your parents about any of this conversation, it will do no good. No teacher will support you, and the district head of security will support me. I have paperwork that shows you were harassing other students, a constant nuisance to the counselor, a possible arsonist and, finally, became physically out of control. So don’t waste your time trying to find a way to escape.”

  I stared at the floor. “Ms. Beacon was right. You’re dangerous.”

  At the mention of her name, he snarled. “That woman was too stuck in her old-school, obstructionist and possibly Marxist ways to understand what I was trying to accomplish here. She made herself an enemy. I’d been building a case against her for years.” He smiled coldly. “Thank you, son, for diverting that envelope and giving me a way to terminate her at last.”

  I gasped. “You knew?”

  “I guessed. She would never have been so careless with such an important file. But when I saw it ride into the office with the rest of the mail from the ARC, it was as good as seeing a termination order from the superintendent herself. It was truly a gift.”

  Getting punched in the stomach would have been more pleasant than watching his smug grin spread as he continued to write.

  “And this is all because of . . . Ty?”

  He stopped smiling, put his pen down and stared at me. “Ty Hunter is the single greatest athlete to ever come through this school, if not this district,” he said. “I sensed an opportunity the moment the college scouts started calling. He’s going to go far. And the people around him—we’re going to go far too. For me, it may only be to a secure, new job at the high school. That is all I need. At the moment.

  “But he needs some help. He attracts . . . trouble. Frail students who bring out his rough side. Teachers who emphasize current grades over his future potential. I’ve had to clear a path for him. Make issues disappear. Issues such as you, Sherman. He couldn’t see the harm you could cause. I could. Which is why he and I make a great team.”

  He shook his head in pity. “Like I said, it’s not personal. So here is some life advice, son. Next time, get help. Maybe if you’d been on a team of some kind, it would have stood up for you. And maybe if you had fought back harder and faster, you would have survived. Like they taught me in the Corps, ‘Naked force has settled more issues in history than has any other factor.’ They were talking about war. But it applies to eighth grade as well, doesn’t it?”

  He laughed at his own cleverness and went back to filling out my death warrant.

  My failure was complete. I felt as helpless as I had on my first day here. I had let absolutely everyone down: My friends. My family. Myself.

  When I turned my head in disgust, I had to stare at that stupid portrait of Denton as a Marine. The young, confident man in front of the flag, looming over the display case holding his awards. I had an urge to knock them off the shelf, scatter them to the floor, the way I had by accident before. I thought of the w
ay I’d been pricked by his stupid medal that day. How a man this evil could have done anything to deserve a medal for valor would never make sense to me.

  That made me think of all the conversations we’d had about his Marine years. All the little lectures he kept repeating.

  And then I thought of something from a book. The Marines book. The one he made me read. The one I had been studying for inspiration.

  I rose and walked over to the display case.

  “Soldier’s Medal for Valor,” I said, remembering the words I had read.

  Denton kept writing.

  “Mr. Denton, did you ever tell me what the Marines gave you that medal for?”

  He stopped without looking up at me. “Sherman, this is not the time to discuss anything other than your impending expulsion.”

  I nodded.

  “I’m just—it’s just that in the Always Faithful book I’ve been reading, there’s a chart with all the medals given by the Marine Corps, and I don’t remember seeing that one.”

  “Maybe you didn’t look closely enough,” he mumbled.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  I waited for him to return to his writing before I continued.

  “But I did read the chapter about Marine traditions. The one that says Marines really hate being called soldiers.”

  The pen stopped moving again.

  “It also said that Marines are picky about some stuff. Like calling their weapons rifles, not guns. But I’ve heard you talk about guns lots of times. Marines don’t like the term foxholes, either. Although you sure do.”

  He put the pen down, quietly.

  “And you know, I’m pretty sure that line you just used about naked force came right out of Starship Troopers. In fact, now that I think about it, a whole lot of what you’ve told me about your Marine experience could have come right out of Starship Troopers. I’m wondering if you even know what semper fi means.”

  If I thought I had seen him give me a cyborg stare before, it was nothing like what I was seeing now. He spoke in a voice with a James Earl Jones rumble to it.

  He rose slowly, menacingly.

  “Is there a point you’re trying to make, young man?”

  “No,” I said, trembling inside as I looked him right in the eye and told him what was slowly dawning on me: “Except that it doesn’t make sense that a Marine hero would go to war against kid like me. For any reason. Unless, maybe, you’re not a Marine hero. Maybe the medal is a fake. Maybe you’re not even a Marine. And maybe you’re just . . . a desperate, petty man.”

  He didn’t move for a moment. But then he strode around his desk and stood next to me. I had to bend my head back to keep my eyes locked on his. But I did.

  “I don’t know what crazy ideas you have developed in the last five minutes,” he said, “but let’s say you think you’ve caught me doing something wrong. First, you haven’t. Government records will confirm my Marine enlistment. Second, let’s say you think you’re smart by bringing up that medal. I assure you, it will be gone long before anybody else gets a chance to study it. So even if you tried to tell someone, it would be the words of a respected school principal against the words of an eighth-grade zero.

  “So—think carefully. Is there anything you want to say to me?”

  I did think carefully. I thought of Maxim, Steele and Vexons, and Luke and Vader. And mostly, about Les and his dad, and Ricki and her wolf packs.

  “Yes, there is, sir.” I took a deep breath.

  “You win. I accept that. And I’ll get over it. I mean, I’ve got my whole life ahead of me. But this—being a, a . . . a dictator over a bunch of kids and teachers—this is a high point for you, isn’t it? And that’s . . . that’s pathetic, isn’t it?

