Haskell himself, p.18
Haskell Himself, page 18
I was on the verge of tears. My mouth felt swollen and numb, almost too thick to form words. I had handled the night so badly. I was hopeless, absolutely hopeless.
“Your mother said your father was in India. He’ll call you when he’s back in town.”
“No, he won’t.”
“Well, her exact words were, he was in Punjab finishing a crummy remake of Gunga Din, and he’s looking forward to seeing you the moment he lands at the L.A. airport.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“Oh, Haskell. Don’t be so hard on him. Gunga Din is the only thing on his mind these days. Your mom said it may even be a bigger disaster than Cleopatra, and that film bankrupted Twentieth Century Fox. The movie he’s making next, though, sounds very promising. What’s it called?” She turned to Ted, but I answered her question.
“Lost at Sea.”
“That’s right. Kids stranded on an island with prehistoric monsters.”
I finally figured I better say something. I was angry and tired. Melancholy might be a good adjective. “My friend Henry and I read about it in Variety. The least my dad could have done was have his secretary call and invite me down for a screen test. But as I said, he’s been in his own little world. Thanks for asking, Aunt Sheila and Uncle Ted. I’ll hang my wet trunks outside. Now may I go?”
My aunt now repositioned her pillows so she could sit up a bit higher. “If it makes you feel any better, I read a whole article about it in the Calendar section this morning. They’re struggling with weather conditions. Hard to build sets during a hurricane, but the weather will improve and so will your relationship with Delia.”
“In the morning, things will look brighter,” my uncle said.
“There you go. That’s the spirit!” my aunt chimed in, yawning. “Your uncle always says the right thing. You’ll be fine!” She gave me a thumbs up. “Invite Delia over. We can take you guys out for dinner.”
“It’s all right. I’ll pass,” I told her.
“No, forget The Queen’s Arms. We’ll go to The Sportsman Lodge. They have trout fishing.”
“It’s really all right.”
“Trout fishing on a date! That is the most romantic thing ever. You catch a few trout. They skin them for you and put them in plastic bags or they cook them for you, right there, with garlic and butter. Just delicious.”
“Aunt Sheila, we had a spat. Actually, it was worse than a spat. It was more of a rupture. Trout fishing is never going to save this relationship.”
“Oh, never is a long time. Don’t say that. First love?” She edged herself off the bed, feet on the floor. “I’m sure if you two had a little talk, Delia will forgive you. What did you think upset her so?”
“The truth is, Aunt Sheila, I offered her some suggestions for improving her performance as Lady Macbeth. She wouldn’t follow any of them. I was critical, not cruel, and yet she took it so hard.”
“Why would she be so upset?”
“She has her heart set on a role that goes beyond her capabilities.”
“You were just being forthright and realistic. She’ll forgive you. It’s not like you cheated on her and broke her heart. Look at the bright side. You at least connected with a girl. It’s early in the semester. Eventually, she might make a very good prom date.”
“I guess.”
“There, there. I’m proud of you for putting yourself out there. Get some sleep, why don’t you? Believe me, she’ll get over it.” Aunt signaled for me to walk closer, and this time I did, allowing her to clasp her arms around my neck. “I love you, Haskell.”
Up to this point, over a month into my life in Encino with the Teitlebaums, I had not experienced much affection from Aunt Sheila. I wouldn’t call her ice-cube cold. She just wasn’t touchy-feely as some moms are. She never wrapped her arms around me. This evening she did. Even kissed my forehead. “I’m very proud of you for making the attempt at making new friends,” she said, quite lovingly. “I have the feeling everything will work out fine. The girl’s probably mad for you.”
“That is an interesting way of putting it.”
As I walked out, I swear I heard her whisper to my uncle, “Guess what, Ted, Haskell has a girlfriend.” Funny how she assumed a fight equaled the possibility of romance.
And Uncle Ted, who so far had not said much, replied, “Thank God!”
