Dirt Road Home (17 page)

“You think I don’t know that? You wanna be on the fence with us? Get out of here.”

I lay down in my rack and closed my eyes. I thought about Carla.
She was crazy to ever be your girlfriend,
I mumbled.

That last night we were together, after I kissed her on the tailgate, she told me she didn’t care that I was going to juve. I didn’t see how that could be. Not for a girl like her.

“I figured you wouldn’t wanna have anything else to do with me,” I told her.

She shook her head, no.

“How come you still like me?” I asked.

“Because you’re the only boy I know that isn’t trying to be like everybody else.”

“Maybe that’s what got me in all this trouble. Shoot, I don’t even know how regular boys act anymore.”

“Well, that’s what I like. And I think you’re stronger than any boys I know at school.”

I puffed up a little. “You think?”

She nodded and leaned against me. “In lots of ways.”

*   *   *

I was lying in bed with my eyes open when Mr. Pratt turned on the light Thursday morning. I listened to the boys groan and complain and climb off their bunks. I looked over at Preston and his face was pale as a bedsheet.

Mr. Pratt came walking down the aisle, shaking the bunks of people that were slow to rise.

“Ten minutes to breakfast,” he said.

I sat up and studied Caboose. He lay with his hands behind his head, staring at the underside of the bunk above him. Soon Mr. Pratt was standing before us. He tossed a plastic grocery bag at him. “Strip your sheets,” he said. “Put your personal items in the bag and report to Mr. Fraley’s office for checkout.”

Caboose sat up slowly and picked the bag off his stomach. Mr. Pratt continued down the aisle. I slid off my bunk and stood there with Preston while Caboose began removing his sheets.

“Happy birthday,” I said.

Caboose didn’t respond.

“They don’t give you much of a goin’-away party, do they?”

“Hal?” Preston said.

“Just make up your bed, Preston. I don’t have any answers for you.”

Preston began to make his bed and I did the same. We both took our time, waiting for the other boys to leave. Before long, we were the only three left in the room. Preston leaned on his bedpost and waited quietly. Caboose picked through his locker and dropped a few things into the bag.

“What are you two waitin’ on?” he mumbled. “I’m not headed your way this time.”

“What are you gonna do?” I asked him.

“I’m goin’ to the junkyard.”

“You think they’ll just let you walk out of here?”

“It looks like it.”

“Then what?”

Caboose came away from the locker and stood and looked at me. “Your way didn’t work, Hal. Now it’s time for my way.”

“What’s he talkin’ about?” Preston said.

“Shut up, Preston . . . Caboose, you—”

“It’s too late,” he said. “It’s too late for all of us.”

“Go see my daddy. At least go see him and tell him what’s happenin’ here. Let him know that I did my best.”

Caboose studied me.

“Just do that for me. It’s not even far from your house. Talk to him about what you’re gonna do.”

Caboose shook his head doubtfully and turned to go. Preston and I followed.

“Don’t then,” I said. “Just go see him.”

“Tell Paco I’ll be waitin’ for him,” Caboose said over his shoulder.

“Yeah, in the state pen.”

Caboose walked out the door into the hall. My mind searched desperately for something else to say to him.

“Caboose,” I said.

He didn’t slow. I came to the mess room and stopped and watched him continue down the hall. He passed through the double doors and on toward Mr. Fraley’s office.
I took a deep breath and let it out. Then I turned to Preston.

“You ready to go in there?” I asked him.

“We’re dead.”

“Yeah, well don’t be a wuss about it. Come on.”

Paco was back. I studied him sitting alone in no-man’s-land and I could see that he was in no condition to help us or himself. His face was still swollen and he could barely keep his head up over the food tray.

Preston and I got our breakfast and sat across from him. “You all right?” I asked him.

“Yes.”

Paco glanced at Preston. “What’s he doing here?”

“He bet on the wrong guy.”

Paco nodded. “That makes twice for you, Preston.”

Preston picked at his food in silence.

“I was hoping you would have everything worked out by the time I saw you again,” Paco said.

“We’re still waitin’. Caboose left this mornin’.”

“I know,” Paco said.

Suddenly a biscuit came flying over the table and hit Paco in the forehead and fell onto his tray. “Traitor!” a Hound yelled.

