Cruel Winter

by Anthony Izzo

  Paul wrinkled his nose and said, “Let’s stop talking about it for now.”

  Paul stopped at his locker while Jack went to his own. Paul dialed the combination, opened the door, and hung his jacket inside. A poster of a red dragon, its scales shimmering, hung on the locker door.

  “Hey, it’s the Dungeons and Dragons dork,” Vinnie said from behind him. Paul turned to see him and Harry Cross standing behind him. Harry grinned.

  “What do you want?”

  “Just wondering how your pussy friends are. Is Harding out of the hospital yet?”

  “Actually, he’s at his locker,” Paul said.

  Vinnie glanced over to Jack’s locker. He flinched a little in surprise. Jack Harding was alive and well, thank you.

  “He’s got to be hurting,” Vinnie said.

  “Looks okay to me,” Harry said.

  “Shut up,” Vinnie said, giving him a look that could stop the devil in his tracks.

  “After school,” Vinnie said. He walked away, leaving Paul wondering what he had done to incur the wrath of Vinnie. It appeared their bully immunity was wearing off.

  Vinnie stomped over to Jack’s locker, and Paul followed him.

  “What are you doing here?” Vinnie said.

  “Going to school,” Jack said.

  “How’s your ribs?” Vinnie jabbed him in the side, just below the armpit.

  “Ow. Okay. Didn’t you do enough already?” Jack said.

  “No way. You’re still here instead of the hospital.” Something caught Vinnie’s attention and he turned to look down the hallway. “Hey, look. Here comes the fat fuck.”

  Jack turned to see Ronnie strolling down the hallway, a powdered donut in his paw, sugar framing his lips.

  “What’s going on?” he asked through a mouthful of donut.

  “Get lost, fat ass,” Harry said.

  Ronnie ignored him.

  “Let’s get to class,” Paul said.

  “Shut up,” Harry said. He turned and shoved Paul. So far none of the teachers had noticed the little altercation, but he hoped one might come by.

  “Leave us alone,” Jack said.

  “You’re lucky you can still walk, Harding.”

  “Maybe we should kick his ass again,” Harry said, punching his open palm and making a flat smacking noise.

  “We don’t want any more trouble,” Jack said.

  “Aw. Isn’t that too bad? You’re going to get it anyway, pussy.”

  At that point, Paul was sure Vinnie had all intentions of leaving them alone, at least for now. If they were lucky, it was only Vinnie blowing off steam. Ronnie Winter managed to change all that.

  The day had started out well enough, John warming up the limo and getting it nice and toasty for him. He had French toast for breakfast (with a little vanilla in the batter—his favorite), and he managed to sneak a powdered donut from the pantry. Now, as he stood in the hallway, he was determined not to let the moron brothers ruin his fine morning.

  Vinnie and Harry stood with arms crossed. Trying too hard to look hard.

  “We aren’t pussies, hook nose,” Ronnie said.

  Jack turned around quick enough to cause whiplash. “Are you nuts?” he whispered.

  “What did you call me?” Vinnie said.

  “I think he called you hook nose,” Harry said.

  Vinnie glared at Harry. “No shit. Maybe we didn’t get our message across the other day. You’re lucky that big spook was around to save you.”

  “Don’t talk about John like that,” Ronnie said, taking a bite of his donut.

  “How about nigger then?”

  “Stop it,” Ronnie said. He felt the heat start to creep up his neck and into his face.

  “Yeah, we weren’t bothering you,” Paul said.

  Harry took a step toward Paul, who skittered backward, then crept forward once Harry turned around.

  “He’s right,” Jack said, sweeping a lock of hair off his forehead.

  “Listen, Harding.”

  Vinnie grabbed for Jack’s shirt, but before he could grab hold, Ronnie fired his donut at Vinnie, nailing him square in the forehead. Jack and Paul burst out laughing, Paul’s high-pitched laugh carrying over the others’. The donut whacked Vinnie, seemed to hang in midair for a second, and rolled down his shirt, leaving a trail of powdered sugar. He gritted his teeth and let out a steady growl. “You’re dead.” He pointed at Ronnie, his hand shaking. Before it went any further, Mr. Caldon, the fifth grade teacher, strode in.

