Norma L

by Jeff Moberg

  ***

  The Haywood Mega Mall was an amazing place for such a small town. Usually, only larger cities or towns had malls, but a local developer (a very rich local developer) decided he wanted a nice mall close to home for his daughter, so he was able to put together the money to bring in all the big stores and get it built. The mall itself was four stories tall and it was in the shape of a figure eight. The foodcourt was on the top floor, right in the middle.

  I met Luke in front of Superdog at 12:55. Kletch saw us and gave us the hand up with five fingers spread to indicate that he would join us in five minutes. We sat at a nearby table and I took out a pad of paper and a pencil. Mr. Spinoza had told us to remember the five W’s and one H of good reporting, so I had written down questions to hopefully answer the who, what, when, where, why and how related to our story.

  Luke also took out his list of questions. He gave me the hopeful look again and said, “You look nice today,” just as Kletch walked up.

  We stood up and Kletch gave me a big, side shoulder hug. He said, “Hey Normy!” I introduced Luke, and without even flinching at Kletch’s outwardly scary appearance, he shook his mechanical hand and said, “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

  Kletch smiled and said, “You two match.”

  At first I wasn’t sure what he meant, and then I realized he was looking at Luke’s red hair. Then I smiled back. “You’re right, we do match.” That seemed to make Luke happy.

  As we sat down, a thin, older man with thin, gray hair and a thin mustache came over to our table with three trays of Superdogs (with extra tater tots!). “These are on the house,” he said. “Any friend of Kletch’s is a friend of mine.” He had a Superdog nametag that said, “The Top Dog”. I figured that he must be the owner. We all said thanks at the same time and then Kletch added, as he walked away, “That’s Hank. He’s the top dog.” I agreed silently as I watched Hank go back behind the Superdog counter. I knew that it took someone special to hire a person like Kletch.

  During the next hour, Kletch told us everything he could remember. He remembered being in the Marines and he remembered being deployed to Iraq. He remembered being on patrol in a city called Mandali on the day of the accident. He even remembered picking up the grenade. “We were searching a warehouse and someone threw a live grenade into an open doorway. It rolled along the dirt floor and stopped near our feet. All I could think of, was that if I didn’t do something right away, some of my men might get hurt. So I picked it up and threw it toward the nearest window.” He looked down at his mechanical hand. “But I don’t remember anything after that.”

  He didn’t remember being in the hospital for the next six months, and he didn’t remember how or when he got home. But he did remember two very important things. He remembered getting the Medal of Honor from the president at the White House—and he remembered every single person who was in his platoon that day being at the ceremony and shaking his new, mechanical hand. Sixteen men thanked Kletch that day for saving their lives.

  “Anyone would have done the same thing,” he said as he finished. I had tears in my eyes and I could see Luke fighting back his own. We both knew that not everyone would have done the same thing.

  Luke asked Kletch if we could take his picture for our story, and he said, “Sure. Do you want me to put on my medal?”

  I think both of our jaws dropped considerably. Luke said in a near whisper, “You mean, you have it with you?”

  Kletch nodded. “I thought you might want to see it.”

  We both just nodded in complete astonishment.

  Kletch took the medal out of a box that had been in his pocket. He put it around his neck as Luke activated his cell phone camera. The ribbon holding the medal was blue and the medal itself was a bright, gold star with the word “VALOR” above it. Luke took a picture of Kletch with the medal around his neck and then a close-up of the medal. I knew that this was a medal that very few people had ever gotten. And I think both Luke and I felt very lucky—and honored to get such a close look at it. We thanked Kletch for meeting us on his break and helping us with our story. And then I thought, after we hugged and said our goodbyes, we’re lucky to know someone like Kletch.

  At the end of our newspaper article I wrote, “The definition of a hero is someone who puts the safety and wellbeing of others ahead of their own. This is what James Anthony Kletcher did that day in Iraq. He lost his right hand and also part of his capacity to function mentally and have a normal life. He is an extraordinary person and a true hero.”

  32

  Payback’s the B Word (Bummer)!

  Halloween came on a Friday this year. And it looked especially scary as I checked my daily planner.

