Behind the Curtain Read online

  “I don’t want to fight,” Rowdy said evenly.

  Hugo pushed him hard onto Thomas. Thomas shoved him forward.

  “Maybe you should have thought of that before opening your fat mouth to Jessica.”

  Rowdy held his ground calmly. “I said I don’t want to fight, man. This is childish.” Rowdy wasn’t afraid of Hugo anymore, only irritated that he had to deal with him.

  “Problem, son?” It was Rowdy’s dad walking along the sidewalk, trying without success to act like he wasn’t drunk. He took his hands out of his jacket but didn’t raise them.

  “This drunk ass is your dad?” Hugo’s piggy eyes gleamed with malice. He grinned and nudged Rowdy’s dad, who leaned back and lifted his arm up slowly and sloppily. Hugo laughed and went to push him again, but Rowdy caught his fist in his hand and squeezed it as hard as he could as he pushed Hugo backward, away from his dad.

  “Back off, Hugo.”

  Hugo laughed, delighted he was finally getting the attention he wanted. He shook his fist out of Rowdy’s hand and went to shove his opponent into Rowdy’s dad, hoping to knock the drunk down.

  But Rowdy’s fist came whizzing through the air and landed with an audible crack on Hugo’s nose. Hugo’s head went down, the blood gushing instantaneously. He instinctively covered his head, crouching on the sidewalk.

  Rowdy’s hand hurt. He wondered if he’d broken something. He’d never punched someone in the face before. It felt gross. The texture of the skin and bones and the smacking sound of the impact.

  His adrenaline masked the pain. He scowled at Thomas.

  “Thanks a lot, Thomas. Coward.” Rowdy spat on the ground and put his arm around his dad, who was staring at his son with surprise.

  As they made their slow way home, Rowdy’s dad told slurred stories of the fights he’d been in when he was a teenager. Rowdy nodded, no longer interested in pizza or his missing change. His hand was really throbbing. He wanted an ice pack.

  They made it home. They drank water. Rowdy iced his hand. It was already swollen and turning blue. He extended his fingers painfully and wiggled them. Nothing broken. As the numbing from the ice sank in, he was at last able to reflect on his actions. He wondered if he’d done serious damage to Hugo’s face. He felt proud he had found the courage to land a punch, and Hugo had asked for it. But he also felt ashamed. The whole thing seemed grossly immature; something fifteen-year-old guys should have outgrown by now.

  He wondered if he was destined to be a poor, sorry drunk loser. He looked over at his dad, who was falling asleep sitting up on the couch. He felt the need to be with Jordyn. She would know what to say. He wanted her cool hands in his. He admired her matter-of-fact approach. She was safe, clean, and natural.

  He flushed when it occurred to him that the quiet, reliable strength that attracted him to Jordyn was the same quality his mother had possessed. She was the glue that held everything and everyone together. Well, she had been. Rowdy frowned at his father and put the ice pack back in the freezer for another ten minutes.

  He had three hours to kill before nightfall. He decided to finish all of his homework to pass the time.

  When darkness fell at last, he departed excitedly to Jordyn’s window. He left his dad lying on the couch with a pillow and a blanket, snoring.

  He was dismayed to find Jessica was over for a sleepover.

  “I told my mom we were getting over a bad fight and she let Jess stay over!” Jordyn was saying in a loud whisper through the window as she fumbled with a blanket.

  He could hear Jess giggling in the dark room behind her.

  “Shh!” Jordyn warned her. Then both girls slid out of the window, giggling.

  Rowdy rolled his eyes, expecting to see the house lights turn on any minute. He prepared himself for a speedy departure and decided he wouldn’t stay long. He’d have to catch up with Jordyn the next night.

  “I’m going to your bus stop in the morning,” Jess said, tying her black hair up like Jordyn’s. Both girls were wearing long shirts over short little shorts. They showed him their freshly painted toenails, wiggling them at him, furthering his frustration at not being able to spend some personal time with his girlfriend.

  “I punched Hugo in the nose a few hours ago,” he said to change the subject.

  The girls hushed. They tucked their toes under the blanket and looked up at him eagerly, wanting to hear the gossip.

