“Hey Ely, how’s it going?” Jeff asked.
Ely took off his headphones. “Fine.”
“We have a question for you,” Cisco added.
Cisco was a handsome black kid that must have weighed close to two hundred pounds. But he wasn’t really fat, just big, close to six feet tall with broad shoulders and meaty looking arms. His smile was genuine, and he seemed nice enough, but Ely had his reservations, as he always did when it came to other kids.
“Okay,” Ely said apprehensively.
“Have you ever thought about wrestling?” Cisco continued.
Here was that question again. Why does everyone want me to wrestle, Ely thought? Can’t they see that I’m fat and not really the athletic type?
“No, not really.”
“Well,” Jeff said, cutting in. “All three of us are the captains this year, and we want you on our team. Right now we have no unlimited wrestlers.”
“What’s an unlimited wrestler?”
“It’s a weight class,” John explained. “Cisco weighs one hundred and seventy pounds, but we need someone who weighs more than that for our last weight class.”
“You want me to wrestle because I’m fat?”
“Ely, it’s not like that,” Jeff reasoned. “There are seventeen weight classes. It starts at seventy eight pounds and goes all the way to unlimited. If we don’t have an unlimited wrestler, then we have to forfeit the match for that weight class, and the other team gets six points. We can’t let that happen against Kopachuck.”
Ely knew that Kopachuck Middle School was another school in the district and the main rival of Key Peninsula Middle School, especially for the wrestling team.
“We have a kick ass team but we need an unlimited wrestler,” Cisco said.
“It’s hard to find kids that are—”
“Fat,” Ely said, interrupting Jeff.
“Big boned, like me,” Cisco said, flashing Ely a dazzling smile.
“I don’t know. I’m not a good athlete. Besides, I don’t think my mom would let me. We can’t afford it.” Ely was being pretty honest with these guys. He wasn’t sure why. He never talked about family stuff. But then again, no one had ever really talked with him before so he never really had to. There was something about these guys, an aura or something, that made Ely believe that he could trust them. For some reason he didn’t think they would judge him, so he just spoke up without much thought.
“Mr. Seljin would take care of all that for you,” Jeff said. “We need you, man.”
All three got up to leave.
“We’re going to keep bugging you,” Cisco promised. “If we are going to beat Kopachuck this year, we will need an unlimited wrestler.”
“I…I don’t know,” Ely stammered.
“Just think about it,” Jeff said. “See ya, Ely.”
“Later dawg,” John said.
“Later,” Cisco added.
And then they were gone. Ely looked down at his book and flipped it over to the cover. The title of the book was Homeland, and on the cover was an amazing painting of a dark elf, or Drow. In the fantasy world Drows were distant cousins of the fairy tale elf, but inherently evil. Their skin had turned dark from adapting to thousands of years of living underground. Lack of sunlight normally meant white skin, but the Drow had evolved to become hunters in the night, their dark skin allowing them to become literally invisible in the dark caves in which they lived. Drizzt, the dark elf, was standing at the gates of some underground city, grasping two silver scimitars in his hands. Ely had just started reading the book and was thoroughly enjoying the story.
Drizzt was an anomaly amongst his people. He was not evil, and so far the beginning of the book was about how he was going to survive in the violent merciless world of the Drow, while still holding onto his principles. Ely was particularly excited because this book was just the first in a very long series and Mr. Seljin had the whole set, and that they would be at his disposal as he burned through the pages.
Ely slowly traced his finger along the outline of Drizzt. “Did you hear that, Drizzt?” Ely whispered. “They said they need me.”
Later that day, Ely was sitting in Mrs. Overmeyer’s class. Mrs. Overmeyer was in her late fifties, with short cropped blond hair, glasses, and the cheerful demeanor of a solicitous mom. If you were an orphan and you could pick your mom from a lineup, you would pick Mrs. Overmeyer. She was standing at her podium explaining the day’s schedule.
“Okay,” she began, “It’s time for our book reports. Remember, your assignment was to write a one page report on a character in the book you chose to read. I wanted you to reflect on what you liked, or didn’t like about the character. Critique the character’s flaws as well as their good qualities. I’m looking for some personal insight here, some emotional connection to the character you’ve chosen.” Her students were just staring at her with blank expressions as she paused. “Would anyone like to volunteer first?”
