The Crazy School (12 page)

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“If you think we’re too tight on time, I can run up there now and meet you back home.”

“Grab me some smokes?”

“Dueling vices,” he said, then took off.

Dean got to the apartment well after Lulu and Pete. She was sautéing bacon while I washed the chicken. Pete was in the living room perusing our pile of CDs.

“It’s damn cold out there,” said Dean, his cheeks offering chill-fl ushed proof.

I handed him a glass of wine. “Glad you could make it. What took you so long?”

“I had to make a second stop. The old lady at the fi rst place got all pissy when I asked for Zig-Zags,” he said dropping a Cumberland Farms bag on the counter and fi shing out my Camels.

“Thank you,” I said. “Looks like you stocked up for winter.”

“Well, when she went off on her ‘we don’t sell that fi lth’

rant, I snapped back, ‘So get me a box of condoms,
extra
-large,
extra
-strong.’ ”

Pete guffawed from the living room, and Lulu said, “No way!”

Dean grinned, whipping out what had to be the world’s biggest box of Trojans. “You should’ve seen her face. I thought she was going to keel over.”

“And what are we going to do with all those?” I said, crowd-ing pieces of chicken into Lulu’s skillet. “Get hammered and throw water balloons at cars in the rotary?”

“Sounds like a blast,” said Pete, cueing up some Vivaldi.

Lulu looked thoughtful. “Maybe we should bring them down to school, pass ’em out to the kids?”

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“Yeah, that’d go over big with Santangelo,” I said.

“What, he’s got something against jimmy hats with a reser-voir tip?” said Dean.

Pete came into the kitchen doorway. “David thinks a commitment to abstinence is an important step for the kids to take.”

“I’d be more comfortable with that if the kids had better information,” I said. “It’s high school, no matter what else. Not talking about sex doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”

“There’s no prohibition against talking about it,” said Pete.

“I think there’s a great deal of openness on campus, compared to any other high school I’m familiar with.”

“But there’s no offi cial provision to make sure they’re equipped with a reasonable facsimile of the facts of life, either,”

I said. “Not so much as a basic health and hygiene class, much less sex ed, you know?”

“I have heard a lot of dumbass things about this Santangelo, but that’s gotta be the dumbass-iest,” said Dean.

Pete shrugged, heading for the front-door coat hooks to grab more wine out of his knapsack.

“It’s part of the school’s overall philosophy,” he said, holding up the bottle. “Are we up for some Valpolicella?”

“I still think that’s just sheer idiocy,” said Dean, handing him a corkscrew. “I mean, you want philosophy, you’re better off watching the Stooges.”

Pete tackled the cork. “I can see David’s point. He’s trying to foster self-respect, steer the kids away from masking pain with addictive behavior, from using sex as a means to act out—”

“Keep them from enjoying
anything,
” said Dean. “It’s still high school, no matter what else. I say you toss them a damn bone.”

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“So to speak,” said Lulu, making us all smile as she held out her glass to Pete for a refi ll.

“It’s not Riverdale High down there,” said Pete. “We aren’t dealing with Archie and Betty and Veronica wondering what to wear to the prom. A lot of these kids are getting over heroin addiction or years spent shooting coke.”

“So you guys are on the front lines with a bunch of randy teenagers who may have a history of IV drug use,” countered Dean. “I’d think that’s all the more reason they should have access to condoms.”

I handed Dean the lettuce. “Can you wash this for the salad?”

He started ripping up leaves and tossing them into the spinner. “Seriously, Pete, these days? Standing on that kind of principle might mean you’re giving some kid a death sentence.”

“I know David struggles with that possibility,” said Pete.

“But it’s a tough call either way. How do you keep kids safe without making them think you’re condoning promiscuity?”

“He might try
talking
to them about it instead of pretending it’s not going on,” I said, fl ipping the pieces of chicken, now nicely browned. “The stuff I hear my students say in class?

