Rooster (9 page)

“I can fix that in a second if that's her biggest problem.”

“You cannot,” said Mrs. Helmsley, pointing a rigid finger at him. “And you will not. You have less say on this project than anyone.”

“Yeah, why is that anyway?”

Mrs. Helmsley ignored the question. “I've arranged to give you some support. She'll be here any minute.”

“Support?”

“Yes. Someone to help you get started and lead you along until you figure out what you're supposed to be doing.”

“I don't need support. Last night Mrs. Nixon told me I'm the only one in the school who could do the job.”

“She did, did she?”

“Yes, she did. And she was serious.”

“Well, that's not the impression you left with Mrs. Yuler.”

“So Mrs. Nixon's out and Mrs. Yuler's in?”

“Mrs. Yuler asked if there was someone available who could help you. I said I'd have a look around. Lo and behold, I found someone. You are not going to be allowed to slough this off, Rooster. The proud name of our school has been attached to this project. I'm sure the local newspaper will be involved at some point.”

Rooster shook his aching head. “Did you say ‘She,' at least?”

“Yes. It's a she.”

“Do I know her?”

“You most certainly do.”

Rooster smiled. “Is she cute?”

“I've always thought so.”

Rooster began to think about who it might be. Logic said Jolene would be the best choice since she was someone he obviously got along with, but she still did not know anything about the project. Was it possible that Mrs. Helmsley had called her in first thing this morning to discuss it with her?

“Is it Jolene?” he said, hopefully.

“Not on your life. I'm amazed her parents still let you go out with that girl.”

“Why?”

“You're a bad influence, that's why.”

“Her marks have gotten better since we started going out.”

“No thanks to you. It's a credit to her they've gotten better. If she were my daughter, I'd have grabbed you by the scruff of the neck and thrown you out months ago.”

“Well, that's something you'll never have to worry about.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Would you tell me who it is, please? I hate surprises.”

“No. She'll be here in a minute.”

Rooster slumped back in his chair and briefly covered his eyes. For a moment there he had forgotten about his headache, but it was back in full force. He thought about the throb in his head and how black and calm everything went when his eyes were shut. He thought about Andy Gilmore's bleeding nose and was glad he wasn't bleeding at least. Andy had gone through almost an entire box of Kleenex after Elma had hit him with that ball. Poor old Andy.

Rooster's heart stopped. His eyes sprang open.

“It's not Elma, is it?”

Mrs. Helmsley smiled. “As a matter of fact, it is.”

“Are you joking?”

“I knew you'd be excited. And I wish I knew what was taking her so long. She probably got hung up at her newspaper committee meeting, or the teacher who runs the chess club wanted to see her for a moment. It's not that she's outside having a cigarette and failed to hear the announcement.”

“Why Elma?”

“Because she has tremendous leadership and organizational skills, that's why. Those are the two attributes Mrs. Yuler was looking for most. She wants the Strikers ready to compete for a berth in the Special Olympics qualifying round at the end of the month, and she sees no chance of that happening if it's just you in charge.”

“So why doesn't Elma do it all then?”

“Because Elma does not need another opportunity to prove herself. She's done enough already. She could start university tomorrow and she wouldn't miss a beat.”

“Okay, so why don't you send her to university tomorrow and I'll do this on my own?”

Mrs. Helmsley took a deep breath. “University is out for the summer. And you can't be trusted on your own, remember?”

Rooster sighed quietly and rubbed his head. The door of Mrs. Helmsley's office opened. In walked Elma, wearing a black T-shirt and dark blue jeans. She looked first at him and grimaced.

“Close the door, please,” said Mrs. Helmsley.

“Sorry I'm late,” said Elma. “I was at first-aid training.”

“I forgot all about that,” said her mom. “Don't worry, we won't be long here. I want you two to set up a time and a place to get together and lay out a strategy. We can meet here again next Friday and you can tell me how it's going. I'll probably know by then anyway, but we may as well make it official. Any questions? Good. Thank you, Elma, for taking this on in spite of your heavy schedule. Rooster, I expect you to pick up the pace and be the leader with this before too long.”

Sitting beside him, Elma snorted. “That'll be the day,” she said.

“Get along, you two,” said Mrs. Helmsley, her tone dropping to a threatening level. “I will not tolerate any reports of you two fighting or disrupting the bowling sessions. Nor will I accept anything less than what Mrs. Yuler has asked for. The Strikers are going to be an organized and respectful team of bowlers, and they are going to be ready to join the Special Olympics Bowling League by the end of this month. That's three weeks away. Is that understood?”

Elma nodded without hesitation.

Rooster waited a moment. “I guess so,” he said. “There's not much choice in the matter, is there?”

“There's none,” said Mrs. Helmsley.

Rooster and Elma left the office together. They agreed to meet at the bowling alley at six o'clock Monday evening, one hour before the Strikers were due to arrive.

“Be on time,” said Elma, turning and walking down the hall.

Rooster turned in the opposite direction. “Don't worry, Junior,” he said. “I'll be there.”

He did not turn around, but he knew she was glaring at him.

7

M
onday evening arrived quickly. Before he knew it, Rooster was walking down the long hill that led from his house through downtown to the bowling alley.

His weekend had been relatively uneventful. He'd gone out with Jolene on Friday night and told her all about the Strikers and his new partnership with Elma.

“This could be very good for you, you know,” she had said as they slowly made their way through the ravine. They were going to a movie and had plenty of time to get to the theater. “I actually think Elma's a pretty good person.”