John, Jeff’s friend, grabbed his report off his desk and headed up to the front of the class. “I got your back, Mrs. O.”
“I assume that means that you’ll go first,” she said laughing.
“You got it.”
“The stage is yours,” Mrs. Overmeyer replied as she stepped away from the podium and moved to her desk.
“Okay,” John began. “The book I read is called, A Stolen Kiss, by Wanda Jerasich.”
John held up the book for all to see, exposing the cover which clearly identified it as a cheesy, young adult, romance novel. Everyone in the class laughed, and even Mrs. Overmeyer, although she tried to stifle it, chuckled behind her desk.
“Alright y’all, quiet down now,” John continued. “Okay, the character I chose was Brooke. She is this eighteen year old hotty. I picked her because…well, she is smokin’, plain and simple.”
Again, everyone laughed.
“Mrs. O, do I have to read my report or can I just talk about it?” John asked.
“Whatever is easier for you, John,” Mrs. Overmeyer said. “I do hope that you have some more personal reasons for choosing Brooke other than the fact that she’s hot.”
The class giggled some more. Clearly she was having fun as well. Even Ely, who had his head down, looked up briefly, and cracked a smile.
“Oh, don’t worry, teach, I got some shi…stuff,” John added quickly. Mrs. Overmeyer gave him a quick, watch it, look, before he continued. “So, I picked Brooke because she reminds me of my sister—”
“You think your sister’s hot?” Jeff interrupted. “Gross, dude.”
“She is hot, man,” Cisco added. “I’d love to—”
“Hey!” Mrs. Overmeyer reprimanded.
“Sorry, Mrs. O,” Cisco said. “But she is definitely a ten.”
Again the class laughed, and now Ely was also smiling and looking on with genuine interest.
“I’m not saying I think my sister is hot, you perv. And don’t talk about my sister like that,” John said with a grin. “I mean, this Brooke chick had a lot of problems with guys, just like my sister. My sister is always complaining about guys. Brooke would lock herself in her room and write in her diary about all of her boyfriends and such.”
“Does your sister do that?” Jeff asked.
“Heck yeah. I’ve even read her diary. Good stuff. But most importantly, I liked this Brooke character because she reminds me of my sis, and since my sister left for college, I sort of miss her.”
“Oh, how sweet,” Jeff teased.
The guys in the class laughed. But most of the girls smiled and thought it was cute, expressing themselves with a series of ahhhs, that’s so cute…and ooohhhhh.
“Shut up, Jeff. Mrs. O said she wanted it personal. Anyway, that’s all I have,” John said.
“Thanks for sharing that, John,” Mrs. Overmeyer said. “Let’s give him a hand.” The report was clearly too short, but the class knew that Mrs. Overmeyer was probably just happy that she got a report from John at all. School wasn’t really his strong
point.
The class clapped loudly as John made his way back to his desk.
“Okay, who’s next?” Mrs. Overmeyer asked.
Everyone looked down at their desk hoping she wouldn’t call on them.
“Since I have no volunteers, why don’t we hear from….Ely.”
Startled, Ely looked up. Suddenly his heart was pounding and he could feel his face turn red. He hated doing anything in front of the class. It was hard not to feel self-conscious, embarrassed, scared, and a plethora of other emotions when you were standing in front of a group of people, especially your peers.
But he had no choice. He knew everyone had to do it eventually, so he took a deep breath, grabbed his paper, and walked to the front of the class and stood behind the podium. He set his paper down on the podium so his shaking hands wouldn’t divulge his nervousness. Taking a deep breath, he began his report.
“The book I read is called, Homeland, by R.A. Salvatore,” Ely began, his voice shaking as he held up the book. “The character that I chose to do my report on is Drizzt Do Urden.”
Scott, a young blond haired kid sitting in the back raised his hand.
“Yes, Scott?” Mrs. Overmeyer asked.
“Drizzt do who?”