They have no idea what’s at stake. I swear to God, Jughead was better equipped to navigate this stuff. How can David countenance that? How can he not even trust them enough to provide some kind of sex education?”

Lulu caught my eye, both of us thinking about Fay and Mooney.

“He’s a devout Catholic. So are a lot of the parents. This is what they want,” said Pete.

“And how about what the kids want? How about giving
them
a say in their own destiny?” I said.

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“Madeline,” Pete said, “they’re underage.”

Lulu shook her head. “Not all of them. Some of the kids stay at Santangelo until they’re twenty-one.”

“After they turn eighteen it’s voluntary,” said Pete.

“So what happens if a kid gets pregnant?” asked Dean.

“I don’t think they’ve had to deal with that, at least recently.”

Pete looked at me and Lulu. “Has it ever come up for you guys?”

I didn’t answer and tried willing Lulu to follow my example without any overt signal.

“Not directly, no,” she said.

“Indirectly?” asked Pete.

“Can I have some of that wine for the chicken, Pete?” I interrupted before she could reply.

He gave me the bottle, and I poured a healthy pint or so into the skillet.

“Let’s go hang on the sofa until that’s done,” I said.

“Anybody up for a joint?” asked Dean as we fi led out of the kitchen.

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17

The change of room helped, and I have to say I was relieved when Pete took a hit after Dean passed him the joint.

Lulu and I declined to partake, so Dean put it out after they’d had a few tokes.

Pete had made me nervous, backing up Santangelo’s whole

“save yourself for marriage” program. But I fi gured he couldn’t turn us in for disagreeing, since David was even more ada-mantly opposed to pot smoking. We were all supposed to obey every law on the books, in and out of school—from speed limits to pointing out the discrepancy if anyone ever gave us too much change at a cash register. Not that the latter was exactly a law or anything.

I wanted to get Pete off the topic of kids recently knocked up on campus.

“So how’s it going after your fi rst week?” I asked him. “You seem pretty positive about the program vis-à-vis the kids.”

“It’s a good place for me to be, I think.”

“You said you heard about it from a friend of Santangelo’s?”

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“Yeah. I was going through a pretty rough time. He thought I could use the support.”

I took a sip of wine. “What were you doing before?”

“I was in an orchestra, playing the cello, up until six months ago.”

“And you gave it up for this?” I asked.

“Madeline, geez,” said Lulu.

Pete shrugged. “I didn’t have much choice. I was in a car accident and messed up a few vertebrae. The nerve damage knocked out the strength in my right hand. I can only play for a few minutes before I get too shaky.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling like a complete asshole.

“It’s okay. I just . . . Well, I didn’t have a damn clue what to do next, you know?” he said, giving us a game little smile. “I was drinking a lot, to the extent that my friends were worried.

Rightly so.”

“I hope being here helps,” I said.

“So far so good,” Pete replied. “I drove straight up as soon as David told me he had a job open. Figured it couldn’t be worse than the alternative I was considering.”

He stared out the window for a moment, looking so broken that it seemed pretty clear what the alternative was.

He turned back toward us. “I did make one detour on the way to campus.”

“Where to?” asked Dean.

“The sheriff’s department. I asked them if they’d hang on to my gun, since I was hoping I wouldn’t be tempted to use it.”

Lulu put an arm around his shoulders. “We’ll make sure you aren’t.”

“Lulu, I think tonight is the fi rst time I honestly haven’t found the idea appealing. That’s a remarkable thing, you know?

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Feeling like there’s a point to sticking around—fi nding a place I want to be and people I want to be with,” he said.

“I’m glad,” I said, and meant it.

“I’m not batting a thousand yet, but I think I’ll get there.

Just learning about the kind of stuff the kids have been through . . . I feel damn lucky, and I think we can all help each other heal. That’s what gives me faith that David is on the right track.”

“If you think it’s working for you, I’ll give the place some credit,” said Dean.

“I know you guys are more cynical about it,” Pete said.

