Johnny Gruesome (5 page)

Raising his head, Johnny winked at Eric and grinned. Then he spun around and drove his fist straight into Todd’s mouth, splitting his lower lip. Todd’s feet flew up from beneath him and he crashed on the ice. The crowd of students cried out their surprise and approval in unison. Todd managed to roll over and rise on wobbling knees. Blood streamed down his chin and onto his jacket. Johnny burrowed into him with a series of pistonlike kidney punches, plowing him across the ice. Unable to fight back, Todd wrapped his arms around Johnny as he would in a wrestling match.

With their arms entangled, Johnny and Todd struggled against each other. Then Johnny pivoted on one heel, slamming Todd against the Death Mobile with a loud bang that caused Cliff to flinch. Johnny laid into Todd, pummeling him, his leather jacket squeaking in the brittle air. The spectators roared, and Eric saw Gary scrutinizing the fight with narrowed eyes.

His face spotted with blood, Todd tried to block Johnny’s relentless assault. “I give!” Desperation rose in his voice. “I
give!”

Johnny continued his offensive, determined to penetrate the protective layer of Todd’s jacket. Karen flicked her smoldering cigarette butt at the mushy pavement, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Johnny raised his right fist to deliver the decisive blow, the silver rings on his fingers outlined in red.

This is turning into a bloodbath, Eric thought.

“STOP IT!”

Turning, Eric saw Carol Crane, his first-period English teacher, push her way through the stilled crowd. She wore no coat, just a cardigan sweater over a blouse. The wind blew her curly brown hair, and her long skirt wrapped around her legs, leaving little to the imagination. Eric had never heard her shout before. Johnny’s fist trembled in the air as Carol stepped before him.

“I said, ‘Stop it.’”

With a disappointed look, Johnny lowered his fist and stepped back from the car, his chest rising and falling.

Rubbing her arms for warmth, Carol examined Todd. “Get to the nurse’s office right now.”

Avoiding his classmates, Todd jerked his gym bag off the top of Cliff’s Mazda and staggered in the direction of the school. Johnny stared hard at the battered boy, who passed him with lowered eyes.

Carol faced Johnny. “You come with me.” She scanned the faces of the spectators, and Eric looked at the ground. “The rest of you get to class.” Turning, she strode back to the school, following Todd.

Johnny shadowed her footsteps, his eyes descending from the small of her back to the shape of her ass. As students clapped his back in a congratulatory manner, an appreciative smile formed on his lips.

S
eated in the principal’s office, Johnny stared at the dark green carpet as Carol stood describing the fight to Michael Milton. He had been here many times before. The squat man behind the wide desk sat with his back to a window that overlooked The Lot. Mr. Milton’s mustache curled over his upper lip and his thick glasses framed his craggy face, his dark hair slicked back from a widow’s peak. He wore a purple shirt beneath his suit jacket, and a narrow black tie with silver stripes.

Wannabe Mafia motherfucker
, Johnny thought.

Mr. Milton’s growing frown accentuated the harsh acne scars on his cheeks. “Mrs. Crane says you assaulted Mr. Kumler on school property. True or false?”

Johnny sighed, a bored expression on his face. “So what if I did?”

Carol rolled her eyes. “I have to get to my class,” she said in an exasperated tone. She stepped toward the door, but Johnny opened his legs wide, blocking her path. His eyes rose from her crotch, a hint of a smile on his lips. He considered himself lucky to have such an attractive teacher. She stared back with icy eyes, her mouth tightening. Oh, yeah, she knew exactly what he was thinking. Sitting up, he allowed her to pass.

As the door closed behind her, his eyes met Mr. Milton’s gaze. The man did not look amused. The principal leaned back in his leather chair, folding his hands over his round belly.

“When are you going to learn that you can’t use my school as your personal stomping ground?”

Johnny met the principal’s gaze. “He started it.”

“I’m sure he did. It’s always the other guy, isn’t it? You never do anything wrong, do you? You’re an innocent man, just like Jean Valjean in
Les Misérables.”

“Jean Valjean wasn’t innocent. He stole a loaf of bread and robbed a church.”

Mr. Milton’s eyes narrowed into reptilian slits. “Let me guess: you saw that in a movie.”

Johnny shrugged.

“Maybe if you ever actually read a book you wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

“I read books. Just not the kind you want me to read.”

“I’m not interested in your literary taste.”

Saying nothing, Johnny just stared at the corpulent man.

“I’ve got a news bulletin for you, mister: your reign of terror is over.”

Johnny snorted. “Yeah? Is there a new sheriff in town?”