“Drizzt Do Urden,” Ely said again. “He is a dark elf.” Ely turned to Mrs. Overmeyer. “Do you mind if I just read my report? It might make more sense.”
“Sure, Ely, go right ahead.”
Ely looked down at his paper and began to read. “The character that I chose from my book is a dark elf named Drizzt. This story takes place in a fantasy world called the Forgotten Realms. Drizzt is a good and honest warrior, who’s alone in the world and a member of a race that’s inherently evil, whereas his heart resonates all that is good in the world. Drizzt is a Drow Elf, which is a distant cousin to the elves that we often read about in fairy tales, or see in movies like The Lord of the Rings. He is an anomaly amongst his people, surrounded by greed and the desire to appease their Goddess, Loth, known as the Spider Queen. Drow Elves are the epitome of evil, and the only thing they care about is personal gain, power, and making their dark deity happy. They will do anything to achieve this, even kill their own family members.” Ely paused and looked up into the silence, expecting to see boredom on the student’s faces. To his surprise, most of them were actually listening, so he quickly glanced back down and continued. “Because the Drow live miles underground, their skin has adapted to the lightless world by turning black, enabling them to better blend in with the darkness, and their eyes have adapted as well, for they can see in the dark. To survive in this harsh and dangerous world you have to learn how to adapt, but most importantly to fight. In this story Drizzt faces the evilness of his people and struggles to hold onto his principles and morals and survive at the same time. Drizzt is an exception among his people, for he’s not evil. He cares about life and feels empathy and compassion. But do not mistake his kind heart and gentle spirit for weakness. His skill in battle is unmatched, and he fights with two scimitars, which are curved swords. No one can best him with the blade. I chose Drizzt because he has to fight to hold onto his values, to his goodness. He has strength, speed, and power, and he uses these skills to uphold good and protect the weak. I chose Drizzt, because, like me, he was born into a situation that he doesn’t like, and unlike me, he embodies power and courage. He uses these traits to change his life. He embodies characteristics that I would like to emulate in life.” Ely stopped and slowly looked toward Mrs. Overmeyer. “Ummm…that’s it, the end.”
The class, along with Mrs. Overmeyer, sat staring at Ely. Even the kids, who started off not listening, now sat, attentive and speechless.
“Wow, Ely,” Mrs. Overmeyer said. “That was very well written. Nice job expressing yourself. Give Ely a hand, class.”
The class clapped as Ely made his way back to his seat. As soon as he sat down, Jeff leaned over and whispered to him. “Dude, that rocked. Anomaly, deities, resonates, I didn’t know what you were talking about half the time and I still thought it kicked ass.”
“Thanks,” Ely said, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.
“Okay, who’s next?” Mrs. Overmeyer asked. The clapping stopped abruptly and everyone went back to their, don’t pick me, look. No one wanted to follow that report.
The walk home from school was typical. Ely put one foot in front of another, wearing his headphones as he listened to more of his favorite classical composers. Today it was one of Francesco Cavalli’s baroque compositions from the 1600’s. As usual the music put him into a meditative state as he closed the half-mile distance to his mobile home, simultaneously navigating the clusters of mud puddles and potholes as he read his book.
As he neared his run-down home he saw his father working on a car in the driveway. He was sweaty and covered in grease and grime. Ely, hoping to avoid the typical barrage of insults from his father, took off his headphones and tucked his book under his arm. Keeping his head low, he walked briskly past his father, hoping to enter the home unnoticed. It was a fairly typical event for Bill to tease Ely about his music or his ‘stupid, children’s books’, as he so eloquently put it.
“Hey, boy! Put your shit in the house and come out here and chop that wood over there,” he grunted as he peered over the hood of the car at Ely.
“Okay,” Ely responded without pausing.
He walked into the house to see his mom at the kitchen counter doing dishes.
“Hi, hon, how was school?” she asked, keeping her back to him.
“Okay. Mom, can I ask you a question?”
Mary turned around and faced her son. She looked exhausted and it was obvious she had been crying. Her left eye was beginning to swell and turn red. She forced a smile, as if she could camouflage the pain from her husband’s abuse. Ely knew that he wasn’t the only one being hit in this family. The funny thing was, it hurt him more to see his mother in pain. He got angrier looking at her swollen eye than he did his own.
