Deviant, page 14
Danny stood up, knocking over his orange juice. “I wasn’t spying on anybody! What’s the matter with you people?”
“Sit down, Danny, I told him you weren’t outside. No point in mentioning the bears or anything else,” Walt said.
Danny looked incredulously at the pair of them. Were they nuts? What was it that made adults unable to listen?
He seethed for a second and then grabbed his binder and coat.
“I’m off to school,” he said.
When he got outside, he saw Tony in the back of her father’s Mercedes, driving out of the cul-de-sac. She saw him, but she didn’t wave back when he gave her a little half wave from the hip. Maybe she didn’t see the wave or maybe she thought he really was a creepo hanging around outside her bedroom window at five in the morning in freezing temperatures.
“Hell with her,” Danny said.
He went inside again, got Sunflower, and strapped it to his backpack. If Tony wasn’t going to walk with him, he could freewheel to school from the top of the hill.
He skated along Johnson Close, pulling on his ridiculous white gloves as he did so.
There was a blue sky, it was cold, and he was still hatless.
At the junction of Manitou and Alameda he saw Charlie and Hector waiting under one of those electric heaters the county had installed at the bus stops. If you stood directly underneath one, the temperature was a balmy ten degrees above freezing; a few feet to the left and it was close to and often under zero. But CJHCS was only seven blocks away. Were they lazy or just really cold?
“Hi,” Hector called out.
“Hey, we’ve been waiting for you!” Charlie added.
“Oh my God, you’re going to mug me at the bottom of my own street? You guys are lame,” Danny said.
Hector shook his head. “We only want to talk to you.”
“We want to share with you what we’ve got, and you can share with us what you’ve got,” Charlie said civilly.
Danny skidded to a halt. Charlie had a sneering, condescending look on his face and Hector looked tired and a little frazzled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Danny said. “Share what?”
“The cat killings,” Charlie said. “Hec says you went to see Bob Randall over at the prison. He gave you a profile of the guy who’s been killing cats, right?”
Danny said nothing.
“Well, after Bible study on Sunday we talked to Sheriff Rossi about Sarah Kolpek’s cat,” Hector said.
“We can share with you what we’ve got and you can share with us what you’ve got. How does that sound?” Charlie said again.
“I don’t think so,” Danny said.
Hector took Charlie to one side and whispered something to him.
“Look,” Hector said. “We got off on the wrong foot. All we want to know is what your friend Bob told you.”
“He’s not my friend,” Danny said, unwilling to be associated with his father’s criminal pals.
Todd came running up Alameda and joined them. His hair was unkempt and he was out of breath and attempting to tie his tie.
“Where have you been?” Charlie asked.
“I had things to do,” Todd said.
Danny looked at Todd. He knew nothing about him. Where he was from, what his parents did. Zero. He looked as if he might be one of those “troubled kids” Mr. Lebkuchen was always talking about who’d been turned around by Direct Instruction and the silent system. As Todd tried again to tie his tie Danny noticed that his fingernails were dirty. He, at least, would benefit from wearing gloves to school.
“Let me help you with that,” Hector said, and everyone stopped talking while Hector tied Todd’s tie.
“Let’s go to school. Walk with us, Danny,” Charlie said.
“OK,” Danny replied.
“He joined us?” Todd asked when they got moving. His face was pale and he had dark eyes that radiated a sort of animal intelligence.
“Not yet. We were asking Danny what his friend Bob Randall told him about the cat killer,” Hector said.
Todd flinched and said nothing.
“So what do you know?” Charlie asked.
“You go first,” Danny said.
Hector shrugged. “OK. Sheriff Rossi said that Sarah’s cat was strung up by a clothesline tied to the tree. Sarah’s mom said that the cat was really old. So that rules out an accident. How could it have gotten up there, and how did it get the clothesline around its neck? It doesn’t make sense. Someone did it. Someone grabbed the cat and hung it.”
“Who would do a thing like that?” Todd wondered.
“I don’t know,” Hector said, “but Danny does, don’t you, Danny? Your turn.”
