The Crazy Horse Electric Game (18 page)

Willie stands on the grass near the edge of the park, watching parents and teachers shaking hands, hugging, talking about how they never thought this or that kid would make it through, congratulating each other on their own perseverance and tenacity. OMLC: One More Last Chance High School. Boy, no kidding. Willing to take any kid, no matter how damaged and angry and beaten down, and give him one more last chance until he finds the one that works or burns out trying. There's André, always André sometimes gently, sometimes ferociously—always firmly—forcing the acceptance of responsibility, chasing away the fog so life can be seen as it is. André, who just wouldn't stop until OMLC was a place to be proud of—on
his
terms—fixed and painted and painted and fixed, who appeared at five-thirty the
morning after the fire—his heart surely broken—to begin again, ripping out burned lumber like a man possessed, declaring a three-week, all-school mini-course in ABR: Advanced Building Restoration. In less than a month OMLC looked better than ever.

Like the old building, its second overhaul in a year complete, Willie feels resurrected. He was a hero for a brief time after the fire, with coverage in the
Tribune;
was even interviewed for a short piece on street gangs in
Oakland Magazine
. Mostly what he said about street gangs was that he would stay away from them if he could. And he did for the rest of the year. The law has Kam cold; sent him to a youth work camp in the Central Valley somewhere, and though very likely other chapters of the Jo Boys continue to wreak havoc around the state, they've not been back.

 

Lying on the ground outside the burning school, fading in and out of consciousness, Willie had visions of killing Hawk for leaving him there to face the Jo Boys alone, kept thinking he'd never forgive him—never—for leaving him hung out there like that.

Hawk walked into his room at the hospital that night, his arm wrapped in a cast past the crook of his elbow, and stood, watching, until Willie's eyes opened.
Willie squinted, glaring.

“Sorry, man,” Hawk said softly. “I was comin', jus' walkin' out the door, an' my brother show, mean on drugs. He dusted; want money, threaten my momma to crack her head, she don't give it. Sister be screamin', I jump between 'em and get throw clean 'cross the kitchen.” Hawk shakes his head. “You don't know no dudes meaner than my brother, 'specially when he
up
. I know I got to take him on, he gonna kill somebody. So I do. I get him,” he says, pointing to the cast, “but he get me, too. Somebody gonna take him out someday.” He looks at Willie; looks sad and guilty. “I get there quick as I can. School be burnin' an' I call; come back quick.” He hung his head. “Hawk wouldn't leave you, man…”

Willie raised his hand and shook his head and all the animosity left; just dropped away like so much water down the drain. He said, “It's okay, man. You did what you had to. I'd have done the same.”

 

Willie continues to work out with Sammy and Lisa and it is now nearly impossible to tell there was ever anything physically wrong with him if you didn't know him before; hadn't seen him pitch the Crazy Horse Electric game. Tonight he feels almost good enough and strong enough to do it again; but he knows he couldn't.
Those days are gone.

Beside him on the court, Hawk and Kato and several other graduates, having shed their tux jackets and spit-shined shoes, play a geared-down version of three-on-three, careful not to work up a sweat, and Willie smiles, admiring Hawk gliding through them in slow motion, dribbling, faking, spinning like a dancer toward the basket, wrapped in his cummerbund and burgundy pants—feet clad in Air Jordans—looking for all the world like Julius Erving opening a line of men's formal wear. He's crazy and he's dangerous, Willie thinks, but he's sure as hell a class act.

Willie hears cheers over by the gate and looks up to see Telephone Man stepping out of his parents' Chevy Nova, head down, sliding around the corner of the gatepost. He wears the same burgundy tux all the boys have, compliments of André, who every year at graduation time works a special deal with Henson's Formal Wear. Willie moves slowly over to intercept Telephone Man, slapping him easily on the back. Jack looks up and smiles sheepishly.

“How 'bout we put these in the office?” Willie asks, pointing to the repair equipment strapped to Jack's hip, giving him an almost eerie Doc Holliday gunslinger look. “Even the most conscientious telephone men take
off their gear for high-school graduation.”

Jack stares at him blankly for a moment, down at the huge buckle, then back at Willie. “No,” he booms, “I don't think so. I feel naked without it.”