  “Pretty sure I broke it.” He was enjoying having their rapt attention. He would feed them details bit by bit. He poked at the grass with the toe of his shoe, casually.

  “Well, why?” Jess demanded, way too loudly.

  “Shhh!” Rowdy and Jordyn said together. Rowdy was keeping his ears and eyes alert for any movement in the house.

  “Sorry!” Jess whispered, covering her mouth and her giggles with her hand.

  “At first, he was mad about what I said about him to Jess.”

  “Oops. Sorry!” Jess whispered again without giggling.

  Rowdy shrugged. “I know.”

  “But then…?” Jordyn pressed him for more details, her soft voice affecting him.

  He inhaled and exhaled slowly.

  “He started pushing my dad.”

  “Whoa,” the girls said in unison. “Why?”

  “Dad was drunk. Hugo thought it was funny.” Rowdy didn’t like talking about his dad’s drinking problem. He reserved it for Jordyn’s ears only, and that was only once in a while.

  Jordyn looked at him with sympathy.

  “What a jerk. He got what he deserved,” Jess offered. There was pity in her voice. Rowdy supposed she felt a bit sorry for Hugo.

  He didn’t want to get into his feelings about the incident with Jess around, so he decided to go home. Jordyn walked around to the other side of the house and pulled him into the shadows for a long kiss. Rowdy didn’t want to stop, but she wriggled away, trying to keep quiet.

  It would have to be enough to last him until the following night. She couldn’t see his smile in the darkness as he crept away on silent feet.

  Chapter 12

  Thomas

  The girls were gabbing and giggling at the bus stop the next morning. They were wearing matching outfits, matching makeup, and matching hairstyles. Their nails were painted a shiny pink. Rowdy was glad they were best friends again.

  “How’s your hand?” Jordyn asked him, giving him a quick hug. He didn’t want to let her go. He held her close and buried his nose in her neck, smelling perfume.

  “Ew, get a room,” Jess said, but she was smiling. “I need a boyfriend.” She sighed.

  “Can you get one that isn’t a jerk this time?” Jordyn asked, reading Rowdy’s mind.

  Jess gave her a dirty look.

  Rowdy held his puffy hand out for them to see. It was all kinds of colors.

  “You’re so manly,” Jess joked, pretending to faint.

  “I am now seriously concerned about Hugo’s nose,” Jordyn said. “You say you think it’s broken?”

  Rowdy shook his head. “I know it’s broken. I heard it.”

  “And you left him there on the sidewalk by himself?”

  “Thomas was there. You know, the redheaded backup catcher?”

  Jordyn whacked him on the shoulder in disbelief. “Rowdy, that guy is completely useless at everything that isn’t baseball!”

  She whacked him again.

  “You left Hugo there with a broken, bleeding nose with lame-ass Thomas? I’ll be surprised if he is still alive!”

  They didn’t have to wait long to find out how Hugo was doing.

  Lame-ass Thomas approached them as soon as they got off the bus, his orange head glowing in the sun like a safety cone.

  He avoided making eye contact with Rowdy, focusing on the girls, specifically Jess.

  “Hugo went to the hospital yesterday…” he began, narrowing his eyes and sneaking a glance at Rowdy.

  “Yeah, we know what happened. Is it
broken?” Jess cut to the meat of the gossip. The traffic cone nodded.

  “Is it very bad? Is he at school today?” One long nod and two quick shakes. They all looked at each other, wondering what to do. Thomas trailed them into the school, trying to fit into the group. The girls split off to their drama class. Thomas trailed Rowdy as he walked to his locker.

  Rowdy turned to face him. Not an easy task, as Thomas was so short. He was short and stocky with muscular arms and shoulders; no doubt he made an excellent catcher.

  “What do you want?”

  Thomas shrugged. His white skin flushed. Rowdy put his pack in his locker. He grabbed his English text, waiting for Thomas to speak.

  Thomas brushed his red noodle hair to the side. He made to speak, then changed his mind. He jammed his hands into his pockets and walked into the stream of students.

  Rowdy was feeling bad about Hugo. He was irritated that now he was feeling guilty about Thomas. Thomas had a hard time socializing normally. Rowdy knew he should have helped him out. He dragged his feet to his English class to read Lord of the Flies. He loved the book, but he didn’t love it being read out loud, and he didn’t love a good story being ruined by comprehension questions.

