“Everything,” Ponce answered, promptly.
Mildly, the Captain eyed him.
“You’ll know what to tell them,” he said, finally.
“But it’s o.k. by you?” Ponce asked again.
“It’ll have to be,” Surcher grinned at him.
“She was a peach of a girl,” Ponce informed him, sadly, “I wish I hadn’t been the guy to find her,” he paused, mighty low, “I can’t tell you how I feel—honest. It’s like a nightmare.” He paused again, “You’ll find the guy, 1 know you will, Captain.” He stopped there.
30 Pretty Maids All in a Row
“We’ll try to,” said Surcher, rising.
Ponce walked out of that private office with the Captain’s arm protectively about his shoulders. All eyes in that outer office were turned on him and the Captain. And there was silence.
Surcher spoke, “Mr. Proffer, I think Ponce ought to be allowed to go home for the rest of the day, I think it would be a good idea if you excused him. Can you do that?”
“Certainly, Captain,” the Principal agreed, immediately, saying to the lad, “You just take off, Ponce, God knows what you’ve been through, son. Take a few days off if you want to, I’ll see you are notified of any work you miss, and homework—if you’re up to it, that is.”
“O.K., Mr. Proffer,” Ponce responded.
“Do you want a ride home?” asked the Captain.
“Uh—no—that’s alright. Captain,” the lad answered.
“Sure, son?” asked Proffer.
“Ill be u.k., Mr. Proffer.”
“Maybe though somebody ought to give you a ride home, Ponce,” Surcher said, gently.
“I’ll take him home,” said Poldaski.
Ponce’s heart fell.
“I think you better stay around here, Chief, if you don’t mind my saying so,” he heard Surcher say, gravely. And he breathed a sigh of relief, silently thanking him, as the Chief mumbled.
“O.K.” And no more.
Ponce said, “Well, I’ll go to my home room and get my stuff. Captain.”
“Right, Ponce,” said the Captain. And he turned to one of the Troopers, “Andy, you go with him and then see that he gets home o.k.—then come back here.”
The Trooper nodded and left the office with the youngster.
“Now, then, Mr. Proffer—” Ponce heard the Captain saying as he walked out of the office . . .
In the hallway, where he had expected to see at least a few hundred fellow students congregating, Ponce found hardly anyone—except State Troopers. They had done a good job of it. All the students (and teachers) were apparently back in their classrooms, hard at it. As Ponce walked along he noticed that a Trooper stood outside each classroom door. They certainly were huge, formidable fellows, Ponce also noted, like ex-Notre Dame players, all of them. Ponce felt a thrill, a sense of safety, seeing them. He had a chill of respect for them, these heavily armed, well-disciplined Troopers. He pitied the crooks who tried mixing it up with them alright. Little goose pimples were rising ail over him, as they always did when he felt chillingly proud of something. The Trooper striding along beside him was a powerful six-footer at least also. He towered over Ponce, who was only average size and weight, for his age.
“Everybody must be pretty shook up,” Ponce, climbing stairs now, ventured.
“Yep,” Andy answered.
“Gee—her folks—” Ponce tried, and dropped it
“Yeh,” said the Trooper.
They passed Tiger’s Counseling and Guidance Office. Ponce saw the Testing sign up, so he knew he must be pretty busy. No one ever entered the Office or even tried doing so when that sign was up. So even if the Trooper wasn’t walking him home, so to speak, he couldn’t see him now anyway, which he badly wanted to do. He would have to wait until tomorrow, probably, since it didn’t look like he would be heading back to the school today. Would they put a Trooper on his house, Ponce wondered? That would be something. Yes, Tiger was the one person at this hell of a time he most felt like talking to, and maybe even telling the pressing thing on his mind too. Come to think of it, he would be seeing him after school at football practice—or would they cancel it? Would they cancel the game in fact? Ponce suddenly thought of that, choking up at it. He would phone Tiger, later, and find out all about that. He sure hoped they weren’t canceling that game. It was an important one. Carverton was tough, real tough this year. Ponce worried about it, thinking about football practice tonight, if there was any. But even if there was and he saw Tiger there it wasn’t the same, because he was The Coach there, all tied up with football and stuff, and not the same guy at all, he knew. There was only one place to talk to him and they had just walked by it. Ponce’s heart pounded, because he wanted so much to talk to him. Would it be possible just this once to knock on that door despite the sign that was up? He wanted to, but he was afraid to ask the Trooper if it would be o.k. if they turned around and tried just that.
