Authors: Andrew Neiderman
They raised the glasses.
To Lee and Jessie Overstreet. May their lives flourish and be
productive and happy here in Gardner Town.
Good luck and welcome from the faculty of Gardner Town High. Here,
here, Bob said, and tilted his glass.
They all drank.
Did you teach anyplace else before Gardner Town, Bob? Jessie asked. She
turned her head so that she faced him directly. Although the wires had
been tragically shut down behind those silvery gray eyes, they still
held a glint of exuberance, a sparkle of life. It was as if she had the
aim of someone in meditation, focusing her entire being on whomever or
whatever she attended to.
Like Lee, I taught for a few years in a bigger system.
I was in Yonkers. I wanted to be very close to New York City in those
days, and the theater, Baker explained.
Don't you miss the livelier urban area, the richer school system? Jessie
pursued. Well.
We did in the beginning, Tracy replied quickly.
What changed for you? Jessie asked. Her hand searched for Lee's. He
closed his fingers around hers and smiled at the Bakers.
Jessie's a writer she likes to know what makes people tick, he
explained, gazing at her with some pride.
A writer! Baker leaned forward. Really? Have you published anything?
Short stories in small magazines, some poetry. Nothing major yet. So,
she said, the smile around her lips rippling through her cheeks and
around her eyes, you do like living in a small town world?
Yes. It sort of wears on you after a while. It's nice not to have to
fight for a place to park when you go shopping. Certainly you don't
have the same sort of problems big schools have, Jessie said. I'm sure
kids here aren't as into drugs and alcohol, are they?
I guess we have our share of delinquents, but you're right it's not as
bad as the inner city. And as far as the school goes, Henry Young has a
handle on things, Baker said.
Yes, Lee said. I got that impression. I never heard so many
superlatives when it came to an administrator.
Is he really that good?
Who told you all these good things about him' Tracy inquired.
His secretary, naturally, but some of the teachers I met, too. Why? he
asked when he saw her pensive look.
Isn't it true?
Of course it's true, Bob insisted. There's no one I'd rather work
under. He lifted his glass. To Henry Young. He emptied his glass in a
gulp.
In my house it's practically as blasphemous to say anything that could
in any way be construed as negative about Henry Young as it is to say
anything negative about Jesus Himself, Tracy quipped.
Tracy!
Take it easy, Bob. These walls aren't bugged, and the Overstreets
aren't going to run right out and say I criticized your precious leader.
She looked up at Lee quickly. Are you?
Lee started to laugh, but saw that Jessie's soft smile had evolved into
a look of deep concern.
Hey, he said in an attempt to lighten things up.
Instinctively he put his arm around her. I thought I was coming to work
in a nice little old country schoolhouse with none of the tensions and
politics of the bigger systems. Bake} looked up sharply. You are, he
said.
Believe me, you are, he added, and shot a reproachful glance at Tracy.
Tracy managed to change the subject and get them talking about the
things new residents would appreciate: the best dentist, places to shop,
and the best doctor.
Actually, she said, laughing, we have only one in this community, and
he's so old fashioned, he still makes house calls. Really? Lee smiled.
old Doc Beezly, Baker said. I'd sooner have him treat me than any of
these computerized wonder boys coming out of medical schools these days.
He saved my life. Oh, what happened to you? Jessie asked.
I had a heart seizure. The old ticker actually had stopped, but Dr.
Beezly used CPR and brought me back.
What a fright, Jessie said.
I've been all right since. No problems. I go to him for regular
checkups. Wouldn't go to anyone else, he reiterated.
They chatted some more and then a little over a half hour later the
Bakers left, Tracy promising to come by in a day or two to show Jessie
around the town.
They seemed like a nice couple, Jessie said after Lee closed the door
behind them. I like her.
He's a bird, Lee commented. He stared at her a moment. What made you
jump when he shook your hand? Static electricity or something?
Yes, she lied, and flashed a false smile. But Lee didn't pursue it; he
sensed it had something to do with those damn nightmares and voices.
Well, he said, rubbing his hands together, shall we attempt our first
meal in our new home?"
After the accident Lee had taken on more domestic duties, but as Jessie
gained confidence and became more adept at overcoming her handicap, he
drifted back into the role of a mere assistant. They fixed their first
meal in their new apartment, ate, and enjoyed coffee and conversation.
As soon as they had cleaned up, Jessie went to what would be her writing
office, one of the extra bedrooms, to see about setting things up, while
Lee watched some late news on television.
Just before he turned off the set to get ready for bed, Jessie came in,
moving so slowly and with such purpose, she looked like she was gliding
along an invisible wire.
Hi, he said. I was just She didn't reply. She went to a side window
and pressed her forehead to the glass as if she could actually look into
the darkness.
Because they were on a side road and away from the center of town, there
were no streetlights. The only illumination on the road and
surroundings came from the half moon that peered around the shoulder of
a large, dark cloud. The resulting yellow glow looked like a pool of
amber water flooding the graveyard. Lee came up beside Jessie and put
his arm around her.
What is it, honey? What's wrong?
All those voices, she said softly, and raised her head from the window
to turn to him. Don't you hear them?