  First of all, I had to get up at 6:00 AM and dress up as Wonder Woman. Luke had talked me into going to school together as Superman and Wonder Woman. I told him that I would dress up as a couple only to win the costume contest (first prize was a gift card to Starlight), but that we were not in any way, shape or form an official couple. Then, I had to have the final copy of our newspaper story (including pictures) ready for today’s deadline. And finally, we had our first school dance scheduled for the afternoon. It was a lot to think about, worry about, and get ready for.

  The one thing that I didn’t plan on, was getting as sick. Sick as a dog.

  I actually felt fine when I left for school. And I felt fine when I met Luke out front, so we could go in together as man (Super) and woman (Wonder). And I even felt fine when English class started. Luke and I handed our newspaper story (including pictures) to Mr. Spinoza as we walked into the room. When we sat down in the back, I noticed there was a red paper plate on each of our desks.

  I looked around and saw that there was a plate on every desk—including Mr. Spinoza’s. And on each plate, there was what looked like a burrito. Further inspection proved it to be a breakfast burrito. A Cajun breakfast burrito to be exact, Mr. Spinoza explained. They were our special treat for the day—made by our two “regional” reporters, who had done their newspaper story on Southern cooking. Wow, that’s great! I thought. I had skipped breakfast trying extra hard to look like Wonder Woman (believe me, it wasn’t easy–especially for someone as not wonderful as me). I had eaten almost all of my burrito when the first coherent thought of the morning popped into my head. It said, “Wait a minute, wasn’t Janet J one of those two “regional” reporters?” The second thought, which followed very quickly after the first thought was, “And wait another minute, didn’t Janet J say she’d get me back if it was the last thing she ever did?”

  I slowly put my mostly-eaten Cajun breakfast burrito down and glanced over in Janet J’s direction. She was looking right at me. She smiled a “told you so” smile and mouthed the words, “Bon appetite!”

  My stomach gurgled.

  Then my stomach cramped—bad.

  I had been had.

  Luke asked me if I was OK when I suddenly got up and started to run out of the room. I didn’t have time to answer. I didn’t have time to write my name on the bathroom sign out sheet on Mr. Spinoza’s desk either—or take the wooden bathroom pass. And I certainly didn’t have time to see the look of immense satisfaction on Janet J’s face.

  I may have had Wonder Woman’s speed as I ran out the door and literally flew down the hall, but unfortunately, I didn’t have her stomach of steel.

  I missed the rest of first period, but Mr. Spinoza seemed to understand when I returned to class to get my backpack. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, Norma. Do you want to go to the office and call home?”

  I slowly shook my head. “No, I think I’ll be OK. Thanks.” I didn’t really feel much better, but I was determined to go to the dance. And I was doubly determined to win the costume contest. I wanted the gift card to Starlight—bad. Starlight was a very cool restaurant at the Mega Mall. It was designed to look like you were at an old drive-in theater, where you
ate in your car and watched a movie on an outdoor screen. I had never been there, and since it was very expensive, I knew the only way for me to get there, was to win the gift card. There was no way that I was going to go home.

  Luke caught up with me in the hall and asked if I was OK. I nodded and went to Science. He—and everyone else in class (including Mr. Spinoza)—seemed to be fine, so I assumed that I had been the only target.

  As I sat in Science and learned about the human digestive system, I wondered what in the world Janet J had put in my Cajun breakfast burrito that made me so sick.

  I found out at lunchtime.

  Herman Smellnick told me that he had heard that someone else had heard that a friend of theirs had heard that Janet J put something called ex-lax (maximum strength no less) in my burrito. He said that the effects were almost immediate (which would explain my very immediate trip to the bathroom), but that they would wear off soon and that I should be fine for the rest of the day. I was happy to hear that, since the dance and costume contest would be right after lunch.

  Before the dance started, we had a 7th and 8th grade meeting in the gym. Since this was the first dance, Mr. Looney wanted to make sure we understood a few of the rules. “First”, he said in his ever principal-like sounding voice, “participate and have fun! Don’t stand on the sidelines and be a wallflower!” Well, I wasn’t about to be a wallflower—after all, I was freakin Wonder Woman today! “Secondly”, he added, “be considerate and respectful. If someone is brave enough to ask you to dance, just say yes. It’s not a lifetime commitment.”

