Chapter 5

Paul stared at his Civics test. He had a zero. How could he make a zero on a true/false test? It defied statistics. He put the test away and pretended to pay attention. He was calculating the odds; a 50% chance for each question, twenty-five questions, the chance of not getting any correct, vanishingly small. If you flip a coin 25 times and it comes up heads each time, someone is cheating.

Paul approached Miss Dillard after the bell rang. "Miss Dillard, are you sure I didn't get any questions correct?" His anger was held in check somewhat by his curiosity.

"You got a zero on the test because you cheated"

"What!"

"You got a zero on the test because you cheated. Your score was too high for you to have gotten it yourself."

Paul turned and left the room. He was seething. He walk to the parking lot, climbed on his bike, and drove home. That's where his mother found him.

"Paul. What's the matter?"

"That idiot, that ridiculous excuse for a teacher gave me a zero on a test because she said I cheated."

"What did you say to her?"

"Nothing; I knew I wouldn't be able to keep my temper. I came home. Mom, with all the bad grades she has given me, a zero will give me and F for the course and I won't graduate."

"Ann called me. You weren't at school and she was worried about you. She called here but no one answered. No one answered when I called. I was worried Paul."

"I sorry, I didn't want to talk to anyone."

"Miss Dillard has continued to give you bad grades? Why didn't you tell me?"

"What could anyone do? Last year she picked John Deming. His family even hired a lawyer. No one can make a teacher change a grade. The school board can refuse to rehire the teacher, but she has been teaching so long, they won't do that."

"We'll see if we can do something about your grade tomorrow after school."

"What makes you think that my son was cheating?" Mrs. Sheppard sat at a conference table with Mr. Miles, Miss Dillard, and Paul. Paul tried not to look at Miss Dillard and to keep his face neutral.

"I have 27 years of teaching experience and I know when someone is cheating. His test score was much too high for someone with the report scores that he has."

"What score would he have received if you hadn't thought my son was cheating?"

"He was cheating."

"What was his score?" Mrs. Sheppard's voice was louder than she intended.

Well, well, thought Paul, I'm not the only one in the family who can't stand her. I wonder who Mom had for Civics.

"An 88," allowed Miss Dillard.

"An 88! His grades in his other classes are all above 95!"

"Perhaps he studies harder in those classes."

Paul lost it. "Perhaps the teachers grade fairly in the other classes."

"Don't use that tone of voice with me young man."

"Would you prefer a higher register or a lower register?" Paul demonstrated. "I'm afraid two octaves are about the best I can do. I don't have much of a voice."

"Paul." His mother warned but he was on a roll. Dr. Sheppard was in complete control of him.

"You're such an idiot you probably didn't understand what I said."

"Paul, apologize now!"

"I'm sorry, you're right. She's not an idiot. She's somewhere on that fine line between a moron and an imbecile. You should hear her in class. She longs for the day of Joseph McCarthy. She is convinced that Nathan Bedford Forrest is the root of all that is good in the south. Our society is perfect because of him. He started the Klan and that keeps us a gentile society. She is a direct descendant and uses him as an example of all that is good; the greatest general in the civil war.

Apparently she never heard of Jeb Stuart. Apparently she never heard of Jackie Robinson. Apparently she never heard of Brown vs. The Board of Education. She makes the John Birch Society look like flaming liberals. Lady your world is unraveling and you're too dumb to know it." Paul got himself under enough control to walk out of the room, and waited in the car for his mother.

When she arrived, she was as mad as he had ever seen her. Humor is supposed to give perspective he thought. "I suppose a B is out of the question?"

"I am mad at everyone in that meeting right now so unless you want more trouble, stay quiet."

This was really bad.

"What is the John Birch Society?"

Crap. They hadn't been formed until this year. He shouldn't know about them. "They are a new lunatic fringe group that separates the world into one of two camps; a communist conspiracy or them."

"You're grounded for two weeks."

"Yes ma'am."

"And you're taking Civics this summer." She saw Paul's question in his eyes. "No, Miss Dillard is not teaching it."

The incident had shaken Paul. A year's worth of trying to be better and then again back to his old behavior. He thought he was on cruise control and now a bad situation and he was back to his old behavior. His mother was so disappointed. He was grounded for two weeks. Two weeks he could have spent with Ann. He apologized to her his first day back to school.

Teaching was hard; much harder than anyone who hasn't done it can believe. Paul had taught undergrads and graduate students on his way up the ladder. He hadn't been very good. He didn't care if they understood the material or not. He had learned it without help, why couldn't they. But he had seen good teachers. He saw how hard they had to work.