  “What’s going on?”

  They all stayed quiet like prisoners trying not to rat.

  “Nothing,” Jack said.

  “Yeah, nothing,” Vinnie said.

  “That powdered sugar on your melon doesn’t look like nothing, Palermo.” Mr. Caldon had been a British Commando during World War II, and was the only teacher not afraid of Vinnie.

  “It’s fine,” Vinnie said.

  He turned to Ronnie. “And what about you?”

  “Everything’s okeydoke,” Ronnie said.

  “Break it up before there’s more hullaballoo. Go, get to class.” Caldon shooed them away.

  “Dead,” Vinnie said.

  “Move it, Palermo,” Mr. Caldon said, nudging Vinnie along.

  “Don’t touch me,” Vinnie said.

  Vinnie and his jerky friend left. Paul approached Ronnie, and Ronnie stared at the remains of his donut. He wanted it back, and if no one was around, he would have picked it up. Shame to waste a quality Hostess product.

  “That took some guts. Or lack of brains,” Jack said.

  “What do you mean?” Ronnie asked.

  “Winging a powdered donut at Vinnie,” Jack said.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” Ronnie said.

  “Actually, it was pretty original. Assault with a deadly baked good.”

  They actually thought something he did was cool. That had never happened to him before. Usually the other guys in his class called him names and slapped him on the belly in the locker room. But these guys liked him.

  “You guys aren’t mad?”

  “Someone needed to stand up to that prick,” Jack said.

  “You realize we’ll need eyes in the back of our head now,” Paul said.

  “He’ll come after us no matter what. He didn’t hurt me bad enough so he’s going to try again,” Jack said. “You’re all right, even though you pulled that tunnel stunt on us.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  He almost forgot he had news for them. “I’m going to ask Jessica to the dance,” Ronnie said.

  “You’re nuts,” Jack said.

  “I told Paul I would. Remember, Paul?”

  Paul nodded.

  “I’ll ask her at lunch,” Ronnie said.

  Most guys his age would melt at the prospect of asking the prettiest girl in class to the dance, but with Ronnie it was full steam ahead. Bullies and pretty girls be damned.

  “You won’t do it,” Jack said.

  “Wanna bet?”

  “I’ll bet you five bucks,” Jack said.

  “Deal. Shake.”

  They shook on it.

  “So you guys want to come to my house for a sleepover?” Ronnie asked.

  “Sure,” Jack said.

  “Anything to get me away from the General,” Paul said.

  “Paul, you’re staying with us,” Jack said.

  “I have to go home sometime.”

  “What are you guys talking about?”

  Jack explained how Paul’s dad came home and found them coming up from the basement. And how Paul came to stay at the Harding house.

  “Paul can stay as long as he wants. His dad’s nuts,” Jack said. “No offense.”

  “It’s okay,” Paul said, although Ronnie saw the look on his face. Jack’s words had cut him.

  “We need to get to homeroom,” Jack said.

  Ronnie followed Jack to homeroom thinking the five bucks was as good as his.

  Jack headed to homeroom thinki
ng he was starting to like the new kid. He grew on you, like a fungus. He laughed at the comparison.

  Emma brushed past him. “What’s so funny?”

  Her hair gleamed, tied in a ponytail. She wore a Celtics sweatshirt and jeans, her usual. She looked different to him, glowed more than usual.

  “Just thinking about this new kid. Ronnie. You’ll meet him soon.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Kind of out there, but he does some cool stuff, too.”

  She leaned in close to him and he smelled coconut shampoo. His heart sped up. What a fantastic smell.

  “You didn’t tell anyone what we talked about, right?”

  “No. Swear on it.” He crossed his heart.

  “I knew I could count on you. Are you excited about the dance?”

  Like you wouldn’t believe, he thought. She sounded nervous, as if he were going to change his mind and reject her. What Jack didn’t know (and would find out later in life) was the girls got just as nervous as the boys. At twelve, though, girls could be damn terrifying.

  “Yeah, I am.”

  She smiled, a real hundred-watt job. “We’d better get to our seats.”

