Beer and Buzz
Ernie followed
Megan to the end of the hall. Distracted
by friends shouting at her and constantly talking on her cellphone, she couldn’t
see him or hear him. He couldn’t touch her like a painting in a museum. If he
did, he’d end up in detention—and be lost forever.
Megan’s long
blonde hair reminded Ernie of fields of wheat, and her eyes showed clarity of
the mind and body. Unlike the way they
portrayed the “it” girl in the movie as a vapid enemy, she upheld the qualities
of character and scholarship.
This was not true
of Ernie. He went to special ed classes,
always darting in there so that the other kids wouldn’t notice him much. Even the kids that did, these baby adults chose
to keep their minds as silent as his tongue when they saw him.
“Hey, Ernie,” a
boy named Matt said as he slid into his chair, fat squished and squeezing in
the too little chair. “You should see this
drawing.”
“Woe, she has tits
and everything…” Both boys stared at the picture of the girl with her legs spread,
lightning bolts all around her, an obvious goddess. She looked like Matilda from
home economics.
Rusty threw his bag
toward the teacher’s desk and sat down backwards.
“Is this considered
child pornography?” Rusty laughed.
“Aw, we’re just curious,
teenage boys in the retard class. It’s
not like we have our lives ahead of us,” Matt said.
“So you’re going to
look at child pornography as an okay thing?” Rusty asked.
“It’s age appropriate.
After all, we have to know the birds and the bees. People have painted and
drawn naked women forever. I’m making art,” Matt said.
“Oh, look at us,
we have taste,” Ernie said.
“All I have is
beer with me. Mrs. Moth will be here soon, and we’ll color the numbers,
pretending like we’re receiving an education,” Matt said.
“Dad said we’re
going to get our asses kicked in life. So we should shape up,” Ernie said.
“I think I’ll
take the SSI and play video games all day. I don’t want to be part of the system.”
Rusty scratched an old, grey mole
“Futures are the reflections in the mirror,” Matt
said.
“Rusty, what are
you going to grow up to be? After all, shoot
for the moon, and if you miss, you’ll land amongst the stars,” Matt said.
“A club bouncer.”
Rusty looked the part,
Ernie thought, with his soaring heights. He was handsome, too, a senior who
would get a certificate saying he participated in school. And that doesn’t matter when you’re six foot,
five inches, and muscular.
Mrs. Moth came in
and put her purse under her seat. She
had short black hair and blue eyes that shined like light. A porky woman, she ate her fried chicken and
drooled.
Ernie thought of drawing
her once, kind of a freak thing.
Amber, the final
member of the gang, came in last.
Amber never talked
to anyone. As a child, Ernie recalled, they diagnosed her as mentally retarded. No one knew why she held her tongue, a very
pretty girl. Lost. She surveyed the tiny classroom and its only
window in the back, getting spit on from the rain.
“Now that
everyone is here, please take out your packet work. We will work on it until
lunchtime.”
The group passed
around the bucket of crayons and pencils.
In the individualized packet, they pulled out their lessons, all that
they could, and quickly scribbled so that they could go back to talking. Mrs. Moth didn’t care. Ernie figured she knew where we would be in
five years and what we would do with our promising lives.
Ernie really
wanted the beer when it came to lunch hour.
Rusty, Matt, and he walked to the park in back of the school and passed
the fizzing gold around, eating their sandwiches and fruit.
“Do you think atoms
are useful?” Rusty asked Ernie. Apparently,
the soon to be thug, watched a program on TV about atoms.
“What is an atom?”
Matt asked.
“What stuff is
made of,” Rusty said.
“When my grandma
was in the hospital, she said the entire universe is made out of sugar water
created by elves,” Ernie said.
“It could be,” said
Matt.
“Aren’t we deep today?” Rusty laughed.
“Well, we could color
some more girls like they did in art books. Totally innocent,” Ernie said.
“Best tits win!”
Matt said.
“Yup. We’re
artists,” Ernie smiled as he set the beer down.
