Double-Dare O’Toole (3 page)

“You put it there, did you not?” Mr. Palinkas turned his chair sideways, crossed his legs, and looked at his shoes.

Fex nodded. He felt it would be unfair, cowardly even, to defend himself. He had put the drawing on the desk. That couldn't be denied.

“Was there any particular reason for doing such a thing?”

“No, sir.” How to explain to this man that Fex O'Toole would do anything and everything he was double-dared to do? How to tell him that without sounding like a first-class wimpy fool?

“I'm sorry,” Fex said.

Mr. Palinkas laced his fingers together.

“Do you think that makes it all right? To say you're sorry?”

“No, sir.”

“You have something against me?”

Fex shook his head. For no reason, he suddenly remembered the time he'd seen Mr. Palinkas in the supermarket, gazing down into the frozen food, probably deciding what he'd have for dinner. Fex had been in the store buying a box of noodles for his mother. He'd been so startled, so unnerved by seeing the principal in such an unlikely place, performing such a commonplace task, by seeing him someplace other than behind his desk or walking around the halls, thwacking his stick as he went, that he'd turned away, pretending he hadn't seen Mr. Palinkas. What would he say if they should meet face to face in Aisle 2, bending over boxes of sugar, checking the prices?

So he'd skulked around the aisles, waiting for Mr. Palinkas to leave before he did.

Then, when he'd thought the coast was clear, he'd brought the noodles to the checkout counter, and there was Mr. Palinkas, paying for a package of frozen stuffed peppers.

Frozen stuffed peppers. Imagine Mr. Palinkas buying such a thing. Fex had been amazed. Then, just as the girl handed over the change and threw the peppers into a brown paper bag, Mr. Palinkas had turned, looked Fex in the face, raised his cane in salute, and walked out of the store.

He knew I was there all along, Fex had thought then. He knew.

Now he said, “No, sir, I don't have anything against you.”

Mr. Palinkas came around to the front of his desk, carrying his stick. If he hits me, Fex thought, I won't holler. I've got it coming. Even if he raises welts on me, I won't holler. He waited for the blows to fall. Nothing happened.

“Then why?” Mr. Palinkas poked the stick at Fex as he paced back and forth. “You know something? I pride myself on my judgment. I hate to be wrong, especially about kids. I had you pegged for a good one. I figured you had your head on straight, as they say these days. I guess I was wrong.” He raised the stick. Here it comes, Fex thought. Mr. Palinkas traced a circle in the air with the stick.

“You have any problems?” he asked.

“No, sir,” Fex answered, startled. He hadn't expected that.

“Parents divorced? Stepmother or father you don't get on with? Nothing like that?”

I can't just keep on saying, “No, sir,” Fex thought. I sound like a jerk.

“No, sir,” he said.

“Your marks all right?”

“They're O.K., I guess.”

“Well, then.” Mr. Palinkas walked back and sat down at his desk. “If everything's all right at home, no trouble there, no trouble with the marks, what's the answer?” He and Fex looked at each other.

“In this business,” Mr. Palinkas said, leaning back in his chair, “you look for problems. You try to find out what's bothering a kid, what makes him do things he shouldn't. You figure maybe a kid's trying to tell you something. Maybe you can do something to help. But everything's all right, is it?”

Fex said, “Yes, sir.”

“You know …” Mr. Palinkas ran his fingers through his thick gray hair, took out his handkerchief and blew his nose, taking his time.

My gosh, Fex thought, I'm never going to get out of here.

“When I was your age,” the principal continued, “the country was in a terrible depression. My father lost his job at the tile factory and had to pick up us kids and my mother and take us clear across the country to stay with his parents. He not only lost his job, he lost his pride as well.” He cleared his throat.

“Maybe you kids have it too soft. Nobody to think about but yourselves. Maybe life's too easy. Not enough travail. Not enough challenge.”

Mr. Palinkas sighed. He reached over, took the three withered daffodils out of the glass, and threw them into the wastebasket.

“Mrs. Timmons,” he called, “would you mind coming in here for a minute?”

Mrs. Timmons came to the door of the little room where she worked. She had fitted her face with a faint smile of encouragement for Fex. She wore a pale green blouse that matched her eyes. A long yellow pencil was tucked into her hair, over her ear.

