Chapter 13
Clark pulled out the plastic chair and sat down across from Andy, who had his back to the wall. With a scowl on his face, he began to pick lightly through the greasy, twisted mass of limp french fries with the tip of his fork. A few of them flopped off his tray, and he batted them off the table. “I wonder how Chris is going to pull off getting out of detention early,” he said, dropping the fork and picking up his cheeseburger.
Andy pointed to the burger in Clark’s hands and said, “I’m wondering what you’re going to do when we get out of school and you don’t have cheeseburgers every day.” He put down the large slice of pizza and sucked chocolate milk through a straw.
Clark furrowed his brow. “There’s Burger King and McDonald’s,” he said.
“I thought you were boycotting them?”
Clark shook his head. “Only when Angela is around. She would never go out with me if she thought I ate fast food.” He held the burger out to Andy. “She doesn’t even think I eat meat.”
Andy smiled and shook his head. “Why would you want a P.C. girlfriend, anyway? Your whole life is going to be spent struggling against someone. Personally, I choose to not spend my life on a cross. Why would you put yourself on one?”
Clark raised his eyebrows. “Because she’s hot.”
Andy smiled. “She’d kick your ass if she heard you say something sexist and demeaning like that.”
“But she didn’t, so I’m safe,” Clark said with a wink
“Why isn’t she going to the show tonight?”
“She hates the Misfits.”
Andy furrowed his brow. “And Christian lets her ride in his car?”
Clark smiled. “I don’t think he knows,” he took a bite of his burger and swallowed. “Has he told Shannon how he feels yet?”
“No,” Andy said with a sigh. “He’s afraid.”
Clark shook his head. “What a fucking panzy. What’s the worst that can happen? She’ll say ‘no,’ move to California, and he’ll never see her again.”
“He told me yesterday that there’s something else,” Andy said, finishing his pizza.
“What?”
“I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me either. He said there’s some important reason that he can’t tell her.” Andy scraped the remnants of his corn with his fork and shoveled them into his mouth.
“Maybe he is gay.” Clark shrugged. “He wrote her a song. He said he was going to record it and give it to her today.” He shrugged and said, “At least he’s in a better mood. He’s been so fucking depressed lately. He’s getting hard to be around anymore.” He started picking at the french fries again, eating a couple slowly. “I hope this is a new up-swing in his moodiness.”
“The show will bring him out of it,” Andy said. “Maybe he’ll even get inspired and put a band together, you know, do something with his guitar talent.” He sucked his milk until there was a grating, slurping sound at the bottom of the carton. “How long has he been talking about seeing the Misfits?”
“God,” Clark said. “Ever since he heard they were getting back together, at least. Yeah, back when we were in eighth grade, like four years ago, when he first started listening to them.” He shoved a fork-full of french fries into his mouth and talked around them as he chewed. “I thought he was going to kill himself the time Mark Dorals offered to take him, and Chris’s mom wouldn’t let him go because she thought it was odd that a guy twice his age would want to hang out with him.” He paused and pulled a quarter-sheet of pink paper out of his pocket. Without looking up at Andy, he said, “Are you going to the show tomorrow night?”
“It’s just local bands, right?” Andy asked. When Clark nodded, he shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m going to spend enough money tonight. I’ll probably just stay home and get some rest. Besides, I figure I’m going to have to drive tonight when Chris gets too tired.”
Clark pursed his lips and nodded. “Probably.”
Andy looked up and sighed. “Shit,” he grumbled.
“What?”
“Hey, fuck-heads,” Jim Smitt said, slamming a meaty fist down on the table. “Where’s you’re little buddy? Was he too scared to come to lunch?”
“Just go away,” Clark grumbled.
“Let’s be nice here,” Jim said. “I just came over to talk and be friendly.”
“The last time you wanted to talk, you beat the shit out of Christian,” Andy said, glaring hatefully into Jim’s eyes.
Jim smiled. “So as long as neither of you spits in my eye, you’ll be fine.”
“Just leave, asshole,” Clark said.
Jim slapped him in the back of the head. “I told you to be nice, faggot,” he grumbled, grabbing the back of Clark’s neck. He recoiled and shook his hand, staring aghast at the tiny, bloody hole in his hand. “You little shit, you were told not to wear that collar. Now someone has been injured!” he gasped dramatically.
Clark turned around and stared up at Jim.“If you hadn’t grabbed my neck...”
“Mr. Henry!” Jim called, looking up from the miniature tear in his palm.
