“John, it’s your future. Your parents will have to survive without you. You should apply to college and start in the fall.”
Glancing downwards, he uttered, “Easier said than done.”
I arrived home and dove into the books. My homework was a priority, but I also had to study for the SATs. At 6:30, it was time to make dinner and to watch a little TV. I made spaghetti and chicken. We ate everything, there were rarely leftovers.
My father asked about college. I replied that I wanted to go away to school next year.
“David, you are not going away to college. You need to stay home, just do as I say. I won’t pay for college if you go away!”
He couldn’t pay for college no matter if I stayed home or went away. Angrily, I lashed out “I don’t need your help! This is my life and my decision!” This was a typical night at my house. My father insisted that I stay home; I insisted I was going away, and then I would study until midnight. He only insisted that I stay home because he needed me to help out. I desperately wanted to be on my own.
Our upbringing was strict and disciplined. My father worked six days a week, and always had two jobs in case he lost one. When we were younger, our discipline was a firm spanking. I once asked my father, why the corporal punishment instead of grounding us? “There’s nothing left to take away from you,” he answered sullenly.
I was burnt out from my strict upbringing. The more my father argued against it, the more I felt the need to go away. That’s the kind of person I had become, more determined with increased resistance, a contrarian to my father. I credited Stanton for that part of my personality.
I had been studying for three months for the SATS with books borrowed from the library, but my scores on the practice tests were still 100 points below where they needed to be for consideration at a top college. I was concerned, but not too concerned; after all, how would I even be able to afford a top college if I was ever accepted? I thought about the Naval Academy. Annapolis was not out of the question. But if I died in battle, it would crush my father to lose his eldest son and his wife in the same life.
Stanton had a negative impact on my confidence. My life before Stanton was about how smart I was. I was even valedictorian of my elementary school. Attending Stanton was a constant reminder about how smart I was not. I developed a belief that my grades were not good enough, my SATs were not going to be good enough, and discouraged myself from applying to the top colleges. If I had attended a normal high school, I would have believed that I had a chance anywhere. I probably would have been at the top of the class at any other high school. But at Stanton I was average. I recalled a quote from Milton’s
Paradise Lost
, “It’s better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.” Milton sure was right.
Was college even necessary? I would have rather been a musician. The owner of the café seemed to do well for himself. I was distracted, and found it difficult to concentrate on the studying. I kept thinking about Delancey.
At school, I had to write an article about the girls’ volleyball team. I interviewed the captain of the team, Natalie Morales. Natalie was not what I expected – she was now suddenly gorgeous, and it was difficult to do an interview without getting sidetracked and distracted by her looks.
Natalie had blossomed just recently. She was tall, with curly hair, naturally tan skin, and was now on the radar of every guy with a heartbeat. I wrote a great article about her. I had three reporters under me at the paper, and could have assigned any of them to interview Natalie. But why would I want to do that?
Chapter 6
Either you’re afraid of death, or you are kidding yourself.
Today was Halloween, and I carefully arrived at school at seven a.m. Anxiety was everywhere. The imminent attack after school from the Deceptors loomed in the minds of many students. Sam, John, and Carlos were sitting at our usual lunch table.
Sam was there despite intending to avoid school this day. Sam said he had it all taken care of. He mentioned that Carlos was the only one with “any
cajones
.” Moments later I figured out that Sam had talked Carlos into bringing a weapon to school.
John and I flashed expressions of surprise to each other. Carlos had grown from Sam’s follower to Sam’s puppet. I asked Carlos what kind of weapon he was carrying. He just grinned.
“Sam,” I said, “what kind of weapon did you have him bring?”
“He’s packing heat,” said Sam.
“How did you get the money to buy a gun?” John asked Sam.
“Easy. I returned the perfume back to Bloomingdales for a full refund.”
“Did you consider paying everyone back? I could use the money,” I said, annoyed.
“I will pay everyone back by dispersing the Deceptors on Halloween.” Sam sounded full of confidence.
“Where did you buy the gun?” I asked.
“The guy in the park. I think he’s a Deceptor.”
“So a Deceptor sells you a gun to be used against the Deceptors?”.
“How many enemies does America battle that use American guns?”
“Point well taken.”
This was major trouble, though a gun in school was not uncommon. It meant instant suspension if anyone got caught, but hardly anyone ever got caught. Only two other guys were caught with guns last year. They were both suspended for a week ending their hopes of getting into a good college. The bigger problem was that Sam called the shots even though Carlos carried the gun.
Carlos needed greater independence of thought, and less interdependence of will. Sam had a powerful effect on people. He had a natural knowledge of the gears and springs of the psyche. It’s his true genius. He appeared weak and vulnerable, all the while calculating and devising a system of how to engineer his will upon his foes and allies. Sam had high grades, and could possibly have been valedictorian. He could not risk his reputation or a suspension by bringing a gun to school. Instead, with carefully chosen words, carefully chosen alliances, he manipulated Carlos to carry out his inner desires.
I glanced at the cheerful and the fearful students at lunch. Cafeterias are not for eating, but rather for feeding. Ideas are often spoon fed into the minds of the mentally starving students.
It’s fair to assume that many kids brought weapons to school that day. It was Halloween, and I would guess three hundred students were carrying weapons of some sort.
In the past, I’d seen weapons in the locker room. When someone brought a weapon to school, they liked to show it, a necessity when it comes to developing a reputation. The teachers didn’t care unless someone used the weapon in school. I would guess that some of the teachers also had some sort of weapons – a club, mace, a knife, or something else.
