Crusader

by Edward Bloor

  "Probably. He thinks I'm working on the books. He doesn't know what I'm really doing. It'd be better if you left."

  "You sure?"

  "I'm sure. Thanks again."

  Sam waved and headed off toward his BMW. I hoped no one had vandalized it tonight. Apparently no one had, since he pulled away immediately. Then I was free—free to stop pretending about my dad, free to walk home in the dark alone.

  TUESDAY. THE 26TH

  I was standing with Mr. Herman outside the office this morning, with the Pledge and Banner video in my hand, when I heard Hawg's voice out in the hallway. He sounded very agitated, like he might be near tears. I could hear someone answering him briefly and quietly.

  I watched the doorway for a few seconds until they appeared—Hawg and Archie. Hawg was appealing to Archie to help him get back on the football team. Archie was clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. He was trying to inch away.

  Then Hawg caught sight of Mr. Herman. I'm not sure if he saw me or not. He quickly looked back at Archie and told him in dead earnest, "I can't be off that team. You understand? That can't happen."

  Archie assured him, "I'll see what I can do."

  Hawg took off, muttering under his breath. Archie waited until we had played the Pledge and Banner tape. Then he knocked on his father's door and went inside—I guess to see what he could do.

  Mr. Herman's fifth-period lecture today was on the power of journalists. "Edward R. Murrow and his colleagues invented the live broadcast. News that is broadcast live is a dangerous thing, Roberta. Why?"

  I thought about it and answered, "Because no one has a chance to change it before you see it. It's what's really happening."

  "Precisely so. Because it can show you reality."

  Betty raised her hand. "So who changes the news before we see it?"

  "Why, the government, of course. Any government. Including, boys and girls, the good old USA."

  We heard a stirring from the back of the room. I turned around. The football guys were actually listening, and they didn't like what they had heard.

  Mr. Herman continued, "The German people thought, until the very end, that they were winning World War Two. That is what they read and heard every day, so naturally they believed it. The German government controlled the press.

  "Are we any different? Yes and no. The American government did not control the press in Vietnam. Because of free journalists, the American people saw the horror of the war in Vietnam, and they insisted on putting an end to it. But the government learned from that mistake. No journalists were allowed near the fighting in Operation Desert Storm. Was that a good thing?"

  Hawg, of all people, answered. "I'd say so. What good are the damn reporters, anyway, if they ain't even on our side?"

  Mr. Herman addressed him, probably for the first time all year. "But they aren't supposed to be on 'our side.' They are supposed to be on the side of truth."

  "They're on their own damn side. That's all. They're just out for themselves."

  Mr. Herman looked at me for a comment, but Hawg wasn't finished.

  "The way I see it, if America's in a war, I'm either fighting to win it, or I got no business being there."

  Mr. Herman responded tersely, "Unless your business is to report the news as a member of a free press."

  "Well, the way I see that one, all we have to do is lose one of them wars and there ain't gonna be no more free press."

  Mr. Herman shook his head at that, but no one else did. Hawg's remarks turned the discussion around. Even I had to agree with him. Some of the football players and some of the other students started to speak up, and everyone who spoke supported Hawg.

  Mr. Herman didn't like that one bit.

  When I got to the TV studio, I walked into a frenzy of activity. Outside, Bill and Mr. McKay were wheeling equipment to the RV, Inside, Mrs. Knight was on the phone, speaking very tensely to someone named Veronica.

  I stood in front of her and waited. She hung up, rolled her eyes, and told me, "Roberta, we need somebody to assist Bill on a remote."

  Bill and Mr. McKay raced back into the lobby. Bill called over to me, "You! Look in the back of the RV. Make sure we have the hundred-foot spool of cable!" I took off for the RV and did what he said. Then I ran back in and Bill shouted another order at me.

  Fifteen minutes later Bill, a cameraman, and I were strapped into our seats and heading north, toward the Gold Coast Mall. Neither of them said a word all the way there.

  Somehow Mrs. Knight arrived ahead of us with Angela. The two of them held the mall doors open as we drove in with the RV. We stopped almost immediately, though, in front of a place named Bangles Boutique.