  Every time Piggy was mentioned in the book, he thought about Hugo.

  At lunch hour he found the girls sitting out front on a concrete barrier. Thomas was with them. Thomas seemed to have adopted them. He said hi to Rowdy as though nothing were out of the ordinary.

  Rowdy sat down next to Jordyn. He looked at Thomas.

  “What did you want to say to me this morning?”

  Thomas shrugged. “Oh, that.” The girls turned toward him with interest. “It’s just I was there. I walked Hugo home after…” he stammered, turning red and narrowing his eyes. The group waited impatiently.

  “Hugo’s dad says he is going to kill you,” he burst out at last and then exhaled with relief. He sat down and clasped his hands between his knees, waiting for Rowdy’s reaction.

  Rowdy wasn’t surprised, but it was something he hadn’t really thought about.

  “Okay, thanks, Thomas,” he said, and Thomas smiled.

  “It sounds like Hugo’s dad is as infantile as he is,” Jordyn remarked, opening a package of hummus and crackers.

  Rowdy was thoughtful. “You guys have a game tonight, Thomas? Maybe I can see him. Patch things up, you know?” Rowdy didn’t want the violence to escalate. Truth was he was worried his dad might get caught up in it and end up hurt.

  The orange curls bobbed up and down.

  “Chade. Five o’clock.”

  “Oh, too bad. Thought it might be a home game. Never mind.” Rowdy accepted a hummus-topped cracker from Jordyn and did some more thinking.

  “We have a minivan.” Thomas shrugged, biting into a sandwich that was more peanut butter than bread. Rowdy’s mouth felt sticky just watching Thomas eat.

  “Your parents can take us you mean?” Jordyn asked, making things as simple for Thomas to answer as possible.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled through his sandwich.

  “Let’s all go! This will be fun!” Jess chimed in. Rowdy knew she didn’t want to miss out on any potential drama, and besides, ball games were a good place to meet boys.

  “Where do we meet for pickup? How about the corner store at four o’clock?”

  Thomas nodded vigorously and smiled, trying to swallow the peanut butter.

  “Gross,” Rowdy said. Everyone laughed.

  The bell rang, and the group separated. Jordyn went to math, Jess to band class that she hated, and the guys both to Mr. Marchand’s science class.

  Rowdy thought it was strange that Thomas had just latched onto him, and stranger, it didn’t bother him. Up until the day Rowdy swore at him and called him a coward, Thomas had just been a silent guy in the periphery.

  Mr. Marchand was an odd little man who did not go out of his way to make science class fun. He didn’t seem to enjoy science or teaching or people for that matter. He was getting close to retirement and no doubt knew exactly how many days, hours, and minutes he had left to complete.

  Rowdy and Thomas sat at the back by the windows that were always covered by thick, musty black curtains. If anyone touched the curtains, the little man would shriek at them.

  “Get your greasy hands off my curtains!” he would yell in a nasal, high-pitched voice.

  The students had grown used to Mr. Marchand’s odd, nonsensical ways. His class was just a chore of sitting quietly, gathering homework, and getting it over with.

  Rowdy sat down and watched the clock. He brought out his pen. He doodled a lot in this class. There was a flipped-over exam on each desk.

  “Your exam is on your desk. You have this class to complete it,” Mr. Marchand said in his nasal voice. “Keep your eyes on your own papers. Next week we start chemistry.”

  The class groaned. Thomas said, “Yesss!” Everyone looked at him. He turned red. Rowdy snickered. Mr. Marchand frowned at them all and went to his desk to read his newspaper.

  The class started into their exams. The room was silent aside from scratching pens and turning papers. It passed quickly enough. Thomas was the first to finish. He flipped his completed exam over and drew on the back of it.

  “What were you drawing on your exam?” Rowdy asked curiously afterward, heading through the crowded hallway to his last class.

  “Flint,” he answered simply, his curls bouncing as he walked.

  “Flint? Like a rock?” Rowdy paused at his locker to put his pack away and grab his water bottle for gym class.

  “It’s not a rock. It’s a sedimentary cryptocrystalline form of quartz that is categorized as a chert variety.” Thomas shrugged and walked away to his next class. Rowdy watched him go with growing curiosity.