  “I mean, wherever you send me, I can feel pretty good, knowing that for the rest of my life, I’ll be getting stronger, and you’ll be . . . fading. You can be buddies with Ty for a few years, but he’s going to move on, right? Maybe he’ll get you tickets to a pro baseball game someday. Maybe not. He might just forget you. Or end up in jail.”

  “Me? Well, it can’t get much worse than today. But I’ve survived you. I’ve survived Ty. I’ll survive wherever you send me. I might face your kind again . . . and next time, I might outsmart you all.”

  I thought for one more moment, then added, “You know, I’ve been called a lot of names this year. I should probably direct a few of them at you. You deserve them all.

  “But when it comes right down to it, you’re not worth the spit.”

  Denton was silent. In the distance I could hear whooping from students throughout the school. Must be lunchtime, I thought. I hoped Les and Ricki were enjoying the start of their lives without me.

  A knock on the door made Denton unlock his death gaze from me. “Nice speech, Sherman,” he hissed. “But this ends now. Come in!”

  Counselor Blethins entered the room, leading my father and a large man in a rumpled blue suit. “Clark’s people are here, Mr. Denton,” she announced as she set a fresh stack of papers in front of him. I was momentarily alarmed at the arrival of my dad, who was going to be really angry with me. But of all things, he was smiling. The poor, clueless man.

  “Principal Denton? I’m Clark’s dad. And this is Pete Manaia. He’s my—”

  “Mr. Sherman, there was no need to bring an attorney,” Denton said, coolly. My dad and the stranger exchanged surprised glances, nodded and let him continue.

  “This should be fairly quick,” he said. “It is not a matter for due process, it’s a simple matter of facts. Your son’s actions leave me no choice but to expel him, as these documents will show. . . .”

  He picked up the papers that Blethins had just left, and a puzzled look crossed his face.

  “Counselor, you’ve brought the wrong documents,” he said.

  “No,” she replied, her voice sounding not at all mousy for once. “I’ve brought the right ones.”

  “Counselor, this is an expulsion order. But it’s for . . . Ty Hunter.”

  “Oh yes. I thought you might be needing that, Mr. Denton, since I’m not going to lift a finger to help you punish Clark.”

  “What are you talking about, counselor?” he growled.

  “Well, even after I called Clark’s parents, I just couldn’t imagine that he deserved expulsion. I was staring at the blank form, wondering what to do—and then I heard the discussion you were having with him here. And I thought I would go ahead and use my pending authority as head of the Disciplinary Tribunal to do something right for a change.”

  “Head of the Disciplinary Tribunal?” Denton asked, bemused. Then he seemed to realize something, and his voice became very low. “Counselor, what do you mean, you heard our discussion?”

  She smiled. “Oh, didn’t you know? Somebody seems to have been playing a prank with the intercom. Everything you two have said has been broadcast to the whole school. I suspect they’re listening still.”

  There was another schoolwide round of whooping.

  Denton’s entire frame locked up. “The whole . . . school?”

  “Yes,” she said. “And then some. Because halfway through, I put it on conference call with the district headquarters. Some people Edna Beacon had been urging me to talk to. Some people who are going to be very upset. The superintendent herself might even be calling you later today. Shortly before your leave of absence begins.”

  The phone on Denton’s desk buzzed urgently. Blethins glanced at the caller ID. “Oh, there she is now. I guess she’s more efficient than I gave her credit for.”

  The whole building began to vibrate with a frenzied roar that came from every classroom.

  “You . . . you don’t have anything,” Denton stammered. “I-I have paperwork that will show—”

  “Actually,” my father interrupted, “I came here today to talk about paperwork. Specifically, your résumé, which was on file with the school board, and your military release papers, which a source at the Pentagon read to me just yesterday. One implies you’r
e a decorated combat veteran. The other says something very different.

  “I have a colleague at the newspaper looking into this, by the way. So be ready to answer some questions from him too.”

  Denton fell back into his chair.

  “Along those lines,” my father continued lightly, “Pete here would like to speak with you in private. He’s an actual Marine veteran. I’m sure you two have a lot to discuss.”

  The bulky man in the blue suit glared at Denton in a way that made me think, Oh. That’s what a real Marine looks like.

  And for a moment, Principal Denton’s skin did take on a tone that absolutely, positively made him look like an alien.

  My mind was on overload trying to process how everything had happened. Who could have found a way to broadcast Denton’s words to the whole school?

  Then I heard a loud pop of static from the intercom.

  And I knew.

  Denton had tried to tell me I didn’t have a team. But I had the best: Beacon. My family. Even, it turns out, Ms. Blethins.

  And, obviously, the ones who had made it all happen: Ricki and Les.

  “Never cross paths with a determined nerd,” I told Denton, and I followed my dad out of the room.

  13.01.03

  Dad and I went to wait, just the two of us, in Blethins’s office, as a million things seemed to happen at once.

  I could hear Pete Manaia, the guy in the blue suit, start to say some things to Denton about what it means to be a Marine and what kind of lowlife would lie about it. Denton was saved—if you could call it that—by an office worker saying that the superintendent was waiting for him to pick up the phone. I would like to have heard that conversation, but that’s when someone finally cut off the intercom.

  I peeked around the corner and saw Manaia, whom the worker had escorted out, standing near Denton’s closed door, appearing to take notes; he must have been interested in that conversation too.

  All the time, Blethins was moving as if tossed about by a hurricane—pulling files, summoning Ty from his classroom, calling Ty’s father and telling him to get here quickly.

  “We’re ending this, and ending it now,” she said as she placed the phone in its cradle. She was no longer the least bit gerbil-like. “George Denton has done too much damage to this school for any of his . . . his wrongness to last even a moment longer. I should have tried to stop him a long time ago, but he scared me. He scared me. All that war-hero bluster. All that talk of discipline and order and obeying superiors. The way he managed to ‘disappear’ everyone who—”