  I heard one of the football players snicker and say under his breath, “Dancing with some people might seem like a lifetime.”

  Then the lights went down and the DJ put on the song, “Tonight’s Gonna be a Good Night”. Soon, there was a sea of 7th and 8th graders jumping up and down. I went to the snack table and got a cup of punch. I was wondering what I should do about Janet J making me sick and then I remembered pouring the bright pink punch all over her beautiful, new, white dress at the “positive” party. I was fully expecting to get in trouble at school or at least get a bill to pay for dry cleaning or a new dress. But nothing happened. That is, until today. Maybe I would do the same thing to her—just lay low for awhile and let her sweat out when I was going to strike next. Then a really strange thought crossed my mind--I could just let it go, be the bigger person and call it even. That thought didn’t last long. I may have been freakin Wonder Woman, but I wasn’t that big of a person.

  All of a sudden, Luke was at my side. He asked me to dance. It was a slow song. I reminded him that I only agreed to go as Superman and Wonder Woman if we were in no way, shape or form considered a couple. Then he used his loophole on me. He quoted Mr. Looney, “Come on Norma. It’s only one dance. It’s not a lifetime commitment.”

  He had me there. “OK,” I said reluctantly.

  We walked out to the dance floor and there was that awkward few seconds of how to start. Luke finally put his hands on my waist and I put my arms around his neck. The only other time that I had actually slow danced was when Taylor asked me—just to get me away from Luke, so Janet J could dance with him. And kiss him.

  Luke saw the look on my face. “Come on Norma,” he said again. “You can’t still be mad at me. That was a long time ago. And it wasn’t really my fault.”

  I thought about it and realized something. I wasn’t really mad at him (although I was still mad at Miss Kiss My Boyfriend and Make Me Sick). “I’m not mad, Luke. But I don’t want to get hurt again. I felt awful after that night. For a long time.”

  “I’m really sorry,” he said, with that hopeful look on his face.

  I smiled.

  Then he smiled.

  Then I gave him a hug as the song ended.

  I thought, again, that all was well with the world.

  It was--for awhile.

  When they held the costume contest, Luke and I, AKA Superman and Wonder Woman, got the loudest cheers. I wasn’t sure if it was because we really had the best costumes—or if it was the fact that the Hoolik Brothers and Matt Mattingly were going crazy. They absolutely idolized Luke.

  Well, whatever the reason, I was happy when Mrs. Floogle, one of the dance chaperones, declared us the winners and gave us the gift card to Starlight. Then I realized a problem.

  There was only one gift card—and two of us.

  “I guess we’ll have to go together,” said Superman.

  I might have been OK with that. Until the last dance of the afternoon. Before I could ask Luke to dance, Herman Smellnick asked me to dance. I hesitated, saw the look on his face (it must have taken a ton of courage for him to walk across the gym and ask Wonder Woman to dance), and then I said, “Sure.”

  As I was dancing with Herman, who by the way knows a lot about molecular biology and was telling me everything he knew, I saw something astounding.

  Truly astounding.

  Incredibly astounding.

  Astonishingly astounding.

  After everything that had happened—before, at the “positive” party, and earlier today, when I thought I was going to die in the girl’s bathroom, and just recently, when I thought Luke and I might actually be a “couple” again, I saw it.

  It.

  It, was Luke.

  It, was Luke dancing with, OMG I cannot believe my eyes, of all the people in the entire world, Janet J.

  I looked again carefully, to be sure.

  Yep.

  I looked again for a third time, in case I was hallucinating.

  Nope. I was not hallucinating. It was really the two of them dancing together.

  It was the biggest, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” of all my life.

  I told Herman I wasn’t feeling good and said thank you for the dance and the information on atom structure. Then I started to walk out of the gym. The dance would be over in just a few minutes anyway. I got to the door and stopped. No, I thought. This is what Norma L would do. And then I asked myself the most important question of the day.