“Shit,” Clark muttered, turning back and looking desperately at Andy.
“Mr. Henry, could you come here, please?” Jim called, waving his other hand around.
“What is it, Jim?” Mr. Henry asked, walking over with a determined stride.
“Yesterday, you told Clark not to wear this collar, and I just cut my hand on it,” Jim pleaded.
Mr. Henry looked at Clark and Jim sternly. “I’ve asked Mr. Golding not to wear this collar on multiple occasions. I was hoping to avoid this very incident.”
“He cut his hand because he grabbed my neck,” Clark protested. “If you ask me, it did it’s job!”
Mr. Henry pulled his lips tight over his teeth. “So, you’re saying it’s all right for you to injure another student?” he demanded.
“Is it all right for him to attack me?” Clark asked. “I wear it for protection.”
Mr. Henry sighed and shook his head. “I think you need some time to think this over,” Mr. Henry said. “Please come with me to detention.” He looked over at Andy and sighed. “You’re so much better than this. Why do you let these degenerates drag you down?”
“Fuck you,” Andy said casually.
Mr. Henry’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open.
“Holy shit!” Clark exclaimed.
“Quiet!” Mr. Henry snapped at Clark. He shook his head disappointedly and told Andy, “Well, you can come with me too.”
Andy’s face was blank as he got out of his chair and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Clark watched him start walking before he got up as well. The two of them walked out of the cafeteria ahead of Mr. Henry. Jim watched until they were gone before he went back to his table.
As they went through the double-doors, Clark cocked an eyebrow at Andy and said, “Well that was certainly unexpected.”
“Quiet down,” Mr. Henry demanded.
Andy shook his head. “I’m just sick of all the shit,” Andy said, casting a hateful glance at Mr. Henry. He jammed his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground. “You can only hear so much of assholes telling you that you have the wrong friends.”
“I said, quiet down,” Mr. Henry snapped. “Mr. McCarthy, what has spawned this kind of behavior in you?”
“The fact that you’re a cock sucker,” Andy said in a flat tone, continuing to stare at the ground.
Clark stopped walking for a second to stare at Andy. He was smiling broadly, as his chest heaved with spasms of suppressed laughter.
“Andrew, I cannot believe this,” Mr. Henry said, his voice tinged with disappointment. He gently pushed Clark to get him walking again.“I hope you realize the error of your ways by tomorrow. I’ve always regarded you as a model student. I always hoped that you would bring your filthy friends up to your level, not let them drag you down to theirs.”
Clark stopped again and put his hands on his hips. “You know, I don’t appreciate you insulting me while I stand here.” He tapped the toe of his combat boot impatiently.
“I don’t appreciate your attitude,” Mr. Henry responded. He turned back to Andy. “You know, I know your mother, young man, and when I inform her of this behavior, she is going to...”
“Shut the fuck up,” Andy snarled.
Clark’s eyes widened and he was unable to repress a snort while he physically held his mouth closed with his hand.
“I’m sick of this!” Andy exclaimed.
“Quiet down!” Mr. Henry hissed, regaining his composure.
“No!” Andy yelled. He stopped walking and pointed at Mr. Henry, glaring hatefully. “What gives you the right to say anyone is better than anyone else? What makes me better than my friends?” He pointed at his sweater-vest. “Is it the way I dress? The fact that I do extracurricular activities? I don’t think so. They’re people too, so you’d better fucking treat them that way!”
A few doors had opened, and nervous heads were peeking out, watching the scene unfold. When Mr. Henry saw this, he violently pointed down the hall. “You two get moving,” he snapped, his eyes avoiding the other teachers. A few doors slammed.
As they went into a stair-well and down a flight of stairs, Mr. Henry shook his head. “Mr. McCarthy, it’s sad to see that you really are one of them now.”
“It’s sad to see that you’re a complete jack-ass,” Andy snorted.
“I don’t want to hear another word out of you,” Mr. Henry spat. He prodded them out of the stairway and over to the door marked ‘Conference Room.’ He followed them in and directed them to the front desk, where the middle-aged woman seated there looked at him expectantly.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Gallagher,” Mr. Henry said, fighting to hide the tension in his voice. “I thought Mr. Duke and Miss Donahue might be lonely down here, so I brought them the rest of their crew.” He smiled ruefully and looked from Clark to Andy. “They are to remain here for the rest of the day as well.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Gallagher said. “What happened?”
“Clark injured another student...”
