Amateur Hour

Franklin

It had been a harrowing weekend, between the acquisition of shoes, and supplies, the casting off of things they couldn’t take with them, and the laundering of their new uniforms.

Dale had had the foresight to propose that they carry their laundry ‘to town’, in the boxes the uniforms had come in, to avoid getting dirt and dust on them, on the return trip from the laundromat.

They were able to purchase new hangers there, but no one had warned them that they would have to rent an iron and ironing board, toting both down the road, then back again, when they had finished. Two more round trips had been necessary, to accomplish that.

By Sunday evening, the boys were nearly set to go, and they were exhausted.

“What are you gonna do with those?” Dale asked, eyeing a couple of books, on the table. “Dude, if you need more room, in your box, I can chuck a few things.”

Franklin smiled, and shook his head. Dale was too worried about having taken up some room, very little, really, in Franklin’s box.

“They’re a housewarming gift, for the next guys. Thought I’d leave them under the pillows, so they’d find them, when they make their beds, the first time. If they don’t want them, they can trade them, for something.”

“Thoughtful,” Dale nodded. “How many times are you going to brush those shoes? I don’t think you can shine them, much more.”

The shoes were kind of a sore point, with Franklin. Unlike Dale’s which had been brand new, Franklin had been sold a pair that were like new — in very good condition, but they had been previously worn. He had invested in a can of polish, and a brush, and they had shined up as nicely as Dale’s.

It wasn’t his vanity, that was disturbed. It was the fact that he had not been allowed to buy new shoes, despite the fact that he had enough credits to afford them, and the fact that there were plenty of new ones available, in his size. It was the yellow striped tie, all over again; a distinction that made a difference that he couldn’t fathom.

“You’re right,” he said, putting the brush and polish can into his box.

“They look better than mine.”

“That’s not the problem.”

“I know. Stop worrying, man. Whatever it is, you’ve got it. They’re sending you on, to the City. That’s got to count, for something. Could be, the yellow stripes are a good thing. And, who knows — maybe they steered you to the used shoes, because you have to have a certain number of financial credits to be allowed to buy new ones. Who knows what else we’re going to be expected to buy, in the City?”

“You think they’re gonna make us pay rent?” Franklin joked.

“Would it surprise you? Wouldn’t surprise me, a bit.”

“Guess we’ll find out something, tomorrow. Have you picked a second elective, yet?”

“Don’t laugh, but I’m thinking about Culinary Arts.”

“Why would I laugh? If you want to cook, go for it.”

“How about you?”

“I’m screwed. The good academics are full. The only sports are wrestling and basketball. I don’t get that. They half kill you, in the Outskirts and the ‘Burbs, under the sun, but have no outdoor sports. Anyway, I don’t like either one of those.” His first pick, Library Assistant, had been a no-brainer.

“Foreign language, maybe?” Dale suggested.

“French, or Spanish? I’m pretty sure I couldn’t handle German.”

“Spanish. It’s easier to roll your R’s, than to pronounce them, at the back of your tongue.”

Franklin gave him a skeptical look.

“You gotta pick something, man.”

“I guess.” He pulled his class schedule sheet toward him, and filled in ‘Spanish I’, as his second elective.

*******

Guy

Joy Owens was a strapping woman, who looked more as though she should be on an Olympic track and field team, than in a kitchen wearing a ‘Kiss The Cook’ apron. She gave him a congenial smile, when Tom introduced them.

“I’d shake hands, Mike, but you see I’m up to my elbows, in dinner.”

She was up to her wrists, at least, in a bowl of ground beef, eggs, and breadcrumbs.

“Meatloaf?” Guy asked.

“’Fraid so,” her smile was apologetic.

“Don’t be — it’s one of my favorites. Comfort food is underrated.”

“Tom wanted to go fancier, but I thought something homey would set well, on the new kid, in town. Tom, get this poor man something to drink, and park him near a fan. I’ll join you guys, in a few minutes.”

As they passed the kitchen table, Guy noticed that it was set, for four.

Tom, seeing his glance, said, “We invited your next door neighbor, Holly, too. She told Joy you’d already met, and corralled a rather large arachnid, together.”

“Yeah. I’ve named her, Araña. Great — I can tell Holly about my terrarium setup. I mean to take her to school, tomorrow. The spider, that is. I imagine Holly will drive herself.”

Tom chuckled, a little. “That seems like an odd mascot, for a Spanish class.”

“Conversational Spanish. She’ll be something to converse about.”

“Fair point.” He saluted Guy with his iced tea, and took a sip.

“You don’t suppose there’ll be a problem, taking her in, do you?”

