“Don’t talk like that,” she snapped. “I swear, Danny… you bring things on yourself. Don’t write on the tables, don’t sass your teachers… just don’t do anything.”
“I could sit in a closet all day.”
“Clyde’s trying.”
“He’s a short anchor and we’re a leaky rowboat, Mom.”
Rita glanced at the stairs again.
“When was the last time Clyde rolled out of bed before eleven o’clock?”
“You ought to be a little more grateful.”
“How can I? I remember Dad. Clyde doesn’t measure up.”
“Right, it’s all my fault,” Rita shot back.
“No, I didn’t mean…” Daniel regretted setting her in motion, something he knew better than to do.
“You think I planned to be a widow at thirty-three? Think it’s easy starting over, alone, with a young child?”
He’d heard Rita’s lament a dozen times, her shield against her own poor decisions. Daniel was only eight when Rita married Clyde. Too young to have a clue about his future stepfather’s alcoholic and abusive nature. The truth that Rita never owned up to was that it was her fault; she had surrendered to loneliness.
“Mom…” She was shaking, and true to form, would soon be prying the cap off a bottle of mother’s little helpers. Disturbed by the argument, Penny looked ready to bawl. Mr. Biggles lay on the floor by her high chair. Daniel picked it up and shook it before her with a smile. She grabbed the bear and squeezed it like a life preserver.
“We’ve got a roof over our heads,” Rita continued. “There’s food on the table…”
Yeah, thanks to me, Daniel thought.
“If you don’t like it here, you can join the Marines. I’ll sign the papers.”
“Mom…”
Rita headed toward the stairs in a huff and stopped short of ascending. She stared at the top landing, then around the room, looking trapped where she stood. Her drugs were in the bedroom.
“I’m doing laundry,” she said and headed for the basement. “You got anything needs washing?”
It was an innocent question, but it stung like a wasp. “In the hamper.”
Penny, who wore as much food as she’d eaten, banged the table with a spoon. She moved her face around playfully as Daniel tried to wipe it with a napkin. “You need to change your clothes,” he said.
“No,” she giggled.
“No? That’s a pretty powerful word for such a small girl.”
“No.”
“And you need to take a bath.”
“No,” she said again. She was in a good mood, just giving the word a test drive as she determined the limits of her power.
“Give me a kiss,” Daniel said.
“No.” She shook her head until it became a blur.
“Please.”
“No.”
“How about a hug?”
Penny gave Mr. Biggles a bear hug and thrashed side to side like she would love him to death.
“Not Biggles… me,” he said.
“No,” she said.
Daniel stopped coaxing. The toy glared at him, locked within Penny’s arms. It disturbed him that he envied the bear.
2
Someone had replaced Daniel’s desk in Algebra. On close inspection, though, Daniel realized it was his old desk after all. The top had been sanded down and restained with two coats of varnish. It was a half-assed, sloppy job. He could still see some remnants of the old grooves from his drawings. There weren’t going to be any new desks. The realization gnawed at his gut. He could have refurbished all the desks himself for less than fifty dollars.
Katie Millar sat next to him. It was the only class they shared this year, an unexpected result of Daniel having gotten into many advanced courses. Fortunately, he sucked at math.
Katie wore a white turtleneck, but it couldn’t completely hide the purple blotch that adorned her neck this morning. His heart sank at the thought of her with Josh; a spoiled, rich brat who probably had more than one girl and didn’t care for any of them. Daniel daydreamed about the purple welts Katie could give him instead of the ones he drew from Clyde.
“I heard about your fight with the Grundys,” Katie said. “Looks like they gave as good as they got.”
“They never laid a hand on me.”
“That’s not what they said. Besides, you’re wearing the evidence.”
“This came from Clyde.”
“Oh,” she said. Katie turned away and searched for the day’s lesson in her textbook.
Once, Katie was Daniel’s Rock of Gibraltar. After one of Clyde’s tirades, they’d lie against the trunk of a willow, his head on her lap, and she stroked his hair while he imagined himself in another life. It’d been months since they last did that. She was under pressure from her parents not to associate with him outside of school anymore. Clyde had worked for her father at the meat plant until he had been caught stealing prime cuts by the caseload for black market sales. It was as a favor to Daniel on behalf of his daughter that Mr. Millar did not press charges on Clyde. As an adopted child, Daniel had no traceable pedigree and everyone soon realized his legal guardians were trash badly masked by a single coat of whitewash. As the semester moved on, Katie withdrew her emotional attachment, as though Daniel might sully her with his bad fortune. A vacuum had emerged that made the day-to-day harder to bear than ever before. Adrian was a good friend but had no strength to lend him. If Daniel was to survive, he had to find untapped reserves of his own to draw upon. His universe was closing in on him.
Mr. Napolitano walked in and began handing out the morning’s quiz, which Daniel had forgotten to study for.
“Mr. Hauer, your presence has been requested at the principal’s office,” the teacher said as he approached.
What now? Daniel thought. He collected his books and stood.
“No, take the quiz first,” Napolitano said. “It should only take ten minutes if you know the material.”
3
Conklin’s secretary, Lacy McKnight, had taken a liking to Daniel. She told him he reminded her of her baby brother. Unlike the other delinquents who’d spent time in front of her desk, Daniel found her a pleasant presence in a school full of antagonists. She was powerless to change school policy or suspend detention, but would often sneak him cookies and tell him about the latest escapades of her little brother who was in the Navy and stationed in Italy. That someone was standing in his corner made the trip to Conklin’s easier to bear. Ms. McKnight treated him like family. Daniel would be sure to include her in his Oscar acceptance speech for Best Animated Short. Noticeably missing from the acknowledgments would be Clyde and Rita. Missing today was the jovial smile Lacy always greeted him with, an understanding that no matter what he did it was small potatoes in the world of great events and that everything would be okay no matter how much Conklin blustered. She shot Daniel a worried look as he approached. Daniel half felt he should turn around and run for his life. Raised voices emanated from the principal’s office.
“Look at you,” she said with a trace of mother hen.
“I’ll be fine.”
Lacy shook her head. “Go in.”
Conklin was talking to Jim Grundy and Darlene Lebeaux, his nemeses’ parents, and the local sheriff, Ed Maher, who wore his hat and sunglasses indoors and was, coincidently, the principal’s third cousin. Mr. Grundy had yet to reach thirty-five, but looked like he was pushing fifty. He wore a few days’ growth on his face and his emaciated thinness was emphasized by the stringy mullet he chose for his coif. Darlene was slightly older, but had a body as nubile as a woman half her age, which she tried to contain in the miniskirt she pulled on constantly because it was one size too small. Darlene was legendary among the boys in town. It was rumored that once a year she picked a graduate headed for military service and gave him a poke for good luck behind the strip club where she danced.
The parents sat on the couch, facing a chair reserved for Daniel. Conklin sat to his left, the sheriff to his right. Daniel realized he was on trial. Somehow, in the middle of this whole mess, Daniel had the wherewithal to realize that Darlene wasn’t wearing any underwear.