Those who can't do, teach. Those who can't teach, teach teachers. Utter bullshit.

Bad luck comes in bunches or maybe we make our luck. The second day back Paul heard the George James was going to kick his ass. George wasn't really a bully. There was just something wrong with him. He liked to fight. He would fixate on someone and talk about them until they finally fought him. It didn't matter to George if they were larger than he was or even if he won. He seemed to enjoy fighting regardless of the outcome.

George was big; over six feet tall and wide through the shoulders. He always had a smile on his face; apparently looking forward to his next fight. If you gave George a choice of spending 30 minutes naked with the best looking girl in school or 30 minutes of a good fight, hands down he'd pick the fight. He dated girls and he liked them. He'd just rather fight than make love. He was the antithesis of the 60s.

Paul didn't want to be grounded again. Time with Ann was running short. He was already dreading her leaving in the fall and 2 weeks without holding her had seemed like an eternity.

"Step into the restroom. I want to talk to you." Paul turned his back and walked in when he finished speaking. George followed.

"Everyone out" The restroom quickly cleared. "George. If you want a fight, I'll give you one. But I've got two conditions."

George smiled, "what are the conditions?"

"I'm grounded so I can't do it now. You've got to wait. The other thing is that you and I are the only ones who know about it. No one else will be present and we won't talk about it, win or lose."

"You think you can win?"

"Odd things happen in a fight."

"Shake on it."

"The first night you're not grounded and you're not taking me out?" Talking to Ann was as least as dangerous as fighting George.

"Baby I can't."

"Why not?"

"I told you. I made a promise that I have to keep. That promise included secrecy."

"Don't bother asking me out tomorrow."

Friday night and Saturday night weren't going to be that much fun this week. What makes people like George James? Does he hate himself? Has he been abused? Does he just hate everyone or does he just need to dominate? Why did you need to dominate? You didn't have any excuses. It wasn't your upbringing. What made you a jerk, Paul Sheppard?

They met at an old baseball diamond Friday at 8:00. George had a list of rules; incredible, a list of rules.

Saturday night Paul stayed at home, icing his eye and hoping that the swelling would go down. His mother was the only one he told the truth to. He didn't think that was breaking the spirit of the agreement. She didn't ask how the fight went. He didn't volunteer.

Paul looked like a raccoon Monday morning. The emergency room doctor had straightened his nose. The swelling over his left eye had gone down. The same doctor had taped George's broken ribs before Paul drove George back to his car. Paul's story was he ran into a door. George's was that he fell down the stairs in his house. They both stuck to their stories. The physician knew they were lying but what could he do. No one at school believed them either.

Although he didn't have the words to express it, George looked at the whole thing as some sort of male bonding experience. Paul wanted nothing to do with George James. The kid was a sick-o. "Don't trust anyone with two first names."

He didn't know what to expect from Ann on Monday. He was at their usual place in front of the office when her dad dropped her off. They looked at each other for a moment before she walked up to hug him. God it felt good to hold her. Nothing more was said about the weekend.

"Tell me again, who is this guy," Paul spoke from the front seat. Ann's head was in his lap and her feet were stuck out the window. She liked to watch Paul drive. She also liked to have one hand on her breast, it was romantic, but with Rachel in back so she was behaving.

"His name is Kenny Green," replied Rachel from the back seat. "I met him at a party last year. He's really cute. He called me last week and asked me out. Since I don't know him very well, I thought we could double date."

"Do you know anything about him other than his name and the fact that he's cute?"

"What else do I need to know?"

Ann and Rachel thought it was hysterical.

Paul couldn't really judge if Kenny was cute or not. For a guy, cute is hard to define in another guy. Paul could tell if a guy was handsome. It's said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Not really, but cute is.

Kenny Green was average height and weight, with dark hair and dark eyes. His hand shake was firm. They met at the Daytona Dog and Suds. After dinner they went to the drive-in. Steve McQueen was starring in The Blob. McQueen wasn't quiet as cool as he would be later in his career and the movie was cheesy. Ann said McQueen was cute. The girls thought that too was hysterical. Paul was sure that "cute" wasn't what they were thinking. McQueen was cool but James Dean was the coolest person alive and Sammy Davis Jr. was the hippest person who ever lived. Paul vowed to go see Sammy Davis perform sometime. Maybe he could see the Rat Pack in Vegas.