  In the minivan en route to the ball game in Chade a few hours later, Rowdy was able to see how Thomas’ family worked.

  The dad rode in the passenger seat. His head was topped with big orange bouncy curls, his shoulders were wide, and his arms were thick. Rowdy felt as if he was looking at future Thomas.

  It wasn’t just their appearance that was identical; Thomas’ father was silent and awkward in the exact same way Thomas was.

  The mom did the driving, talking, joking, and laughing while her son and husband smiled and nodded, perfectly happy.

  Rowdy was in the back seat beside Jordyn. Jess and Thomas were in front of them. Jess and Thomas’ mom were hitting it off, talking about the latest in celebrity gossip. Thomas turned around and handed Rowdy an opaque rock.

  “Flint,” he said and turned around.

  Jordyn’s eyes got wide. “You mean like to make fires with?” She took the flint from Rowdy and held it in her palm.

  The orange head turned back around.

  “It’s been used in the manufacture of tools, as a building material, to ignite fire, and in the flintlock mechanism prior to the 1840s. Flint and steel used to strike sparks has been superseded by ferrocerium.”

  Jordyn raised her eyebrows. She looked at Rowdy, amused.

  Thomas’ dad turned around.

  “Don’t forget that flint pebbles with a low content of chromophore oxides are used in the ceramics industry. Ancient Egyptians wore flint bracelets. Striped flint is used today as a gemstone.”

  The dad turned around again. Father and son fell back into silence. Jess looked bored and resumed her conversation with the mom about Brangelina. Jordyn and Rowdy were staring at each other excitedly. Was there flint on the wall of gemstones in Sionnin?

  They mulled over the idea of using fire in Sionnin for the remainder of the drive. When they exited the vehicle, Rowdy remembered why he had come. He felt nervous.

  Thomas ran to the dugout with his catcher’s mitt in hand. Rowdy saw the back of Hugo’s blond head through the wire mesh. He turned and looked at him. Rowdy cringed.

  “Crap,” Jordyn said in a low voice beside him.

  Hugo’s nose was sw
ollen and bruised. The bruises had spread to both of his eyes. He looked miserable.

  Rowdy groaned and let Jordyn lead him to a seat on the bleachers beside Jess.

  “Hugo looks like crap!” Jess exclaimed, receiving a death glare from Jordyn. Rowdy scanned the ball diamond for the assistant coach, Mr. Cowan, Hugo’s dad.

  He’d never really looked at Mr. Cowan before; there had never been a reason to. From a distance, the only thing Rowdy could see that Hugo shared with his dad was his hair color. Mr. Cowan was short and fat. His jeans hung too low. He waddled when he walked. He had a face that looked as if it turned red easily. Rowdy guessed Mr. Cowan had high blood pressure.

  He relaxed a little.

  The teams collected in their respective dugouts. The Slammers were batting first. Thomas came around behind the dugout with a pitcher to warm up. A pitcher who wasn’t Hugo. Hugo was still sitting glumly on the bench.

  Rowdy watched the pitcher. It was a kid he recognized from school. He was in his social studies class. His pitch was slower than Hugo’s. It was hard to see his aim.

  Rowdy felt Jordyn’s fingers on his leg. He flushed and picked up her white hand with its shiny pink nails. She was looking at him with worry in her eyes.

  “You okay?”

  He nodded and gave her a little kiss, putting his arm around her and pulling her close.

  “Ew,” Jess said, rummaging for snacks.

  “Jealous,” Rowdy said.

  “Jerk,” Jess said to finish it, opening a bag of Nibs.

  The Slammers got slammed. The pitcher was awful. Hugo sat the whole game out. Mr. Cowan’s face was red throughout as he yelled and cursed at his team.

  Rowdy decided today was not the day for mending fences. He snuck back to the minivan where Thomas’ dad was watching the end of the game through the passenger window.

  He was silent, as usual.

  Rowdy watched as the teams shook hands and the bleachers thinned, then emptied. The girls arrived next, smelling like licorice. Lastly, Thomas and his mom climbed in.

  “Well, that’s what happens when you build a team around a pitcher. One pitcher to boot!”