  WWWWD?

  Translation: What Would Wonder Woman Do?

  I wasn’t just dressed up as Wonder Woman today.

  I was freakin Wonder Woman.

  So Wonder Woman (me) walked slowly over to where Luke and Janet J were dancing. Luke saw me coming and had a look of “Oh, crap!” on his face. Janet didn’t see me. I walked right up to her, right in the middle of “What a Wonderful World”, and tapped her right on the shoulder.

  She turned around and before she could say or do anything…

  Wonder Woman punched her right in the jaw.

  And within about five minutes, Wonder Woman was in the Looney Bin.

 

  33

  Dramarama

  Explaining why you just punched someone is not an easy thing to do. Especially when there is a long history involved—well, a long month or so of long history.

  I wasn’t quite sure why Mr. Looney was looking at me the way he was. Was it because of the way I looked? Or was it because of what I had done? He didn’t really look mad. But he didn’t look happy either. It was more like shock. Complete shock. And that was a good way to describe how my mom reacted when she received a call from Mr. Looney, Principal of Haywood Middle School, because her daughter, AKA Wonder Woman, had just punched another girl at the Halloween dance. Here’s what the conversation sounded like from my end:

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. L. This is Leonard Looney, Principal over at Haywood. How are you today?”

  My mom was so loud that I could clearly hear her voice from the other side of Mr. Looney’s desk. “Is something wrong? Is Norma OK?”

  “Norma is fine, Mrs. L. Unfortunately, we do have a problem.”

  When Mr. Looney explained to her that Wonder Woman, AKA Norma L, AKA me, was in his office because I had punched Janet Janikowski at the dance, her response was too garbled for me to understand.
It sounded like the adults in Charlie Brown when they talked, “Wah wah wah? Wah wah wah wah wah… wah wah wah.”

  Mr. Looney hung up the phone. “She’ll be right over, Norma. Why don’t you take a seat outside my office until she gets here.”

  I nodded and left. As I sat down on the small, purple and silver loveseat, I thought, this is new territory for me. I’ve never been in trouble at school before. Ever. I could just imagine what my mom was thinking or what she would say when she got here.

  Just then, Mr. Looney’s voice came over the speaker phone at Mrs. Wilma’s nearby desk. “Mrs. Wilma, could you please send Miss Janikowski and her mother in?”

  “Huh?” Mrs. Wilma practically yelled back.

  Mr. Looney repeated his request—a little louder this time. “Miss Janikowski and her mother—could you please send them in?”

  Mrs. Wilma finally responded, “Will do,” and I had to endure the stares of both Janet and her mom as they both walked by and gave me the evil eye. I noticed that Janet had tears in her eyes (I wondered if they were real or recently manufactured) and a small red spot on her left cheek where I had nailed her. I sort of felt bad about what I had done until I remembered the wonderful (NOT) 30 minutes I had spent this morning in the bathroom, courtesy of Miss Janikowski.

  Five minutes later, when my frazzled-looking mom walked into the office, I was strong. No tears. She sat down by me and said, “Hi honey.” The “honey” part didn’t sound quite as sweet as she usually said it—and she was giving me a “Are you serious--you punched another girl at the dance--are you completely crazy?” look.

  When Janet J and her mom came out of the office and gave us the icy walkby, I was still strong. No tears. When I followed my mom into Mr. Looney’s office and we both sat down opposite his desk, I remained strong as ever. Mr. Looney looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Norma, could you please tell your mom, in your own words, why you’re here, and what happened this afternoon?”

  I had a fleeting thought to blame the whole thing on Wonder Woman. “It was the costume!” I said in my daydream. “The costume made me do it.” But I didn’t say that.

  I just burst into tears.

  Not manufactured ones, either.

  The real thing.

  So much for being strong, I thought between my sobs.

  For the first few minutes, I couldn’t get anything coherent out of my mouth. Now I was talking like the adults in Charlie Brown.

  Mr. Looney calmly said, “Calm down, Norma. It’s OK. We just want to know what happened.”

