Rooster, p.7
Rooster, page 7
“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
Monday 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.”
Rooster stared at her in silence. “I think I have the wrong Elma,” he finally said. “The one I was supposed to meet here was going to help me with a bunch of people who wanna go bowling.”
“No. See, that’s the idiot’s way of looking at this. That’s the simple way. ‘I’ve been asked to take a bunch of very low-functioning people to the bowling alley and make sure they don’t kill themselves. If all goes well, they may even try out for the Special Olympics.’ The other way of seeing it is, ‘I’ve been called to lead this group of very special individuals to a higher ground than they’ve ever been on before. I’m going to make them respect each other and to bowl as a team who support each other so they can reach their goal of qualifying for the Special Olympics. That is the mission I have been given, and I am going to do all that I can to fulfill it.’ Do you see the difference?”
“No,” said Rooster. “They sound exactly the same to me.”
Elma shook her head. “I’m not surprised to hear that.”
“Except that the first one makes more sense.”
“I’m not surprised to hear that either.”
“It just seems a bit more real. More believable.”
“Of course it does. You’re an idiot. The first one would naturally make more sense to you.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“You act like one. You talk like one. You look like one. That makes you one. What else can I say?” She closed her binder. “But all right. I’ve tried my way. Let’s try yours. How are we going to do this? What’s the next step? What’s the big plan?” She stared at him with glowing green eyes through her big, dark-rimmed glasses. “Come on. Roll out the blueprints so I can see how you’re going to pull this off.”
Rooster took a moment to think. It was true, he was now realizing, that his approach to the project with the Strikers was a remarkably simple one. Actually, he didn’t even have an approach, so calling it simple was an overstatement. He had nothing. He had followed up the collapse of his first plan with absolutely nothing. He had devised no strategy over the weekend to bring the Strikers together as a team. He had no idea how he was even going to attempt to make them play well together.
He did, however, remember Mr. Thorton talking about the hero cycle and all of its various components. Ironically, Rooster had been quite absorbed by that part of the leadership class, an option he had taken to get out of music and gym. When Mr. Thorton asked if anyone had any examples of heroes that they would like to share, Rooster had thought immediately of his father, a long-distance truck driver who’d been killed in a horrifying crash on the treacherous Rogers Pass in central British Columbia. With a load of ninety tons of lumber on the back of his rig, his brakes had failed as he wound down one of the many steep, winding slopes. To avoid crashing into any of the other motorists on the highway that day, among them a busload of seniors on a sightseeing tour, he had tried to maneuver the truck along the shoulder until he could somehow bring it to a stop. Instead, and in spite of his best efforts, he had crashed through the guard rail and plunged to his death. No one else had been injured.
Rooster recalled the debilitating grief he had felt and his mother’s endless sobbing at the funeral.
“Don’t tell me you don’t have a plan,” said Elma, mockingly. “Don’t tell me you just expected me to do all the work while you took a fifteen-minute smoke break every fifteen minutes and talked with your little friends on the telephone.”
Rooster knew he needed to come up with something quickly.
“I bet you’ve told Puffs and Jayson all about the Strikers, haven’t you?”
With the mention of Jayson’s name, she gave him an idea.
“I’m sure you guys probably talked about them all weekend.”
Subtley he slipped into action. “I really don’t know what he sees in you, you know that?” He shook his head and stared into her eyes as if he was a scientist studying something rare and unusual.
Elma stopped talking and frowned. “What?”
“I don’t know what he sees in you.”
“What are you talking about?”
Rooster stared for another few seconds, then sat back and changed the subject. “Nothing. I just got carried away with something else. Not important. Where were we again?”
“What does who see in me?”
“Nothing. Forget about it.”
“What does who see in me?” she said again.
“I can’t say.”
“Rooster.”
He tried to look apologetic. “Hey, look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t even know I was saying it out loud. Forget it. You’ll find out soon enough anyway. Let’s get back to what we’re supposed to be doing. Can I borrow some paper and I’ll write down what I think we have to do to get the Strikers working together? I do have a plan. It’s just not written down yet.”
Elma moved her binder to the far end of the table. “Tell me who you’re talking about.”
“I told you I can’t.”
“Tell me who you’re talking about.”
“I promised him I wouldn’t say a word.”
“You won’t be able to say a word if you don’t tell me. Your jaw will be wired shut. Now tell me who you’re talking about.”
He shook his head. “Never. Uh-uh. Mum’s the word. Bob’s your uncle. I’m not saying another thing.”
Elma’s eyes narrowed. “Do you remember what Andy Gilmore’s nose looked like after I hit him with that ball?”
“Of course I do. I was right there.”
“That’s what your nose is going to look like after surgery when I get finished with your face if you don’t tell me who you’re talking about.”
Rooster frowned. “You’re a bully, you know that?”
“You better believe I am.”
“Your own mother is trying to turn Winston High into a violence-free school while her very own daughter is engaging in tactics that — ”
“Rooster, shut your mouth and tell me who you’re talking about.”
“Is that physically possible?”
“I don’t care if it is or not. Now tell me.”
He took another deep, resigned breath and let it out slowly. “I told him I wouldn’t say anything.”
“You already have.”
“I haven’t said his name.”
“I won’t tell. I promise.”
“Sorry.”
“Do you want to pass this year or fail?”
He hesitated. “Are you sure you won’t say anything?”
“Of course I’m sure. You’re the idiot, not me.”
“Can I just say one more thing before I tell you who it is?”
“Hurry up. It’s almost seven.”
“I really do not see what he sees in you.”
“You’ve said that already.”
“I just wanted to stress that point.” He was starting to wonder if he should go through with it or not.
“All right. So it’s obviously not you. What a surprise. The heartbreak is overwhelming. Now tell me who it is.”
Rooster stopped again to reconsider.
“It’s Jayson.” He felt a pang in his heart as he said it. It would take several more dirty looks to Jolene to even the score after this one.
Elma immediately blushed. “Jayson?” The excitement in her eyes made Rooster look away and stare at the table. “Really?”
“That’s what he said.” He could barely speak, his mouth was suddenly so dry.
“What? I didn’t hear that.”
“That’s what he said,” he repeated.
“Omigod,” said Elma, putting her hand to her chest. “Be still my beating heart. Jayson Cullen likes me.”
“He may have been joking. I don’t know.”
Elma got serious again. “Make up your mind. He either likes me or he doesn’t.”
“Well, he said he did.” Rooster didn’t know where to go with it anymore.
“Then he does. He likes me. Period.”
“But like I said, I don’t see how.”
“Is that really for you to know?”
“Probably not.”
“Did he send you here today to validate his feelings for me?”
“No. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”
“Would you like it if your best friend asked you why you liked Jolene?”
“It’s obvious why I like Jolene.”
“Okay. Would you like it if her best friend asked her why she likes you? Because that isn’t obvious either.”
“Probably not.”
“All right then. Leave it alone. Let the man think for himself.” Elma pulled her binder back toward her. “Thank you for telling me.”
