George looked up. It was a Playboy centerfold. For a split second, in his surprise, he gazed at the naked blonde model, then quickly looked away. “Aw, not now,” he found himself saying, as he reached down to lace up his wrestling shoes.
“Too bad,” Tyler said, thumbing through the magazine. “She kind of reminds me of my girlfriend. What do you think?”
George looked up again, dumbfounded. Tyler was looking right back at him to see his reaction.
I can’t believe this is happening. “Yeah, you wish,” George finally said, turning away. His face felt hot.
I should say something else. I really should, his conscience nagged him as he finished lacing his shoes. You totally let him get away with that.
But anything I say is going to make the situation worse.
Yeah, it’s not worth it. Just let it go.
Besides, you’re not so holy yourself. Remember those magazines in the SpeedEMart today? You sure didn’t look away too quickly then.
Getz is just being a jerk, that’s all. Just go on and show that you can take it, that you can be a good team member. Don’t rock the boat.
Rationalizing himself out of action, George walked out of the locker room and hurried into the gym.
He felt better after a half hour of grueling exercise: push ups, jumping jacks, suicides, the works. During the break, George leaned over, put his hands on his knees, and breathed deeply. His singlet was hot and sweaty, and his arms and legs had that strong, strangely pleasant ache. It was good to be working out again.
Mr. Lamar blew another blast on his whistle. “Okay, everyone! Veterans on this side of the gym, new guys on this side! Everyone sit down and pay attention!” The wrestlers separated as ordered, and two of the veterans dragged out a wrestling mat to the center of the gym.
As Mr. Lamar strode down the center of the gym, his glance fell on George, who was sitting next to Brian on the rookies’ side. “Peterson!” he said. “You’re no rookie! Go over there!” He pointed to the veterans’ side.
George walked over to the other side, feeling a little awkward.
“All right,” said Mr. Lamar. “Today we’re going to learn the half-nelson. Getz! Brock! Get up here.”
Tyler came up, followed by Brock. “Okay, rookies,” Mr. Lamar said. “Listen up. Getz and Brock are going to demonstrate this move, and then you’re all going to learn how to do it, and do it well. This is what you do.”
Standing behind Brock, Tyler put his arm underneath his armpit and grasped the back of his neck. “Does everyone see what he’s doing?” Mr. Lamar said. “This is one of your basic moves. You can use it to take control of your opponent’s upper body. Okay, Tyler, take him down.”
Tyler pushed down hard on Brock’s head, and Brock collapsed. There was silence in the gym as the rookies took this in.
“Pair up!” said Mr. Lamar. “Rookies with veterans. Try to stay in your own weight class. Veterans, teach your sparring partner, don’t beat him! Let’s go!”
The wrestlers split up into pairs as ordered, and went to drag more mats out of the storage closet in the back of the gym. George went straight for Brian, but Mr. Lamar said, “Peterson! I want you to get to know other people on the team. Go over there with Mahoney.”
Reluctantly, George jogged over to Mahoney, a blond, freckle-faced boy with thin arms and pale skin who was dragging a mat out of the closet. He looked apprehensively at George.
“Well, come on,” George said in what he hoped was a friendly voice, and started to get on his hands and knees. “See if you can do the move on me.”
As Mahoney fumbled forward and tried to put an extremely weak half-nelson on him, George encouraged him and corrected him. “No, harder! Grip my head nice and tight. Go ahead.”
Suddenly Mahoney seemed to get the idea, and forced George’s head downwards to the mat. As his vision whirled, he caught a glimpse of Brian. He was with Tyler’s buddy Flynt. Flynt had him in the half-nelson.
“Hey!” George grunted in his indignation.
Mahoney released him immediately. “Did I do it right? Did I hurt you?” he asked anxiously.
George rubbed his neck reflexively as he got up, his eyes fixed on Brian, who was squirming in Flynt’s grip with a panicked look in his eyes.