“I didn’t agree to anything. I’m outta here, guys,” Danny said with a grin.
“You little punk!” Hector said. “You’re making a mistake. You’re committing social suicide hanging with them. You should be with us. That Tom Sloane is a total freak, Cooper is a weirdo, Tony’s probably a lesbo, and I hate to tell you this but if you’re hanging out with them, you’re going to be in the weirdo camp too, pal.”
Danny was suddenly angry. “What did you say about Tony?”
Hector smiled. “I said she’s probably a lesbo.”
“What the hell were you doing at her house on Saturday night?” Danny asked.
“Having dinner,” Hector said with evident satisfaction. He had found the chink in Danny’s armor and he was going to exploit it for all it was worth. “Tony and I were finalists for the YCCY Award last year, and Mr. Meadows knows my dad. Didn’t Tony tell you? I go over there sometimes. She comes to my house.”
“What’s the YCCY?” Danny couldn’t help himself asking.
“Young Christian Coloradan of the Year. Oh yeah, we go way back. Old friends from kindergarten.”
“Some friend, the way you talk about her …”
“What’s the matter? Are you in love with her or something?” Charlie mocked.
“His freako friend is,” Hector sneered.
Danny couldn’t think of anything to say except what the girls had said to him in the Colorado Springs Starbucks. “Yeah, well, April Donovan says it’s you that’s the total weirdo.”
Hector frowned. “How’s that?”
“She says that your dad’s the executioner on death row and he pushes the button and he kills people and everybody hates him and you’re completely screwed up because of it. Hannibal-style,” Danny said.
“April Donovan said that?”
“Yeah, pal, she did.”
“Oh man, that’s so wrong. My dad works on death row, but it’s the doctors who administer the lethal injection. But so what if he did? It’d be a cool job. I’m not screwed up. That’s so funny that she said that,” Hector replied quickly.
“He told you,” Charlie said.
“Yeah,” Todd added.
“Niños blancos … see you guys,” Danny muttered. He bomb-dropped onto his board and began kicking away from them.
“Remember, ten fifteen this morning, you’ll see who’s running the school and it’s not Tom and his loser circle! And hey, we’re giving you that for nothing,” Hector shouted after him.
“Thanks,” Danny said, and kicked hard all the way to school.
An hour and a bit later Danny was sitting at the window seat in the corner, watching the clock while Miss Benson read through the new heading on her teacher book. Clock-watching was a normal part of Danny’s school day, but as the minute hand marched around to 10:13 he grew especially engaged.
Was something really going to happen?
He looked at Hector and Charlie.
What were they planning?
For a moment he worried about a Columbine-style thing. Littleton wasn’t too far away … but then, to his surprise, at exactly 10:15 Mr. Lebkuchen knocked on the door and entered.
Everyone stood. Mr. Lebkuchen motioned them to sit. He smiled at the kids and then turned to Miss Benson, announcing in a quiet voice, “Miss Benson, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to pack up your things.”
Miss Benson’s glassy eyes became even more opaque. “I’m sorry?” she said.
“We should discuss it outside,” Mr. Lebkuchen said.
“Discuss what outside?” Miss Benson wondered.
“I’m sorry to say that we are terminating your contract.”
“What? Why?”
“Wouldn’t you rather talk in my office?” Mr. Lebkuchen asked.
“Like hell I would. I’ve been with this school from the beginning. And you’re telling me this now in front of my own class? What is this crap?”
Mr. Lebkuchen tucked his arms behind his back and interlaced his fingers—rather like an angry baseball manager who doesn’t want to get into a shoving match with an ump, Danny thought.
Mr. Lebkuchen pointed at a boy named James Nguyen.
“James, you’re running the class for the time being. Danny, please get Miss Benson’s bag and coat. Miss Benson, please come with me.”
Mr. Lebkuchen walked out of the classroom and Miss Benson had no choice but to follow him. Danny grabbed her coat and followed them outside as James began reading the teacher’s portion of the lesson.
