Time Out

by Liane Shaw

  Grace under pressure. It’s hard to teach them how to deal with an artificially designed competition when every aspect of their lives is a real one.

  We have extra volunteers coming so that we’re at a one-to-one ratio. We’ve talked about it over and over. We’ve role-played every scenario Sean and I can come up with. We’ve visited the field over at the high school so that we’re used to the environment and ready to give it a try.

  Everyone is excited. It’s a pretty big test of the next phase of their school lives. A return to trying to be a part of things in the larger school.

  But Justin is such an unknown quantity that I’m afraid to take him. He hasn’t participated in any way in our prep sessions, other than to stand and stare, of course, arms folded across his chest, occasionally shaking his head in what I assume is disgust.

  I’m surprised he and Mike haven’t become firm friends. They could bond over their overwhelming disgust with everything I do.

  “There’s nowhere else for him to be. I can’t ask the group home to keep him just because of a track meet. You are a special program after all,” Mrs. C says. I try not to growl.

  “Could we at least ask that one of their trained workers come along?”

  “Sean works in a group home, doesn’t he? Just make sure he’s with Justin.”

  It’s not the same. First of all, Sean is terrific with the kids, but he isn’t actually a fully trained child and youth worker. I think we need someone with the right training to deal with whatever issues are lurking beneath Justin’s too-calm exterior. Besides, I want someone with Justin who knows him. Someone who can predict him and maybe even control him if he ever loses it. I don’t bother to say this out loud, though. She’s made up her mind, and now all I can do is hope for the best.

  ✘

  Track day dawns with clear skies, crisp, cool air, and a slightly nervous group of boys.

  “Don’t like running,” Kevin announces the minute he climbs out of his cab.

  “You don’t have to run, Kevin. Remember what we said? It’s enough to just come and watch.” We aren’t going to push it. Attendance is mandatory, but full participation? Not so much.

  “Don’t like watching,” he growls.

  “It’s okay, Kev. You can just watch me. Then we’ll just hang out, okay? You like hanging out with me, right?” Donny comes up from behind him and taps him on the shoulder. Kevin doesn’t like to be touched but tolerates it from Donny. He tolerates most things from Donny. They’re as close to friends as anyone has been in our room. Donny shows a gentleness when he’s with Kevin that makes me wonder who he would have been if his life had been kinder. Who he will be if life gets kinder.

  “Okay.” Kevin nods, and the two of them head into the school with Sean.

  Mike and Chris arrive next, and I send them in, knowing they’ll only be a few steps behind the others. I’m pleased to see that Mike is here. He proclaimed track day to be stupid when he left yesterday and vowed that he would force his parents to keep him home. I don’t know if he changed his mind or if he couldn’t change theirs. Either way works for me.

  I wait for Justin. His cab arrives, and I stay where I’m standing. He gets out slowly and stands on the curb for a few seconds, pretending he doesn’t see me. He hates the fact that he has to be escorted into the school every day “like some kind of little kid.” He’s wearing heavy jeans and combat boots, I assume because we asked the kids to wear track pants and running shoes for the day. He stands for a few more seconds, as if waiting to see what I will do. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to get moving yet. Either way, I decide to stay where I am, waiting to see what he will do.

  It feels a bit like we’re having one of those childish staring matches, where each of us is trying to make the other one blink. I really hope he blinks first. I think I need to win this one.

  After a few more seconds that feel like minutes, he shakes his head and stomps past me into the school, being very careful not to look at me at all. I follow directly behind him, trying not to stomp but treading loudly enough that he knows I’m here. He keeps stomping until he gets into the classroom and sits down. The others ignore him, as usual.

  “Is everyone ready?” I ask redundantly. They look pretty ready to me. Everyone but Justin has track pants and running shoes on, as requested. They even have sun hats and water bottles.

  “Okay, well, as soon as announcements are over and our volunteers get here, we’re off to the races.” I smile at my own great wit. Sean laughs. Everyone else just groans.

  “Don’t like races!” Kevin practically shouts it.

  “It’s okay, bud. You don’t have to do any racing unless you want to.” Donny pats him on the back. Kevin just shrugs his shoulders and growls a little. I can see Baby peeking out of his backpack, which is a testament to the level of his nerves. She’s been staying home recently, letting Kevin do his talking completely on his own, but it seems he needs some moral support today that we lower-level species just aren’t equipped to give him.

  We head off to the field about ten minutes later, Sean sticking close to Justin without getting right in his face. Chris, Kevin, and Donny all have eighth-grade students walking with them. Chris and Donny both seem to really like the idea and are chattering away at their new “buddies.” Kevin is muttering to himself, probably about how much he hates track and field. I assigned myself to Mike, who is less than totally pleased with the arrangement. He won’t look at me or talk to me. But he’s here. And he has running shoes on. And a hat. Which is a pretty high level of compliance for Mike.

  We arranged things so that we could all be at each activity to cheer the boys on. I wasn’t sure if anyone would actually go through with an activity, so I’m really excited to see Donny head right over to the long-jump pit.