Hear them? He listened. No, honey, I don't hear any voices. It's as
quiet out there as it must be on the surface of the moon.
No, she said. It's as noisy as a congregation full of Sunday
worshipers, everyone talking at once, she said, putting her hands over
her ears.
Jessie, baby... He took her hands into his, but she continued to
grimace in pain. You've got to see a doctor about this. There's no one
out there, honey.
Honest, we're Right beside a cemetery, she said, her eyes wide. The way
she said it drove a sword of ice through his heart. She turned back to
the window.
A cemetery, she whispered. And something's very wrong, very wrong.
Lee studied the twelve boys standing before him for a moment. Barry
Gilmore held the basketball against his side as if he owned it and he
was only letting the rest of them play with it. He looked impatient and
openly telegraphed so with his distinct smirk. The caramel skinned boy
was six feet five and, from what Lee had been told, was supposed to have
an excellent opportunity to achieve high scorer's honors in the
Southeastern Zone this year.
Donald Hodes, a six foot two inch pasty white boy, looked awkward and
gangly standing beside Gilmore.
Gilmore's body was lean and well proportioned for a basketball player.
The power in his legs and his shoulders was evident. Hodes had trouble
standing straight when he stood still. His prominent collarbone
protruded and the bones in his shoulders stuck up so sharply it looked
as if his body were on a metal hanger. Like Gilmore, Hodes appeared
bored with Lee's opening remarks, and Lee wasn't very impressed with
him. Yet Larry Thompson, the temporary substitute, had told Lee that
Donald was strong under the boards.
He's all elbows and hips, bumping and poking, Thompson had said. Swear,
he could stab someone with that sharp, right elbow. He doesn't hesitate
to get away with it, Thompson had added, and winked. Lee didn't like
the implication.
Now, I know it's hard for any team to pick up a new coach halfway into
the season, Lee began when he faced the boys after school for their
first practice with him, but maybe we can turn this into an advantage.
The way I see it, all you guys are going to have to prove yourselves
again. I look at you with fresh eyes.
Does that mean there's no such thing as a second team, Coach? Paul
Benson asked. He was a five footten inch muscular white boy with very
dark black hair and heavy sideburns. His remark was greeted with much
laughter.
There's a second team, Paul. We just gotta see who's on it.
Lee sat down on the bench, clipboard in hand.
All right, he said, we'll begin the scrimmage. You guys on the benches
watch the clock and substitute yourselves every ten minutes.
Who' s gonna be the ref, Coach? Billy Simins asked.
The wiry six-footer had a way of tilting his head to the side when he
spoke. It made him look sly.
Ref yourselves. I want to be able to sit back and observe everyone out
there to see who stays back and lets the other guy do it. I'm looking
for hustle.
Shortly after the boys had begun playing, however, the scrimmage came to
a halt when they saw Henry Young enter the gym. They stopped in their
tracks and stood at attention. At first Lee didn't know what was
happening. Then he turned and saw the principal coming toward him.
Carry on, boys, Mr. Young said.
Gilmore passed the ball sharply to an unprepared Paul Benson, almost
knocking him over. Lee caught the anger in the guard's eyes when he
received the ball, but his concentration on the boys was broken as Young
drew closer.
Didn't mean to interrupt, the principal said, and sat down beside him.
No problem.
First few days are always the hardest, getting the boys to accept you,
learning the ropes, finding the squeaks eh? He gazed out at the
players, his eyes growing small intent. These kids are tough, real
competitors. Kurt was proud of them, proud of all his teams, but
especially proud of this one.
Oh? Lee wondered why. He saw nothing outstanding in this group of
boys, especially in light of the championship banners that hung on the
walls and trophies that were displayed in the glass case in the lobby of
the gym. Andersen's previous teams had to have been head and shoulders
above this present one.
Gilmore's got some jump shot from the corner doesn't he? Young asked.
Much more effective when he doesn't waste time on the first bounce.
Of course, but you see it with more expert eyes. My secretary, Mrs.
Schwartz explained our referral system to you, I take it, Henry Young
said.
Yes, she did. Seems rather organized.
Most important, the principal said sharply. Discipline breaks down when
it's conducted in a slipshod fashion. I like to know what's happening
in my building.
I don't like surprises, he added with an ominous note in his voice.
Young paused to look at a heavyset black boy who came into the game as a
substitute. Lee saw the way the principal smiled and thought they were
thinking the same thing.
Billy Dyes doesn't look in shape for basketball, does he? Lee said.
Wonder why Andersen kept him on the squad. He's out of breath just
running onto the court.
He's a bull out there, Young replied, his smile now coy, when you need a
bull.
Bulls are for football, Lee said dryly. Basketball's a game of grace,
skill, and stamina, as well as strategy Of course, but you'll find this
isn't exactly a league of gentlemen. These little towns take their
sports seriously winning is a matter of pride because all these upstate
communities have such a definite sense of identity. He laughed. One
thinks it's better than the other. It takes some getting used to, I
guess. But, he said, slapping his knee and standing, you'll get into it
before you know it. Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and wish you the
best of luck with the team and see if there was anything I could do for
you. Don't hesitate to ask.
Thank you, Lee said. He rose and shook the principal's long, firm hand.