Gabe Johnson Takes Over (17 page)

“We'd like to talk to you about the fake beaver shots you're making,” Seth said.

“Yeah, you fat-ass dick,” Janessa hissed.

“I already apologized to Janessa and I didn't make those pics,” I said. “Anyway, I'm here for groceries, not talk.”

I sped up. I just had to make it into the store. Seth wouldn't chase me in there. The car moved as fast as me, of course, so I took off. I ran. Without Grandpa's workouts, I couldn't run like that. I cut between cars and heard Seth's car roar and his tires squeal. I just had to cross the strip right in front of the store and I'd be in. I heard Seth's car skid to a halt.

Somebody yelled, “Gabe Johnson. Stop where you are. Stop running.”

I looked to my left. Officer Rex McCoy slid off the back of his cop car. He was holding a donut. I shit you not. I turned to my right and ran like hell. RC III and Kailey were close by. I needed to give them time to get away! As I ran, I looked over my shoulder. Officer McCoy, who is fatter than me, was giving chase.
You
can
do
this!
I thought. I turned on my afterburners, which don't really work that well. Then I heard faster footsteps. I looked again. Seth Sellers was chasing me. He was closing fast. And Justin was right behind him.
Oh, shit!
I shot past the liquor store and down the strip mall strip. I got in front of the dry cleaner, almost to Subway, before Seth caught me. He jumped on my back and knocked me forward. One of the sixteen quarters shot out of my pocket and rolled in front of me right as my face bounced on the pavement. I screamed. Seth grabbed my arm and wrenched it around my back. “You fat pussy!” he shouted. “You want to mess with me?”

I didn't think twice, just rolled with all my might. Seth crashed over to my left. I balled up my fistful of fourteen bucks, pulled it back into mammoth punching position, said, “You're a waste of space!”

Just then, Justin jumped on top of Seth and pinned him down hard. “Run, Gabe!” he yelled.

“What are you doing?” Seth screamed.

Justin's pretty strong, I guess. I pushed myself up onto my feet but paused so I could watch Seth wriggle under Justin Cornell's superior strength because it was awesome to see. Justin smiled at me and I wanted to high-five him because damn, I really do love him!

“Go!” Justin shouted.

Just then, Officer McCoy crashed into me.

That's how I scraped my legs. McCoy's knees crushed into my calves. I've never felt pain like that, sir. I screamed so loud.

McCoy sounded like he was going to die he was breathing so hard. “What in the hell is going on here?” He pushed his weight on top of me, smashing me. My chest, belly, and elbow scrapes from climbing out the basement window slid on the concrete.

“Ah!” I cried. Then I thought of RC III and Kailey. “I stole the money! I stole the money! Here!” I stretched my arm up. I uncurled my fingers. The fourteen dollars from the machine fell out of my hand.

“You stole what?” McCoy shouted.

“The money!” I shouted.

McCoy stayed on top of me. He spoke into his little radio on his shoulder. “Send a couple cars down to Cub. We got ourselves a little Spunk River ruckus going on. Gabe Johnson. Seth Sellers. Apprehended both.”

With that, Seth ripped himself away from Justin and took off running.

“Assailant in flight!” McCoy cried. “Seth Sellers fleeing!”

They got him? Good. Ass wipe.

Janessa got a disorderly conduct? Whoa. She's mean, dude. I wouldn't want to try cuffing her.

Yeah, McCoy was looking for me. Not because of the pop machine. Dad realized I'd escaped when Ms. Feagan showed up. Dad didn't even try to find me himself. Grandpa told me this morning he couldn't stop Dad. Dad called the cops. They were all looking for me because of Dad. In the car, Officer McCoy said, “Nobody cares about your fourteen-dollar theft.” He's an idiot, man. A theft is a theft. Cops cared about the theft this morning, didn't they? They were crazy about it. They tried to get me to admit to robbing a bunch of machines!

What? Are you kidding? What the hell?

Thirteen thousand dollars? From pop machines? Last night? How?

Yeah. J. D. Carlson is Kailey's cousin. He's a huge meth-head dirtbag though. Not a good guy.

She…she was really pissed that there wasn't money in the machine we robbed. I don't think she'd help J. D. Do you guys think Kailey took all that money?

No, I didn't notice us being surveilled at Fort Neillsen. Is that why Gore and RC III were picked up this morning? Kailey was being watched?

Oh, Kailey. Oh, crap. Is she going to be put away? Like big time?

Of course. Kailey works for the business. She runs the Kaus pop stands at Jaycees events and crap. Does that mean it's not a crime for her to empty the machines?

Up to her dad, huh? I don't really know him. When will he be here again?

What's that paper?

It's for me? From Kailey? Let me see it!

Ha. Wow. She says, “Use the Force, Gabe.”

Can you get something back to her?

The
Force
runs
strong
in
our
family.

Yes, sir. Thanks, Mr. Rodriguez.

Yeah, I'm in total shock. I had no idea. I'm—

Yes. Seriously. Why have you been laughing all day, Mr. R.? Tell me something funny. I need it bad. Tell me your funny story.

