The Great Santini (23 page)

"Who in the fuck are you, buddy?" Red snarled.

"Just let the guy go and try someone your own size."

"And just what if I don't let go, bubba," Red said, aware that he was losing part of the crowd to this newcomer.

"If you don't let my good friend Sammy go, Red, I'm going to make you say how much you love Martin Luther King," Ben said, and much of the crowd laughed.

"You think you could, bubba. What's the matter with you? Are you a Jewboy too?"

"Yeah, Red. I'm a Jewboy too. And I don't like seeing other Jewboys being picked on by red-headed punks."

"He's a Marine brat," someone shouted to Red. "He ain't no Jew."

"Twinkie, you a Marine brat?" Red asked.

"Yeah."

"I hate Marine brats, Twinkie."

"You're gonna hate 'em a lot worse in a minute," Ben fired back.

"How would you like a fist where your mouth used to be?" Red asked.

"He's a goody goody, Red. Stomp his butt," a voice said from behind Ben. Ben was becoming aware of the voices of satellite greasers moving in and around the perimeter of the fight.

"Hit 'em, Ben," Mary Anne cried out. She was directly behind Ben.

"Who's your fat friend, Twinkie?"

"That's my sister, you red-headed fart, and you say anything about her they're gonna have to clean you up off this breezeway."

"Whip his ass, Red," someone called. By this time, Red had released Sammy and turned to concentrate his full attention on Ben. Sammy slipped out of Red's grip and disappeared, leaving Ben to face the menacing crowd alone. Red and his friends began to close in on Ben. Mary Anne was pushed back deeper into the group of spectators. Someone pushed Ben from behind. He turned and pushed his assailant back. When he did, Red reached into his dungarees and pulled a switchblade from his back pocket. When Ben turned around, the blade of the knife was up against his throat.

Lillian had provided Ben with an inestimable theory that leapt to his brain as soon as he felt the knife point near his larynx. "If a southern boy ever pulls a knife on you, Ben, it is because he knows how to use it. ""Red," Ben said. "Red, ol' buddy, you have just won this fight. "Adrenaline burned through his stomach like two tributaries pouring into a river. Someone had grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms.

"No, I've just started to win it, Twinkie. You've pissed me off real bad and you're gonna spend a long time paying for it. Now, I want you to say real loud, 'I got a fat, ugly sister.'"

"No!" Ben said.

Then a voice in the crowd began to scream," Teacher, Teacher. "It was Mary Anne's voice. The knife disappeared in an instant. Ben's arms were freed. Ben whirled and sprinted through the crowd.

"There ain't no teacher," a voice behind Ben called.

Red, realizing he had been duped, started through the crowd, which now was milling about in an agitated state with some people pressing forward toward the action and others fleeing from it. Ben reached Mary Anne, who was waiting for him in the grassy quadrangle off the breezeway. "You've got to beat him up, Ben. Dad will kill you if he finds out someone pulled a knife on you and you didn't do anything."

"Yeah, I know, Mary Anne. And the next time you get me into anything like this . . ."

"He's coming," Mary Anne shouted. Ben grabbed for a history book Mary Anne was taking to her first afternoon class. As Ben turned to face his opponent, he saw Red ominously reaching for his knife again. Without hesitation and with a quickness that caught Red off guard, he slammed the history book against the boy's head with a stunning shot that echoed the length of the breezeway. A tall, thick-lipped boy who had trailed Red in pursuit of Ben caught the history book full in the face, his nose splitting like an overripe piece of fruit, blood spouting down his face. A fist hit Ben on the side of his face just below the ear. Ben staggered against a steel post that supported the overhang to the breezeway. The boy who had hit him was charging forward but was tackled from behind by a screaming Sammy, who mounted the boy's back and was punching him in the back of the head. Mary Anne scratched Red's face as he tried to rise and re-enter the fray, but Red shoved her down as he rose to his knees, stunned and uncomprehending. Ben saw his sister fall into a hedge that bordered the classroom window. He came straight down on Red's skull from a high, splendid angle and this second blow sent Red's face crashing into the cement walk. It was Red's last violent moment of the morning. Though Mary Anne rushed up to kick Red in the ribcage before Ben could calm her, no one else sallied forth to take up Red's gauntlet.

