Slot Machine (16 page)

I attempted to raise both fists in the air as a sign of my erupting macho. But I couldn’t get my arms up over my head.

“Thanks anyhow,” Frank said with a little smile. “But I don’t think they’ll make me do anything else embarrassing. I think I’m in pretty good shape from here on in. Besides, you know, it’s all in good fun.”

Mikie shook his head at that, but for once didn’t speak his superior mind. “Good luck then, Frank.” He reached across the table and shook Frank’s hand.

With all my strength I managed to reach out and flop my hand on top of their linked hands. A sort of Three Musketeers gesture.

As soon as we saw how it looked, we all felt the same.

“Jesus, this is stupid,” Frankie said, pretty well capturing the moment. “Can we talk about something else anyway?”

Brother Jackson beat us to it.

“Every year,” he said, with feedback screeching over the microphone, “we hope we don’t have to do this. And every year, we do have to do it.” He spoke grimly, as if what he had to do was announce the loss of a loved one, or direct us to the gas chambers. He shook his head slowly and dramatically. “Perhaps some of you did not take me very seriously when I talked to you of taking the measure of the man during this retreat. Perhaps you did not see, as we do, the
importance
of finding one’s slot, finding one’s way, in the big system. Well, it’s been two weeks now, and I must say we have seen the measure of many of you, and you measure up impressively. We have seen the measure of others, and... well we don’t know.

“Let me say it again, gentlemen: If we don’t have a slot for you, what are we going to do with you?

“Do not try to answer, as that was a rhetorical question. But let me get to the thing I do not like to do. The reports are coming in that we have an overabundance of young men who are flatly washing out of the healthy and productive and character-building conventional slots we have set up for you. So we are forced to open up what we call the ‘Alternative Slots.’ Now, this does not mean that you people are any lesser than those men who will remain in the football and baseball slots. It just means you’re... a different sort.”

I could feel it coming. I was already shaking my head no when Coach Wolfe stepped up from behind and put a hand on my shoulder. “Elvin. Can I talk to you a minute?”

He walked me out onto the verandah of the dining hall. I followed solemnly. I knew that when I reentered that hall, I would be going back as a mere diner like the rest of them, and never again as a Grappling Knight.

“... I really do, Elvin, I wish I had more guys with your heart. I have never had a kid who hit the deck so damn easy, and then was so damn hard to pin. You should be proud of that. But the body just ain’t willin’. I’m convinced that if I don’t move you, you’re going to get hurt somethin’ awful.”

Well what do you know, Coach; I just did get hurt somethin’ awful. Who’d have guessed it?

I didn’t share it with him, though. I stared past him, over his head, almost straight up over his head, at the Massachusetts Indian flapping away from the flagpole.

“Elvin?”

“That all, Coach?”

“Uh, ya, that’s it. So... you okay with that?”

“I’m okay with that.” And if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t tell you.

“All right. It’s just that... I thought I might have seen something... that maybe you wouldn’t be okay with it.”

“Well,” I said, looking down from the flag and into his face now, “you were wrong, Coach. I never wanted to be in any wrestling slot. The whole thing was kind of a big fat joke anyhow, right? Why should I miss it? Get me out of here. Can I go back to dinner now?”

He shrugged.

On my way back in, I ran into Jackson coming out through the door. He put a hand on my chest.

“We have good sports here,” he said coldly, addressing the sky as much as me. “You’ve got to learn to be a sport. Sportsmanlike. It’s an important trait in the developing young man. Remember when you refused my hand? Up on the stage... in front of so many people?” He shook his head slowly, many times. “Very unsporting.” He took his hand off me and walked on past.

I walked numbly into the dining hall, and before returning to the table, I went up and pulled another whole dinner to add to the one I already had.

“Think maybe I’ll take a day off tomorrow,” I said as I started power-chowing two meals.

Mikie turned to look at me. My hands were dancing over both trays the way a monkey handles peanuts.

“You got cut.”

“Mmmm,” I grunted, nodding.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Why? I don’t care. Why should I care? It’s stupid. Already forgot about it. Do I look like I care? Do you
think
I should care? If wrestling was so hot, why weren’t
you
down there sweating all over the mats and reading that moronic book for a week?”