“I did not!” Clark protested. He turned to Mrs. Gallagher. “Jim Smitt grabbed my neck and cut himself on my collar!” He pointed with his thumb to Mr. Henry behind him. “This dickhead blamed the whole thing on me!”
“That’s enough,” Mr. Henry snarled.
“All right Clark!” Christian cried, jumping out of his seat and throwing his hands in the air. “Did the fucker bleed all over?”
“Christian,” Mrs. Gallagher said. “Please sit down and be quiet.” She looked back at Mr. Henry, who was glaring at Christian. “Now, what happened?”
Mr. Henry held out his hand to Clark. “Give me that collar.”
Clark cocked an eyebrow. “Hell no, this thing cost twenty bucks!”
Mr. Henry shook his head. “You should have thought of that before you wore it to school. Give me collar before I give you more time for insubordination.” He waited while Clark undid the buckle and slapped it into his hand. “I have warned Mr. Golding on numerous occasions, including one just yesterday, that he is not to wear this piece of armor to school. Today, another student was cut on the hand on by one of these sharp spikes.” He slapped the spikes against his own palm to emphasis his point. “I think an afternoon in detention will give Mr. Golding some time to think over what he’s done.” He turned to Andy. “When I came to bring Clark here, Mr. McCarthy verbally abused me, using obscene language. This abuse continued even after I removed the two of them from the cafeteria. My original intent was for him to remain here the rest of the period, but the persistence of his foul behavior caused me to upgrade his punishment. I want them both to remain here for the rest of the day and after-school.”
Christian leaned forward. “I’m leaving here at the end of eight period,” he called out. “They have to come with me, so they can’t stay.”
“Christian, you owe me an after-school detention tonight, as well,” Mr. Henry said, turning around. “The only one of you who can leave here is Miss Donahue.”
“Sorry,” Christian said obstinately. He leaned back and put his feet up on the desk. “We can’t stay, we have prior engagements.” He entwined his fingers behind his head and rested it there.
Mr. Henry crossed the space between them in three strides and knocked Christian’s boots off the desk. “Now you look, you ghoul!” he yelled, pointing his finger menacingly at Christian. “You skipped out on my detention yesterday. Do you think you can come and go as you please? You owe me a detention, and you will be here after school.”
Christian’s eyes got wide and his jaw dropped open.
“Understand?” He glared at Christian a few moments. When Christian didn’t respond, Mr. Henry said, “Good, I’ll see you after school then.” He turned on his heel and stomped out of the room.
Andy pointed to the burger in Clark’s hands and said, “I’m wondering what you’re going to do when we get out of school and you don’t have cheeseburgers every day.” He put down the large slice of pizza and sucked chocolate milk through a straw.
Clark furrowed his brow. “There’s Burger King and McDonald’s,” he said.
“I thought you were boycotting them?”
Clark shook his head. “Only when Angela is around. She would never go out with me if she thought I ate fast food.” He held the burger out to Andy. “She doesn’t even think I eat meat.”
Andy smiled and shook his head. “Why would you want a P.C. girlfriend, anyway? Your whole life is going to be spent struggling against someone. Personally, I choose to not spend my life on a cross. Why would you put yourself on one?”
Clark raised his eyebrows. “Because she’s hot.”
Andy smiled. “She’d kick your ass if she heard you say something sexist and demeaning like that.”
“But she didn’t, so I’m safe,” Clark said with a wink
“Why isn’t she going to the show tonight?”
“She hates the Misfits.”
Andy furrowed his brow. “And Christian lets her ride in his car?”
Clark smiled. “I don’t think he knows,” he took a bite of his burger and swallowed. “Has he told Shannon how he feels yet?”
“No,” Andy said with a sigh. “He’s afraid.”
Clark shook his head. “What a fucking panzy. What’s the worst that can happen? She’ll say ‘no,’ move to California, and he’ll never see her again.”
“He told me yesterday that there’s something else,” Andy said, finishing his pizza.
“What?”
“I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me either. He said there’s some important reason that he can’t tell her.” Andy scraped the remnants of his corn with his fork and shoveled them into his mouth.
“Maybe he is gay.” Clark shrugged. “He wrote her a song. He said he was going to record it and give it to her today.” He shrugged and said, “At least he’s in a better mood. He’s been so fucking depressed lately. He’s getting hard to be around anymore.” He started picking at the french fries again, eating a couple slowly. “I hope this is a new up-swing in his moodiness.”