Danny followed Mr. Lebkuchen and Miss Benson to the principal’s office. He handed Miss Benson her stuff.
“Thank you, Danny. Now, go back to your class. There’s a good lad,” Mr. Lebkuchen said.
Danny saw that there were tears in Miss Benson’s eyes and her bottom lip was trembling. Mr. Lebkuchen, by contrast, was completely emotionless.
“Run along, Danny,” Mr. Lebkuchen said, closing the office door.
Danny thought about going back to class, but his natural curiosity kept him outside the door.
“What is all this?” Miss Benson demanded angrily.
“Well, if you must know, you’ve been triangulating, Miss Benson.”
“Triangulating?”
“In violation of your contract, you and Miss Indurian wrote an article for the Journal of Secondary Education criticizing the school and its methods.”
“That was two months ago.”
“It was only brought to my attention recently. You are dismissed, Miss Benson. Now, please take your remaining things and leave. Miss Bailey will have a check for you in her office. I think you will find that we’ve been quite generous, considering your blatant breach of contract.”
“You’re firing me?” Miss Benson was still not able to quite take it in.
“I am dismissing you and Miss Indurian. I shall teach both classes until we find suitable replacements.”
“This is a violation of the Constitution. I have a right to free speech. I’m going to talk to a lawyer,” Miss Benson muttered.
“We are represented by Hart and McConnell. I will look forward to hearing from your attorney. Now, please go, Miss Benson, and do see Miss Bailey on the way out for your severance.”
“I’ll see her, all right!” Miss Benson yelled.
The office door burst open and Miss Benson came out.
She looked at Danny, stopped short, and smiled. Her hair was dangling over her face in little nooses and her eyes had swollen and her cheeks were red. It made her look younger, Danny thought, like she was yet another student Mr. Lebkuchen had to punish for their wayward antics.
“And please, Miss Benson, no shouting. Remember, we have a silence policy,” Mr. Lebkuchen said from inside his office.
Miss Benson waved at Danny to go back to class and then, in a brief but passionate and expletive-filled tirade, informed Mr. Lebkuchen what he could do with his silence policy and where he could put it—a place, Danny thought, that few people except perhaps Mr. Lebkuchen’s mother had ever seen.
Danny ran back to class and took his seat about a minute before Mr. Lebkuchen came in and picked up the Direct Instruction manual and continued where James had left off. He didn’t even need to ask a student where in the reading they were because along the side of the page it listed what must be read at what time and how long each exercise had to take.
Danny followed along in his book, but soon became aware that he was being stared at. He looked up into Charlie and Hector’s grinning faces. Hector winked at him and Danny nodded.
“Yes. I’m impressed,” he mouthed, and all three of them returned to their books before Mr. Lebkuchen could catch them looking at each other.
When class was over, Mr. Lebkuchen thanked them for their attention, apologized for the disruption, and informed them that from this afternoon and until two new teachers were hired they would be meeting in the old physics room and merging their class with 9A.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Mr. Lebkuchen said.
I doubt that, Danny thought, staring at Tony’s bra strap, which was showing through her shirt.
“You’re thinking why can’t we just have substitute teachers, like in other schools?” Mr. Lebkuchen said. “Well, this is a special school and it needs special teachers. On top of my other duties I will be teaching both classes. Fear not, children! Your learning will not suffer and with a little bit of luck we will have you back in your seats before the month is out. I will be giving you all a note to take home to your parents, explaining this situation. An unfortunate situation, with Open Night looming so closely. Now, off with you. Class is dismissed. Danny Brown, I’d like you to remain seated.”
When all the other kids had filed out—some, including Tony, giving him concerned looks—Mr. Lebkuchen summoned Danny to the seat directly in front of Miss Benson’s desk.
When Danny sat, Mr. Lebkuchen smiled at him and shook his head.
“You have fallen in with a bad crowd, Danny. Could you turn out your pockets, please?”
Danny wondered if he could try Miss Benson’s Constitutional or profanity-based arguments, but neither was quite his style. Still, for a second he tried to remember the lyrics to Jay-Z’s “99 Problems,” which went something like: “My glove compartment is closed, so you’re going to need a warrant for that.”
