walking and a jog.
I follow her into the nurse’s office. Mrs. Casey, the school nurse, quickly stands up. It’s obvious that Mrs. Owens intimidatesher; you can tell by the nervous look in her eye, the quick, flighty movements of her hands, and the way she keeps rocking back and forth in her shoes.
“Mrs. Casey.”
She timidly runs her hand through her hair. “Yes?”
“How are the boys doing?”
I look around the office. Pogo Stick and his friends are all lying on cots. They seem to be sluggish but are basically doing well. They’re all somewhat bandaged; Pogo has a broken nose and the big kid’s arm is in a sling. Frank’s sitting in the corner in a chair; I didn’t expect to see him here.
“Ah, they seem okay. Nothing broken…oh, except for Billy’s nose, which I taped tight; there’s not much more I can do for it here. I’ve notified their parents and strongly suggested they all visit the hospital for more thorough examinations.”
Mrs. Owens lets out a long sigh and we enter into another one of her prolonged bouts of silence. I can tell she’s making everyone, including Mrs. Casey, very anxious and I find myself beginning to admire her interrogation technique. I can see how it would be effective.
She turns to me. “Mr. Saron, do you have something you would like to say to your friends?”
I look over at Frank, and raise my eyebrow slightly. He gives me a quick shake of his head. Does that mean they didn’t tell her what happened? It’s worth a try. I offer Pogo Stick my best innocent look and say, “What happened to you guys?”
Mrs. Owens snaps, “Oh, please. We all know what’s going on here! Mr. Dinatelli informs me that you did this to them.”
“Did what to them?”
“You need to just stop this.”
I hold up my hands. “Stop what?”
She glares at me. “This innocent routine.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about how you brutally assaulted these students.”
I point at my chest. “You think I did this?” I glance around the room like I’m counting. “You think I beat up seven guys?”
“I think you did and so does Mr. Dinatelli.”
I point at my face. “Do I look like I just fought with seven guys? That’s almost a baseball team. Look, there’s not a scratch on me.”
“Mr. Dinatelli said he heard fighting in the locker room. When he went inside to investigate he found these guys on the floor and you walking out the door.”
“All that proves is that I walked out of the gym. I could have told you that.”
She looks at me, shakes her head, then walks over to Pogo Stick. She softens her voice. The sudden transformation is jarring, like downshifting on the highway. “How are you feeling?”
“Been better.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you need anything, Billy?”
“No, I’ll be all right.”
She smiles, or should I say she tries to smile. You can tell it’s not something she’s used to doing. “Listen, Billy, I want you to tell me what happened today in the locker room. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He looks over at me. We make eye contact. There’s something there. It’s not fear, guilt, or hate; it’s something else. I can’t get a read on it.
“Well, it’s like this: John and I were standing on the bench seeing who could push who off first, then it kinda turned into which group could push the other group off the bench. Next thing I know, we’re all crashing to the hard tile floor together.”
Mrs. Owens’s head snaps upward. She seems very surprised by his answer. “Are you honestly trying to tell me this was just a simple case of roughhousing?”
“Roughhousing? Is that what you call it? We just call it ‘bench wars.’”
Mrs. Owens’s lips get really tight. I can see the anger in her eyes. I wonder if Pogo Stick and the other guys can see it too. “So you’re telling me that Cody Saron had nothing to do with this, that he didn’t beat you boys up?”
“Why would he beat us up? Never mind
I follow her into the nurse’s office. Mrs. Casey, the school nurse, quickly stands up. It’s obvious that Mrs. Owens intimidatesher; you can tell by the nervous look in her eye, the quick, flighty movements of her hands, and the way she keeps rocking back and forth in her shoes.
“Mrs. Casey.”
She timidly runs her hand through her hair. “Yes?”
“How are the boys doing?”
I look around the office. Pogo Stick and his friends are all lying on cots. They seem to be sluggish but are basically doing well. They’re all somewhat bandaged; Pogo has a broken nose and the big kid’s arm is in a sling. Frank’s sitting in the corner in a chair; I didn’t expect to see him here.
“Ah, they seem okay. Nothing broken…oh, except for Billy’s nose, which I taped tight; there’s not much more I can do for it here. I’ve notified their parents and strongly suggested they all visit the hospital for more thorough examinations.”
Mrs. Owens lets out a long sigh and we enter into another one of her prolonged bouts of silence. I can tell she’s making everyone, including Mrs. Casey, very anxious and I find myself beginning to admire her interrogation technique. I can see how it would be effective.
She turns to me. “Mr. Saron, do you have something you would like to say to your friends?”
I look over at Frank, and raise my eyebrow slightly. He gives me a quick shake of his head. Does that mean they didn’t tell her what happened? It’s worth a try. I offer Pogo Stick my best innocent look and say, “What happened to you guys?”
Mrs. Owens snaps, “Oh, please. We all know what’s going on here! Mr. Dinatelli informs me that you did this to them.”
“Did what to them?”
“You need to just stop this.”
I hold up my hands. “Stop what?”
She glares at me. “This innocent routine.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about how you brutally assaulted these students.”
I point at my chest. “You think I did this?” I glance around the room like I’m counting. “You think I beat up seven guys?”
“I think you did and so does Mr. Dinatelli.”
I point at my face. “Do I look like I just fought with seven guys? That’s almost a baseball team. Look, there’s not a scratch on me.”
“Mr. Dinatelli said he heard fighting in the locker room. When he went inside to investigate he found these guys on the floor and you walking out the door.”
“All that proves is that I walked out of the gym. I could have told you that.”
She looks at me, shakes her head, then walks over to Pogo Stick. She softens her voice. The sudden transformation is jarring, like downshifting on the highway. “How are you feeling?”
“Been better.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you need anything, Billy?”
“No, I’ll be all right.”
She smiles, or should I say she tries to smile. You can tell it’s not something she’s used to doing. “Listen, Billy, I want you to tell me what happened today in the locker room. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He looks over at me. We make eye contact. There’s something there. It’s not fear, guilt, or hate; it’s something else. I can’t get a read on it.
“Well, it’s like this: John and I were standing on the bench seeing who could push who off first, then it kinda turned into which group could push the other group off the bench. Next thing I know, we’re all crashing to the hard tile floor together.”
Mrs. Owens’s head snaps upward. She seems very surprised by his answer. “Are you honestly trying to tell me this was just a simple case of roughhousing?”
“Roughhousing? Is that what you call it? We just call it ‘bench wars.’”
Mrs. Owens’s lips get really tight. I can see the anger in her eyes. I wonder if Pogo Stick and the other guys can see it too. “So you’re telling me that Cody Saron had nothing to do with this, that he didn’t beat you boys up?”
“Why would he beat us up? Never mind
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