“Mrs. Timmons,” Mr. Palinkas said, “this young man is available for after-school jobs. For a week, starting tomorrow so he can let his mother know he'll be late. If there's anything that needs doing—mimeographing, supplies to be brought up from the storeroom, wastebaskets to be emptied, Fex will oblige. Perhaps you'd better make a list of things you think he might be able to help you with.”

“Yes, Mr. Palinkas,” Mrs. Timmons said.

She went back into her little room and shut the door. Fex felt as if he were nailed to the floor.

“Can I …” he started to say.

“You're not a mean kid,” Mr. Palinkas said. “I'm pretty sure of that. I know all the mean kids. Meanness is hard to hide. But that was a mean thing you did.” He gave a long sigh and ran his finger around inside his shirt collar, as if it were too tight for him.

Fex backed toward the door. If he didn't get to the bathroom soon, something terrible might happen.

Mr. Palinkas swiveled his chair around so he faced the dirty windows.

“You can go now,” he said.

5

After school Audrey was waiting. Fex had half hoped she would be, half hoped she wouldn't.

“What'd he say?” she asked. Up ahead, Barney Barnes took potshots at a squirrel with his slingshot.

“Who?”

“I can't stand it.” Audrey stuffed her hands in her pockets and stalked beside him, her legs as stiff as an angry dog's.

“If you don't want to tell me, say so. But don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. That really gets me when you do that. You figure if you don't talk about it, it never happened. Sweet little Francis Xavier O'Toole. Butter wouldn't melt in your mouth.” When Audrey was mad, she didn't fool around.

“We had a talk,” Fex said in a monotone. “He wanted to know if I had problems at home. I said no. He said I wasn't mean. He told me to work after school helping Mrs. Timmons for a week, starting tomorrow. That's about it.”

Audrey jerked her chin at him as if she were illustrating a point on the blackboard.

“So you didn't tell him about the double-dare bit, huh? You didn't tell him about that moron.” She jerked her chin in Barney's direction. “If Mr. Palinkas knew you let that moron egg you into doing some of the things you do, he'd think you were a lunatic.”

“How do you know I'm not?” Fex said angrily.

Barney bounced toward them on the balls of his feet. He seemed to know he was being talked about.

“Hey, Fexy,” he called. Barney chose to ignore girls. His eyes slid over them as if they weren't there. One thing about Audrey. She was pretty tough to ignore.

“Hey, Fexy,” Barney repeated, “got any plans for anything bizarre today?”

“What's ‘bizarre' mean?” Audrey asked.

Barney forgot himself and looked at her. “How do I know?” he said.

Girls made Barney nervous. When he was nervous, he bit his fingernails. With his forefinger he began to explore the back of his mouth.

“You better be careful,” Audrey said. “You might chew that down to the knuckle if you don't watch out.”

Barney snatched his finger from his mouth.

“If you don't know what ‘bizarre' means,” she went on, “then how do you know what you're talking about?”

“Let's split,” Barney growled to Fex. “Let's you and me split.

“Can't,” Fex said. “I've got to go home and tell my mother I'm staying after school for a week. Palinkas found out I put the pig on his desk.”

“How'd he find out?” Barney's voice was surly.

“What difference does it make how? He did. That's what counts. What'd he ever do to you anyway? That's what I can't figure.”

“You like him!” Barney hooted. “You
like
him! Hey, he's the boss, man. You can't like the boss.”

“Who says?”

“You can't, that's all.”

“That's dumb,” Audrey said.

“Tell her to shut up,” Barney said to Fex.

“Tell me yourself.”

Barney aimed his empty slingshot at Audrey's feet.

“What'd he do, Barney?” Fex asked.

“He left me back,” Barney mumbled. “Twice.”

“That's wasn't his fault. He's fair. He listens to your side of the story,” said Fex, who hadn't told his side.

“You tell him anything?” Barney asked.

“No. He asked me if I had anything against him and I said no. I said I was sorry and he asked me if I thought that made it all right. So I said no again.”

The three of them stood swinging their arms, avoiding each other's eyes.

“Let's go,” Audrey said.

“I'm getting a Moped,” Barney told Fex.

“Yeah?”

