The Year I Stopped Being Invisible - 24. Chapter 24

Linda parked at the mall across the street from the school and we all walked over together, Taine shaking his head every few steps in a futile attempt to wake himself up for the long day ahead. Once inside the hallowed halls of Polk, we thanked Linda for the ride and each went our separate ways, as we all had different classes for first period.

I was expecting a lot of stares and whispers, considering that I had just put Kevin Gorman in the hospital the previous week by beating him bloody with Taine's English book. I certainly got all the stares and whispers I could want, and by the time I walked into Mrs. Colby's English class and took my seat, I felt like I was the talk of the school for all the wrong reasons.

That was when I noticed Mike Colman standing beside my desk. Mike was a painfully thin and geeky freshman, brilliant but not what you'd call socially adept. He wore wire-frame glasses which were too large for his small, almost fetal baby face, navy-blue rayon slacks above battered brown sneakers, a light-blue short-sleeved shirt with buttons down the front, and -- God help us all -- a plastic pocket protector in his breast pocket which held two pencils, a pen, a mechanical pencil and a protractor.

"So, uhm, Rick," he began in a low, nervous voice.

"Hey, Mike," I said casually.

I always tried to be friendly to him, not just because no one else was, but because I truly appreciated both his intellect and his wit, which usually went over everyone else's heads with its multi-layered cultural and historical references.

"Uhm, I just wanted to say that what you did last week was really cool."

Cool? This I hadn't expected. After my walk from the side door of the school to my locker and then to class, I felt like everyone had decided I was some kind of psycho, dangerous and not to be trusted. I cocked an eyebrow at Mike, and saw an unexpected admiration in his eyes behind the thick lenses of his glasses.

"That guy is a dick," Mike explained. "He's been picking on me and everyone else since the fourth grade. He deserved what he got, and I'm glad you did it."

I gave him a wry smile. "You don't think I'm a psycho?"

Mike shrugged. "Takes one to beat one."

He took his seat as the bell rang and Mrs. Colby entered the room. She gave me a long stare, causing a few nervous titters and more whispers around me.

"Welcome back, Mr. Spivey," she said flatly. "Let's see if you've found some less combative uses for your English text during your vacation."

I blushed, and she smiled, and the class laughed, breaking the tension. I started to think that maybe things were going to be okay after all.

I was wrong.

* * * * *

When English class was over, I gathered my stuff and went to Mrs. Colby's desk, handing her some assignments which Taine had gathered for me to complete during my suspension. She accepted them and then looked up at me, pulling her glasses down her nose and staring me in the eye.

"As a teacher at this school," she said, "I can't condone what you did to Kevin. But I had him in class two years ago, and as a person..."

She fingered the cover of the teacher's edition of our English textbook laying on her desk. It was at least double the size of the student version, heavy, bulky and thick.

"...it would have been nice if you'd had this one," she whispered with a smile, then turned her attention to her paperwork.

I grinned. Mrs. Colby affected the persona of a grumpy old schoolmarm, but she never failed to delight me when she let it slip.

I turned and left the room, a smile still on my face. The smile froze when I heard a deep, menacing voice behind me in the hallway.

"Woof, woof, motherfucker."

I spun around angrily to see who it was, only to catch a brief glimpse of some giggling girls who had overheard, and a Polk varsity letter jacket disappearing into the crowd of students.

It was going to be a long day.

* * * * *

I managed to make it to lunch, and sat with Taine at our usual table, trying to ignore the stares and whispers. I invited Mike Colman to sit with us, but he merely shook his head, staring at the ground as he made his way to the Geek Table, where protractors, geometers and heated discussions about Dungeons & Dragons had made his life somewhat bearable throughout his education.

I looked down at my lunch, then over at Taine. My poor Babes looked so tired that I was afraid he would fall asleep in his food. He held a French fry awkwardly in his fingers, aimlessly dipping it into a pool of ketchup on his tray.

"So how has your day been going?" he asked quietly.

"Weird," I replied. "I'm a hero to the Geeks and the teachers, and Richard Speck to everyone else."

I didn't mention the "woof, woof" to Taine, because I didn't want to upset him. He looked like he had been through enough that morning as it was. I wanted to ask him what had happened, but I knew that Taine hated to be asked how he was doing. He would tell me in his own time.

I forced down most of the dark, leathery meat which was advertised as "Salisbury Steak" on the school menu, gobbled the fries, green beans and doughy "strawberry tart," then accepted the remains of Taine's lunch as he pushed the tray over to me. I began working on my second course as Taine finally spoke.