K__24__L
THE SHOWDOWN
Over the weekend, I stayed in my bed, pretending I was sick with a sore throat and a cold. I was so frustrated and confused. I begged everyone to leave me alone.
My aunt would knock on the door and ask if I wanted tea or a cup of coffee, and I would tell her all I wanted was quiet time.
At one point, she brought her usual tray of macaroni and cheese and set it on my bed. “You hungry? You haven’t eaten all day.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“This macaroni is different. I made it from scratch. I took a class this morning, and I was determined to put my new knowledge to work. Boiled the noodles. Added the cheese. I crumbled bread crumbs on it and set it under the broiler. Absolutely out of this world. Please, eat.”
I took a spoonful.
“Delicious?”
I nodded my head.
“Didn’t I tell you? I know you prefer not talking.”
“Thank you.”
“And I haven’t wanted to disturb you.”
“Much appreciated.”
“But I’m taking two classes. Yes, one in cooking but the other is called Alienation and Existentialism in World Literature. This morning I heard a wonderful lecture, and this sentence stuck in my mind.”
I took another spoonful of the macaroni and braced myself.
“It’s by Aldous Huxley, and he said, ‘Do not brood over your wrongdoing. Rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean.’ I think that says it all.”
She leaned over my bed and kissed me on the forehead.
“Know that we love you, Haskell. We’ll do anything. Say the word.”
I suppose I needed some advice. What would I say, for example, when I bumped into Delia on Monday? I figured I could answer this question without her help. I should apologize. More importantly, I must never falter. Keep my chin up, my head high. I must stay out of my muck. Don’t get all depressed. I realized the old Haskell was simply not functioning well in this new world. I must find another strategy.
The easiest way to solve this problem would be to tell Delia how sorry I was and make up some excuse for my ill-advised notes on her acting. I thought about your approach to Lady Macbeth, and you know, it works on a whole other level I had never considered.
This seemed the right thing to do.
On Monday morning, I made my way down the hallway toward our English class. Lucky Miller was strutting down the hall with his two hooligans. My new attitude will start right now, I thought. Be positive. Huxley’s right. Stay out of the muck. I waved my hand and put on a big smile. “Hi, guys!” We hadn’t spoken in weeks, and being friendly couldn’t hurt.
I was the new me. Champion Haskell. Keep your chin up high.
Lucky once again lightly shoved me out of his way and muttered something under his breath that made Winston and Nate laugh so hard several other kids walking down the hallway asked, “What’s so hilarious?”
“Hey, it’s Judy,” Lucky said pointing at me. “He just said ‘hi’ to me, sounding more like Judy every day.”
Only a few weeks earlier Henry suggested I had some options. Which one should I choose? Control my rage or defend myself? I could feel the adrenaline build up inside. If I wanted to be respected by Delia and her friends, I had to stop acting like a wimp. Those days were over. I must be brave, aggressive, and lion-hearted.
I also had learned some tactical moves from Henry and my instructors at the studio. Use them.
“Miller?” I shouted. “Does making fun of other people make you feel better?”
This sounded so lame.
“I thought we had reached a truce, and if you remember right, we had an agreement: no name calling. You broke that rule, didn’t you?”
Lucky shook his head wildly as if he could not believe what he was hearing. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”
“Are you talking to yourself? Because that’s what most kids at this school think of you.”
“Hey, faggot, I’m talking to you.” He grabbed me by the shirt collar, and I twisted myself free, punching him right in the eye so that he fell against the wall in the darkly lit hallway, his head knocking against the hard cement.
“What did I just tell you? I am not taking this shit from you anymore!” I yelled, loud enough for teachers in their classrooms to hear. “Don’t ever put your hands on me again, and do not call me names!”
I don’t know where this courageous hostility came from. Was I bent on suicide? Swearing at school was probably punishable by suspension. If I started a fight with Lucky, I might even be expelled. Did I give him a black eye? I hoped so. Let him carry that with him all day.