“The show will bring him out of it,” Andy said. “Maybe he’ll even get inspired and put a band together, you know, do something with his guitar talent.” He sucked his milk until there was a grating, slurping sound at the bottom of the carton. “How long has he been talking about seeing the Misfits?”
“God,” Clark said. “Ever since he heard they were getting back together, at least. Yeah, back when we were in eighth grade, like four years ago, when he first started listening to them.” He shoved a fork-full of french fries into his mouth and talked around them as he chewed. “I thought he was going to kill himself the time Mark Dorals offered to take him, and Chris’s mom wouldn’t let him go because she thought it was odd that a guy twice his age would want to hang out with him.” He paused and pulled a quarter-sheet of pink paper out of his pocket. Without looking up at Andy, he said, “Are you going to the show tomorrow night?”
“It’s just local bands, right?” Andy asked. When Clark nodded, he shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m going to spend enough money tonight. I’ll probably just stay home and get some rest. Besides, I figure I’m going to have to drive tonight when Chris gets too tired.”
Clark pursed his lips and nodded. “Probably.”
Andy looked up and sighed. “Shit,” he grumbled.
“What?”
“Hey, fuck-heads,” Jim Smitt said, slamming a meaty fist down on the table. “Where’s you’re little buddy? Was he too scared to come to lunch?”
“Just go away,” Clark grumbled.
“Let’s be nice here,” Jim said. “I just came over to talk and be friendly.”
“The last time you wanted to talk, you beat the shit out of Christian,” Andy said, glaring hatefully into Jim’s eyes.
Jim smiled. “So as long as neither of you spits in my eye, you’ll be fine.”
“Just leave, asshole,” Clark said.
Jim slapped him in the back of the head. “I told you to be nice, faggot,” he grumbled, grabbing the back of Clark’s neck. He recoiled and shook his hand, staring aghast at the tiny, bloody hole in his hand. “You little shit, you were told not to wear that collar. Now someone has been injured!” he gasped dramatically.
Clark turned around and stared up at Jim.“If you hadn’t grabbed my neck...”
“Mr. Henry!” Jim called, looking up from the miniature tear in his palm.
“Shit,” Clark muttered, turning back and looking desperately at Andy.
“Mr. Henry, could you come here, please?” Jim called, waving his other hand around.
“What is it, Jim?” Mr. Henry asked, walking over with a determined stride.
“Yesterday, you told Clark not to wear this collar, and I just cut my hand on it,” Jim pleaded.
Mr. Henry looked at Clark and Jim sternly. “I’ve asked Mr. Golding not to wear this collar on multiple occasions. I was hoping to avoid this very incident.”
“He cut his hand because he grabbed my neck,” Clark protested. “If you ask me, it did it’s job!”
Mr. Henry pulled his lips tight over his teeth. “So, you’re saying it’s all right for you to injure another student?” he demanded.
“Is it all right for him to attack me?” Clark asked. “I wear it for protection.”
Mr. Henry sighed and shook his head. “I think you need some time to think this over,” Mr. Henry said. “Please come with me to detention.” He looked over at Andy and sighed. “You’re so much better than this. Why do you let these degenerates drag you down?”
“Fuck you,” Andy said casually.
Mr. Henry’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open.
“Holy shit!” Clark exclaimed.
“Quiet!” Mr. Henry snapped at Clark. He shook his head disappointedly and told Andy, “Well, you can come with me too.”
Andy’s face was blank as he got out of his chair and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Clark watched him start walking before he got up as well. The two of them walked out of the cafeteria ahead of Mr. Henry. Jim watched until they were gone before he went back to his table.
As they went through the double-doors, Clark cocked an eyebrow at Andy and said, “Well that was certainly unexpected.”
“Quiet down,” Mr. Henry demanded.
Andy shook his head. “I’m just sick of all the shit,” Andy said, casting a hateful glance at Mr. Henry. He jammed his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground. “You can only hear so much of assholes telling you that you have the wrong friends.”
“I said, quiet down,” Mr. Henry snapped. “Mr. McCarthy, what has spawned this kind of behavior in you?”
“The fact that you’re a cock sucker,” Andy said in a flat tone, continuing to stare at the ground.
Clark stopped walking for a second to stare at Andy. He was smiling broadly, as his chest heaved with spasms of suppressed laughter.
“Andrew, I cannot believe this,” Mr. Henry said, his voice tinged with disappointment. He gently pushed Clark to get him walking again.“I hope you realize the error of your ways by tomorrow. I’ve always regarded you as a model student. I always hoped that you would bring your filthy friends up to your level, not let them drag you down to theirs.”