He looked at me first, and I really wanted to kiss him, to feel his skin, but I couldn't risk it in the crowded lunchroom. I sent him a message of love with my eyes instead, and his slow blink told me that it was received and returned. He smirked and leaned back in his chair.

"Lenny French body checked me in the hallway," he said, "and I got a few nasty looks from people, but it wasn't that bad. I don't think many people remember it was me. That's one of the perks of being invisible."

My heart clenched at his words.

Even though it was actually a blessing for him that day, I felt bad that Taine was so ignored and relegated to the sidelines, an extra in the movie of his own life. I knew that much of it was by choice -- the ever-present cap with its brim pulled down to shield him from the world speaking to that choice -- but I wondered how much he might secretly hate it.

One thing I knew for sure, I thought as he rose and slowly left the cafeteria, is that he wasn't an extra to me.

He would always be the star of my show.

* * * * *

Mr. McRory took me into his office during Drama class, pointing at the bench along the wall. It was painted in "UIL gray," part of the school's practice-set for the University Interscholastic League's One-Act Play contests in the spring. The plays were all performed using the same unit sets: various benches, platforms and blocks fashioned of plywood and painted in the same flat gray color.

Mr. McRory was also in standard mode, wearing his usual outfit of Izod, khaki slacks and TopSiders with blue socks. He was no more a real preppy than I was, having attended a public high school across town before studying theatre at Southwest Texas State University in San Marcos, Texas, thirty-five miles up the highway from San Antonio.

Still, we both liked the look, and on some days we appeared to have been dressed by the same person, the only difference being that I set off my Izods and TopSiders with designer jeans instead of khakis. While the rest of the class practiced in the classroom, Mr. McRory lit a cigarette and began what I was sure was going to be an unpleasant speech.

"Rick," he said, "I'm going to level with you. I was really pissed off at you all week. We needed you at that tournament. You let us down. You let Linda down."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"You're a good actor, Rick, and everyone here likes you and wants you to be in the play. But I need to know whether this was a one-time thing and we'll be able to count on you for the play and for the rest of tournament season, or if you're going to make this a habit."

I studied Mr. McRory carefully before replying. It was only then that I noticed his mustache was gone. Without it, he bore even more of a resemblance to the actor Donald Sutherland than he had with it.

"What happened to your 'stache, Mr. Mac?" I asked. It was the wrong answer.

"I shaved it off," he said coldly. "Forget it. Go back and practice your Duet."

I tried to dial the conversation back, but in vain. Dejected and embarrassed, I rejoined Linda on the Drama Room's makeshift practice stage.

"That didn't go well," I said to her, as we moved two chairs to the starting positions for our scene.

"Oh, Rick," Linda replied indulgently. "You know Mr. McRory. He'll come around eventually. Just run the scene with me a few times. Show him you mean business. He'll be fine."

"Okay," I said, taking my place next to her and facing the imaginary audience for our brief introductory speech.

"Doris and George are married," she began.

"But not to each other," I joined in.

And so it went...

* * * * *

After school, Linda and I waited for Taine in the parking lot, and talked about this and that. I hadn't had any more run-ins with any of Kevin's friends for the rest of the day, and I hoped that my Babes hadn't either. After a few minutes, he emerged from the building, talking to no one, his eyes downcast as he shuffled from the school.

God, I thought. This place must have been Hell for him even before this mess started. As I was getting all twisted up in a sympathetic knot, the cap raised and Taine saw us, smiling brightly. He began to walk faster, joining us at Linda's car.

"Hey, Taine," she said.

Taine blushed, painfully shy around girls, even Linda, and said "Hey" in a barely audible voice.

Linda grinned and gave me a twinkling glance, as if to say, "he's so adorable!"

I agreed.

We all jumped into Linda's car, happy to have the school day behind us. As I began to get in the front seat, Linda placed an arm across it and gave me a look, gesturing to the back seat with her head and eyes. I smiled at her and climbed in the back beside my Babes, showering him with kisses and hugs as Linda drove down the road toward our homes, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"You're my boys now," she said.

We both looked up at her smiling eyes in the rear-view mirror. What a strange thing to say, I thought.

"Are you adopting us?" Taine asked facetiously.

"As a matter of fact," Linda replied, "I just might."

We all laughed, not noticing the dilapidated black Charger following us slowly down Walden Road.