  A woman, who must have been Veronica, hung up a computer-generated banner that said ANGELA LIVE—MAKEOVER MADNESS. Bill pointed at a headset on a console. He told me, "Put that on and listen for Mr. McKay."

  I did what he said. Bill and the cameraman went outside and set up. About five minutes later I heard the director through the headset: "Bill? Do you read me?"

  "It's not Bill, Mr. McKay. It's Roberta. The intern."

  He actually seemed to know who I was. "Oh yeah. Hi, Roberta. Where's Bill?"

  "He's setting up outside, sir."

  "Good. Don't waste any time calling me 'sir.' Things happen very quickly on these remote broadcasts. Every millisecond matters."

  "Yes, sir. I mean—Yes, Mr. McKay."

  "Just say 'yes.' While we're waiting, check the top video slot on the console. Make sure the emergency tape is in there."

  I looked at the top slot. I pulled out a videocassette from it and read its title aloud to him: 'Angela Live Promo Tape.'"

  "That's the one. Good."

  Mr. McKay didn't say anything else, so I ventured a question. "What's the emergency tape for?"

  "That's in case something goes wrong. We always need a backup tape on a remote broadcast."

  "What kind of things go wrong?"

  "When we're live? Anything and everything. Sometimes we have technical problems, like a broken cable. Sometimes all hell breaks loose, you know, and we don't want the audience to see what's really going on."

  Bill came huffing back up the steps. I removed the headset and handed it to him. He and Mr. McKay worked out director's cues and commercial breaks. I looked out the big window and watched while Mrs. Knight, Angela, and the cameraman prepped the employees of Bangles Boutique and three women volunteers. Each of the volunteers would be given a complete makeover.

  About five minutes before the broadcast, Bill realized that I was just sitting there. He ripped off the headset and pointed outside. "Do you see that soundboard?"

  I stood up to see it. "Yes."

  "Go out there and watch the decibel meter. Signal me with your fingers: one finger for one hundred, two fingers for two hundred, three for three hundred, you get the idea?"

  I said, "Four fingers for four hundred?" to see if he would laugh.

  He didn't. He answered seriously, "Right. You got it. Now go. And don't take your eyes off that meter."

  I did just as Bill said. I stared at the soundboard the entire time and held up my fingers. I never saw any of the show.

  When I got to the mall, I was surprised to see Nina inside Suzie's office. She seemed equally surprised to see me. Nina and Suzie were leaning over the desk, signing a paper. I was going to leave without bothering them, but Nina called to me, "Wait up, Roberta. I'm outta here, too."

  Nina preceded me out the door. Then she turned and said, "Don't tell anybody what you saw in there, okay?"

  "What did I see?"

  "You don't know?"

  "No."

  "If I tell you, do you promise not to tell anybody? Not Kristin, or any of those loser guys at Arcane? And especially not any adults?"

  "I promise."

  "That crazy lady at the Beauty Supply called Suzie. She told her I took stuff without paying for it. She filed a complaint. She's nuts."

  "Why? You didn't take it?"

&nbs
p; "Yes, I took it. But I was gonna pay for it. I looked at my watch and saw I was ten minutes late for work. I'm in that Beauty Supply place all the time. I'm their best customer. I was gonna pay for it on my break." Nina shook her head at the injustice of it. "She ought to pay me to shop in that dump. Instead she does something like this."

  We stopped for a moment in the rotunda, about to part ways. But first Nina took a strand of my hair in her hand. "You still need that makeover, Roberta. You should have seen Angela today. They were doing makeovers at the Gold Coast Mall."

  I broke off and started to walk away. But before I did, I said, "I know. I was there."

  Nina's eyes got wide. "What? You were what?"

  "I work on the show."

  Nina ran after me. "Why didn't you tell me? I'd have gone there. I'd have gotten a makeover. I'd have met Angela!"

  "What's the big deal? I see her all the time."

  "You see Angela del Fuego all the time?"

  "When I'm at the studio, yeah. I usually see her."

  "Can I come to the studio?"

  "Sure. They give student tours."

