November 7: Chapters 3 and 4
Chapter 3
There’s a story men tell when they are gathered around each other’s vehicles in the parking lots of the Quik-Snak, car doors flung open, headlights and map-lights illuminating their faces like the spectre of death. It is the story of a man who rode out of town in search of a lost love. This hero barely makes it past the town limits when he falls off his horse and hurts his ankle, rolling into a ditch at the roadside. A rattlesnake bites him in the other ankle, making it impossible for the man to stand. The snake spooks the horse, who runs off in a panic. The man is in pain, and he knows that passersby will happen upon him soon, so he drags himself toward the cover of a bush, where he waits until the sun goes down. The night is as cold as librarian’s glare, and over the course of the first several hours, many people on their way into or out of the town pass by within earshot, but the man clamps his teeth down around a branch from the bush so as not to cry out in pain and be discovered. He has no food or water, but neither does he have the appetite for either. Just before sunup, there is a light rain, which the man has been counting on. He tears a sleeve off of his shirt and lets the drizzle soak the cloth, which he uses to wipe the dirt from his face and hands, for the fall from his horse and the subsequent crawl through the dust have left him a mess. Some rainwater that accumulates on the leaves of the bush is enough to quench his thirst and slick his hair back. Just after daybreak, two ladies on their way into town for a church meeting pass by, and the man calls out to them. They rush to his aid, marvel at how handsome and dapper he looks despite the ordeal through which he has just passed, then take him to breakfast and then to his home, where they take turns over the next two days attending to his needs. His horse comes home moments after he declares himself fit to walk, the two women swear their undying love for the man and say that their lives will be consumed with competing discreetly for his requited affection in a serious-but-friendly contest for his devotion, and the very rattlesnake that had bitten him a few days earlier is killed by a man who is the cook in the restaurant next door. The man, later that evening and dining with one of the ladies who came to his aid, orders rattlesnake chili for supper and devours the snake, sopping up his juices with a crusty piece of bread.
The moral of the tale, say the men who repeat it, is that it matters not what you do, but how cool you look doing it. Though you risk life and limb, you either wind up devouring your enemies or you’ll die alone and under a bush, but at least you’ll leave a pretty corpse.
Chapter 4
First period English. Second period Japanese. Break. Third period Advanced Biology. Fourth period Advanced Biology Lab. Lunch. Fifth period pre-calculus. Sixth period painting. It was a grueling schedule, but it ended pleasantly, if he could survive the day to get there. At the end of his fourth period science class, Anderson’s teacher held him back to chat.
“Brooks,” said Ms. Nohara. “Do you have to be anywhere right after school today?”
Anderson thought longingly of his Fat Possum and of the black asphalt that lie waiting for them both, but answered, “No ma`am.”
“Really, don’t call me ma`am. No is fine, Brooks.”
“Yes, ma`am. I mean sure.”
“I’m inviting some of the new juniors to meet with me and a couple of the old-timers to sort of de-brief about your first day of school. I promise it will be a completely non-threatening situation, and nobody will make you feel uncomfortable. And the old-timers I’ve asked to join us are the nicest students.”
“May I ask their names?” Anderson asked.
“I think I’ll keep that to myself right now, but if you’re wondering how many are girls, I’ll say it’s two girls and two boys.”
“Then I’ll be sure to be there, ma`am. I mean Ms. Nohara.”
“Good! I’ll see you right here after the last bell.”
Anderson made his way to the cafeteria. Walking into homeroom on the first day had not daunted him, but the high school cafeteria, as everyone knows, is the untamed wilderness of the school. Anderson knew that in this unfamiliar territory, he was a marked man and would need every one of his finely honed instincts to steer clear of trouble. He decided before entering that he would not look for a space in which to eat alone; he would look for the nice girls he sat next to in homeroom, and if there wasn’t a seat near them, he’d find other girls with similar assets.
The three homeroom girls were sitting with four others who seemed to be of the same composition, so he asked one of the unfamiliar ones, “Is anyone sitting here?”
“No,” was the answer. It was neither an invitation or a repellent, so Anderson sat down.
“I’m Brooks,” he said. “Just started here.”
The girls all made interested, noncommittal sounds. Anderson new better than to be offended. These were just girls who didn’t talk much, except to each other. Once they got familiar with him, they might initiate a conversation or two, but he knew there was a fair chance that he’d never be completely welcome with them.
“I notice not a single one of you has purchased the school lunch,” Anderson continued. “I brought a lunch today because I didn’t know what to expect. Should I take your home-lunches as a sign that I made the right choice?”
This time, one of the girls said, “Gosh, yes. Don’t even check it out.” There was murmured agreement from some of the others.
Anderson was about to say something witty when two of the jocks from his homeroom stopped at his table. “Ey, mainland guy,” said the one who’d thrown the pencil at him. “Come sit wit’ us! We get plenny room our table!”
“I appreciate the invitation,” said Anderson, “but I’m pretty comfortable right here.”
“What, four periods in and already scamming da chicks?” asked the jock.
“Whether I am or not is really not something to be discussed in the presence of ladies,” said Anderson.
“Kay, well. I no like cramp yo’ style, but fo’ real, brah. Tomorrow, come sit wit’ us! We sit back deah.” The guys walked off, carrying their lunch trays.
“What in the name of Blackjack Mulligan was that about?” asked Anderson.
The girls just shrugged.
“No, really. Was that guy being friendly to me after what happened in homeroom, or is this some other way to mock the new guy in town?”
“No clue,” said one of the girls. “But just be careful. Those guys are powder kegs in a flint shop.”
“That’s pretty good,” said Anderson. “You mind if I use that?”
The girl giggled. Anderson finished his sandwich and neatly put everything in the brown paper bag. “I’ll be seeing you ladies later. Have a good day.” That giggle, he knew, was his cue to leave them wanting more.
Locale: Starbucks Moanalua
Word count, this selection: 1242.
Cumulative word count: 5111.
Words left: 44,889.
Ahead or behind pace: - 6558 words.
Tunage: Ryo Okumoto, Coming Through.
Consumables: 1 bottle of water, 1 grande nonfat latte, 1 grande nonfat caramel macchiato.
Spirits: Impatient.