“You did fine,” he told Mahoney. “That was great. Excuse me, just a sec.”
“Hey, Flynt!” George strode over to where Brian and the older, heavier wrestler were. “What’s up?”
Flynt looked up and saw George. As he did, his face darkened.
George faced him. “You’re supposed to be teaching him, not beating him; besides, you outweigh him by like, sixty pounds, man.”
Flynt released Brian with a grudging air, and got up off the mat. He muttered something under his breath.
“What was that?” George said in a lower voice, coming closer. “I didn’t hear you.”
Flynt looked up and met George’s gaze. “I said mind your own business, Peterson.”
George smiled. “Okay. But if you got a problem with me, take it out on me. I don’t mind.” He turned away without looking back.
They had been sparring for a half-hour, and Mahoney was starting to develop a pretty decent half-nelson, when Mr. Lamar blew the whistle again. “That’s it for today! Hit the showers!”
In the locker room, George was getting out of his singlet when Tyler jogged up. “Not bad, Peterson,” he said in the same friendly voice he had used before.
“Thanks,” George said noncommittally.
“I don’t know about your friend though,” Tyler continued, opening up his locker. “Kind of a shrimp if you ask me.”
George shrugged. “He’s all right. Just give him time.”
Tyler chuckled. Then, in a rustle of paper, the Playboy came into view again. “Sure you don’t want to look, Peterson?” he asked loudly.
“Nah,” George said, and tried to laugh too, although what came of him sounded more like a shaky titter. “Not right now.”
At that moment Brian jogged up, looking sweaty and worn out.
“Hey, Burke!” Tyler said, his grin getting nastier.
Brian looked up.
“Recognize her?” Tyler flashed a page of the Playboy at him.
Brian flushed bright red. He turned away, shielding his eyes with one hand. It looked very strange in the locker room, and some of the wrestlers nearby laughed.
“What’s the matter?” said one. “Haven’t you ever seen a naked chick before?”
Brian pulled his clothes out of his locker, stuffed them into his gym bag and walked quickly out of the room. More laughter followed him out.
George ran after him. He found Brian outside, pulling a coat over his wrestling singlet. It was freezing outside.
“Are you all right?” George didn’t know what else to say.
Brian was still flushed, but he looked angry, not embarrassed.
“They shouldn’t have that kind of crap here,” he said. “I didn’t come here to put up with garbage like that.”
“I know, I know,” George said. “It stinks. But it’s a public school. I mean, what did you expect?”
“I didn’t expect to get it shoved in my face,” Brian retorted. “They shouldn’t have that in the locker room. I’m going to tell Mr. Lamar.”
“I wouldn’t do that. The rest of the team will hate you,” George warned. “This isn’t home school, Brian. You can’t tell the other guys what to do.”
But Brian’s jaw was set stubbornly. “I’m not. I’m just telling the coach what they’re doing. He can decide,” he said. “Besides,” he added in an accusatory tone. “I didn’t see you saying anything!”
George opened his mouth and then stopped. “I was kind of taken by surprise,” he said lamely.
They both fell silent. In the quiet, they heard the sound of a car entering the parking lot. George saw Mr. Lamar coming out of the gymnasium. The car pulled up next to him, and a stout, heavyset black man got out.
“There’s my
dad,” Brian said. Mr. Lamar and the man were talking.
“I guess the coach wants to meet the parents,” George said. “Hey! Brian! Wait!”
Brian had already started walking towards them. “What?”
“Are you really going to tell on those guys?” George said.
Brian looked at him steadily, and George found himself reddening. “I mean…” he said hesitantly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Trust me on this.”
“But it’s the right thing to do,” Brian said. Then he turned and walked away.
Frustrated, George turned around and walked back inside, not knowing what else to do.