Suddenly, the breezeway thronged with teachers who began moving groups of kids in different directions, getting the flow of bodies aimed again in the natural pattern of traffic. When Mrs. Troutman spied Ben he heard her wail," Oh no, not one of my 4B boys. "A pair of formidable arms grabbed Ben from behind. Male teachers whose faces were unfamiliar to Ben helped Red up from the cement. One pulled Sammy from the back of the boy who had connected with Ben's face.

Finally, a voice behind him asked Ben," Who are you, son?"

"My name's Ben Meecham, sir. I'm new here."

"That's nice, Mr. Meecham. I'm your principal," the voice whispered in his ear.

These images of revenge vanished when the principal, John Dacus, walked through the door and sat down at his desk. The principal had a blond natural grace that made him look younger than he actually was. His voice had a soothing gravity and his smile was disarmingly gentle. He was an older, more formidable version of the man in the photographs. A quiet strength and subterranean power exuded from his body with understated insistence. It was readily apparent to Ben that Dacus was a man of awesome strength. He was looking over Ben's transcript, which a short, bloodless woman had brought from Guidance.

"You're an athlete, Mr. Meecham," Mr. Dacus said, studying the transcript.

"Yes, sir," Ben answered.

The telephone rang. Mr. Dacus picked it up, grunted monosyllables of assent and negation, then hung up.

"That was the doctor, Mr. Meecham. You gave Lee Wicks a broken nose. Doc thinks Red will be O.K. but he has to wait for some X-rays to come through before he can tell for sure. Now we don't like and we don't allow fighting in this school. You just tangled with some upriver boys and they're about the roughest group of white boys in the county. They've given me a hard time ever since they were in the ninth grade. You swing a mighty mean history book, son. Now one important question. Red told me you picked the fight with him. Is that true?"

"Not exactly, sir."

"I started it, Mr. Dacus," a voice called from outside the door. Mary Anne stepped into the room. "I made Ben jump in and help that boy."

"Who are you, young lady?" the principal asked, amused by the intrusion.

"Mary Anne Meecham, sir. I'm Ben's sister and if anyone should be punished for what happened it should be me because I told Ben if he didn't help that poor boy I was going to help him and Ben knew Dad would kill him if he ever heard that I got into a fight to help someone and Ben chickened out. But if you ask me, neither one of us should get in trouble because those tacky, nasty boys deserved everything they got. But it was me that started it. I made Ben do it."

"Oh," the principal said. "You mean it's that simple."

Leaning back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk, Mr. Dacus picked up the telephone, dialed a single digit, and when a voice answered, said," Mrs. Whitlock, send me the transcript of Mary Anne Meecham, please. "He held his hand over the receiver and asked," What grade are you in, Miss Meecham?"

"Eleventh, sir."

"She's in the eleventh grade, Mrs. Whitlock. Thank you for your trouble," he said, replacing the phone on the receiver. "It appears to me that the Meechams are an extraordinary family . . ."

Before he could finish there was a determined knock on the door. It was Sammy. "Sammy, what can I do for you, my friend?" the principal said.

"Mr. Dacus, I came to tell you that this boy fought Red because of me. Red was pulling the ol' Hitler routine again and this boy stopped him. Now, of course, you and I know, Mr. Dacus, that if I had gone wild, which I was about to do, I would have torn Red and his pals apart."

"Red was sure lucky you didn't go wild, Sammy. By the way, you ought to convert to Christianity. No religion's worth all the crap you take," Mr. Dacus joked.

Sammy smiled and said," Yeah, my name sounds real Christian. Sammy Wertzberger. I'd fool a lot of goys like that."

Mr. Dacus turned his gaze back on Ben. "Where did you learn to fight with a history book, Mr. Meecham? Do you have something against fists?"