Paco calmly picked up the biscuit and set it aside. “We’ll take the fence,” he said. “We’ll deal with whatever they bring us.”

“You look like you’re about to pass out.”

He didn’t answer.

“I wish you could have talked to Caboose before he
left,” I said. “He won’t listen to me. He’s still set on his big plan.”

“He’s carried that with him for a long time.”

“I tried to talk him out of it.”

A wadded-up wet napkin came over our table and hit me in the shoulder. I looked at the Ministers’ table and they were watching me and laughing.

I turned to Preston. “Who you think Jack wants more, me or you?”

“You,” he said.

“That’s what I figure.”

The boys were unusually quiet in class that day, like they all had a secret. Preston sat beside me, and whenever I looked over at him, he returned my stare. Something in his eyes pleaded for an answer. But I didn’t have answers. Once, I turned around and looked at Leroy in the back corner. He had his head down on the desk and wouldn’t face me.

During lunch the three of us ate silently. It was almost time to go when Paco finally spoke.

“Wait by your classroom door after school today. I’ll come get you. Then we walk straight to the fence. Understand?”

Preston and I nodded as the buzzer went off.

We waited for Paco after class. Then the three of us hung back while the other boys filed past onto the yard. Paco leaned against the wall and held his hand to his ribs and winced.

“You can’t go out there,” I said.

“We don’t have a choice.”

“What if we just go inside and tell ’em we ain’t goin’.”

“Then it will be tomorrow. Or the next day. It doesn’t matter.”

Preston’s hands were shaking.

“You better buck up, Preston. I ain’t takin’ your beatin’ for you.”

“I can’t fight, Hal. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know. But you better get mean out there. I mean pit bull mean.”

Paco came away from the wall. “Remember, straight to the fence, then turn around and face them. Always keep your back to the fence. Only one at a time can come at you that way. I will stand on the side of the Ministers and you two will be on the side of the Hounds. They will have to cross up to get at us. The more of them we get fighting each other, the fewer there will be to concentrate on us.”

“Preston,” I said, “you stay in the middle, since they’re comin’ for me first.”

Preston swallowed and studied his feet.

“Forget about your initiation,” I said. “I figure this’ll do for it.”

Preston nodded.

Paco took a step toward the yard. “Let’s go,” he said.

The basketballs were not moving that day. Both sides of the yard were as silent as a church, the boys watching us arrive and make our way to the fence. We made it halfway before Mr. Pratt turned and stepped inside.

“There he goes,” I mumbled.

“Don’t stop,” Paco said. “Get to the fence.”

The Hounds and Ministers were already coming away from their courts and closing in behind us. Tattoo and Jack walked out in front of the two gangs. We kept moving, Paco leading the way, then Preston, and finally me.

We reached the fence and turned one by one and put our backs to the wire in the order we’d discussed. I didn’t focus on Jack or any of the boys in particular. The whole mass of them drifted toward us as one. I focused somewhere beyond them so that they all blurred together.

“Helpless Hal!” one of the blurred shapes said.

They were stopped now, the Ministers and the Hounds all crossed and mingled together like Paco had said. Jack slowly came into focus before me. He was no more than two feet away, his face electric with tension. He wanted to rip me to pieces. And it wasn’t something he was doing to impress anyone. He wanted the feel of it and he had a good excuse. I glanced at Tattoo beside him. He was eyeballing Paco, ready to claim his title as leader of the Hounds.

“Who’s gonna step in for you now, Helpless?” Jack said to me.

I didn’t answer him.

“I always knew you were weak,” Tattoo said to Paco.

“You hit us, you hit yourselves,” Paco said. “You only perpetuate the foolishness. But the two of you will never know this. There is no hope for you.”

I let my eyes focus on Jack. I felt anger rising in me
and I clenched my teeth against it. “I never asked anybody to step in for me the first time,” I said. “I ain’t askin’ now.”

Jack took a step even closer.

“Bring it on,” I said. “Let’s do it right this time.”