“Not unless she’s so big she needs her own badge. You might have to sign a paper to the effect that you’ll be responsible, for her. I’ve seen other critters, though. One of the science teachers has a Gila monster. He claims he caught it, himself, but I have my doubts. The man’s so pasty, he looks like he hasn’t been out in the sun, since he was born.”

The conversation lagged, for a moment, but pleasantly. Compared to the air, outside, the room was cool enough, but the fan felt nice. Guy was glad he’d declined the offer of a beer. If he hadn’t, he might be lulled to sleep, by the soft whir.

“You’ve been here, for a while, I suppose, if you’re the one showing new guys the ropes,” he remarked.

“Not so long. About a month. I transferred in, from Tallgrass Academy, in Kansas. I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of it,” he smiled at Guy’s blank look. “It was a failed endeavor, from the start. Ridgeview launched it, a couple of years ago, for kids with physical and learning disabilities, but it never really took off. Joy was a physical therapist, there, and I taught.”

“Is that where you met?”

“Yeah, so there’s that, at least. We lost our jobs there, but we gained each other.”

“Was it anything like this place? New Canaan isn’t.”

Tom shook his head. “It wasn’t a great school, though it was very modern, and had everything one could ask for, to make it accessible. I blame misdiagnosis of ‘learning disabilities’, for the failure. Too many of those kids had emotional problems, which made them a danger, to the others. Some seemed downright psychotic, to me. It was a mess.”

“Then, it was something like New Canaan. It was a warehouse, of sorts.”

“Exactly. The kids with physical disabilities were overwhelmingly outnumbered. The ratio was something like ten to one.”

“Some of the able bodied kids ended up, here,” Joy said, entering with her own glass of tea, now bereft of her apron. “We’re keeping our eyes peeled, for one, in particular.”

“Honey, I don’t think Mike needs to hear about that.”

“No, tell me. Maybe I can keep a lookout, too.”

“He shouldn’t be here,” Joy said. “He was one of the sweet kids, with a valid learning problem. Georgie Olivett, was his name. Don’t let Tom fool you. He loses sleep, at night, over that boy.”

“The system here, is harsh. Kids come in, and have to gain access, to the school. It’s hard labor, in the Outskirts; scrounging and gaining financial and social points, in the Suburbs. The boy is probably lost, and there’s no point in obsessing over it.” Tom’s face was clouded.

“That’s not the only ranking system, either, is it?”

“You’ve noticed the stripes on the ties, have you?” Tom’s smile had a bitter twist.

“Black, green, and yellow,” Guy nodded. “I thought they were class rankings, at first, until I saw a couple of kids, on my tour, that looked to be different ages, with green stripes.”

“Pity them. Pray for them, if you’re a praying man. Because, unless those stripes turn yellow, or black, those kids will be gone, soon.”

“Demoted, to the Suburbs?”

“I don’t think so, no. Kids in the Suburbs can be demoted to the Outskirts, or promoted to the City. Students at the school can be promoted from a yellow status to a black, or demoted to a green. The green tie kids are either promoted, or they… well, they vanish. I’ve seen a couple go. They’ve never come back, Mike. The cycle time, between the areas is about two weeks, when all goes well. That’s what they say, anyway. I’m about ready for a beer. Anyone else?”

Both Guy and Joy shook their heads.

“I’m really sorry,” Guy said, when Tom was out of earshot.

“It’s not you. You need to know what you’re looking at, here, so you can make your own decisions. We would leave, if it weren’t for George Olivett. Both of us were appalled, when we found out about how the system works, here.”

“For what it’s worth, I am, too. I’ve jumped right out of the frying pan, it seems.”

“No one in this house, is going to judge you, Mike, if you decide to make the best of things, and stay here. The kids in the City, have worked very hard, to get here. They deserve good teachers, to help them get out of here.”

“They all went through the same hell?”

“Each and every one. I remind Tom of that, when he’s thinking about opening his third beer, or having a second glass of something stronger.”

“Have either of you ever seen — ”

“A red tie?” Tom interrupted, reentering the room. He wasn’t holding a beer. Rather, he had opted for a refill on his tea, and had brought the pitcher, as well.

Guy felt himself flush, guiltily. “Black tie aside, it seems like a normal progression. Green, yellow, red.”

“That’s astute. Yes, the black tie stripes indicate a student who’s in no jeopardy, at all. And I have seen the school tie pattern, with red stripes, but not on any student. The Dean wears one, with a suit and skirt — coincidentally, a kid with a green striped tie always disappears, the same night.” He broke off, rubbing the back of his neck, as if it pained him. “Damn. I should have gotten that beer.”

****

Guy

“What was for dinner?” Steph asked when she picked up his call.

“Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and yeast rolls.”

“Weird. Kayla insisted on cooking, tonight. We had the same thing, except it was zucchini, instead of green beans. Zucchini… Who eats that?”