“I actually don't,” said Rooster. “But I have no say in the matter, so I guess I'll get used to it.”

“You have to give her a chance, that's all.”

“That's what I mean. I have no say in the matter.”

Later, after they had strayed off the paved trail and made out in a small clearing near the river, Jolene asked him a question. “Do you have any idea what's wrong with Jayson?”

“Does anybody?”

“He came up to me in the library today and gave me this really dirty look and then walked away.”

Rooster thought for a moment. He was enjoying himself too much to get worked up over anything. He hadn't seen Jolene over the past few weekends and was savoring his time with her now. “Maybe he thought you were somebody else.”

“Like who?”

“I don't know. A rugby player from St. Mary's? The starting center on the St. Joseph High School basketball team?”

Jolene gave him an elbow in the ribs. “Don't be a jerk. He upset me. I thought he was coming over to study with me or say something nice.”

“Was he wearing his sunglasses?”

“No.”

“Could you see the tattoo on his arm?”

“He was wearing a shirt.”

“How do you know it was him then? Maybe it was someone else who just looked like him.”

Jolene gave him another elbow and then tried to kick him before he led her off the path again.

Jayson's name came up again on Saturday night when Rooster returned to Puffs' house. Jolene was out with her family, and Jayson was at a rugby tournament in Calgary, so it was just the two of them.

“Hey, do you know what's up with Jayson?” Rooster said, flopping in a comfortable chair in the living room.

“Does anybody?” said Puffs, who was amazed that his joke had lasted this long.

“Jolene said he gave her a dirty look in the library yesterday.”

“Jayson did?”

“Yeah.”

“Our Jayson?”

“Yes.”

“The Jay-dog?”

“Shut up. Do you know what it's about?”

“Not a clue,” said Puffs. “But I can tell you something that happened to me at the library yesterday.” He was grateful for the diversion.

Rooster immediately settled in for another episode of what he referred to as Puffs' Never-Ending Adventure Stories. They were usually tied in some way to his pursuit of Gracie Armstrong.

“I went in there to do some math during my spare,” Puffs began, “and Gracie was sitting by herself at one of the tables. I smiled and said hi to her. No problem. She smiled and said hi back. Then she took off her jacket, that little white one she always wears? She had on this tight pink T-shirt underneath. Stunning. I kid you not. Absolutely stunning. I guarantee if you had seen her, you'd have done the exact same thing that I did.”

“Which was?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Absolutely nothing. I didn't say anything to her. I didn't even go over there.”

“But you kept staring at her until she got Mr. Finkle to ask you to leave.”

Puffs blushed. “It wasn't even that. It's just that every time I looked at her, she looked at me. I mean, I could have said the same thing she did: ‘Mr. Finkle, can you ask Gracie to stop staring at me all the time?'”

“But you wouldn't do that because that would be a dream come true for you,” said Rooster.

“Exactly.”

“So did she ask Mr. Finkle to ask you to leave?”

“No. She asked him if she could use the phone.”

“Then what?”

“About fifteen minutes later, Nick showed up.”

“Uh-oh.”

“He came in just when I was leaving the bathroom. I ducked behind the magazines. I could see Gracie and him looking all over the place for me. Then she showed him where my books were.”

“And?”

“Now he has my books. Math. Social Studies. Biology. The love letter I was writing to her.”

Rooster's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“I'm kidding about the letter,” said Puffs.

“Thank God for that.”

“I put it in my pocket before I went to the bathroom.”

Rooster shook his head. “So now all you have to do is ask Nick for your books back.”

“I guess so,” said Puffs.

“That shouldn't be too hard.”

“Not at all.”

“You two get along so well.”

“We have a lot in common, that's for sure.”

Rooster stared at Puffs for a moment. Then he had to laugh. For a minute he felt like the second unluckiest kid in Winston instead of the first.

He slowed his pace to the bowling alley so he could finish his smoke. When he arrived at the entrance, he checked the clock on the wall above the front counter. It was six o'clock on the button.

Elma was sitting at a table in the small lounge across from the bowling lanes. She had a binder spread open in front of her. She was writing something on a piece of paper. He walked over to meet her.

“You're late,” she said, without looking up.

Rooster pulled out a chair and sat down. “I'm not late. I'm right on time.”

“In my house, if you're not early, you're late, and you're obviously not early because you're just getting here.”

Rooster rolled his eyes. “That sounds like another reason never to go to your house.”

“Very funny. I'll tear up the invitation when I get home.” She finished writing and gave him a blank stare. “Did you bring your binder at least?”

“My what?”

She lifted up one half of her binder and let it drop back down to the table. “Hello? Your binder? From the leadership class you're taking?”

Rooster stared back at her. “Was I supposed to bring that?”

“Duh, yes?”

“Nobody told me I was supposed to bring that.”

“You're in high school. You're supposed to be able to figure those things out on your own.”

“But for what? This is a bowling alley.”

“This is an assignment for school. Straight out of the leadership class you're in. Don't you remember the hero cycle? We've only been studying it for the past month.”

“The what?”

“The hero cycle.” She drew a quick circle on the back of the paper she was writing on. “First you get the call. That goes at the top. Then, as you follow it around, you pass through all of these different stages. Resistance. Conflict. Trials. Change. Then there's some big final challenge that you'll have to either overcome and become a true leader or quit and be a zero. We've been talking about it forever.”