“Okay,” he said, and turned back to face Frank.

“The only thing that pisses me off,” I snapped, grabbing Mikie by the arm, “is that I fell for it. Like a jerk. I can’t believe I fell into that bullshit slotting trap. Slots! Shithead,” I said, and smacked myself in the forehead.

“El,” Frank said, grabbing my hand before I hurt myself somethin’ awful just like Coach Wolfe predicted. “You come with me tomorrow. I’ll get you in Golf Sector.”

“Are you joking?” Mikie laughed.

“I have to go where they send me,” I said. “And I’m sure they won’t be sending me to the country club. Besides, it doesn’t matter. There is no difference. Every slot is exactly the same as every other slot. That’s what I learned.”

He shook his head smartly. “Oh no they’re not. The rest of them might all be the same, but not
mine
.”

“Okay, fine, not yours,” I said, taking a perfect round white potato off of Mikie’s plate and popping it whole into my mouth without even asking. “But still, it’s the last place they’re going to send me.”

“Consider yourself sent,” Frank said, “
I
’m reassigning you.”

“You have that kind of power?” Mikie asked, suspicious.

“Now you’re catching on,” Frank said. “It’s not all for nothing, getting in with the right group.”

“Don’t do it, El,” Mikie said. “They’re just going to turn you into a counselor toady, like...” He jerked a silent thumb in Frank’s direction.

Frank wasn’t the easiest guy to offend; you really had to work at it. But this bothered him, that Mikie didn’t seem to grasp just what status Frank had attained. It was a very important point with him.

“You
refuse
to give me any credit at all,” Frank steamed. “You want to know what it’s about? I’ll tell you. I’m
chosen
, all right? You see who these guys are, the big ones like Obie? You might not like them, but they’re the top of the hill around here. And now, when they move on, guess who the next top of the hill is? That’s right, your old buddy Frank.”

Frankie paused in his speech, waiting for some new appreciation from Mike. It was too slow coming.

“Come on, Mikie. I’m being groomed, they tell me. Of all these guys here, I’m picked to carry on the tradition. There is a big tradition at this school, and tradition means everything. This is how it happened with Obie and those guys before, and with the guys who came along before that. This
means
something. I’m going to be a real somebody in this picture. And you guys are going to be there with me if you want. It’s going to be the coolest time...”

“Maybe he knows what he’s talking about, Mike,” I said, even though I doubted it. But the whole scene was getting to me. “Maybe Franko’s going to turn out to be a genius, and you’re going to just be one more slot monkey.”

Frankie got up and went to meet his buddies, like he did every night now. But he looked a little less beat than he had the last few nights. “Tomorrow,” he said, pointing at me and winking.

“Maybe,” I said. “I’ll let you know in the morning.”

Mike stared at me.

“What?” I said. “It might be fun. You know, Mike, maybe Frank’s right. You don’t have to be so stiff all the time.”

He didn’t respond at all. So I finished my dinners. Then I finished his. “I have to go,” I said, taking all three trays to the dumper. “I have to go finish something.”

I left him there and went back to the Cluster. When I got there, it was empty except for Thor, who was waiting on my bed.

“Elvin, remember what Brother Jackson said about ‘If you don’t have a slot, then what are we going to do with you?’ Well he’s the kind of guy who picks his words carefully, y’know? It wasn’t an idle question—it was more like a warning.”

“Why are you here, Thor?” I asked.

“I’m here because I like you, and I want to help you get along.”

“And because you’ve been spoken to? About me?”

“Don’t be paranoid. We get spoken to about everybody, in one way or another. Evaluations are just a part of the program. The thing is, you want to get along, Elvin. You don’t have to love everything about the school—I don’t love it all myself. But I learned. I learned how to play. You don’t have to love the slotting thing, but trust me, you don’t want to be alone either. When Jackson says, ‘You’ll never get anywhere in this world without your slot,’ what he means is ‘You’ll never get anywhere in
this world
.’” As he said it, Thor pointed with both index fingers at the floor under us—meaning where we’re at now.

I walked past him, picked up my wrestling book, and tucked it under my arm.

“Thanks,” I said, I wasn’t sure for what. I’d figure it out later, but for now it felt like he was doing something nice for me, and I should appreciate it.