“Only maniacal health nuts,” he replied, in a soothing, loyal tone.

“Thank you! Of course, Galen thought it was great. The meatloaf wasn’t bad, I’ll admit,” she added, grudgingly.

“You sound more chipper, than you did, earlier.”

“I have some good news.”

“Lay it on me — I could use some.”

“Kayla tracked Starkey down. You’ll never guess where he is.”

“Timbuktu?”

“Atlanta, well, the outskirts, at least.” Guy felt himself cringe, at the reference. “Turns out, he had two vehicles. His car was burned up, in the house fire — it was parked in the garage – but he also has a Chevy truck. That was his getaway vehicle.”

“Way to go, Kayla.”

“Don’t worry. I gave her full props, for her work.”

“I’m sure, you did. Pettiness isn’t your style. Anything on DJ?”

“He’s still in Tallahassee, working for his daddy. At Hermes Transportation.”

“You’re shitting me!”

“Nope. I have no idea why his father was working under Gordon’s umbrella — I guess it’s Ted’s umbrella, now. Anyway, David’s the CEO, and DJ is the Customer Relations Manager, whatever the hell that is.”

“It’s a nepo-baby, who shuffles papers, wears a tie, and carries an empty briefcase.”

“Most likely,” she agreed, chuckling.

“It’s pretty ballsy, to hang around, if you murdered your father’s cousin.”

“But, flight would look suspicious. Ask Starkey.”

“You have a point, there. Did you tell Ted?”

“I’ll tell him, when he calls me, for an update.”

“Now, Steve —” he admonished, playfully.

“Look, he’s made it clear that he’s not interested in sending anyone to prison for Gordon’s murder. Those are his own words. I don’t seem to have his Majesty’s ear, any longer. If you want to tell him, Sir Guy the Gallant, you go right ahead.”

“Whoa! Hey — how did I get to be a villain?” He was stunned, by this outlash.

“You’re not.” She sighed. “You’re not, and I’m sorry. Let’s just agree not to discuss Ted, when it comes to what I’m doing.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to remark that he hadn’t been discussing Ted — merely asking if she’d told him about her findings. He managed to keep the thought, to himself.

“One more thing, then I’ll shut up, about him.”

“What?”

“He’s wrong, Steve. That’s all.” He paused, briefly. “Now, do you want to know what I found out, before dinner?”
“Very much.”

He told her everything Joy and Tom had told him, before Holly had arrived, and changed the whole tone of the evening.

“That’s bad,” she remarked, at the end of his tale.

“It’s bad,” he agreed, “but it’s useful information. My immediate plan, is to make a list of the most endangered kids, and get it to the client. He must be in a better position to intervene, than I am. Or, at least he can tell me how he wants me to intervene.”

“Makes sense. Guy, where do you suppose all these kids are coming from? They aren’t all from New Canaan, but could the other schools in the Ridgeview system have such a supply of candidates, for Saguaro Springs?”

“No way.” He’d thought about this, too. “The student body, here, is easily the size of New Canaan’s, just in the City area.”

“Gordon had to have had some kind of outreach. Some kind of recruitment program, in place.”

“For other, outside schools, to refer parents to this one?”

“Do you think that could explain some of the New Canaan teacher bonuses?”

“Maybe. Could you do me a favor, and check —”

“To see if any of them had time off, during or around the time they received the bonuses? Of course, I can do that. I’ll even interface with the client, if necessary,” she joked.

“Anything, for me, huh?”

“Anything? I don’t know about that. Tell me about how your date with Holly went.”

“There was no date. The Owenses invited her. I had no idea she was coming, until after I got there. I walked, she drove her cart.”

“Did she give you a ride, home?”

“She dropped me off. At my mailbox. We didn’t chat about you, because you got mentioned, earlier. We talked about her fiancé, instead. He’s one of the gym teachers, and they don’t live together, because they’re aspiring temple-ready Mormons. She even drank ice water, at dinner, so I believe it.”

Steph laughed, and her amusement was good to hear, even if it was at his expense.

“That’s such a fishy story, and you’re so defensive, it has to be true.”

“Yeah, yeah. How’s my cat?” he changed the subject.

“He’s a pretty good substitute for you. Annoying as hell, won’t leave me alone, always has something to say.”

“Is he sleeping with you, yet?”

“He — What kind of ques — Yes,” she managed, finally. “Only you could make that sound weird, Guy.”

It was his turn to laugh.

“I’ve said it before; the cat has taste. Scratch him behind his left ear, for me. He really likes that.”

“I think he misses you. I know I do.”

“I miss you, too. I should let you go to bed. It’s a couple of hours later, where you are. I’ll tell you all about my first day of school, tomorrow.”

