If I Should Fall: The Second Book of Geshichte Falls

ELEVEN

 ENTER MARK YOUNG

“That must be Chuck!” Faye shouted and leapt up from her chair in Chayne’s study to leave her friend behind and answer the door.

“Chuck—I’ve decided to—”

“I’m going to move out with you.”

“Stay…. Here…”

“What?” the two of them stood looking at each other, Chuck in the warm late August evening, Faye in the light of the living room.

“I suppose one of us should say something,” Faye said.

“I suppose one of you should close the door,” Chayne said going into the kitchen.

Faye was beaming. “Come in. Come on in, Chuck.”

“Faye, I did some thinking, and I’m willing to move out with you. I won’t be able to do it until the end of this year but—what? Why are you flapping your hands around?”

“Because I did some thinking,” she said. “And I’m not free to move until May. But I was going to come here.”

The two of them looked at each other, then started laughing and when one of them looked ready to talk, they both  burst into laughter again.

“Well,” said Chuck. “Where does that leave us now?”

Faye smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

“With each other,” she said.

“Gilead,” said Russell. “Gilead, watch.”

They were standing near his locker.

Gilead nodded wearily. The halls were congested as usual.

“Hey, Ralph,” Russell said, trying to inject some levity into his voice.

“Hey, Russ.”

Ralph was gone.

Russell waited to the count of three then turned to Gilead.

“See,” he said. “See. That’s the way he’s been acting toward me. He won’t even look at me? What did I do?”

“Could you vent while walking toward American Lit? We’ll be late.”

Russell grunted and slammed his locker.

“What did I do?” Russell demanded again. “You know what I’m tired of doing? I’m tired of letting other people call the shots. Treat me like shit. Then like me, then ignore me, and I’m supposed to just go—okay? If someone’s your friend they’re your friend, right? He told me. Just remember that. Ralph told me his secrets. And now it’s my fault he lost his virginity? And then,” Russell whispered, “had sex with Cody? And now he won’t talk to me anymore.”

Gilead remained silent until they reached Mrs. O’Neill’s room and stood at the entrance together. Before they went in Russell said, “Well, fuck Ralph Balusik. Fuck him completely.”

 

“So,” Mr Bukowski, who was in his first year of teaching and looked it, said, “we’re on Luke Thirteen. Would someone read for me?”

At Our Lady of Mercy, there were some classes that were electives and then there were other classes which were mandatory, but which you could elect to take junior of senior year. For a variety of reasons, Russell was taking as many as possible this year, including New Testament, which was not nearly as interesting as Old Testament had been with Father Branch two years earlier. All the boys shifted in their seats, looking more hostile than nervous, a little bit like rangy wolves in ties and blazers.

“Peter. Mr. Katz. Would you?”

Peter Katz who had the same hair as Russell, but dirty blond, gave a long almost theatrical sigh which verged on saying no, before he rolled into a lifeless reading of the text.

“Now there were some present at that time who told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mixed with their sacrifices. Jesus answered, ‘Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans because they suffered this way?  I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish. Or those eighteen who died when the tower in Siloam fell on them—do you think they were more guilty than all the others living in Jerusalem? I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish.’”

“That’s a good place to stop,” Mr Bukowski said, and Russell, who was sitting next to Mark Young, wondered if this was where the teacher wanted to stop, or where he felt forced to stop because of the lifelessness with which Peter Katz was reading.

“What is Jesus saying here?”

Smacking his gum, Mark whispered with his spearmint scented breath, “You know this stuff, Lewis, why don’t you say something?”

Russell had sat next to Mark because he was intrigued by the boy that he thought of as Gilead’s not quite crush, but now he understood why Gilead was unnerved. The track star with wavy the green eyes and the sometimes sarcastic look that might have been mocking you, was unnerving.

“He’s saying watch out,” DL Murray’s voice boomed, “because if God got them he’ll get you too.”

It was so rare the Black kids talked and no one really argued with them, but Jeremy Bentham said, “Isn’t it just the opposite. I mean, isn’t it that there was no meaning, cause those folks weren’t any worse than anyone else.”

“So what’s it saying? “Kris Vane asked, “that nothing happens for a reason?”

“Or that nothing happens for a reason because everyone’s bad.”

It was out of DL’s court now, and someone thumped Russell in the back, so he found himself saying: “Jesus is saying, you think those folks were more sinful than you, right? But you’re all sinners, so watch out. So… it’s sort of like, bad things happen to all of us cause we’re all bad, and don’t laugh at people when stuff happens to them because if you don’t do the right thing…. Then bad stuff will happen to you.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jim Karn said.

“Mr. Karn!” Mr Bukowski said.

“Not Russell,” Jim clarified. “What Jesus said. I mean, isn’t Jesus supposed to be nice? And good and everything? But so far he’s kind of a punk. I don’t like his ass.”

“I’.m giving you one more warning, Mr. Karn.”

“But here’s the thing,” Jim said, “and all you know I’m right: what if that’s how it is?”

Mark went on chomping his gum, stretching his long legs, and trying to be disinterested.

“I mean, like they tell you God cares and stuff happens for a reason and….. but that’s not true. Look at Mark.”

For the first time Mark Young looked surprised, and Jim said, “He and Joe were just driving around minding their own business and then Joe’s dead and Mark was in the hospital. You know what I’m talking about, Mark.”

Mark looked, for the first time, like he wanted to punch Jim. Russell had never seen him angry.

“It’s all bullshit,” Jim said. “God is a bunch of bullshit, and no one can say it cause half of are afraid of going to hell, and the other half of us are building our careers on this fucking school that tells us how great Jesus is and that he died for your sins and so that you can get into Georgetown.”

While Jim was going off and Mark was clenching his fists, trying not to move. Mr. Bukowski went to his desk, took out a pad, wrote a pink slip, gave it to Jim and said, “Get out of my classroom.”