He showered quickly, and found some comfort that at least he could do it alone; everyone else was already getting dressed. His conscience told him he had really screwed up, and George found himself wishing he hadn’t invited Brian to tryouts in the first place. Great. John Paul 2 High kids are on the team just one day and already they’re making trouble. He saw his wish to just be another anonymous wrestler vanishing before his eyes.
As he got dressed, his thoughts went back to how he had laughed and shrugged it off when Tyler had shown him the Playboy. You shouldn’t have laughed, a voice inside him said. You should have said something. Brian did do the right thing.
He put on his jacket, slung on his backpack, and turned to leave.
There were Tyler, Brock, and Flynt. “Hey, Peterson,” Tyler said. “You did good today.”
George backed away, alarm bells going off in his head. “Thanks, guys…”
Tyler nodded. Brock and Flynt lunged forward. Before George could react, Brock had his right arm, and Flynt his left.
They dragged him back into the shower room, keeping a firm grip on his arms.
Inside, all of the faucets were on, and there were clouds of water vapor billowing out. But in the center of it, George saw a big heavy plastic bucket there, full of what looked like soapy brown mud with a rotten smell. He kicked and squirmed, but it was no good.
“Okay, in he goes!” Flynt said. “One…two…three!”
George just had time to squeeze his eyes shut and mouth closed before they plunged him into the stuff head first. George fought to get free. Just as he thought he would suffocate, they yanked him out, and George’s vision spun as they tossed him into the shower, jacket, book bag and all.
The water soaked into his hair and clothes, and he struggled to his feet. Tyler was standing in the doorway of the shower room, looking down on him with a big grin on his face.
George was suddenly filled with a surge of hot anger. He struggled to his feet, and rushed at Tyler.
“Chill out, dude,” Tyler said, and shoved him back. George stumbled, slipped, and fell…onto something soft.
“Ow! Watch it!” a voice said behind him.
George looked around, and for the first time realized that he wasn’t alone in the shower room; the place was filled with dirty, wet, crestfallen kids. There was Mahoney, and several others that George recognized with brown stuff smeared on their faces. It looked like all the rookies on the team were in there.
Tyler turned to Flynt. “Did we get everyone?”
“Burke left already,” Flynt said.
“We’ll get him later,” Tyler said with a shrug.
A flash of alarm went through George’s brain at those words. “Tyler!” he shouted.
Tyler looked down. “Yeah?”
“You better not touch him,” George said. “I mean, won’t it look bad, hazing a black kid?”
Tyler looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yeah, I guess so. Maybe we’ll let him slide. He’s just a shrimp, after all.”
“Okay, listen up, twerps!” Tyler stepped into the shower room, and the rest of the veterans followed him, turning off the shower heads and pulling the soaked rookies to their feet.
“Congratulations!” Tyler said, sounding positively jolly. “You’ve now been initiated into the SparrowHawks squad. Just remember one thing! If you want to pull your weight around here, you got to put in the time. And don’t forget who was here first, got it?”
There was a surly-sounding murmur of assent from the crowd of rookies. Tyler grinned again, and seemed to think it was enough. “See you next time!” he said.
For the next ten minutes, George washed his hair over and over again to get the smell out, wishing he could laugh it off. He felt angry, and humiliated; but a small part of him was glad it was over with. Whatever, he thought ruefully. I’ll worry about it later. I just want to go home.
He got dressed again in his wet clothes and headed for the door. But before he got there, he heard Tyler’s voice behind him. “Peterson!”
He was starting to hate that voice. “What?” he said.
Tyler strolled up, still grinning his big, toothy grin. “Whoa, calm down, man,” he said fraternally. “I couldn’t let you slide, you know. Everyone has to get the treatment.”
George turned away. “Sure, fine.”
“But I wanted to say something to you, special.” Tyler leaned in closer. His grin suddenly vanished.
“They say that you’re pretty good,” he said in a low voice. “I don’t know; I haven’t seen anything to impress me yet.”
George thought about his trip to the state tournament the year before, and the stories about him in the newspaper, and his easy victories in the tryouts last week. He didn’t have to prove himself to anyone on this team.