“Don’t you need a warrant or something?” he said.
Mr. Lebkuchen laughed. “No. Of course not. Now, let me see what you’ve got in there.”
Danny turned out his pockets, putting a pencil, coins, a five-dollar bill, a stick of Wrigley’s and, finally, Tom’s pager on the desk in front of him. Mr. Lebkuchen lifted the gum and the pager. He examined them for a brief moment and sighed.
“The gum is not permitted, and this is a device for sending text messages in contravention of the school rules, if I am not mistaken,” Mr. Lebkuchen said.
Danny nodded.
“Who gave you this?” Mr. Lebkuchen asked.
“I don’t remember,” Danny said.
“Detention every day for the rest of the week will help you recall, perhaps,” he said.
“I doubt it,” Danny said.
“Morning and afternoon detention. And all of next week, too,” Mr. Lebkuchen said.
Danny said nothing, but an unfortunate sniffle escaped his nostrils and Mr. Lebkuchen bit his lip.
“Are you OK?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m fine,” Danny replied.
Mr. Lebkuchen took off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief. He smiled at Danny and looked out the window. “It’s snowing,” he said.
Danny nodded.
“I suppose you don’t know Hokusai?” Mr. Lebkuchen asked.
Danny shook his head.
“Or Basho?”
“No.”
“One was an artist, the other a poet. Japanese. Both of them in their different media gave snow a lightness, an elegance, a crisp beauty, an almost magical quality that we don’t really see in Western art. Yes, I know one immediately thinks of Robert Frost, but even Frost’s snow was a harsh, heavy New England snow. Claustrophobic, dense, icy … and Colorado snow, as you’ve seen, can be even heavier.”
“Uh, yeah,” Danny said.
“You might find this interesting, Danny: The state religion of Japan is Shinto. Shinto is the worship of nature. Nature is imbued with what we would call the Holy Spirit, or what the Native Americans called the Great Spirit,” Mr. Lebkuchen said, giving him a significant look.
Danny saw the opening but didn’t take the bait. He wasn’t going to talk about his Indian background with this skeevy character. He nodded but said nothing.
“I suppose Okinawa doesn’t have the fascination for you or many other people that it would obviously have for me. Do you know Stairway to Heaven?” Mr. Lebkuchen asked after a pause.
“The song?” Danny asked incredulously.
“There’s a song? No. I’m talking about the film.”
“Don’t know the film,” Danny said.
Mr. Lebkuchen blinked, as if remembering something. “Oh, all right. Um, do you like science fiction, then?”
“Sure,” Danny said.
“Did you ever see The Incredible Shrinking Man?”
Danny had seen that one, on a particularly dreary evening a couple of years ago. He hadn’t thought much of it. It was in black-and-white.
“Yeah,” he said.
Mr. Lebkuchen smiled. “You see, that’s what I’m trying to say. At the end of The Incredible Shrinking Man he realizes that as long as God can see him, it doesn’t matter how small he is. God sees everything and shines through everything. Even snow.”
Mr. Lebkuchen frowned. “I suppose I shouldn’t be talking about God in a public school. Well, I am. And I know about that Scripture club of theirs and frankly I wish it didn’t have to be a secret, but that’s not the law—at the moment.”
Mr. Lebkuchen’s clear blue eyes were boring into him.
Danny wondered if Mr. Lebkuchen was probing his defenses or perhaps, more charitably, maybe he was just trying to connect? But Hokusai? The Incredible Shrinking Man? That was the best he could do to try to reach a fourteen-year-old kid?
“Oh, I agree with you,” Danny said, deciding to play along. “My mom does, too. ‘Without God, there can’t really be any kind of meaningful education at all,’ she says. She’s Catholic. Very devout. I’m not as serious as her, but I pray every day.”
Mr. Lebkuchen smiled. “Good. Good. I knew that. I had a feeling that you did. I’m a good judge of character. And I had a feeling about you.”