“And don’t get me wrong, a year ago I would’ve thought David’s whole shtick was bullshit.” He then looked down at his wineglass, putting it on the table in front of him without taking another sip. “It’s just that I got to a place where I felt like cynicism was on the verge of killing me—and I mean that literally. So I fi gured I had to give something else a chance.

Hope, maybe, or trust.”

“You can trust us,” said Lulu.

I was moved by what Pete had said, but I still wasn’t sure the two of us could trust him.

Pete turned to me. “I know that David is ready to trust you.

Have you made a decision about his offer?”

“What offer?” asked Lulu.

He looked surprised. “Madeline hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

“David wants her to take over for Dhumavati,” he said,

“starting in January.”

Lulu laughed. “And would you like to share with the group how that made you feel, Madeline?”

“I feel like it’s ridiculous. Obviously.”

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“Are you going to take him up on it?” she asked.

“You should,” said Pete. “You’d be great.”

“And Dhumavati’s on board with this?” asked Lulu.

“She wants some time off,” I said. “It would only be for a couple of months. But I still think they’re nuts.”

Pete shook his head. “David’s serious about it. I know he is.

And it may very well turn out to be a long-term thing. I think he’s tending toward that.”

“Which is even more ridiculous,” I said. “I mean, come on, Lulu, can you see me trying to be Santangelo’s permanent mouthpiece?”

“It would liven things up,” she said. “And I’d sure as shit like to see a little of that.”

“Do you think she should take the job?” Pete asked Dean.

Dean pulled his roach out of the ashtray and sparked it up.

“No offense, but I think she’d do better as a Hare Krishna,”

he said through clenched teeth after taking a hit. “At least they don’t make you pay for the uniform.”

I stood up. “Chicken’s probably done. You guys ready to eat?”

“Let me help,” said Lulu, following me back to the kitchen.

Dean and Pete kept talking. Lulu turned on the taps at the sink and then pulled me into a corner, away from their line of sight.

“Are you really thinking about stepping in for Dhumavati?”

she asked.

“I guess it’s fl attering to be asked, and it would mean more money, but I would suck at that job—just from the standpoint of keeping the paperwork organized, not to mention the whole ideology angle,” I said.

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“I’d rather see you do it than anyone else on campus,” she said. “I mean, can you imagine Mindy at the helm? I’d be out of there faster than a greased bat.”

“A greased bat on
fi re,
” I said, laughing.

“That alone might be enough reason to do it.”

“If I didn’t need the money, I’d rather just quit,” I said. “Dean has some work lined up.”

“You’d leave the kids, leave me there alone, with Mindy in charge?”

“We don’t know it would be Mindy. Maybe they’d pick you.”

“If I’d been in the running, I’m pretty sure Pete would have said something.”

“You think he’s that close with Santangelo?” I asked. “Close enough that he’d have been let in on who made the short list?”

“I don’t know. But if my name had come up, I don’t think he’d keep it to himself. You said they’d talked about me, right?”

Yes, and not in a good way.

“And what have you talked about with Pete? Please reassure me that he doesn’t know about Fay and Mooney,” I said.

“Of course not,” she said. “I gave you my word, and I wouldn’t say anything without asking you. But if we
were
to tell anyone else, Pete strikes me as the right person to start with.”

“Lulu, I like the guy, and you’re right about him having a good reason to buy in to Santangelo’s trip, but it doesn’t mean I trust him enough to betray that confi dence.”

“Just think about it. That’s all I’m asking. I know he’s only been here for a week, but I knew I could trust you before I’d known you even that long. And we didn’t write off Santangelo right away, either,” she said.

“It’s just that Pete is way more gung ho on the come-to-Jesus 1 1 6

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program than we were, even in our fi rst week. I worry about that.”

“Maybe he needs something better to be gung ho about.”

“Such as?”

“Such as us. The guy needs to know he has somebody looking out for him. Somebody who’s not Santangelo,” Lulu said. “I think he’s worth the risk.”