"I'd have used my fists, sir, but he pulled a knife."

"Are you sure?" the principal asked, displaying anger for the first time.

"Yes, sir. He stuck it up to my throat."

"You're lucky he didn't use it on you too. Red Pettus is as mean as anybody in this school," Sammy said to Ben.

"That sorry damn pissant," Mr. Dacus said. "I warned him not to pull a knife on anybody at my school again. Were there any other knives pulled or was that the only one? Did Wicks pull one?"

"No, sir," Ben answered. "Just Red."

"Well, that does it for him. He's out for the year."

"No sir, don't do that," Ben pleaded. "He was just showing off. I don't think he'd have cut me."

"You don't," the principal said. "Well ol' Red cut a boy's face real bad at this school two years ago. He was in a reformatory for six months. The one thing you've got to learn in this town, Mr. Meecham, is to avoid fighting with anybody named Pettus. The Pettus family is the meanest upriver family of all. I feel sorry for any child stuck with that name because that means he's gone through the sorriest kind of upbringing possible, but I can't let him go around cutting up the other students. No, that's the end of the line for Mr. Red Pettus."

"It's dangerous to mess with a Pettus," Sammy said to Ben and Mary Anne. "But it's even more dangerous to mess with Fightin' Sammy Wertzberger. Did you see me on top of that Heisley jerk, pounding his head without mercy, the crowd cheering me on, 'amazed at my strength'?"

Everyone in the room laughed. It was the first time Ben had truly relaxed since he came in the door. He was beginning to feel confident in Mr. Dacus's intrinsic sense of justice and fair play; his fine, relaxed humor prescribed the mood in the room.

Then the principal said," You are suspended, Mr. Meecham. And so are you, Miss Meecham. And so are you, Mr. Wertzberger."

The three of them formed an astonished trinity as they stared at Mr. Dacus with disbelief. The image of his father flashed in Ben's mind.

"Sir," Ben said. "Could you think of another punishment for my sister and me?"

"Like throwing us into a pool of piranhas or ripping our fingernails out?" Mary Anne suggested.

"It's only going to be for one day. I want a chance to talk to Red's little gang before you come back to school. I don't want them jumping you tomorrow. And I want all of you to be careful after school today. I know how those boys think," Mr. Dacus said seriously.

"How do you know how they think, Mr. Dacus?" Mary Anne asked.

"Because, honey," Mr. Dacus answered," my mother was a Pettus. Ol' Red is a distant cousin of mine."

Ben said," We're worried about our father, sir. If he finds out we're suspended I could tell him I had a fistfight with Judas Iscariot and it wouldn't make any difference."

"I'll call your father and explain. He'll understand after I tell him the whole story. Leave him to me. Y'all just be careful after school. Now get on to class and don't worry about your father. I'll tell him about the knife."

"I'll name my first child after you, Mr. Dacus," Mary Anne said.

"I'm naming my first child after Judas Iscariot," Sammy said.

"Thanks, Mr. Dacus," said Ben, rising to leave.

"Welcome to Calhoun High School, brother and sister Meecham," the principal said, getting up and punching Ben on the shoulder in an amicable gesture. Ben's shoulder hurt until the bell rang at three o'clock releasing the students like a pistol at the starting blocks. From two-thirty to three, at Calhoun High School, and every school he had attended, Ben's mind wandered far away from the teacher's voice and concentrated on the energy of escape that poured out of each student like light, then became something tangible, almost nuclear, something to be reckoned with in the half-hour before reprieve.

They took their time going home that day, reliving the fight again and again, proud now of their participation and of their decision to help Sammy. Walking down River Street, they stopped at every window and planned exorbitant purchases when they made their first million dollars.

"I want a diamond to put in my navel," Mary Anne said in front of Liebman's Jewelers.

"It'd have to be the size of a volleyball. Your navel is huge. I saw Okra walk across your stomach one time and disappear from sight when he hit your bellybutton."