  Vinnie strutted past and threw a wicked look at Jack. “Who’s your girlfriend, jackass?”

  “Stuff it,” Emma said.

  “After school,” Vinnie said.

  Emma looked at Jack, a slightly disappointed look on her face. “Now what did you do?”

  “Ronnie beaned him with a powdered donut,” Jack said.

  “Next time kick him in the nuts. That’s what I would do,” Emma said.

  She strolled to her desk, ponytail bouncing, and Jack thought he might be in love.

  Noon came, and the sixth, seventh, and eighth graders grabbed brown bags from their lockers and stampeded to the cafeteria. Paul grabbed his Dungeons and Dragons lunch box, prompting Larry Leeb to shout, “Nice lunch box, babyass!” Paul had no idea what a babyass was, nor did he care. The warrior painted on his lunch box led a life of adventure and danger. The Larry Leebs of the world picked their noses and sniffed their own farts.

  He took a seat at the table. Jack, Emma, and Chris joined him. Chris had come in late, oversleeping and arriving halfway through first period. Ronnie was the last to the table, pulling out a chair and making it screech across the tile floor. They dug into lunches, eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, bologna on rye, Ho-Hos, Hi-C juice boxes, and Cheetos. Jack’s mom had made Paul a peanut butter sandwich, the first real-food lunch he’d had in a long time. It beat the shit out of potato chips and pop.

  “You guys hear someone else got killed last night?” Paul asked.

  “My mom did. She wants me home before dark,” Emma said.

  “I’m surprised I can even leave the house,” Jack said.

  “Your mom lets me in while you’re gone. She’ll let you go out. We need our privacy,” Chris said.

  “That’s rotten,” Emma said.

  Jack shot Chris the finger.

  Paul wasn’t going to mention the attack in Jack’s garage to Chris. He would snort and dismiss them as idiots. The only way Chris would believe was if he saw it for himself.

  The five of them discussed the weather, the ever-growing snow mounds, king of the mountain, and school closing for break. Chris suggested starting a snowball fight with the eighth graders, and they all agreed the punks had it coming.

  “My mom says I can have a sleepover. You can all come. Even you, Emma,” Ronnie said.

  “My mom would pee on herself. She doesn’t like me hanging around with you guys.”

  “We’re men, not boys, sweetheart,” Chris said. He ripped a bite off his bologna sandwich.

  Emma cocked an eyebrow. “Hardly,” she said.

  “Make something up. Tell your mom you’re going to one of the girls’ houses,” Paul said.

  “I’ll think about it. When is it?” Emma said.

  “Saturday,” Ronnie said.

  Vinnie, Joe, and Harry cruised past the table like sharks eyeing swimmers. Paul shifted in his seat and kept his gaze on the table, hoping to avoid them. Vinnie kicked the leg on Jack’s chair as he passed.

  “What’s with them?” Chris said.

  “We had a little fight this morning,” Paul said.

  “Ronnie hit the schnoz with a donut,” Jack said.

  Chris paused in midbite and stared at Ronnie. “Good one. How stupid did he look?”

  “Like a number-one asshole,” Jack said.

  “Sleepover on Saturday then,” Ronnie said.

  Then all nodded in agreement, even Emma.

  “Time for me to get a date for the dance,” Ronnie said.

  “What are you talking about?” Chris asked.

  You didn’t dare Ronnie Winter. Paul probably thought he would never ask out the best-looking girl in the seventh grade. Going to prove him wrong, Ronnie thought. As he pushed his chair out, the other kids watched him, Chris with sandwich in hand and mouth open.

  Jessica was three tables away, sitting with three other girls he didn’t recognize. They were almost as pretty as she, but Jessica glowed. Her blond hair was up in pink barrettes and it swished over her shoulder when she moved. She had on a green sweater with a gold butterfly pin above her chest. She looked good. And ready for the Winter man.

  “He’s really doing it,” Paul said.

  “He’ll wuss out,” Chris said.

  “I think he’s going to do it,” Jack said.