  My second attempt at telling the whole story sounded sort of like this: “Positive… party… kiss… punch… the grapefruit cranberry kind… not the fist kind… breakfast… Mr. Spinoza’s class… Cajun burrito… sick… bathroom… Janet J… ex-lax… dancing… with Luke… punch… the fist kind.” I took a huge breath, let it out and finally stopped crying.

  There was one word that Mr. Looney had latched onto during my recitation of the day’s events. And that word was ex-lax. He asked me to tell him that part again—much more slowly—and then he just said, “I see.” He flipped the switch on his speaker phone. “Mrs. Wilma?”

  “Huh?” she yelled back again.

  Mr. Looney spoke a little louder again. “Mrs. Wilma, could you please send Miss Janikowski and her mother in?”

  There was a slight delay and then the response, “Will do!” Hard of hearing and all, you had to love Mrs. Wilma. And I guess you had to love Mr. Looney for keeping her around.

  When Janet J and her mom came in, Mr. Looney introduced the moms to each other and then said, “Everyone take a seat. It’s time to hash this thing out.”

  And hash we did.

  Janet J sat there with her, “Oh, you are in so much trouble!” look until Mr. Looney asked the first question of the Norma L vs. Janet J inquisition. “Janet, can you tell me what you know about ex-lax being put in a breakfast burrito?”

  Mr. Looney’s question was like a dagger in her heart. Her “Oh, you are in so much trouble!” look changed instantly to “Oh (you-know-what), I guess were both in so much trouble!

  She admitted it and I had to give her some credit for that. Then I admitted that I had ruined her new, white dress at the “positive party” by pouring punch on her. Then she admitted her plan to get Taylor to ask me to dance to get Luke away from her. Mr. Looney was beginning to look like he was regretting the whole “let’s hash this out” idea.

  And the moms were going from one extreme to the other. At first, my mom was mad at me for punching Janet J, then, she was mad at Janet J for giving me the spiked burrito, then she was mad at me again for pouring punch on Janet J’s new, white dress. Janet J’s mom seemed to feel the same way, in reverse.

  Finally, Mr. Looney gave us the lecture on how getting revenge was such a bad idea and that things always seemed to escalate—and that it was a much better idea to talk things out.

  Wow, I thought, only a lecture for punching someone. Not bad. I could tell that Janet J was thinking the same thing.

  Then he suspended us both for three days.

  34

  Doing Time

  The next three days were the longest days of my life. I figured it was just like being in jail. When I complained about being suspended and having to stay home, my mom gave me the old cliché, “You do the crime, you do the time.” Now I understood what “doing time” meant. Mom got me up early and I had to do my homework first (she picked it up for me at school each day). I didn’t have my phone (Mom told me that prisoners didn’t get cell phones), and my TV privileges were also taken away. I quickly mentioned that I was pretty sure that people in jail were allowed to watch TV, but she just gave me that ‘Don’t mess with me young lady when you’re the one who got suspended!” look, so I let it go.

  I even marked off the days on my prison cell (bedroom) wall with a tally mark like a real convict.

  Each morning, after I finished my homework, at around 9:30AM, I had the rest of the day to do nothing—except think. And write (in my diary). And think I did. And write I did.

 

  Dear Diary (yes, I actually wrote the words, Dear Diary):

  Day One.

  Morale is low. No TV. No cell phone. No texts. No calls. Shut off from the outside world. It’s only been one day. It seems like a year. Do I regret my actions? Do I feel remorse for my crime? Hmmm… that’s a good question. Do I feel bad about punching Janet J? Sort of. Sort of not. I still kind of blame it on Wonder Woman. I’m not sure if I would have hit her if I hadn’t been wearing that costume. Hmmm… maybe if I had asked myself WWNL do, instead of WWWWD, I wouldn’t have gotten myself in to this predicament. And maybe also, it would be a good idea for me to always think for myself from now on. One last hmmm… I wonder what the warden is making for dinner?

  Dear Diary:

  Day Two.