They were making out? On stage at school? This morning? Justin and Camille? A flock of sheep? What?

Two sheep. That's plenty. That's about what would fit in Justin's car.

Arrested? Are they okay?

I'm so glad. I'll clean the sheep poop myself if Deevers just forgets about this part. Wow.

Yeah! Yeah! That's hilarious! I figured right away they had to be Camille's sheep. I just couldn't for a second figure out how they got in the school. Of course, Justin has a key. Student council officers get keys. Why did they do it?

Whoa. That's one badass protest.
Geekers
won't be sheep.
Pretty sweet. I shouldn't have been hard on them. I love those guys.

Balls. This has been the craziest few days ever, right? Nothing's ever going to be the same again.

It's all so crazy, man.

Mr. Rodriguez?

Am I ever going to be able to go home?

No, I don't want to see Dad. I just want to go to bed. In my bed.

Seriously. Seriously. Please. I want to go home, sir.

When will Mr. Kaus be here?

THREE DAYS LATER, WEDNESDAY, JUNE 19, 2:30 P.M.

FINAL INTERVIEW CONDUCTED AT BITTERROOT COFFEE SHOP, MINNEKOTA, MN.

I don't mind if you record this, Mr. Rodriguez. You've been really cool. Really good to us. All you guys. Thanks.

Yeah, I'm grounded! Grandpa is trying to stay hidden, but he's over there at that table by the window, keeping an eye on me. Yeah, hi, Grandpa. He's pretending to read.

I get it. I stayed out all night one night and then broke out of being grounded the next night and got arrested for robbing a pop machine. That's some highly groundable business.

Dad's okay. He's letting me go to work. I really have to go because RC III's dad sent him to Georgia to work construction with his uncle for the rest of the summer. He'll be back in the fall. His dad actually likes it here apparently. I already miss him.

Dante needs workers. You know anybody?

Well, I'm experiencing my fifteen minutes of fame. I think Dad's sort of proud of me.

Did you see that headline? Front page of the Fargo paper, right? “Fat Boy vs. the Cheerleaders.”
The Star Tribune
from Minneapolis is a little more politically correct. “Minnekota Student Confronts Corrupt School Board.”

I like the fat boy headline better. It's funnier. The article got picked up by all kinds of news services because of that headline. The reporter from the Fargo paper let me talk about our pop research from health class too. I got to mention poor kids who don't have breakfast and suck down the poison to stay awake. So “fat boy” works, sir. Better laugh than cry in this case because fat boy is a sexy headline. And sexy sells, gets the story out there.

That's what Gore tells me anyway.

She's right. Dad's been taking calls from TV stations all day today. They all want to talk to the fat boy. Ha-ha.

I shit you not, Mr. R.

No, none of this would've happened, except for Randall Andersson. Because Ms. Feagan was his favorite teacher, Randall and Ms. Feagan went out for dinner on Saturday night (while I was escaping through the tiny window). Feagan had already spent Saturday winding up all the old ladies in town about the band. At dinner, Randall said he planned to bring me on stage during Sunday's Wall of Sound Spunk River concert. He said he'd make a huge stink about the band trouble in front of everybody. He told Feagan he wanted me to give a speech.

That's why Ms. Feagan showed up at my house on Saturday night. She came by to prep me. Of course, by that time I was just about to climb in RC III's car so that me and Kailey could do the dirty deed. Dad looked for me all over the house. Then he called the cops. He was out of his mind apparently.

While I was spending my day with you at the police station, Randall and Ms. Feagan visited Dad at the house to tell him that even though robbing the machine was stupid, I was right to rebel generally. Randall convinced Dad to bring me to the concert if I got out of jail in time.

That was one of the calls you took? From Dad?

Okay.

After Kailey's parents set us all free (did you see Mrs. Kaus? She looked like she'd been run over by a truck), Dad and Grandpa drove me straight to Spunk River Days. I was not expecting that and I wasn't very happy about it. I hadn't slept and my body scrapes were all burning up and my stretchy pants were sliding down my butt because I didn't eat almost anything for like 30 hours and I'd already been dropping weight before that. I was all like, “No! I don't want to go! Take me home! Lock me in the basement, please!”

Dad didn't respond. Grandpa said, “You gotta see this through, buddy.”

And so I did.

There were five thousand people at Wilson Beach. That's bigger than the whole town of Minnekota, man. Wall of Sound is a big deal. Security guys at the event just kept nodding and waving us through the sea of people. Dad drove me right up behind the band shell.

I got out of the car and there they all were—Austin in his sagging shorts (like my stretchies), Tess in her bikini top, Schae and Omar and Caitlyn and everybody.

Yeah. Everybody. Justin and Camille too. Those guys had their instruments in one hand and were holding hands with the other. I sort of cried when I saw them. We all hugged pretty hard. Justin has to pay off all these repairs to his dad's car interior. Sheep hooves cut right through the fabric, I guess.

Everybody cheered when I got there too, which is also maybe what made me cry.