Lucky pushed himself off the ground, now steadied himself on both his feet. He was a few inches shorter than me, and I would not be intimidated by his muscular arms. I was a warrior. I remembered moves Henry had taught me, and I had no choice. I would fight him off the mat.
The heel of my foot kicked him in the chin, another kick landed firmly in his chest, and thankfully, I knocked him down.
A group of kids began forming around us. I did not see Henry, though I did notice Delia running forward, squeezing her way through the crowd, ending up an arm’s length from me.
“Haskell? What are you doing?” she screamed “Leave him alone! You will get in big trouble.”
It was about seven-forty-five. Classes started precisely at seven-fifty. The warning bell would ring in four more minutes. Normally kids rushed up and down the hallway, eager to make class on time. But this morning, amidst all this commotion, Delia, Lucky’s hooligans, and maybe ten other kids all surrounded Lucky and me. There was a show going on, and nobody wanted to miss it.
Lucky bounced back on his feet and wiped some blood off his nose.
“You’re so dead, faggot.”
“I’m very much alive, and this is the last time you’ll ever call me names.”
The two of us stood, a few feet apart from each other, fists raised.
“Unless you have some secret weapon on you, Judy, why don’t you go onto your class and be a good little boy. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you either, Lucky, but I’ll hurt you if I have to.”
Lucky laughed. “You will be sorry. I hate to say it.”
There’s a moment in the classic Western The Big Country when the city slicker (played by Gregory Peck) must face his worst enemy, a trouble-making, low-down, grizzly bully (played by Chuck Connors). Peck does not back down, because he knows if he does, he’ll be deemed a coward. The ranch hands will look down on him. His fiancée will think he’s less than a man. And most importantly, he will not believe in himself.
This was my Gregory Peck moment. Henry stood in the back of the crowd, waving his arms, trying to get my attention. Delia screamed, “Haskell, stop it. Don’t do this!” If I backed down, I’d continue being Haskell the Dork and the Laughing Stock of Encino. The faggot. The Judy. Any chances of resurrecting my friendship with Delia or anyone else in the crowd would be impossible. Word would get around. Haskell was a gutless weakling.
I was still nursing my shoulder when Lucky shrugged and once again muttered some nasty comment under his breath. “You’re such a loser,” is what I think he said.
I turned on my left foot, lifted my right one, and kicked him as hard as I could in his chest. He fell backwards. You could hear his thick head hit the plaster wall. I hoped blood would dribble down his forehead, cheeks, and chin. The doofus picked himself up again, wiped the blood off his mouth with the back of his hand and ran toward me. I stepped aside using a simple defense tactic Henry had taught me. Lucky’s fist hit the opposite wall, and his scream echoed down the hall. As he cradled his fist with his other hand, he began yelling as loud as he could, “I’m going to kill you!”
Really? Where were the teachers? Why was no one in the hallway preventing this kid from murdering me? Again, if this were Bonvadine, Mr. Varnish would have rushed out of his classroom, grabbed Lucky by his arms, and pulled him into the Headmaster’s office. He’d probably forego the dunce cap and simply kick the doofus out of school.
Here at Encino High? I didn’t see anyone stopping us.
Why risk chances of retaliation? I jab-punched him smack in the chest, and the force caused Lucky to lose his balance and again fall backwards. I was surprised Winston or some other onlookers didn’t cushion his fall. Instead, Lucky fell, and this time he sprawled across the cement floor. Fearful he might pick himself up once again, I sat on him, slugging him as hard as I could. I slugged and slugged. He jabbed back at me until I wrapped my hands around his neck and squeezed as tightly as I could, choking him as his head bobbed up and down. I heard Delia screaming. “Haskell! Stop it! Stop it now!” I heard Henry screaming, “That’s enough, Hodge. You’ve made your point!”
But I didn’t listen. I was too engulfed in rage. When I loosened my hands around his neck, I began punching him again, and I kept at it until his nose and mouth bled like a river. His skin turned bright red from bruising. His teeth were red with blood. I would have kept on punching, but I felt a hand pull me off of him.
