Amateur Hour

Franklin

The scholastic and living atmosphere at Saguaro Springs weren’t the only things that were different, from New Canaan, Franklin discovered. The whole new-kid-as-fresh-meat treatment, from the other students he’d been expecting, hadn’t yet reared its head.

He’d grown a bit leaner, to be sure, during his stay in purgatory. He had also grown harder, physically, and stronger. Franklin knew he could take care of himself. That was a given. It was also a given that he could defend Dale, if necessary, though Dale was no slouch either.

All day, in fact, he’d watched for random bullies to materialize, yet, they hadn’t. Instead, he’d been treated with an offhand kind of respect, by his classmates, and by most of the teachers as well. It was as if he had been here, for months.

“It’s confusing the hell out of me,” he told Dale, over lunch.

“Like the Twilight Zone, isn’t it? I keep expecting some sass from a girl that I may have looked at, for a little too long, or a shove, from some big jock. Nothing. All anyone does is smile, and give me a thumbs up.”

“Yeah — what’s with that?”

“I did ask a girl, in my algebra class. She was one who caught me staring. She said it’s just a way of saying, ‘it’s all good’. It is bizarre, but none of these other people have anything on us, Franklin. We all came up, from the bottom.”

“Really. Did she have anything to say, about green or yellow striped ties, by any chance?”

“I didn’t ask. I was still a little tongue tied.”

Dale looked a bit ashamed.

“Sorry, man. I’m obsessed. Don’t sweat it.”

“I would be, too. I thought, once we got here, there would be bunches of different-colored-tie kids, and that maybe there’d be a pattern. Like, math geniuses wear one color, science prodigies, another, and so on. Or, that it might have something to do with dorm assignments. Something. But…”

“Never mind, man. We’ll find out, soon enough, I guess.”

“I’ve got my first Culinary Arts class, next period.” Dale offered, as a change of subject.

“If nothing else, it should have plenty of girls, for you to look at,” Franklin grinned.

“Here’s hoping,” Dale raised his glass of soda, in a salute, and took a sip. “What’s next, for you?”

“The Spanish class. Maybe it won’t be so bad. I passed the door, after second period, and no one looked suicidal, coming out.”

“Know what your problem is, Franklin?”

“I have a new one?”

“It’s an old one, I think. Someone told you, once, that this isn’t your world — that school isn’t, I mean. But, it is, man. You may have to conquer some of it, but it’s yours. Besides — drop/add is next week. If you hate the Spanish class, you can come and bake brownies, with me.”

“As if,” Franklin smiled. “I’ll stick to eating them.”

He’d responded to the joke, but that didn’t mean that there was no inner consideration of the mini lecture. Sometimes, Dale made good points.

*******

Guy

Though Guy had seen, on his updated roster that he’d be there, his heart leaped, at his first sight of Franklin Riley, in the flesh. Guy was careful not to give him more than a brief glance, however, when he entered the classroom.

“Have a seat, anywhere you like, Mr…?”

“Riley, sir. Franklin Riley.”

The kid looked as if he were trying to conceal some disappointment, at the sight of Guy, which could only mean that Steph’s makeover was a success. If Franklin had had a smidgeon of hope, because of the ‘Ramirez’ surname, it looked, now, to be dying a quiet death.

“No, join the dancers, Mr. Riley,” he stopped him short of taking a desk in the rear. “I can’t teach wallflowers.”

Franklin scowled, at him, but he obeyed.

“Bien. Gracias. Bienvenido a Conversational Spanish One,” he smiled. He then drew closer to his desk, and the covered, object on it. “Hoy vamos a hablar sobre…” with a slow movement that was nevertheless a flourish, he pulled the cloth away to reveal the terrarium. “Tarántulas!” he finished, enunciating the word slowly, and portentously, for effect.

Some of his students jumped, at the sight of Araña, and one girl uttered a small squeak. He glanced at her, to make sure she was all right. She gave him a sheepish smile, and a thumbs up. He grinned, back.

“Tarántulas,” he repeated, with an expectant look.

“Tarántulas,” they chorused.

“Excelente.”

“Señor Ramirez —”

“Si, Señorita Cramer?

She pointed to the small placard on the front of the habitat, and looked a bit pained. He felt for her. Of course she didn’t have the vocabulary, to ask her question.

“Puedes preguntarlo en Inglés,” he said.

“Is that his name, or the word for ‘spider’?”

“Ambos,” he nodded, broadly.

“Ah… Ambos,” she repeated.

“Y, es ella nombre.”

“Her name?”