“Make yourself some friends. Some other guys like yourself,” Thor said, laughing a friendly laugh at the ridiculousness of that last part. “I’ve seen it every way here. Seen some guys work it right, seen other guys do not such a good job of it. You don’t want to just not fit when you get to this school, Elvin. Believe me, you don’t want that.”

“Okay, Thor,” I said as I walked out the door. I said it like a wiseguy because that was the way to handle it. But I took him seriously all the same. “I’m going right now. I’m gonna hit the trail and round me up some friends.” I started calling out to the surrounding hills, “Yo! Yoooo-hooooo. Friends? Where are you, friends? Come on now, you can’t hide from me forever.”

When I got to the library, I didn’t flip on the lights once I was inside. I just found my way to the stack where I knew the Rummy book belonged. I thought I was just going to slip it back into place. But I didn’t. First I ripped off the front cover. Then the back. Then I tore out the intro page with the stupid “Every boy yearns for a good tussle” sermon. Then I ripped the book in half at the spine, threw the halves on the floor, picked them up again, tore out one page, two, three, four, five, six. Threw them up in the air.

I couldn’t let it go.

I tore out more pages. Crumpled them. Picked them back up, picked up the covers. Cracked the covers over my knee. Slapped it all together in one big trash sandwich, and jammed it back in the stack.

I figured it wouldn’t be missed. You’d have to be a loser to come looking for that book anyway.

Then I went quietly to the librarian’s raised desk in the middle of the main room. I sat down, clicked on the single brass desk lamp, found a pen and paper, and wrote.

Mom,

So what about this home schooling thing? Ever hear of it? What do you know about it? Why wasn’t I informed before? Am I too old? Is it too late for me? Please investigate.

But that’s the future. As for right now, I’m nowhere. I closed out my wrestling career—you saw me at my zenith, I must say—by cascading down the weight classes in search of a lighten weaker opponent. By the merciful end I was losing to guys who weighed less than my bathing suit does when it’s wet. It was really stupid, the whole wrestling thing, and you know what? I don’t even miss it. I don’t feel a thing. I am embarrassed, but not because they ran me out of wrestling, but because I was
in
. I was so stupid for a week. I told you this camp was no good for me. I was a lot of things before I came here. I was a lot of grotesque things. But I was never stupid. You must admit that, Ma, that I was never stupid. So see? See what happened to me here?

But I’m better now. To answer your question, no, I’m not upset and I’m not bothered, and I don’t miss it.

And I don’t miss home. I don’t miss watching TV movies with you, and eating supper off my lap. And I don’t miss walking six blocks to the convenience store together every night after supper because we pretended to forget some small and stupid thing when we did the big weekly shopping. I don’t miss that long slow walk to Henry’s, past the American Legion baseball game under the lights to get a box of brown sugar or Kleenex or Comet and then get a blue slush at Larry’s next door for the walk back home. I mean, what kind of way is that to spend a hot July night anyway?

And I don’t miss my friends, who are here, but it isn’t the same as being home in beautiful boring July with them, doing more nothing than ever which is when we are best together. It isn’t the same with them, because... I’m not sure why. But something is happening here and it is very frightening to me the way taping the windows before a hurricane is frightening to me, whether we ever get hit with the storm or not.

But I don’t miss it.

And I don’t miss you at all, Ma. I know I said that two paragraphs ago but sometimes, like during all the nights here when the black and quiet come in under the door for nobody but me, I feel like I don’t say that as much as I should say it.

But I am not lonely as I free-fall down through the slots here, to a bottom that goes I don’t know where because I am afraid to look down.

Got a net handy, Ma?

I am not lonely because I have these questions to keep me company. They stay with me the whole time, to make sure I’m never alone. Is there a slot for me? What do I do? Where do I go? Is there a place for me? Will anyone be there when I get there?

So you see I’m not lonely. I’m not lonely, and I don’t miss anyone. Did it work, then? Am I who we wanted me to be when we sent me here? Am I flying, like the baby bird rolled out of the nest? Or am I free-falling? Is there a difference?

Oh, wait a minute, I just remembered. I’m a golfer.

Never mind.

Elvin “Links” Bishop