Halloween was the longest day of the year. As the school day came to a close, fear and anxiety levels increased exponentially. A scared freshmen student was crying in the locker room.
An announcement came from the principal’s office that anyone found lingering around the school or participating in any sort of hanky panky would be brought back into school and suspended. There was no mention of additional security or a police presence. By the end of the day, the tension was elevated to high alert. It was as intense as if the Soviet Army was outside the school with tanks and rockets.
At three o’clock I met up with John. We decided not to be anywhere near Sam and Carlos. We were avoiding guilt by association, and we also didn’t want to get accidentally caught in the crossfire. Who knew if Carlos could even shoot straight?
I saw Mino, the football player, and felt pretty good walking between him and John. Mino’s plan was simple; he said he was going to run to the subway fast. Mino mentioned the football team had banded together and were preparing for a battle with expectations of bloodshed. I instantly had a mental picture of the Alamo. Mino had too much to lose if he fought the Deceptors. I figured he meant his scholarship and college hopes. The three of us stepped outside of Stanton’s main exit.
There were about thirty Deceptors across the street throwing eggs, and other objects. They were wearing masks, some Halloween masks, and some ski masks. Plenty of pushing and shoving lead to students falling and getting sprayed with shaving cream. Mino yelled “Run!” and we took off. Mino ran very fast, as I expected a record breaking running back might. John was right next to him, I started to fall back. I looked behind me and not a single gang member was following, just other kids running for the subway.
In the distance, the Deceptors loomed large. Some students were being shoved to the ground and their wallets were ripped out of their pockets. My heart pounded but I kept running. Dozens of students were ambushed. The Deceptors were merciless. I couldn’t watch the assaults. They pelted eggs, tomatoes, and used shaving cream to humiliate the students.
I saw Carlos and Sam in the far corner. A large figure stood alone on top of a car. This was the ringleader, a menacing figure draped in dark clothing, and wearing a red Halloween mask. He struck fear in the hearts of every student, as he pointed to his gang members which students to assault. I kept running.
John and Mino were running ahead, with John actually slightly ahead of Mino. He had just beaten the record-breaking running back of our high school football team in a four block race. When I finally arrived at the F-Train station, Mino seemed as shocked as I was at John’s speed.
Mino asked John if he ran track. John didn’t play sports. Mino was amazed and said John could’ve been a star on the football team. I compared the two of them carefully, and noticed for the first time that John was about as big as any of the football players on the team, just not as muscular. John had the build of a construction worker, the kind of guy you expected to haul heavy rocks and metal. We boarded the F-Train and John explained to Mino that he did not play sports because he ran his family’s grocery store. John described his pace at work, moving fast to unload deliveries, carrying heavy boxes to the basement, and chasing after shoplifters. He unloaded heavy cartons of groceries daily. His everyday life was his weight room.
The three of us breathed a sigh of relief. We were not attacked. Mino left after a few stops, and John and I stayed on the train. I told John that he really missed out not playing sports.
“My father does not see the point of sports when he needs my help at the grocery store.” John’s father had hindered his son’s chances of developing into an athlete and probably getting a scholarship to college.
The day after Halloween it rained, washing away evidence of the egg throwing melee. In the morning, as I walked to school from the subway, the police were questioning students. Gossip spreads quickly, and I soon learned that during the chaos, someone had fired a gunshot, causing a small stampede. Everyone ran, including the Deceptors, but not without firing back. When a gun is fired in Brooklyn, there’s a good chance someone will fire back. A Stanton student was shot and killed.
This was the first student death of the year. Carlos immediately came to mind, but I couldn’t be sure it was him. The principal made an announcement urging anyone with information to come forward. This served as an unofficial warning for students to keep their mouths shut. Some students laughed out loud, because no one would come forward and risk revenge by the Deceptors.
Delancey was standing in the hallway. She knew the person who’d been shot and killed, a girl named Lucy, but I had hardly known her. I offered my condolences, and told her I hadn’t seen anything. Delancey said that Chinese gangs were hanging out at the park across the street watching the entire incident.
“Over a hundred had lined up and were watching the other kids get attacked but they did not get involved,” she said.
“It would be easier for the Deceptors to attack regular kids rather than start a confrontation with a Chinese gang member,” I said. Delancey was not surprised.
Lucy had been caught in the crossfire. Delancey’s explained that her father had sent a car service to pick her up from school and bring her home to their apartment in the city. Tears streamed down her face.
“It’s really upsetting. We weren’t very close, but it could’ve been any of one of us. Sometimes I feel like death is all around.”
I tried to console her. “I can’t help but feel that when your time is up, it’s up. I think that’s just the way the universe works, and if you try to wonder about any other scenario, you’ll just stress yourself out for no reason.”
“It was a random gun shot. Any of us could’ve been killed. I can’t help but wonder….,” Delancey could not finish her sentence. She apologized and walked away. I was moved by her emotions; I hated to see her so sad.
By lunch, everyone had heard Lucy was dead. Some kids were more upset than others, but everyone was on edge. More students were considering bringing weapons to school as a means of protection.
I disagreed with this notion. The Deceptors might not have fired a shot if someone did not fire first. Fear had engulfed Stanton that day, fear that any one of us could be next. I wasn’t worried. Circumstances of one’s death can sometimes be controlled, but timing cannot. When my time comes…I’ll have to accept it.
Chapter 7
In the gym, Eddie Lo practiced his free throws. I needed to write another article on the basketball team and was excited to talk to Eddie again, but he was a little out of it. I asked him what was wrong. Eddie was the first to find Lucy and had called the police. He surprised me by saying that he already had spoken to Mr. Mash about the Deceptors.