“Si,” he smiled. “Excelente, Señorita Cramer.”

***

Franklin

Despite his initial disappointment that the Spanish teacher bore little, if any resemblance to his old friend, Franklin didn’t feel unhappy, by the end of his first Spanish class.

He’d learned that all tarántulas were arañas, but not all arañas were tarántulas; that tarántulas were ‘muy frágil’ because of their size; and that his teacher, while very cool, didn’t have much imagination, when it came to naming pets. It had been a fun class.

Before he could file out of the room, with his classmates, however, Mr. Ramirez stopped him.

“Hold up, Mr. Riley — I have a dictionary for you,” he said, pulling a pocket sized book, from his top drawer. “I’ve given one, to each student, to help with the homework.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re very welcome. There’s an inscription, inside. I hope it’ll give you some encouragement.”

Franklin shifted his textbook, in order to read the inscription, but the teacher stopped him.

“It can wait, until you get to your next class. You don’t want to be late.”

“No. Thanks again, Mr. Ramirez.”

“Denada. Get outta of here.”

***

When he was safely parked in his AP English class (he’d been upgraded), Franklin cracked open the dictionary.

“Did you ever finish Animal Farm? Meet me, this evening, in Memorial Park, after dinner, if you can. Reschedule, if you can’t.”

It was signed, ‘G.R.’.

Franklin grinned. “You slick little bastard,” he muttered.

*******

It had proved impossible to give Dale the slip. Despite all of Franklin’s vagueness, assurances that his friend would be bored to death by another public lecture, reminders of unfinished psychology homework, and every other excuse he could conjure, Dale had revealed a protective streak to rival that of any Victorian chaperone.

Franklin had considered not going to the meet, but his curiosity had been too much to bear. In the end, he had decided to keep the appointment, with Dale in tow.

“Could you at least wait, by the birdbath, until I call you?” he asked Dale, indicating the sand filled basin on a pedestal, surrounded by pincushion cacti.

“Is that him, on the bench, over there?”

“Yes, Dad, that’s him, in full view.”

“I can wait,” Dale agreed, grudgingly.

“And you call me paranoid.” Franklin rolled his eyes and left his friend, to amble toward the seated figure.

The bench Guy occupied, faced the gravel walkway, and he had waved, to indicate he’d seen both of them arrive.

“Pretty Orwellian, Ramirez, slipping me a note, in a freaking dictionary,” Franklin said, when he was near enough.

Guy grinned, and Franklin wondered how he could ever have been fooled by a little facial hair and some phony grey streaks.

“I thought you’d appreciate that. Is he a buddy of yours?” he asked, as Franklin sat.

“The best one, here, which is why I couldn’t shake him. We’ve been roommates, since we lived in the Outskirts.”

“Is he a gossip?”

“Dale? Hell, no.”

“Might as well bring him over, then.”

Franklin raised his arm, and gave Dale a summoning wave.

“Man, it’s good to see your banty rooster ass again. I thought I never would. Who did your disguise?”

“That’s my partner’s work. Not bad, huh?”

“Not bad, at all. Dale, this is my friend, from New Canaan…” he hesitated.

“Guillermo Ramirez,” Guy replied, honestly. “Guy, to my friends.”

“The Guy?” Dale asked. “The one you talked about, who got you so hooked on books?”

“The same.”

“Good to meet you, man,” Dale offered his hand, but he was still frowning a bit, sizing Guy up.

“Glad to meet the man who’s been with my dude through thick and thin.”

“I half thought you were full of shit, you know,” Franklin said. “With that talk about being undercover, and all.”

“I’m mostly full of shit, but not about that. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, when they grabbed you.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to do much. There were three of them,” Franklin shrugged. “They were quiet. Had me out of bed, pinned down, and a needle in my arm, before I could open my mouth. Don’t sweat it, Ramirez. I’m fine. Did you go through with your great escape?”

“Yeah.”

“I hoped you would, whether you were really undercover, or not. Back with your partner – it was that Steph Howard girl, right?”

In answer, Guy pulled out his phone, and opened his camera roll. He passed the device to Franklin.

“Huh. I never thought she was pretty, at all, but she is, when she smiles.”

“Kinda cute, when she’s mad, too. We have our own business, now. Our client is the guy who owns this place.”

“Mr. Billie.” Franklin nodded. “I saw his picture, outside the badge room. He looks different. Pissed off.”

“Cleaning up your old man’s messes will do that, to you. But, changes are coming.”

“What kind of changes?” Dale demanded, suspiciously.