“Spoken like a true cowboy,” Willie says, and drifts back toward the court. He guesses it wouldn't be right for Jack to take off his hardware for the most important event in his life.

The guys finish their makeshift game; Hawk sits on the grass, removing his Air Jordans, as Willie kneels beside him. “You got people coming?” Willie asks.

Hawk nods. “Out the walls. I got uncles and cousins; my daddy might even show. Not many Hawkins' walkin' 'round with a sheepskin. They come out the woodwork to see that.”

“Well,” Willie says, “just in case things get too crazy afterward, I just wanna say congratulations and I'm real glad I got to know you.”

Hawk slides his foot into his shoe and stops, looks over at Willie, then nods. “Me too, Chief. Didn't know 'bout you when you come here, with you cane an' you funny talk. Thought you might be another Telephone Man. But you my man, Chief. I learn shit watchin' you, won't
never
forget. Jus' sorry I couldn't get here sooner, night of the fire.”

“Hey, man, you got the fire department here.”

Hawk nods. “Yeah, but ol' Hawk want a piece of that China boy.
You
get him, though, Chief, an' that's about as good. You my man, Crazy Horse.”

Willie reaches over to shake his hand, then moves toward the building as André calls everyone inside to the student lounge, which appears transformed for the ceremony, with crepe-paper streamers, a revolving mirrored ball and a huge purple velvet banner reading:
CONGRATULATIONS OMLC GRADUATES
.

The ceremony is different from a lot of high-school commencement exercises Willie has seen. Only eighteen students will graduate, and while the valedictorian and salutatorian deliver their traditional addresses, so does anyone else who feels inclined to talk out loud about what the night means. Almost everyone does, most simply repeating the truth: simply that, if not for OMLC—if they hadn't received this last chance—they would be in the street.

Willie finds himself wondering what Angel will say; after all, she
is
in the street, but when her name is read, she takes the diploma, looks out at the audience, then over to the graduates and simply says, “Thanks.” Willie looks out to see Lacey nodding his head and clapping.

Hawk is introduced as “Doctor Hawk,” referring to
Dr. J of the Philadelphia 76ers, and is presented, along with his diploma, with a leather game ball, signed by all the members of the graduating class. “You could go on,” André says, handing Hawk the ball. “It'd be tough, but you can if you want.”

Hawk thanks everyone—his mother several times—and goes on to say he doesn't know what he'll do now, but he's real glad to have this chance to choose. Then he looks straight out at his dad and says, “I tol' you I ain't no worthless shit,” and his dad looks at the ground. Hawk nods and walks proudly back to sit down. Willie can only imagine the history behind that.

When Jack's name is called, he stands, staring at the floor, and pulls his tuxedo jacket tight around him, covering the top half of his telephone gear, takes a deep breath and walks toward André at the podium. André hands Jack his diploma, expecting him to take it and slink on back to his seat, but Telephone Man hesitates.

“Would you like to say something, Jack?”

Telephone Man starts back, stops, then slowly steps up to the podium. He looks out at the small crowd, again starting to turn away, but André says, “Go ahead, Jack, it's okay. This is a big night. Take a chance.”

Telephone Man takes a deep breath, clutching the sides of the podium like they could somehow save his life. “I'm really glad I went here,” he booms; there is no
decibel control on Jack's voice. “It used to be nobody liked me where I went to school, and then I came here and nobody liked me either. But then I got beat up and Hawktor Doctor went and got that Chinese kid and beat him up because he beat me up, and I knew that even though he's tough and acts mean and scares people sometimes, Hawktor Doctor must really like me.” Tears start to roll out of Telephone Man's eyes and he looks straight at Hawk. “And that's the first time anybody really liked me and I'm glad I went here.” Jack doesn't know exactly how to stop, so he bows to the crowd and walks back to his seat; and Hawk starts the applause. Hawk has long since quit trying to convince Telephone Man that it's Doctor Hawk—not Hawktor Doctor—because Jack doesn't know Dr. J. from Alexander Graham Bell; all he knows is that Hawk's name is supposed to rhyme and that's as close as he gets.