  “Watch this, Ms. S!” He takes his turn and actually manages a pretty good jump. Chris gives him a high five as he comes back over to join us.

  “Cool. It’s my turn now. One hundred meters, right?” Chris looks at Sean, who checks the schedule he’s carrying and nods.

  “Yep. Starts in five minutes. Let’s get over there.”

  We all troop over to the track. Unsurprisingly, Chris picked all running events. He didn’t even need to train.

  “Kevin, you’re signed up for this one too,” I say gently. We arrive in time to see other students start to line up. I feel a swell of pride watching Chris head over on his own, as if he’s done this a hundred times before.

  Kevin looks at me and then looks at the kids lined up waiting for the start signal. I smile at him, fully expecting a loud, gruff “no.”

  “Okay,” he says, to our astonishment.

  “Good for you, Kev!” Sean says.

  “Awesome, Kev!” Donny agrees. Mike and Justin say nothing. They’re both carefully trying to look like they don’t belong with us…or each other.

  Kevin goes up and stands beside Chris. We chose the hundred for him because it’s short. Kevin is the kind of kid who spends a lot more time watching TV than running around outside. I don’t imagine he does much exercise in any given day, other than what I make him do at school. None of that matters now. I’m just thrilled to see him there in the lineup with all the others.

  “On your marks, get set…GO!” The voice cracks with excitement as the kids sprint forward.

  Well, most of the kids sprint forward.

  “Wrong way, Kev! Turn around!” Sean calls out, choking on his laughter while he tries to get over and send Kevin the other way. Kevin ignores him and runs about ten meters in the opposite direction of the other runners. Then he stops and looks at us.

  “Racing sucks.”

  “You’re awesome, dude!” Donny laughs and runs over to Kevin, grabbing his hand and forcing him to do a high five.

  We’re all laughing so hard we miss the fact that Chris managed to c
ome second in his heat. Luckily, his volunteer is more on the ball than we are and is standing at the finish line to congratulate him.

  The rest of the morning goes remarkably well. Mike actually does the four hundred that he signed up for and seems cautiously proud when he manages to finish in the top five. Donny runs in the two hundred and gives the high jump a shot. He seems unconcerned that he didn’t place in either. Kevin’s brief career as a track star ended at the backward ten-meter line.

  By lunchtime, we’re all feeling pretty good about ourselves and the day. Except for Justin, who spent the morning glowering.

  “Okay, everyone. We’re going to head over to the far side of the field and sit down and have some lunch.” I start walking, all of the boys trailing behind me. We come to a large chain-link fence, and Sean accidentally starts walking on the other side. The kids all laugh at him walking along beside us, but separated by the wire.

  “You look like you’re in jail or something,” Chris says.

  “What do you know about fucking jail!” Justin yells at him, speaking for the first time all morning. Chris looks at him, startled.

  “Fuck you, asshole! I’m just kidding around!” Chris yells back. Justin looks at him for a second and then, before anyone realizes what’s happened, he leaps on him and throws him to the ground. He starts pummeling Chris with his fists.

  “Stay back!” I yell at the other kids as I try to get hold of him to pull him off.

  “Look out!” I look up at the sound of Sean’s voice. He’s on the top of the fence, somehow managing to clear it in less than a second. He comes flying down on our side and lands beside Justin, grabbing him and flipping him off Chris all in one fluid motion.

  “Cool!” I hear Donny’s voice behind me.

  Justin goes into full freak-out mode, screaming and struggling as Sean tries to get him into a safe enough hold to calm him down. Chris has scrambled away and looks like he’s ready to fly.

  “Chris. I need you to stay with us. This isn’t your problem anymore. Let Sean deal with Justin so you can go back to your day.” I don’t want to sound like I’m pleading. Even though I am.

  “Hey, Chris. Come on man. Stand here with me. We still have to eat lunch and do your second heat. It’s okay.” Chris’s volunteer, Greg, steps over and puts a hand on his shoulder. I give him a shaky smile of thanks.

  “I need you all to stand over by the fence until we get Justin sorted out,” I say to them. Sean has him held tightly now, but Justin isn’t calming down. He’s yelling and screaming and drawing attention from other students and parents.

  “Someone get this bastard off me. He’s hurting me!” Justin has noticed that he’s drawing an audience and is trying to play to the crowd.

  “What’s going on here?” A woman is standing beside me, watching curiously.

  “Please, I need you to move away. We’re dealing with a situation here.” I sound like a badly directed TV cop. The woman moves a few feet away but keeps watching. Justin is still yelling about how much he’s being hurt, and it’s still drawing attention.

  “Please! I need you all to move away. This young man is having a difficult time, and all of the attention is making it worse!” I finally raise my voice. Another teacher from the school has joined the crowd, and I ask her to find Mrs. Callahan and tell her to meet us in the parking lot. I know she has her car here, and I’m going to need help getting Justin back to the school.

  Justin finally starts to slow down. I don’t know if that’s due to the lack of an audience or just because he’s getting tired. Either way, he slumps to the ground, lying still.