“They won’t affect you guys, much, except to make you safer. They’re organizational changes. You’ll see some staff leaving.”

“Are we not safe?” Dale’s face was taught, angry.

“Dale—” Franklin began, though he understood the feeling.

“No, man. I want to know.”

“You’re safe, Dale. Safer than Franklin, who’s safer than any poor bastard walking around in a green tie. I’m here to help Mr. Billie make everyone as safe as you are.”

The sun was setting, but Franklin could see that his friend had gone pale. He, on the other hand, felt a strange sense of calm. He’d suspected his situation was bad, and it was almost as bad, as it could be, but it was no longer a mystery.

“This place is a killing jar, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.

Guy hesitated.

“I think I know where some of the bodies are buried,” Franklin continued.

“What?!” It came out of Guy, in a yelp.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t said anything, to anyone, and I won’t. Everyone here has enough to worry about. It’s just a suspicion I’ve had, for a while.”

“Where?” Guy asked, in a calmer voice.

“Over there.” Franklin indicated the two six-foot structures, with a tilt of his head.

“Under those things?”

“In them, I think. They’re columbaria — I had to look the word up, in a dictionary. Someone said ‘columbariums’, the first time I asked, but that’s not the correct plural. Anyway, they’re —”

“It’s the same word, in Spanish. Repositories for cremated remains.” He started to rise, but Franklin grabbed his elbow.

“You might want to wait, until there aren’t so many people around.”

“Are you sure that’s what they are? Someone wasn’t just yanking your chain?”

“There aren’t any names on them, but there are numbers. Student ID numbers.”

Guy looked sick.

“I suppose they’ll keep, for now,” he sighed. “I should go. Check in, with my girl. I just wanted to touch base with you, Franklin, and let you know you’re not alone.”

“Will we talk, again?”

“Sure, we will. Count on it.”

*******

Janice

The person who opened Nina’s door, that afternoon, was barely recognizable. It wasn’t the paint spattered smock, or the dab of green on her cheek, that were disturbing. It was the red, circled eyes, and the hair that had been plaited, but not combed beforehand. It was the smile that didn’t quite reach those eyes, as though Janice were an intruder, though she’d called, in advance, and Nina hadn’t objected to her visiting.

“Should I… come back later?” Janice asked, as Nina closed the door behind them.

“Of course, not. Why would you ask that?”

Her voice, at least, was normal, as was her quizzical frown.

“You look busy.”

“Oh. I am a mess, aren’t I?” she laughed a little. “I’ve been busy, but it’s past time, for a break.”

“I brought us a coffee cake.”

“That was thoughtful. Coffee should be done. Let’s have it, in the kitchen. The living room’s a disaster.”

It wasn’t, quite, but it wasn’t as tidy, as usual, either. There was a bed pillow, on the shorter sofa, and the afghan was carelessly slung over the back; not neatly folded as it ordinarily was. A romance novel lay face down, and open, on the coffee table beside a tall tumbler of something that was faintly brown, as if the ice had melted, in the drink. From the size of the glass, it had almost certainly been iced tea, or soda. Nina’s infamous aluminum bat was leaning nearby, as if it might be needed, at any moment.

Janice trailed her, into the kitchen, which was clean, but there were several food delivery receipts, in a small heap, on the table. It seemed Nina wasn’t cooking much, lately.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your painting,” Janice said.

“You’re not. I really was getting ready to take a break. I’ve been at it, for hours.” She came to the table with the coffee, and went back for the plates and utensils.

“You got your first sonogram,” Janice observed, noting the series of pictures, attached to the refrigerator, with magnets, when Nina opened it, for the carton of half-and-half. “Don’t keep me, in suspense – boy, or girl?”

“Girls. What’s the word? Monozygotic?”

“Twins? Nina — that’s wild! Congratulations!”

“Some weird luck, huh? I hoped for a baby. I’m getting two, for the price of one. For now. I suppose the price will be different, when I’m shopping for clothes and diapers.”

She smiled, as she spoke, but, again, it didn’t quite touch her eyes.

“It must feel kind of overwhelming.”

“It’s a shocker,” she agreed, pouring out the coffee, while Janice cut two wedges from the cake. “Thanks,” she added, when Janice handed her her plate.

“What was Ted’s reaction?”

“He didn’t really want the sonogram. Said he wanted to be surprised. I imagine he will be.”

Nina had gotten the sonogram Ted hadn’t wanted, and taped it, right there, on the refrigerator door. Janice didn’t know whether to be amused by her defiance, or worried that Ted had not yet seen it.

“It’s… right there. Hasn’t he seen it, yet?”