  Morale is at an all-time low. The warden made tuna noddle casserole for dinner last night—and there’s a good chance that there will be leftovers for tonight’s dinner. Things are looking bleak. Question (reflection/therapy) for the day: Am I still mad at Luke? Answer: Yep. Dang right I am. Really mad. I still can’t believe that after everything that had happened, he somehow ended up dancing with Janet J. Again.

 

  Then I remembered Mr. Looney’s rule about not saying no to someone if they asked you to dance. So maybe it wasn’t really his fault--again. Dang, now I was confused--again. At least she didn’t kiss him--again. Then I thought (for a very brief moment) that it was Herman Smellnick’s fault. After all, if he hadn’t asked me to dance then Luke wouldn’t have been available for Janet J to pounce on him again. No, I couldn’t be mad at Herman Smellnick. He may not have been my type, but he was a sweet kid.

  Dear Diary:

  Day Three.

  Morale is better. Things are looking up. The warden ordered pizza last night, and we watched a g
irly movie together—you know, the kind where it’s super sad at first and you cry like crazy—and then it’s super happy at the end and you cry like crazy even more. One more day at home and then I get to go back to school. I never really thought I liked school that much until I wasn’t allowed to go. I’ve actually missed it a lot. And despite all of the trauma and drama involved, I also miss Luke. A lot.

  Then, as I was thinking about Luke, I thought, Wait just a flippin minute! Why did Luke get away scott free with punching McGurk--and I got suspended for three days for clobbering Janet J? That didn’t seem fair. But I knew the answer to that question. Everybody—including Mr. Looney—knew that McGurk had it coming to him after terrorizing literally hundreds of victims over the years. If they could have, the school would have had an appreciation assembly in the gym for Luke.

  My final thought, late that night, as I made my third, and hopefully, last tally mark on my cell (bedroom) wall, was simple. I shouldn’t have hit Janet J. Period. There had to be another way to solve my problems. And I needed to be smart enough to figure that out.

  35

  Real Drama

  When I returned to school the next morning, the first thing I noticed was a poster in the school’s entrance. It said:

  Are you dramatic?

  Try out for this year’s fall play,

  The Diary of Anne Frank

  Informational meeting:

  Friday, November 7 at 3:00 in Mr. Spinoza’s room.

  Well, I thought, I certainly have had a lot of drama in my life lately! And I had always wanted to try acting, so I decided to at least go to the meeting and check it out.

  36

  Heroes and Zeroes?

  Mr. Spinoza’s room was packed at 3:00 on Friday. As I made my way through the small crowd of thespians (otherwise known as drama nerds), I nervously glanced around to check out the competition. There were the usual people I would have expected to be there: Herman Smellnick, Claudia Hanrahan, Mike Mulligan, Henry Hathaway, the entire chess club, and unfortunately, Norma B. She didn’t have to be good—she just had to look good to get onstage. And look good she did. The rest of us would have to rely on actual talent or ability (or something remotely resembling one of those things).

  Then I saw her.

  Yep—her.

  My old buddy and pal.

  Janet J.

  She was sitting next to Mabel Mulligan (Mike Mulligan’s twin sister). Mabel was built like a middle linebacker—she was big, and tall, and wide, and strong—and she had a better mustache coming in than any of the seventh grade boys (including her brother, Mike). Mabel might have been a little on the scary-looking side, but she was a lot on the sweet-sounding side. She sang at all of our school assemblies and she had the most beautiful singing voice I had ever heard. I smiled and said hi to Mabel as I walked by. She smiled back and said hi in that incredibly angelic, heavenly voice that positively did not match her linebacker body. Janet J just stared straight ahead and acted like I was invisible.

  Luke saw me and waved for me to join him in the back, but I quickly detoured to the left and sat in the nearest empty seat.

  “Hey dude!”

  I cringed and then slowly turned my head. It was Herman Smellnick. He was smiling and holding up his hand for a high five.

  I smiled back weakly. “Isn’t a dude a guy?” I wasn’t trying to be a smart aleck, I just always thought it was odd when someone called a girl a dude. And I thought it was especially odd when girls called each other dudes.

  He looked confused for a second. “Oh… yeah… right.” He finally said, nodding. “Sorry. Hey… Dude-ette.”

  I gave in and high fived him back.