  “All right. I’m done. Get off me, faggot!” he says to Sean. Mike snickers. He looks like he wishes he were Justin right now. There’s definitely admiration in his gaze.

  “I’ll get off when you’re actually done—which means finding another way to talk to me,” Sean says calmly, holding on tightly but without pressure.

  “Okay. I’m done. I’d like to get up.”

  Sean slowly gets to his feet, bringing Justin up along with him. He keeps one hand clamped around Justin’s arm.

  “You can let go,” Justin says, wiggling his arm.

  “No, I don’t think so,” Sean says as he basically frog marches him down toward the parking lot, where I’m relieved to see Mrs. Callahan is waiting beside her car.

  “I am not impressed, young man!” she says to Justin when we reach her. Justin doesn’t look impressed either.

  “I’ll come in the car with you and Justin,” I say to Mrs. C. “Sean and the volunteers can walk back, if that’s okay.”

  “We can’t stay?” Donny asks, looking totally disappointed.

  “I’m sorry. There isn’t another teacher here to watch you. It’s just not safe.”

  “Not fair either!”

  “No, it’s not. Anyway, you guys can have activity time in the classroom after lunch. By the time we get there and have lunch, there’ll only be about an hour left anyway. It’s the best I can do.” I shrug my shoulders and get in the backseat of the car with Justin, who has retreated into disgusted silence.

  When we arrive at the school, Mrs. Callahan tells me to put Justin into the VP’s office while she calls the group home.

  “Is he all right there on his own?” Ms. Keller is still over at the field with the rest of the kids.

  “He seems pretty docile right now. I’ll just be a minute. You go and get your class settled and come back up here when you’re done.”

  I head off down the hall. The boys are in our room, eating their lunches. No one seems all that upset anymore. Donny and Kevin are charmingly demonstrating the contents of their mouths to each other, while Chris talks with Greg. Sean is sitting with Mike, who actually seems to be having a conversation with him.

  “We’ve decided on a video for the afternoon. Okay with you?” Sean looks at me. We try not to overdo the video thing so it can be a treat. All of my whirling dervishes seem to be able to sit quite nicely for movies, and the temptation to show one every day is pretty overwhelming at times. Today is definitely the day for it.

  Once the food is gone and the movie is running, I head back to the office. Callahan informs me that the group home staff have been called and someone is on the way.

  “I have to head back over to the track. There’s been an injury and I need to bring the student back here. You’ll have to stay with Justin until someone comes. Is Sean all right down there?”

  “Should be. The grade eights are still with him. Sharon is across the hall because the little kids aren’t at track. The cabs will be here in less than an hour, so there shouldn’t be a problem. I hope.” The one advantage to our program is that our day ends earlier than the rest of the school’s by about an hour. This is mostly a distance issue, but it also works out well as a tolerance issue. Mine and theirs.

  “Well, I should only be a few minutes. I guess we can bend the rules this one time.”

  If only she knew!

  Mrs. Callahan leaves, and I go to the VP’s office to see Justin. He shouldn’t have been left alone, even if it was only for a minute. It took a lot less than that for this whole mess to start in the first place. I stand in the doorway for a moment looking at him.

  “I’m sorry things turned out this way. Do you want to talk about it?” It’s pretty obvious to me that Chris’s simple comment couldn’t possibly have been enough to upset him so much. There has to be a whole lot more going on here. He was just looking for a reason.

  “No.” He doesn’t even look at me. He’s sitting on a chair on the other side of a large teacher’s desk that almost fills the very small room. I come in and walk behind him to lean casually against the wall, silently letting him know that I’m ready and willing to listen. He stares sullenly at the top of the desk, silently making it clear that he doesn’t care. I stand in my corner,
wondering what to do next. I have a fleeting memory of someone saying something to me about exactly this scenario. About how I should be standing somewhere else.

  The thought leaves me before it’s finished forming.

  “Okay. Well, I assume Mrs. Callahan told you that someone is coming to pick you up.”

  He looks up, staring directly into my eyes for the first time ever. He has very intense green eyes—very intense angry green eyes.

  “What!” The word shoots out and hits me between the eyes. I try not to flinch at the raw power of his anger.

  “Someone from the group home is coming. You can’t go in the cab after a violent incident so close to the end of the day. It was part of our agreement when you first came here.” I keep my voice calm and cool. The director of Justin’s group home had requested this. He told us that once Justin gets upset, he stays that way for a long time, keeping himself at full throttle, ready to take off again without notice.

  “No fucking way. That kid had it coming. Talking about jail like he knows what it is. Yelling at me. No one yells at me. I’ll get in shit if they have to come for me. I already have two strikes from that retard director. Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck is wrong with you? Call them and tell them I’m going in the cab! You are such a retarded bitch, just like everyone else. Every stupid, fucking school is the same place full of assholes. Call the group home! Now!” He stands up as the words spew from his mouth—more words than he’s used the entire time he’s been here—swirling around us in an angry torrent. The dam he’s meticulously constructed since coming here has come crashing down, and all the pent up emotion that he kept so carefully hidden breaks loose. My back is literally up against the wall, and I have no choice but to stand my ground.