It's all sort of a blur. Ms. Feagan was back there. She pulled me aside and said I was on tap to give a short speech. I shrugged. The concert started. There were so many people, I could barely move. But everyone danced, which I liked. Wall of Sound played for forty-five minutes or so. Then Randall Andersson stopped singing and started talking about how important music programs were to him growing up. How he always had a hard time talking, always felt awkward, out of place, like a total outsider in his own hometown until Barry Shaver stuck a trombone in his hand. When he said the name Barry Shaver, everyone in the crowd cheered like crazy. Mr. Shaver has a lot of support in Minnekota, even if he acted like an idiot. Then Randall said, “In the past few weeks, there's been a concerted effort to remove music from the high school here in the Lake Area.” People booed for about a minute straight. The booing was so loud, I could feel it vibrating in my chest. “But your kids wouldn't take it. They wouldn't accept their fate. Your kids stood up!” The boos turned to cheers. All the Geekers slapped me on the back. “Allow me to introduce you to Gabriel Johnson, leader of the resistance, and the rest of the Minnekota Lake Area High School Band!” All five thousand people screamed.

I stood back there behind the band shell, totally stunned, sir. I couldn't process, you know? Then Justin put his hand on my shoulder and shouted in my ear, “Get moving, man! Go!”

I climbed up the steps. The Geekers climbed up behind me. The audience cheered like crazy. Randall handed me a mic. The sun set over the lake, so everything turned orange. I scanned the crowd in front of me. Ms. Feagan stood next to Dad right up front. And Gore and her dad stood next to Grandpa. Gore was just spilling tears too. I gave her a big smile and swallowed and looked out across the whole town of faces and just said, “We love you guys! The MLAHS band loves you. Everybody. It's been such a crazy few days. We didn't mean to do any harm at all. We don't want to stop anyone from doing what they love, okay? We want the cheerleaders to dance and…and we want RC III out there throwing touchdowns for the football team. We don't want to take anything away from anyone because we all need our thing. Geekers have to geek out, right?”

The crowd whooped.

But seriously. “We really need our thing. So much. We're a band. We play music. We need to keep being a band! Thank you!”

I know. Not the greatest speech. But I didn't want to go on and on, you know?

“How about a little rendition of ‘Tequila,' Gabe?” Randall Andersson asked.

“Yeah. Yeah,” I nodded. “Let's do it!”

Then Austin and Omar started pounding their drums and Jake from Wall of Sound started pounding along. Then Randall began directing. He gestured like Mr. Shaver and everybody on stage laughed. Then everybody in my band and his band (except me because I didn't have my 'bone) raised their instruments and then
bam
. My band and Wall of Sound played the greatest version of “Tequila” ever played. Everybody danced. Everybody whooped and spun around. Everybody shouted “Tequila” at the right moment. All five thousand, including Gore, my dad, and my grandpa.

Pretty amazing.

Wall of Sound played another few songs. We slid back down the back steps. I had reporters from a few papers grab me right away. They'd already talked to Ms. Feagan. They'd talked to Chief Bartell. They knew all about the Spunk River War. They knew that I'd sent apology notes to the cheerleaders about the dirty pics. I told the story about the pop machine, how it nearly killed me. I told them about robbing it but how it wasn't a robbery because Kailey Kaus was protesting with us and I said that she and J. D. Carlson were returning all the money. (I made that part up. Turns out J. D. couldn't return all the money because he'd already spent some of it by the time he was arrested Sunday.) I said that I was tired of being called names and that I'd learned how crappy it is to call people names in general. Even if you think those people don't care, they care and it hurts and robs people of their dignity. I sure hated being called a lard ass. I'm sure the cheerleaders didn't enjoy getting called cheer bitches. I think that's where the “Fat Boy vs. the Cheerleaders” headline came from. I told that story. But didn't the Fargo reporter understand me? I don't like getting called names!

Ha-ha. Right. Better laugh than cry. In this case.

Yeah, I talked to RC III Monday. He said, “Pops heard you on the radio. Says you should be proud.”

I guess RC III's pops doesn't think RC III should be proud. He flew to Atlanta on Tuesday.

I haven't heard at all from Kailey. Do you know what's happening with her?

Justin told me last night that the dance school has a “For Sale” sign in front of it.

What about Gore?

Am I blushing?

Since I'm grounded, she's coming over for dinner tonight. She came over last night too. And Monday night. Me, her, and Grandpa hung out in the backyard. We had some lemonade. Grandpa was a little freaked out by her black clothes and fingernails and stuff. He definitely likes her though. “You don't raise your voice and squawk like a chicken much, do you?” he asked her last night.

“No,” she said.

“I appreciate that.”

Speaking of Grandpa. He's flapping the banana hammock at us. See that?

Waving it. We ran two miles yesterday. We're swimming today, doing the Spunk River Challenge.

Oh, man. Oh, man. Why didn't I get a new suit? I'm going to strangle my boys again? I'm going to go all beached whale on it again?

Yeah. Ha-ha. It's worth it. Of course, Mr. Rodriguez. Who cares?

I'm in control of my dignity. I have my dignity, for sure.

Thanks, sir. Thanks again for your help.

Time to swim. Take care, Mr. R.