“What’s your point?” he said
Tyler’s toothy smile returned. “I just wanted to make sure we’re clear on one thing: I’m the captain around here. I don’t want you getting any funny ideas. Now that you know who’s boss, you stay in line, and you’ll do just fine.”
George had absolutely no desire to interfere. “Just leave Brian alone,” he said.
Tyler waved his hand. “Sure, sure,” he said. “As long as he stays in line too. See you next time, buddy. Glad to have you on the team.” And with that he strolled out, leaving George alone in the locker room.
Only George knew that Brian wasn’t going to be toeing the line. And something told George that Mr. Lamar wasn’t the type of man who was going to wink at porn in locker rooms. He really, really didn’t want to be around for the next practice.
George walked out to the parking lot, tired, wet, cold, and humiliated. His mom should be coming soon, and he shuddered to think of the questions she would ask.
Don’t ask, mom, he thought. Please don’t ask. His book bag was digging into his shoulder, heavier than usual. He took it off, put it on the pavement, and zipped it open. There were his textbooks, notebooks, pens and pencils—all soaked.
Great, he thought. Just great.
veritatissplendor: Hey George! Hey George!
gpwrestler27: yeah
veritatissplendor: Good news about the permit!
veritatissplendor: Dad thinks that its fixed!
veritatissplendor: I had to tell someone :)
gpwrestler27: thats great seal
veritatissplendor: How are you doing?
gpwrestler27: ok
veritatissplendor: Have you talked to Allie?
veritatissplendor: she’s sort of been avoiding everyone
veritatissplendor: I think shes still mad
veritatissplendor: about the crickets.
veritatissplendor: Has she talked to you?
gpwrestler27: no
veritatissplendor: do you think maybe she reported us
veritatissplendor: to the health department?
veritatissplendor: Liz thought it must have been her,
veritatissplendor: she was so upset
veritatissplendor: about the crickets.
veritatissplendor: and she;s still not talking
veritatissplendor: to any of us.
veritatissplendor: What do you think?
gpwrestler27: dunno
gpwrestler27: doesnt seem like her
veritatissplendor: You’re right. I mean
veritatissplendor: I know she d
oesn’t
veritatissplendor: like the school but
veritatissplendor: it doesn’t seem her style
veritatissplendor: I’ll just put it out of my mind.
veritatissplendor: Anyhoo.
veritatissplendor: How’s wrestling?
veritatissplendor: How is brian doing?
gpwrestler27: ok
veritatissplendor: I guess you only had
veritatissplendor: a few practices so far…
gpwrestler27: only one
gpwrestler27: next one is wednesday
veritatissplendor: Your mom has been asking
veritatissplendor: my mom if I knew why you
veritatissplendor: were all wet when she picked
veritatissplendor: you up at school last week
veritatissplendor: What she talking about?
gpwrestler27: nothing
gpwrestler27: just guys fooling around
veritatissplendor: Gotta go. I’m holding John Mark
veritatissplendor: and he just blurped everywhere :O
veritatissplendor: plus Miranda is yelling that it’s her
veritatissplendor: turn to get on the computer
veritatissplendor: <:[
veritatissplendor: In short, life is happening again.
veritatissplendor: See you tomorrow, ok?
gpwrestler27: k
George punched the computer monitor button off, feeling sick again. He hadn’t told Celia or his mom what had really happened at wrestling. And he couldn’t look Allie Weaver in the eye without remembering the Playboy centerfold. Thanks a lot, Tyler. He wished he could wipe that part of his memory clean like a blackboard. Why was she dating that jerk? Every time he turned around, it seemed that she was calling Tyler on her cell phone between classes. How do girls like that end up with guys like Tyler? He wondered if Allie knew the sort of things Tyler did behind her back. Not my problem. Forget about it.
Catholic, Reluctantly (The John Paul 2 High Series) Page 8