When Kato's name is called, he launches into a tale of an old Roman couple who grew the biggest berry in the entire empire. Hoping for some kind of meaningful analogy, the crowd listens in pained silence as he tells of nobility coming from far and near to see this miraculous berry and of how finally the emperor himself gets word of its enormity and decides he wants it for himself. But the couple won't give it up and no amount of negotiation will sway them. “Finally,” Kato says, just as André
is about ready to cut him off and save his life, “these old folks hear a knock at the door an' when the ol' dude opens it, see he bein' confronted by a whole squad full of Roman soldiers. But he an old fart and he let 'em in 'cause he think they just wanna see this big-ol'-ass berry. But then the head soldier put his hand on the old man's shoulder and he say in his big official voice, ‘Uh-uh, old man, we come to seize your berry, not to praise it.'” Kato looks up at the audience with a big grin until one by one they get it and a rolling groan works its way clear through. When they're finished, he smiles again and says, “But see, the point be, if I didn't go to school here an' work my butt off in English class, I wouldn't even know that be a joke.”

André puts his hands on Kato's shoulders and points him toward his seat, looking out at the audience. “I don't want to be the one to tell him that's
not
a joke. I'd appreciate it if each of you would mention it in the receiving line.”

Willie's name is announced last and there's a long round of applause as he approaches the podium; the audience knows him from the fire and he has special status. André describes him as “Comeback Cowboy of the Year,” presenting him with a tacky three-foot-high trophy with that inscription, composed mostly of plastic with a bareback bronc rider on top. Willie thinks
that's pretty funny. When the laughter dies, he takes a folded paper from the inside pocket of his rented tux and spreads it out in front of him. He's thought long and hard about what he wants to say tonight, and he's very nervous. He looks out into the audience; at Lacey, decked out in his dress whites, jewelry on every finger and a painted lady on his arm; at Lisa in her slinky two-tone blue dress that turns her smooth skin to polished mahogany; and Sammy beside her, his inch-long hair shooting out of his head like some kind of electric surprise; then over at André, who stands to the side watching, smiling, somehow knowing exactly how Willie feels.

Willie forces a lump back down his throat. “This school,” he says, “saved my life. I don't mean it made me a better person, or picked me up when I was really down, or taught me the true meaning of anything. I mean it saved my life; because when I came here I was to the end of me. My family was wrecked and I thought I'd wrecked it, My brain didn't work right and the physical skills I had always depended on were shot completely to Hell.” He looks out to Lacey. “My friend Mr. Casteel picked me up off the street and gave me a home; his home. I have to admit I haven't always been the perfect roommate, and I would have to say our lifestyles are somewhat different, but old Lacey's stuck with me, and in his way he's a wise man, and I owe him a lot.”

Lacey looks around the crowd, smiling, a bit embarrassed.

Willie goes on. “Nobody here preached at me. Nobody told me everything would be okay, or that I should go back home to my parents and work things out when I knew the time for that wasn't here yet. They let me figure it out for myself;
demanded
that I figure it out for myself; but they never deserted me. And now, I'm ready to go back home. I don't know what will happen there; whether I can stay and make it or not, but at least I'm strong enough to give it a try.” He pauses, looking at his notes, then folds them, placing them in his pocket, and looks back out at the crowd, at Lacey.

“I know how lucky I am,” he says. “My parents were always there for me, but then the really hard times came and they couldn't do it, and I chased my friends away and then there was nobody. And my parents are good people, really they are; so are my friends. So I really do know how lucky I am that when things were at their worst, out pops André, and Lisa, and this magic school.”

He sips water from the glass on the podium and clears his throat. “See, I'm not a tough guy; Lacey Casteel can tell you that. And I'm real aware that if most of you had known me back before, when I lived in Montana, you might very well have hated my guts. Because I had everything; and I had people there to
protect me and make sure I didn't lose it. And there are lots of people like that; people whose lives are protected from the day they're born until the day they die. But no matter how wonderful those lives seem, if they're not contested, never put up against the wall, then they exist inside very narrow walls, and because of that I believe they lose value, in the most basic sense of the word. I guess what I'm saying is that my life is more valuable because I got knocked out of my favored spot. I can't believe I'm saying that, but I am and I know it's true. I learned it from the people who picked me up here.”