Clark stopped again and put his hands on his hips. “You know, I don’t appreciate you insulting me while I stand here.” He tapped the toe of his combat boot impatiently.
“I don’t appreciate your attitude,” Mr. Henry responded. He turned back to Andy. “You know, I know your mother, young man, and when I inform her of this behavior, she is going to...”
“Shut the fuck up,” Andy snarled.
Clark’s eyes widened and he was unable to repress a snort while he physically held his mouth closed with his hand.
“I’m sick of this!” Andy exclaimed.
“Quiet down!” Mr. Henry hissed, regaining his composure.
“No!” Andy yelled. He stopped walking and pointed at Mr. Henry, glaring hatefully. “What gives you the right to say anyone is better than anyone else? What makes me better than my friends?” He pointed at his sweater-vest. “Is it the way I dress? The fact that I do extracurricular activities? I don’t think so. They’re people too, so you’d better fucking treat them that way!”
A few doors had opened, and nervous heads were peeking out, watching the scene unfold. When Mr. Henry saw this, he violently pointed down the hall. “You two get moving,” he snapped, his eyes avoiding the other teachers. A few doors slammed.
As they went into a stair-well and down a flight of stairs, Mr. Henry shook his head. “Mr. McCarthy, it’s sad to see that you really are one of them now.”
“It’s sad to see that you’re a complete jack-ass,” Andy snorted.
“I don’t want to hear another word out of you,” Mr. Henry spat. He prodded them out of the stairway and over to the door marked ‘Conference Room.’ He followed them in and directed them to the front desk, where the middle-aged woman seated there looked at him expectantly.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Gallagher,” Mr. Henry said, fighting to hide the tension in his voice. “I thought Mr. Duke and Miss Donahue might be lonely down here, so I brought them the rest of their crew.” He smiled ruefully and looked from Clark to Andy. “They are to remain here for the rest of the day as well.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Gallagher said. “What happened?”
“Clark injured another student...”
“I did not!” Clark protested. He turned to Mrs. Gallagher. “Jim Smitt grabbed my neck and cut himself on my collar!” He pointed with his thumb to Mr. Henry behind him. “This dickhead blamed the whole thing on me!”
“That’s enough,” Mr. Henry snarled.
“All right Clark!” Christian cried, jumping out of his seat and throwing his hands in the air. “Did the fucker bleed all over?”
“Christian,” Mrs. Gallagher said. “Please sit down and be quiet.” She looked back at Mr. Henry, who was glaring at Christian. “Now, what happened?”
Mr. Henry held out his hand to Clark. “Give me that collar.”
Clark cocked an eyebrow. “Hell no, this thing cost twenty bucks!”
Mr. Henry shook his head. “You should have thought of that before you wore it to school. Give me collar before I give you more time for insubordination.” He waited while Clark undid the buckle and slapped it into his hand. “I have warned Mr. Golding on numerous occasions, including one just yesterday, that he is not to wear this piece of armor to school. Today, another student was cut on the hand on by one of these sharp spikes.” He slapped the spikes against his own palm to emphasis his point. “I think an afternoon in detention will give Mr. Golding some time to think over what he’s done.” He turned to Andy. “When I came to bring Clark here, Mr. McCarthy verbally abused me, using obscene language. This abuse continued even after I removed the two of them from the cafeteria. My original intent was for him to remain here the rest of the period, but the persistence of his foul behavior caused me to upgrade his punishment. I want them both to remain here for the rest of the day and after-school.”
Christian leaned forward. “I’m leaving here at the end of eight period,” he called out. “They have to come with me, so they can’t stay.”
“Christian, you owe me an after-school detention tonight, as well,” Mr. Henry said, turning around. “The only one of you who can leave here is Miss Donahue.”
“Sorry,” Christian said obstinately. He leaned back and put his feet up on the desk. “We can’t stay, we have prior engagements.” He entwined his fingers behind his head and rested it there.
Mr. Henry crossed the space between them in three strides and knocked Christian’s boots off the desk. “Now you look, you ghoul!” he yelled, pointing his finger menacingly at Christian. “You skipped out on my detention yesterday. Do you think you can come and go as you please? You owe me a detention, and you will be here after school.”
Christian’s eyes got wide and his jaw dropped open.
“Understand?” He glared at Christian a few moments. When Christian didn’t respond, Mr. Henry said, “Good, I’ll see you after school then.” He turned on his heel and stomped out of the room.
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