  "Really? Would they give me a student tour?"

  "No. But you could go with your journalism class, or your communications class, or your honors English class. Just call them up. Actually, you should have your teacher call."

  "I will. I will. I'm telling Sister Ann tomorrow: 'Call Channel Fifty-seven and get us the Angela tour.'"

  I corrected her, "The student tour."

  "Yeah. Whatever."

  We walked into Arcane like that. Kristin looked up, surprised to see us together. I don't know how anyone can still be surprised by anything Nina does. She acts like the incident with her father never happened.

  Nina reached into her pocket and pulled out a newspaper clipping. She stood in front of the counter, unfolded it, and said to Kristin, "I just wanted to show you what you missed. These are pictures from the cotillion."

  "Why would I want to see those?"

  "I just thought, you know, since you couldn't go, you'd like to see what it was like."

  "Why would I want to do that?"

  "Like I said, because I was there, and you weren't."

  "I didn't want to be there."

  "Right. What? You wanted to be here?"

  Kristin clenched her teeth. "Just put it away, Nina."

  Nina refolded the paper. "Okay. Sorry. I understand, with your face and everything."

  "If you think this is about my face, then no, you don't understand." She added, "And neither does your father."

  I thought Nina would go stomping away at that, but she didn't. She walked around, stood next to Kristin, and stared out at the mallway, just like old times.

  I studied the two of them. They used to be so much alike. Tonight they were near opposites. Kristin was wearing a plain A-line denim dress. She had no makeup on. Nina had on a white silk blouse, cut low in front. She had lots of makeup on.

  Barely a minute had passed before Nina said, "You know that chick Cynthia? She's in honors English?"

  Kristin still sounded a little angry. But she, too, was willing to change the subject. She answered, "Yeah. I know who you mean."

  "She's having breast enhancement surgery. She's already got it scheduled, for, like, the week after graduation. That way she'll be ready for college."

  Kristin said quietly, "That is so sad."

  "What? It's not sad if she's doing something about it. She's got, like, nothing there. Me? I'd do it if I had to. Fortunately I don't."

  Kristin shook her head slowly.

  Nina continued, "I need, like, leg enhancement surgery. I need to be about six inches taller."

  Kristin didn't respond.

  "I wonder if they can do that. You know? Like, take the bones from some girl who just died and graft them onto somebody else's legs. Make them taller. Why not, right? They can do everything else."

  Kristin finally said, "I thought Cynthia had more sense than that. And more character."

  "Character? Hey, chill out, girl. She's just trying to be all that she can be."

  "By mutilating her body so she can attract boys?"

  Nina finally gave up. "Maybe we ought to talk about something else."

  At break time, I walked outside and turned toward the rotunda. I noticed Uncle Frank out of the corner of my eye. He was standing behind the Sony monitor, like he was hiding. As soon as he saw me, though, he seemed to get an idea. He said, "Hey, Roberta. Do you know Devin, the manager at Candlewycke?"

  I said, "Yes." I couldn't help but ask, "Why? Do you?"

  Uncle Frank shot me a look filled with resentment, but he continued, "Do you think you could deliver this envelope to him? It's just some paperwork."

  I took the envelope from his outstretched hand. "Paperwork for what?"

  Uncle Frank explained, "To make us some extra money."

  At Candlewycke I waited outside until Devin drifted like a black specter into the back. Then I hurried in and handed the envelope to Betty. "That's from my uncle. It's for Devin. It's some paperwork."

  Betty looked doubtful, but she took the envelope. There was no sign of Devin returning, so I decided to stay for a minute. I said, "Hey, Betty, does Devin wear that same shirt every day?"

  Betty thought about that. "I don't think it's the same shirt. I just think he has a lot of them."

  "Yeah? But long sleeves? In Florida?"

  Betty turned the question back on me. "What do you care? Why can't people wear what they want?"

  "I'm just curious."

  Betty backed off a bit. "I think it's because of his tattoos. He has lots of them, all over his body. If you look down the back of his neck, you can see them."

  We stood over the Nazi dagger case for a minute. Finally Betty asked me, "So ... what are you guys doing tonight?"