“I wish I could be a fly, on the wall, to see you in action.”

“You think I’ll mess it up?” he joked.

“No — I think you’ll be awesome,” she replied with a sincerity that touched his heart.

*******

Finding his classroom on his own, proved to be fairly easy, thanks to his having memorized the map he’d been given. The room wasn’t large; it contained only fifteen student desks, and his own; a small set of bookshelves, with a few miscellaneous Spanish textbooks, and dictionaries; and a large blackboard. The entire top of the bookcase was bare, and it was there he placed the spider’s terrarium.

A fresh box of multicolored chalk lay on the top of his desk, with a new holder. Guy selected a stick of bright blue, his favorite color, for his first lesson. He fitted it into the holder and wrote: ‘BIENVENIDOS! (Welcome!)’, in large letters, at the top of the board. Under this, he wrote: ‘Señor Ramirez’.

That was the extent of his preparation. He had absolutely no idea of how he was going to proceed, but there was nothing he loved more than winging it.

There were ten students, six girls and four boys, in his first class, and they all filed in, wearing varying degrees of apprehension, on their faces. None of the faces were familiar, on the one hand, which was disappointing. All of them wore black striped ties, which was, on the other hand, cheering.

When everyone was seated, he turned back to his blackboard and wrote the word: ‘Inmersión’. Behind him, a student groaned. Guy turned back to the class, chuckling.

“I know, I know,” he said, in English. “It sounds terrifying, but it’s really the most painless way, to learn a new language. Trust me, I do know. I had Spanish teachers who taught me vocabulary, and made me conjugate verbs, and I had others, who used the immersive approach. Immersion is a thousand times better. Yes, Miss?”

“Gaines, sir. You had Spanish teachers, sir?”

“I did, Miss Gaines. My parents were fluent, but they were very proud of their citizenship, and wanted their kids to speak the best English, possible. I didn’t start learning Spanish until high school. Now, someone moaned, when my back was turned,” he smiled. “Would anyone care to confess?”

“It… was me, sir,” a tall, freckled boy in front replied. “Sam Jenkins,” he clarified. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“I’m not looking for an apology, Mr. Jenkins. You recognized the word.”

“I had a Spanish class in middle school, sir. It was a vocabulary word I missed, on a test. I spelled it, with two M’s.”

Guy felt nothing but sympathy, for the poor kid. He couldn’t imagine being so humiliated by a spelling quiz that he’d remember it, years later.

“So, you didn’t recognize the term as a technique.”

“No, sir.”

“How did you do in the class, spelling aside?”

“It didn’t stick, Mr. Ramirez. Except for the failures. It was…”

“Go on,” Guy encouraged.

“It was the kind of class you said isn’t the best. Vocabulary and conjugation. Maybe I’m too stupid.”

“No. You’re not stupid. It didn’t stick, because you didn’t use it. I want to teach the kind of class where you use Spanish. You all have your textbooks, on your desks. Put them away, for now. I’ll be assigning your homework, from them, but in class, I’ll be teaching you Spanish. I’ll talk to you, you’ll talk to me. We’ll have fun, I hope.”

He turned back to the board, and wrote a phrase.

“Cómo se dice __ en Español ,” he pronounced it aloud. “This is one of the most important phrases you’ll learn, for this class. It means, ‘How do you say __ in Spanish’. Cómo se dice,” he said again, slowly and clearly, then motioned with a hand for the class to repeat it.

“If you don’t know how to say something, now you can ask,” he resumed. “That’s powerful stuff, isn’t it?”

He was answered with thoughtful smiles, nods, and a grin, or two.

“Damn, Steve,” he thought, “I might actually be good, at this.”

“Test drive it, Mr. Jenkins,” he suggested.

“Me?” Sam looked a bit stricken, at first, then plunged. “Cómo se dice ‘cat’, en Español?”

“Perfect. The answer is: Gato, if it’s a male cat, or if you don’t know its sex. Gata, if it’s a female.”

***

Each succeeding class seemed to go more smoothly, and by the fourth, Guy had hit his stride. It was satisfying, and his momentum carried him, through the day.

There was more than one fly in the ointment, however. One was that there was no sign, at all of Franklin Riley, anywhere. Another was the depressing sight of three students, in his own classes sporting green striped ties, and two with yellow ones.

It was heartbreaking. All five students were earnest, doing their best — two of them were even more than commonly bright. He understood, even more, Steph’s cries of ‘why’, in regard to Jess Greene. It was how he felt, seeing doomed children, teetering on this side of mortality.

He was angry, frustrated, and heartsick as he pondered it, on his drive, home. It was in this mood that he called Ted, the second his door was closed, behind him.