“My mother's boyfriend's in the business. He can get me one at half price. So I'm getting the most expensive kind,” Barney bragged.

“Wow.” Audrey's eyes went round as quarters. “You're sure you're up for the most expensive kind? I understand there's a big black market in Mopeds these days. Especially the expensive ones.” Audrey looked at Barney, smiled at him for the first time. “You'll have to pick the thing up and carry it around with you when you're not on it, Barney. Carry it on your back if you want to make sure nobody rips it off.” She went on smiling.

“Why doesn't she shut up?” Barney asked Fex. Fists clenched, he began to bounce around in a circle, taking punches at the air. With each punch, he came closer to Audrey.

Audrey stood her ground, watching him, a faint smile on her lips. Finally she said, “I've got stuff to do, Fex. See you,” and she tucked in her elbows and jogged off down the street.

Fex watched her go. “Why do you hang out with her?” Barney asked angrily. “Stuck-up, la-di-da girl like her. I don't get it.”

“We're friends.”

Barney's face turned crafty, his eyes slits. “She putting out?” he asked, chewing on his finger, smiling at Fex around it. “You getting any?”

Fex backed off. “Don't be a jerk,” he said. “I have to split.”

“If you want, I can ask my mother's boyfriend if he can get you a Moped half price too!” Barney called. Fex broke into a run, pretending he hadn't heard. As he ran, he thought, I'll go by the store, see if Angie's there. Angie had a way with words. She made him laugh. He felt in need of a few laughs.

6

“Another day, another dollar,” Angie said, peering out from behind a rickety rack laden with small sacks of potato chips. Behind her hung a picture of her son dressed in his army uniform. Under the enormous hat his dark eyes stared out accusingly, his little sloping chin almost swallowed up by his uniform. A small, limp American flag adorned one side of the picture. On the other a pair of gilded baby booties kept watch.

“Just in time.” Angie dangled a slightly used tea bag in front of Fex. “This one's been around the track once or twice, but there's life in it yet.” She whipped out a tissue from a box she kept handy and wiped off the counter.

“You want cream?” Angie slid a fat chipped cup banded with blue over to him. “Well, not real cream. Half and half.”

Fex knew Angie's half and half. Always on the verge of turning sour, it formed little oily pools on the surface of the tea.

“No, thanks,” he said.

“Cracker?” She held out a box. “No sugar in these. You only got one set of teeth. If you don't watch 'em, who will?”

“My mother,” Fex said.

Angie tapped her own teeth with a fingernail wearing traces of bright red polish. “Gold, pure gold, worth a fortune,” she said, laughing. “A burglar breaks into my house, he heads straight for my teeth. I got all my money in my mouth.”

Fex drank his tea and studied Angie from behind his cup. She'd taken off her glasses and was rubbing the red spot they'd left on the bridge of her nose. Without them, he thought, her face looked naked. There were dark purple circles under her eyes. Today, as on all other days, she wore her black sweater and old khakis, which she'd cut down from her son's old army pants.

Suddenly she ducked her head at Fex.

“I'm thinking of dying my hair,” she said. “Whadya think? Blond or red? My husband says he'll send me back if I do. Too bad for him. Look at that,” she commanded. “Gray hairs. Lots of 'em. How can I keep up with the young chicks with that kinda junk?” She straightened up and put her glasses back on.

“I like you the way you are,” Fex said, unexpectedly shy. To his relief, a man came in and asked for his usual.

Angie handed over a pack of cigarettes. “You know what they call these things, Ed? Coffin nails, that's what.”

“How about some matches, Ange?” Ed slapped down his money. “You been telling me that for years, kid. Look at me. Strong as an ox.” He thumped his chest vigorously and coughed in an exaggerated way.

“You got a nice wife, nice kids,” she warned. “You oughta quit.

Ed pocketed the cigarettes. “Maybe next week, Angie. I'm cutting down. That's why I smoke this brand. They taste like old socks. See you around, kid,” and he left.

Angie shook her head. “What people do to their bodies. Now take me. Bacon is my downfall. I love bacon. Makes the old cholesterol count go sky-high, right? Do I give it up? Not on a bet. I love bacon. In this life, Fex, you got to have discipline. My mother told me that and, believe me, I'm still looking for it.”