  "Hanging out. Why don't you stop by on break? Nina's there. It looks like she's sticking around."

  "Yeah, okay. Maybe I will."

  I took off back to the arcade. Karl greeted me right away with, "Hey, Roberta, AAs tonight."

  "Are you sure, Karl?"

  "Yeah. African Americans. Right?"

  "Right."

  "A busload of them. They're down here for a gospel-singing thing."

  "How do you know?"

  "My dad wrote it on this paper." Karl held up a page from a loose-leaf binder. "He wants us to put an OUT OF ORDER sign on King Kong. He doesn't want anybody to get offended by those natives."

  "Okay. What time are they coming?"

  "I don't know. When they get here."

  Karl sounded like he was getting agitated. I think he just wanted me to be impressed that he knew what AAs were, and to leave it at that. I went into the back to make the sign.

  Hawg and Ironman were sitting on a pile of cardboard boxes. I found a piece of white paper and wrote OUT OF ORDER on it.

  Hawg said, "What's that for?"

  "King Kong. If we need it."

  Hawg nodded like he understood, and I'm sure he did. I told him, "I liked what you said in journalism class today."

  "You did, huh?"

  "Yeah. I thought you put it really well."

  Hawg gave me the strangest look. "Yeah. So did Mr. Homo. That's why he gave me that F."

  I wasn't surprised, but I said, "What do you mean? For what you said in class?"

  "For the whole shootin' match, darlin'. Now tell me somethin'—how's that fair?"

  I knew he didn't really want me to answer that question. But he stood there like he was waiting for some reply, so I decided to tell him the truth. I said, "Well, if you didn't do the classwork for six weeks, what did you expect?"

  Hawg's eyes blazed up with instant and frightening fury. He leaped to his feet. Ironman backed out of the way, but I stayed put.

  Hawg pointed a big, accusing finger at me and cried, "What did I expect? I expected to get a C, that's what. I read that damn boring muckraker book. I ain't gonna sit up front like you butt-kissers do every day and tell hi
m how 'interesting' it was. I ain't gonna do that. But I still don't deserve no damn F. I don't deserve to get kicked off the football team! What did I expect? I expected things to go right! Like they always did! I was never in no damn trouble until I got sent down here. I expected things to be ... like they were."

  Hawg panted, out of breath with the effort that had taken. He calmed down very quickly. He said almost apologetically, "Well, that's my second speech today, isn't it? How'd you like that one?"

  I said, "I'm sorry. I hope you can keep playing football."

  "Forget it. Go put your sign up."

  I hurried out and taped the sign to King Kong. Uncle Frank walked by the platform as I did, and he nodded approval.

  The busload of AAs arrived right after that. Suddenly everybody but Nina was busy. Fortunately for her, Betty dropped by to keep her company. It was comical to me to see the two of them at the counter, standing there like a Before and After rerun.

  I guess Karl found it funny, too. He walked up to them and said to Betty, "What's with all the black? You're scaring the customers away."

  Betty gave it back to him. "Oh? And you're not?"

  Hawg got a big laugh out of that. He called over to me, "Hey, Roberta! Who is that?"

  I don't know why I did it. Maybe I was tired. But I just said it out loud, "Betty the Goth." Then I froze, realizing I had never called her that name to her face.

  Betty came down from the counter. I tried to drift away, but she followed me. She confronted me in front of Vampire's Feast. "My last name is not 'The Goth.' Do you understand? That is stupid. I've heard you say that about me before, and I want you to stop. Do you understand?"

  "Yes."

  "Those words do not describe me. They do not define me." She looked at me with ghostly black anger. "What is my name?"

  I had to admit to her, "I don't know."

  "How can you not know? I'm in two classes with you. You should know my name."

  "Sorry."

  "I know your name. It's Roberta Ritter. I don't call you something else, do I? I don't call you Roberta the Androgyne. Or Roberta the Hermaphrodite. Do I?"

  I had no idea what she was saying. I was just really sorry I had insulted her like that. She got out of my face, walked back to the counter, and announced to everyone, "My name is Elizabeth Lopez."