The ballpoint scratched a groove into the varnished wood as it traced the pattern of the lantern logo on the hero’s chest. As Daniel put the finishing touch on it, a gray shadow sprawled across his desk. The young man looked up into the dour face of Mr. Palumbo.
“That’s a beautiful illustration, Mr. Hauer. Can you explain to the room how this drawing relates to societal class structure in precolonial India?”
Daniel glanced at his friend Adrian Lutz and flashed him a look that said, You should have warned me. Behind Mr. Palumbo hung a series of world maps showing the evolution of political boundaries over the centuries. Daniel locked on to India, circa 200 B.C., and called up the proper information from his brain.
“Huh… sure.”
“Really?” said Mr. Palumbo.
“Yeah, see… Green Lantern is a Kshatriya warrior who takes his orders from the priestly Brahmans represented by the Guardians of the Universe on Oa. The Khunds are a warrior race trying to expand their influence, in much the same way as Alexander the Great. And this drawing is like… when the Indians fought off the Greek general Seleucus Nicator as he tried to invade Punjab.”
Adrian rolled his eyes in disbelief. Giggles erupted throughout the classroom. Mr. Palumbo, aware that few students were as well read as Daniel, nevertheless was not going to suffer any excuse for ignoring his lesson.
“I’m giving you a zero for the day. And, one other thing… all of your desks throughout the school are covered with these drawings. You’re destroying public property.”
“Destroying? You can still use them.”
More chuckles erupted.
“One of your pictures ruined Katie Millar’s white blouse after she rested her arm on it,” Palumbo said.
Daniel’s heart sank. Katie was one of the few kids to befriend him after he had transferred to George Fox Middle School two years earlier. They sat at the same desks in shared classrooms and left notes for each other (and the occasional test answers when one’s exam preceded the other). With the onset of acne and wet dreams, Daniel realized Katie was more than just a school buddy. Her skin had adopted a sweet fragrance, and he was extremely aware of her budding chest, especially when she innocently bent over in a loose top. He often woke up hard at the thought of her, something he wished he did not do because he was embarrassed to face her at school, but he didn’t have any control over it. Her eyes wandering toward older boys, especially with letters on their jackets, frustrated him, and now he was responsible for ruining her expensive clothes.
“Sorry,” he said.
“I’m not the one you owe an apology. We’ve discussed your drawings at the faculty meetings. Principal Conklin made it clear that next time you were to be sent to his office. Since you are not prepared to take my lesson seriously, please leave the room.”
Daniel packed his books slowly in hope Mr. Palumbo would change his mind. No such luck. All eyes stayed on him as he shuffled out the door. Standing in the empty hallway, Daniel wondered what to do next.
Only 10:00 A.M. and the day was already a bust. If he went to the mall there was a chance he’d be caught playing hooky. Then, his stepfather would get dragged into this, a situation Daniel wanted to avoid at all cost.
2
Principal Conklin sat back in his ergonomically correct executive chair like a man who thought he ran the Seventh Fleet. He was in his fifties, wore a brown suit, and his arms were up and resting on his bald head, while his gut protruded like a Butterball turkey hanging from a sling. The leather squeaked as he rocked back and forth. Daniel associated the noise with a common bodily function.
Plaques and trophies from a distinguished career as a high school athlete and medals from military service decorated the office. On the desk were pictures of the principal’s wife and his two daughters, who no doubt got their good looks from the other side of the gene pool.
The man’s legendary gaze made you feel as though he knew everything you thought you’d gotten away with. As Conklin blustered on and on about school property and the taxpayer’s burden, Daniel considered his role in the scheme of life.
Not to be a jock, cheerleader, metal head, or standard-issue redneck increased the odds that you were a school geek. Soon, everyone would know what had transpired in Mr. Palumbo’s class. That was all he needed in a school where he could count his friends on one hand. Then the words, “your father,” broke him out of his trance.
“My father?” Daniel repeated, rejoining the discussion.
“Yes, Daniel, your father,” Conklin drawled. “Since your arrival, fourteen desks have been mutilated thanks to your hobby. Your pappy will pay for the damaged desks so that the good taxpayers of Glen Burnie County can rest assured their money is going toward books and teachers, and not for repairing the hobby of a juvenile delinquent.”
“It’s not like I took a hacksaw to those things. I can wash those drawings off with soap.”
“Those desks have grooves in them ’cause of your ballpoint. Son, I look good when the school looks good.”
“Look, I’ll never do it again, and I’ll pay for the desks out of my own money. I have a part-time job at Pathmark. There’s no need to bring my stepdad into this.”
“I respect a boy that fears his father. Means there’s hope for you, son. Tell you what… can you give me five hundred dollars by Monday?”
“Five hundred dollars? Those desks can’t cost five hundred dollars. Who are we buying them from, Dominic Tagliatore?”
“I’ll take that as a no,” Principal Conklin said.
“Look, my stepdad’s been out of work for a while,” Daniel said. “I don’t want to add to his troubles. Can’t we work something out? I’ll throw in extra money… we can call it interest. You have my word.”
Conklin considered the offer for an eternity. Daniel sat there tense, wishing for the words “it’s a deal” to come out the fat man’s lips.
“I have to submit a budget by Wednesday. I can’t take a chance that you won’t make due. Everything’s got to be by the book.”
“But if you’d just-”
Conklin hoisted himself out of his chair and opened the door. “No means the same now as it did five seconds ago. I’ve got to know for sure where the money’s coming from. Now get on, go to your next class.”
The boy left the office uncertain of what to do next. If a bolt of lightning had hit him right that second, he would have considered it a stroke of good luck.
3
Daniel liked stocking the aisle ends at Pathmark. In addition to the unobstructed view of the cashiers-of which Katie Millar was one-he usually stacked the sale items into intricate patterns, a more appealing labor than just placing boxes on an aisle shelf. He designed the stacks so that there would never be too many extractions from one area, thus bringing the construction down. Daniel employed pyramids, helixes, double helixes, and a few shapes of his own invention, which he was unaware that engineering students spent entire semesters on. The patrons deconstructed these temples of frugality without realizing they were part of a preordained strategy.
Daniel finished setting up boxes of Honey Nut Cheerios just as Adrian polished off his third low-fat ice cream sandwich.
“Your shift’s over,” Daniel said. “Don’t you have anything better to do than to watch me work?”
“Nope.”
Daniel glanced at register three where Katie Millar scanned items and made small talk with the locals.
“Well, go home or something,” Daniel said.
Adrian looked like the Antarctic explorer whose mission commander just ordered him to go for a stroll in the middle of July. Daniel glanced out the store’s big front windows at the clear night sky, but from his expression it was obvious Adrian saw a blizzard.