“Okay, you two. Stop it this instant! Both of you, principal’s office!”
You’d think with all that jabbing and punching, he’d be dead, but Lucky sprang to his feet, and Mrs. Green prevented him from pouncing on me.
“Stop it! Right now!” Beautiful Mrs. Green had a strong grip as she held each of us by an arm and pulled us down the hallway toward the administrative office.
The blood felt warm and sticky above my lips. My right arm ached, and I’m sure I had black and blue marks all over my legs where he kicked me. Nevertheless, I held my own. I defended myself. I hoped Henry saw enough of the fight so that he was proud of me. “Hey, Monsieur Hodge,” he might say. “You beat up the swim champion of Encino High. Now everyone will leave you alone.”
K__25__L
A PUNCH IN THE NOSE
Perhaps, I was getting a little ahead of myself. The day was not over yet.
We stood outside Freed’s office—Lucky, me, and Freed’s secretary, Miss Ito, who nervously handed both of us paper towels. The blood ran down our chins onto the linoleum. The janitor would mop up after us. I was glad blood dripped from Lucky’s swollen face. I was proud of the hurt I had caused, and I truly believed this was the shining moment of my year so far at Encino High.
I won the fight.
“I am a rebel with a cause,” I said out loud.
Miss Ito shook her head and frowned. “You’re a student who will get expelled. I’ll be back with some icepacks. Dr. Freed will be right out.”
Miss Ito must have locked the outside hallway doors because Lucky and I saw a crowd of kids staring through the windows. The bell rang, but I assumed our fight had interrupted the normal start time for first period.
I knew I’d won, and if I were given a chance, I’d do it all over again. The worst thing he could have done was continue the fight, for there was no way would I ever let him beat me. Truly, my fear was this: My inner rage would overtake my reason, and I’d kill him, only to end up in jail and then in court and ultimately in the electric chair.
We stood for a good five minutes without saying a word. Finally, I said: “I almost killed you. I could have killed you. I was so angry.”
Lucky rolled his eyes. “No way, Judy, would you have killed me. I was being easy on you. I could have punched you in the head and it would be all over, so shut the fuck up.”
“You’ll end up in Sing Sing someday!”
“Sing Sing? Is that where they lock up boys humming Judy Garland songs?” Lucky asked, grinning at his own cleverness.
I wish I had said Rikers Island.
I let out a deep sigh. This was not getting us anywhere.
“Let’s just stop picking on each other. More specifically, stop calling me names. We don’t have to be friends. Let’s ignore each other. Deal?”
Again, he rolled his eyes. Why do I even bother? I should keep my big mouth shut.
“You like this back and forth we have? You want this animosity between us continuing? I am tired of it. We’re both a bloody mess. Let’s call it even.”
He was breathing laboriously. I wondered if Doofus Head even knew what the word “animosity” meant. Or “laboriously,” for that matter.
At this point, Mrs. Green ran toward us with icepacks and more paper towels.
“Will I be thrown out of school?” I asked her.
“You might be,” she said, frowning. “If you started the fight, you could very well be expelled. You should know better.”
“Why? I know nothing.” If you had any idea what I’ve been through with this idiot!
She disappeared for a moment inside one of the offices.
“I’ll tell you what,” I said to Lucky. “I will take the responsibility for this catastrophe if you will admit your involvement. Just tell Dr. Freed you called me names, and I think ultimately, we may only get, oh I don’t know, after school cleanup duty? I think if Freed knew the cause of my anger, he’d make an exception.”
Lucky still did not utter a word. I figured maybe he was pissed he might get suspended, and if he got suspended he couldn’t swim, and if he couldn’t swim, the team would lose the state championship, and if the school lost the state championship, Encino High would lose an important trophy for its near-empty trophy case.
“Let’s not do this again, all right? I think if we go into Freed’s office and apologize, and we put our differences aside, leave one another alone, I’m sure you won’t get suspended and hopefully I won’t get expelled. Fair?”