“No.”

It was an honest answer. It was also the end of that conversational gambit.

“Where’s Raven?” Janice asked, taking another tack.

“Oh, goodness! I put her outside, because she’s been all over me, like kudzu. Just a second —”

Nina hopped up, and trotted, barefoot, toward the living room. Janice heard the glass door slide open then closed. In a moment, the dog ambled into the kitchen, found Janice, accepted her customary pats and scritches, then sought her water bowl.

“Poor thing,” Nina chuckled, resuming her seat. “I nearly forgot her, and I think the first bit of that storm is moving in. I was working, low, on the wall, and she was getting in my way, so I put her out, for a bit. Are you battening down, at the school, yet?”

“We’re getting some of the trees trimmed back, and some yard debris cleared. There’s not much out there, right now. As my Daddy says, it’s always too early to do much about a storm, until it’s too late.”

“You’re far enough from the river, right?”

“I think so, and there’s a downward slope. We might get soggy, but I don’t think flooding will be a big problem, on the campus. A small problem, maybe.”

“I see,” Nina nodded, frowning.

“Are you nervous? About the storm?”

“Not really. There are some things you can’t do anything about, and worrying about them only makes you crazy.”

“Nina—”

“What?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Janice. Really. I do have some things, on my mind, but I’ll work them out.”

“You don’t look like you’re sleeping.”

“I haven’t been, much. There’s a lot to get done, in the nursery.”

“It looks like you’re trying to get your sleep, in the living room, with a baseball bat, in your hand.”

“Now, that’s silly. Who could sleep, with a baseball bat, in their hand? I keep it propped by the arm of the couch, like any normal person.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing. I have my baseball bat.”

This time, Nina’s smile was more genuine, with a hint of mischief. Then, it faded.

“Yes, Ted is gone,” she continued. “I asked him to leave, because I needed to think about some things. No, the bat is not for him. I still love him, and even if I didn’t, this is his house, and he’s the father of my babies. No, he didn’t raise a single finger to me, or say anything ugly. If he had, I would be gone, and he would be here.”

“All right.”

“He’s done something… is doing something, that I don’t know how to deal with, because he won’t tell me why he’s doing it. That’s all I can tell you, Janice.”

“Okay. But it’s pretty clear that you don’t feel safe, at night, by yourself.”

“Not because I’m afraid of Ted. I’m a little afraid, without him. That’s on me, though. I’m responsible, for that. And, it’s silly. I have Raven, as an early warning system, if nothing else. This neighborhood, what’s left of it, has never been known, for prowlers…”

“Except for the last ones who planted bugs in your house, and mine, right?” Janice thought, but she didn’t say it. She didn’t need to. The answer was all over Nina’s face.

“You could stay with us,” she suggested, instead.

“That’s so sweet, really. Only, right now, I’m just a little bit nuts. I can be that, here. I can get up, in the middle of the night and paint, or I can cry, or scream into my pillow. It’ll pass, but it’s like any non deadly sickness — it has to run its course.”

“You shouldn’t be alone, while it does. Can’t Hannah come home?”

“Not now. They think that storm might break, this way. She’s safer, where she’s at.” Nina’s expression lightened. “Happier, too. She makes jokes about some old man she reconnected with, down there. She says he’s playing the love flute, for her.”

Nina’s grin, this time, was fully hers.

“Is that a metaphor?”

“No, it’s literal. He’s courting her, but she says he knows she’s a big heiress, and just wants her, for her money.”

Janice couldn’t help but laugh. She could picture Hannah saying exactly that, and the maliciously humorous sparkle in her eyes. Nina joined her laughter.

“’…Every night, Nina-Bird, outside my window. I don’t know if he wants me, or flute lessons. He needs flute lessons…’,” Nina quoted, then laughed again. “I do miss her. After she left, everything just went off the rails.” After a beat, she changed the subject. “I’m out of coffee. Want some more?”

“Unless you want me to get the hell out of here.”

“I don’t. You’re the only one, in the world, with any idea of what I’m going through.”

“I’ve never been through any of the things you’ve gone through.” Janice said, watching her walk to the coffee pot.

“Maybe not, but you understand them. Your superpower is empathy. You struggle with Ted, as much as I do – though, for different reasons.”

It was an odd thing to say, but Janice realized that it was true. Case in point, today’s meeting, when he’d become impatient with her take on what the Saguaro Sands students would feel about his intended actions.

It hadn’t been her ability to relate to the students, that had won him over, but only the solution she’d offered, with logic behind it. It was food for thought.