“Of course,” she responded.
“I was,” Ely paused as the anger began to rise within him. Her eye was slowly closing and it was obvious that she had just been hit. “Did he hit you again?”
“It’s nothing. It looks worse than it is, really.”
“Did Dad hit you again?” Ely persisted.
“Well, we got into a fight. I shouldn’t have spoken to him as I did. He’s really stressed out about not working and I instigated him. I’ll be fine.”
“He shouldn’t be hitting you, Mom. Why do you let him? He paused for a moment, his anger almost palpable, “Someday I won’t let him hit either one of us,” Ely said softly, his voice shaking with emotion.
“Ely, I said don’t worry about it. It’s really nothing. Now, what was your question?” Mary asked again, obviously wanting to avoid dealing with the elephant that was in the room.
“I want to join the wrestling team.”
“Really? You’ve never shown any interest in sports before.”
“I know. But the coach and some of the wrestlers said they need me,” Ely said, almost pleading.
Mary sat down at the kitchen table. “Oh, I don’t know, son. What would your dad say?”
“I don’t care what he says. What do you say?”
“Will it cost anything? We just don’t have any extra money right now.”
That got Ely frustrated. He wanted to say that his dad spent money every night, his mother’s money, on beer and cheap whiskey. But he knew that it would just upset his mother by causing her more stress. She was obviously not up to a confrontation that she was not able to win, especially right now. “I don’t think so,” Ely reassured her. “The guys said that Mr. Seljin would take care of everything if money was an issue.”
“We’ll see. Okay?”
“We’ll see what?” Bill asked loudly as he pushed open the door. “Get me a beer, Mary.” He was covered in grease from the car but it didn’t stop him from plopping down at his usual place in front of the television. “S
o what are you guys talking about?”
“Ely wants to join the wrestling team,” Mary said.
“Are you serious?” Bill asked incredulously.
“Yes,” Mary began.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Bill interrupted her. “I was talking to Ely. Come over here, boy.” Ely got up from the table and walked over to his father, his earlier bravado rapidly melting. “You want to join the wrestling team?”
“Yes,” Ely said.
Bill looked him up and down. The atmosphere of the room was tense and coiled like a snake. Both Mary and Ely didn’t know if he would be relieved that his son was finally doing something he would approve of and say yes, or hit him for daring to ask.
“Okay,” Bill said. “It might be good for you. Toughen you up a little. Maybe you’ll lose some fat and turn into a man after all. Now go chop that wood.”
“Okay,” Ely said as he turned away. Mary had resumed washing the dishes as Ely walked up behind her. He hugged her briefly and kissed her on the cheek before he left through the screen door.
Mary stopped scrubbing the pan and stared ahead through the dirty kitchen window as a lone tear slowly trickled down her cheek.
Five
Well, as I suspected, I got my ass kicked. Luckily, I was so used to ridicule that the taunts I got from kids, even from a few of my own teammates, did little to shock me. Not that it was okay. I mean, I’m fat, it’s pretty obvious. But when you put on a spandex singlet for the first time, you really learn a lot about yourself. Even the guys that were in great shape always looked skeptical when they held up the scanty uniform for perusal. Those tight suits didn’t hide anything, and I mean that. So, for someone like me, who had a lot of extra physical topography, the singlet became my other antagonist at every match. I glared at it with a sense of futility. As I stretched it over my ample body I mentally swore at it, calling it all kinds of names that should never be used to describe an article of clothing. I really hated that thing. The other wrestlers couldn’t always disguise the fact that they found it morbidly fascinating to watch as I attempted to tuck my fat folds into the spandex. It was like squeezing a sumo wrestler into a Ken Doll tuxedo. Their stares hurt and embarrassed me, but when I looked at myself in the mirror I could hardly fault them. I looked silly, stupid, and, well…fat. I looked the complete opposite of tough. I certainly didn’t look like the drawing of the wrestler on Mr. Seljin’s door.
The Life of Ely Page 5