There was something about this Andy Trooper that made it hard for Ponce to imagine asking him that. In any case, it was really too late. Here was the classroom which was his Home Room in fact. Ponce sighed, within. He would just have to phone him and find out about things and maybe even arrange to see him, somehow, later on today, if not at football practice. So Long, Honey. The bizarre message came back to him, and he felt funny. He wanted to laugh almost, and that was funny. He didn’t though, and immediately felt bad to boot about that impulse, for whoever had pinned that to her was a lunatic and a half of the first and primal order, the lunatic of the year, no doubt of it, and was that funny? He only wanted to grin a little bit now, after all. That’s all. Painfully. A grin mixed with pain, that was it. Thus it was that whoever might have observed Ponce carefully as he entered that Home Room might have perceived that tiny, barely perceptible, grin on his lips. Just only. Certainly, it wasn’t known to him.
“Hey! It’s Ponce!” shouted out half the class as he came into view. The male half, at any rate. And suddenly they were milling and crowding about him, in a babble of voices, making remarks, firing questions at him. Ponce heard one female voice somewhere, “I never heard anyone scream like that—ever!” And he was mortified, more than ever. Mr. Golden, the Home Room Teacher was trying to control them, but as always was having little luck at it He was that kind of guy. Ponce felt sorry for him.
Andy took care of it.
“Stand back! Out of the way! SIT DOWN! EVERYBODY!” he boomed out, impressively. Certainly, Ponce was impressed. It was the very incarnation of irresistible authority, armed, no less. Ponce had a crazy thought, suddenly—maybe Mr. Golden—a pistol strapped to him—
“Hey—we just wanta talk to him—” Ronnie Merlin yelled out at the Trooper. And he wasn’t the only one.
“Yeh!”
“That’s right!”
“Ponce! Some scream that was!”
“Just what did you see? Tell us, Ponce buddy!”
“Buddy!”
“What’s up? What’s the matter? Can’t we talk to him?”
It was a madhouse of voices, rebelling against that authority. Ponce felt for Andy. He sure had a job on his hands, unquestionably.
“LOOK, I’M NOT KIDDING!” Andy roared, so that the school shook. Two or three of Ponce’s classmates moved back a little. The rest stayed put, and kept firing. It was a massed chorus of cacophony, hitting him.
“Christ! What a Bastard!”
Ponce heard from somewhere. He winced at that. He never could swear.
“JUST SIT DOWN IN YOUR GODDAMN SEATS, THAT’S ALL I ASK YOU!” Now Andy roared, above it all, somehow. Ponce stood in awe at the power.
*7 think the sonuvabitch'd shoot us! Know that?” Somebody yelled, at the top of his lungs.
There was a roar of laughter, and hooting.
“He would, the big Pop! HEY POP POP!” Someone else yelled. Jack Delano, Ponce noted. More laughter, hitting the rafters. Even Mr. Golden up there seemed to be heading toward a mild grin And that was something* Pnnce tried to remember, had he ever seen the guy grin? Fascinated, he kept his eye on him. Then, suddenly, for no reason known to Ponce certainly, there was silence, and everybody began sitting down, here, and there, soon, everywhere. Ponce was amazed. He would never get to the bottom of it, human behavior, that is. And he thought he was actually getting pretty good at it! No less. He stood there, taking it all in. They still had their eyes on him. And he on them. Bizarrely, he thought of Vietnam.