Like Paco said, the dogs preyed on fear, and now I had none. Something in Jack’s expression changed the slightest bit when he saw how committed I was to fighting him. For several seconds we stared at each other and I detected a twitch of indecision in his eyes. But there was also something else happening. In my periphery I heard and saw flashes of cars going by outside the fence. Had I not been eye-locked with Jack, I would have turned and looked with the other boys.

“The cops are here,” somebody said.

I still didn’t look. Jack’s eyes darted toward the parking lot then came back to me.

“I’m right here,” I said to him.

“A bunch of ’em,” somebody else said.

Suddenly the administration door flew open and slammed against the wall. It was violent enough to make Jack turn around. Mr. Pratt was rushing toward us like something had scared him out of the building.

“Back off!” he yelled from across the yard.

The boys began moving to get out of his way.

“Everybody, faces against the fence. Now!”

The boys began to shuffle to the fence on either side of us. Only Jack and I remained where we were.

Then Jack took a step toward Mr. Pratt. “Your break ain’t up yet,” he said.

But Mr. Pratt kept coming until they were nose to nose. A strange, worried look pulled at the guard’s face and his nostrils flared as he breathed heavily through them.

“Maybe I should get Daddy to remind you of a few things,” Jack said.

Mr. Pratt grabbed Jack by the shirt and lifted him and plunged him into the fence. Before Jack could react, the guard spun him around and used one palm to press his face into the wire mesh. “Shut your mouth and do what I say!” he said. Then he turned to me.
“Get your face against the fence!”

I quickly did as he said. During the shuffle, Paco had somehow ended up next to me. He had his nose to the wire and I stared at the side of his face. “You see the trees, my friend?” he said quietly.

Jack grunted as Mr. Pratt pressed him harder.

“Something’s going down inside,” Paco said. “Something big.”

Paco barely got the words from his mouth before I heard more adult voices behind us.

“Guard! Step away from the boy!” someone shouted. It was a familiar voice, but I couldn’t place it.

“There was about to be a fight out here!” Mr. Pratt yelled over his shoulder.

“Get away from the boy!”
came the voice again.

I heard the fence crink as Mr. Pratt’s hand let up. There were footsteps everywhere in the yard behind us.

“I want all of you boys to take one step back, turn around, and sit,” the voice said.

When I turned, Officer Pete was leading four police officers in our direction. I went to my knees and began
shaking my head. Then I felt a lump rise in my throat and I coughed against it. “Paco,” I said.

“I see them,” he replied. “Sit down.”

I felt like the weight had dropped out of me and I sat back in the puddle of it. “Get me out of this damn place.”

“Patience,” Paco said.

I saw Mr. Wellington step onto the play yard and start toward us. I locked eyes with him until Mr. Pratt yelled out, “What’s goin’ on here?”

“Where’s Fraley?” Officer Pete asked him.

“In his office, I guess! What’s all this about?”

Another policeman came through the administration door followed by a red-faced Mr. Fraley. “I found him, Pete!” the policeman called out.

Mr. Fraley stomped up next to Mr. Pratt and turned to face Officer Pete. “What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“Is this how you control your boys?” Officer Pete said.

“I asked you a question!” Mr. Fraley replied.

Officer Pete stepped up close and towered over him so that they almost touched, chin to nose. “You better cool that attitude, podna.”

Mr. Fraley opened his mouth and started to reply, but didn’t. Then his jowls began to quiver like Jell-O. Officer Pete stayed there a moment longer, letting his message sink in before he took a step back. “Come up here, Wellington,” he finally said. “Hand me that medical report.”

Mr. Wellington came forward with a folder in one hand. He pulled a sheet of paper from it and gave it to Officer Pete. I recognized the injury report I’d sent him.

Officer Pete stuck the paper in front of Mr. Pratt. “Did you sign this?”

Mr. Pratt looked at Mr. Fraley like he needed permission to speak. But Mr. Fraley was locked up against a slow-burning panic. “Yeah, I signed it,” Mr. Pratt finally said. “Me and Bob Fraley sign all of ’em.”

“Then you should know what this is about. Both of you are being arrested for falsifying state medical records.”

All of the color drained from Mr. Pratt’s face.

Mr. Fraley let out a nervous laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he said.

Officer Pete locked eyes on him again. “Does it appear I’ve developed a sense of humor? If I have, it would be news to a lot of people.”