Mr. Milton’s mouth drew back into a carnivorous grin. “Keep it up. You’re looking at one person who isn’t afraid of you.”

Good for you
, Johnny thought.

“I’m suspending you for a week, wise guy. Starting right now.”

“What?
That asshole was looking for trouble!”

“Come on, Grissom. We’ve both played this game long enough to know the rules. How many times have you sat in that chair? More than I can count, and I taught math for twelve years. I should think you’d be happy to take a break. You can stay home and smoke pot or whatever it is you do with your free time.”

Johnny clenched his jaw. “You told me that if I missed any more days I couldn’t graduate.”

Mr. Milton sat forward. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t flunk you over this. That would be punishing myself, wouldn’t it? Because it would mean another year of putting up with your crap. But this is the last inning, sport. One more strike and you’ll be out on your ear. I’m talking expulsion. Got it?”

Johnny felt his anger boiling inside him. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Then get the hell out of my sight. I don’t want to see you for another week.”

Rising, Johnny stared at the principal with contempt. He wished he could just reach across that desk and dig his fingers into that fat neck and—

Mr. Milton lowered his eyes at the paperwork strewn across his desk, dismissing him. Johnny tried to slam the door on his way out, but the automatic closer denied him even that simple satisfaction.

Johnny steered the Death Mobile over the long driveway to the detached two-car garage behind his house. He wanted to kick Kumler’s ass all over again. Killing the engine, he got out and made his way through the snow to the front porch. Of course, his father hadn’t shoveled the driveway. He opened the door and stepped inside, stomping snow off his boots. The television flickered in the living room, and he heard his father stir. As he climbed the stairs, Charlie Grissom appeared beneath the living room arch, his clothes as unkempt as his hair.

“What are you doing back here?”

Johnny continued upstairs. “Don’t worry about it.”

Charlie crossed to the bottom of the stairs. “That’s not an answer. Why aren’t you at school?”

“None of your business.”

Charlie’s complexion darkened. “Answer me, goddamn it! I’m your father.”

Johnny looked over his shoulder with a dismissive expression. “That’s a laugh.”

Balling his hands into fists, Charlie stormed up the stairs, his body swaying with each step. “You little son of a bitch …”

Johnny whirled around. “You want to know why I’m home? I want to know why you don’t have a job!”

Charlie’s breath came in short bursts as he reached the top of the stairs. Johnny waited until the last second, then darted into his bedroom and slammed the door in his father’s face. Charlie twisted the knob, then pounded the wood.

“Come out and face me like a man! I can still kick your ass.”

Turning from the locked door, Johnny powered his CD player and a burst of speed metal blazed from the speakers while Charlie continued to yell on the other side of the door.

“You have to come out of there sometime …”

Johnny cranked the volume, drowning his father’s words. He flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, where a jagged crack ran like a lightning bolt through peeling paint to the dusty light fixture.

Jesus, life sucked.

Sitting on the foam rubber wrestling mat, Todd stretched his legs, his bruised face and raw knuckles aching. He’d gone to the emergency room with his mother, but refused to miss practice despite the purple swelling over his left eye and the two stitches in his lower lip. The whole season depended on the outcome of their next match, and he didn’t plan to slack off just because Gruesome had bested him.

The wrestling team used the smaller auxiliary gymnasium because the basketball team rated the main gym. The odors of foam rubber, sweat, and Ben Gay stifled the air.

Todd felt someone nudge his sore ribs. Cliff, stretching beside him, nodded across the gym.

“Look who’s here.”

Twisting his trunk, Todd saw Eric standing in line behind a half-dozen other boys, waiting to weigh himself on the upright scale outside Coach Wrangler’s office. Like the other wrestlers, he wore an off-white practice uniform with headgear and knee pads.

“Son of a bitch.” Todd grinned at Cliff and Derek. “Come on.” He hopped up and his lieutenants followed him over to where Eric stood. A sophomore who noticed their approach stepped back with an alarmed expression on his face. Eric stared straight ahead, ignoring them.

“Just the
wuss
I wanted to see,” Todd said. Derek and Cliff smiled without showing their teeth. “Too bad you’re all alone now. Where’s your pal, Gruesome?”

Eric sighed. “Why, do you want him to give you another beating?”

“Oh, shit,” Cliff said.

Todd poked Eric’s chest. “I could take him any day of the week. He just got lucky.”

“Give it a rest, will you? We’re not in junior high anymore. Haven’t you started enough trouble for one day?”

Todd pointed at the discolored tissue around his left eye. “You see this? I’m holding you responsible for it.”

Eric studied the black eye. “It looks like an improvement to me. Gives you some character.”