  Jack didn’t think he would go pussy. Ronnie had a strut about him, like a gunslinger going to stare down the guy in the black hat. It was the same wild-eyed Ronnie who had threatened to smash the flashlight underneath the estate. That Ronnie was a bulldozer ready to roll.

  He smoothed a hand through his hair, and a sprig of hairs stood at attention. He smacked into a chair on his way over to Jessica’s table and muttered, “Ouch.”

  “He’s going down like the Hindenburg,” Paul said.

  “What the hell is that, Fussel?”

  “A blimp that crashed back in the thirties,” Paul said.

  “A blimp,” Chris said. “Good comparison.”

  “This ought to be good,” Jack said.

  “As long as he doesn’t fall on her,” Chris said.

  They watched the would-be Romeo close in on the target.

  She ate her sandwich by picking away chunks of bread and placing them in her mouth. Jessica was almost Heather Locklear pretty, on the verge of hot. If he was going to ask someone, why not go for the best-looking babe in the class? The other guys’ doubt was all the more reason to go for it.

  He approached her. Jessica’s head was turned, talking to the girl next to her. Ronnie reached out, took her free hand, and held it in his. He got down on one knee and smacked a kiss on the top of her hand. She turned around.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Kids at the neighboring tables turned around. Lydia Garden dropped her carton of milk, and it pooled on the floor.

  “My lady,” he said.

  Her nails were painted pink and she wore a gold ring on her index finger. “Do you have a problem?”

  “My only problem is I’m crazy for you. Would you come with your fair prince to the Christmas dance?”

  He wiggled his eyebrows and that got her to smile. Ronnie glanced over at his friends. They were as still as Michelangelo’s David.

  “You can let go of my hand,” she said.

  “Yes, my lady,” he said, bowing his head. He let go of Jessica’s hand and she drew back.

  “You’re the new kid, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Ronnie Winter.”

  “Hi, Ronnie.” She smiled at him.

  “Hi.”

  “Are those your friends over there?”

  “Yeah. They didn’t think I would ask you out,” he said.

  “You’re the only one who asked me out. I think the other boys are afraid of me.” />
  “Will you go with me?”

  “I’d love to.”

  Never in a billion years did he really think she would say yes. He was fat (not husky like Mom claimed) and no Tom Cruise to boot. But like Chris had said, he had stones, and sometimes that got you places when nothing else worked.

  “All right!” He pumped his fist in the air.

  Her face turned a spectacular shade of pink. “You can stand up now. Everyone’s staring.”

  Once he got to his feet, she took out a pen and wrote her phone number on his hand.

  Life was sweet. Hands in pockets, he turned to leave. He didn’t see Vinnie and Harry coming up behind him.

  CHAPTER 29

  “The son of a gun did it,” Paul said.

  “What do you think of that, bub?” Jack said.

  “Nothing.” Paul scowled at Jack’s use of his pet word. “Shut up. I never thought he’d do it.”

  Ronnie came back, chest out, head up, the shirt clinging to his meaty chest. Jack looked past Ronnie to see Vinnie crouched over Jessica like a vulture, talking to her. He had one arm around the back of her chair, and she wore a look of disgust on her face. Old hook nose didn’t smell like a carnation, as anyone he put in a headlock could have told you.

  “You owe me five bucks, Jack,” Ronnie said.

  “What did she say?” Chris asked.

  “We’re going. I have to call her.”

  “Bullshit,” Chris said.

  Jack wondered about Jessica’s answer too, although he didn’t want to say so.

  “Ask her. I’ve got her number here.” He held up his hand and displayed a phone number written in green ink.

  “Emma, you ask her,” Paul said.

  Chris said, “What’s the matter, Paulie, too afraid to tawk to a giwl?”

  “Screw off,” Paul said.

  “I think she really said yes,” Emma said.

  Whether Emma believed Ronnie or just didn’t want to hurt him, Jack didn’t know.

  “I’ll go ask her,” Chris said, getting up from the table, unfazed by Vinnie’s presence. Vinnie saw Chris coming and stepped back. Chris said something to Jessica and came back shaking his head. The kid who wouldn’t shake Ronnie’s hand upon first meeting extended his hand, palm out. “Nice going.”