good guys always win

good guys always win

chapter 7

(8.6.02 )

[On AIM, on a March school night, sophomore year]

Me: ok - they're due in a week, right? we gotta get working on them shits

Wally: i'm doing chapter 11 and 12

Me: cool. i'm almost done with chapter 15 and 16... i told head to do 8 and 9..warren said he'll do 10.. i got triple h to do 13, huhzoo got 14, chris has 7 and bo has 17, the shortest one.. i told everyone to have their parts ready by friday so that we can get them all done this weekend

Wally: good stuff

Wally: alright gg. see ya tomorrow, man
Wally signs off.

The largest index card assignment, eleven chapters total, was only a week away from being collected. Everyone neglected US History for most of the year, but now was the time to panic. Students would talk daily about how many cards they had to do each night to make up for all the moments they procrastinated. I dreaded the coming weekend because I would be confined to my chair and endless hours of manual writing. The process had to be as painless and simple as possible. Naturally, the Hoching Education Network was fully functional at this time, and it served our purpose greatly.

On top of the usual HEN providers, mainly me, Head, and Wally, I asked Triple H, a nasal-voiced, Taiwanese guy and Chris, our class president, to join in the sharing fun. They agreed and we divided the parts up. I gave less sections to those whose work I didn't fully trust, which meant Wally and I had to take up double the load. This was fine because history was our specialty, and we enjoyed the work. We just didn't want to do all of it.

******

"If there is one thing I can't tolerate in this world, it's cheating," Bob Walker had told us on the first day of school. He was the conservative, near-retirement history teacher who assigned the annoying index cards. Picture Steve Forbes, but about thirty years older, gray-haired, and a more even pair of eyes and that would give an approximation of what Bob Walker looked like. "Cheating will get you nowhere in life. You are 'honors' students. That means you have a code of 'honor' that must be observed. If I ever catch you cheating, I will do everything I can to make your life in JP miserable." Ooo, scary.

Walker was a nice guy overall. He made funny comments in class and always managed to bash on Clinton once a day, calling the great President of the time a "womanizing liar" and "cheater." Being in his first period class, I found myself to be one of the few who regularly participated in class because most kids were still trying to wake up.

"You, in the front -- who defeated Lincoln in the Senate race?" Walker asked, pointing directly at Truz, the big Italian jock who sat next to me. He obviously had no clue. We were teammates on the football team, so I felt the need to help.

"Steven Douglas," I whispered, without moving my mouth.

"Uh.. Steven Douglas," Truz hesitantly answered.

"Correct. He was called the 'Little Giant' because he was only about 5 feet 3 inches tall, but had a commanding voice and presence..."

Truz put his head down again and resumed his first period nap. I continued to eat up everything this old geezer was spitting out. I have to admit - he was an effective teacher, and I still remember some of the things he taught. Do you know what a censure is? *tap* It's a light slap on the wrist.

******

We weren't really bullies or anything. Wally liked to expand on his Napoleonic complex sometimes and talk tough for a five-footer. I took particular joy in mockery; I didn't mind pushing a few buttons and getting on the nerves of people I didn't give a hoot about. Wally and I made a good combo at times; we would laugh at someone's shortcomings or faults, and if that person retaliated in any way, Wally was quick to threaten back.

Last period was my gym class, and Wally was also in the same class. One of our favorite pastimes was picking on a kid named Benson. He was the typical nerd-geek-loser hybrid that you can take straight out of the movies. Skinny, poorly dressed in the same faded jeans, yellowed shirt, and tattered denim button-down shirt everyday, glasses, tussled, just-out-of bed hair, and pale skin: and that's just on a quick glance. Benson was Chinese, but that didn't matter because most of his antagonizers were Asian, too. Benson obsessed over the superiority of Apple computers and the divine message of Star Wars. He was sometimes seen in gym class practicing his latest Jedi moves with a make-believe light saber. As Warren would have put it, Benson was "very cool."

"Yo Wally, I'm gonna get behind his legs and you know what to do," I said as I snuck behind Benson and got on all fours.

"Hey Benson, what the hell is your problem?" Wally said provokingly. He gave a strong push and Benson fell back, tripping over me and landing hard on his butt. He gave us a dirty look and wiped his eyes, which had already swelled up with tears.

"Boohoo. Don't cry now Benson, you pussy."

Such was the daily scenario for Benson. If we spotted him in the hallway, we would push each other hard into an unaware Benson and knock all of his books out of his hands. Some white kids saw the fun we had and presented their own bag of tricks on Benson, pegging him with a ball during gym class or roughing him up with a shoulder bump in the hallway. Were we too cruel? Not really. It was more of a natural order. We were cool, or at least self-proclaimed to be, and it was our duty to regulate these losers. At least that's what we thought was the way to behave. We acted normal around Benson if we felt a tinge of remorse, but resumed the geek-torture when we got carried away kicking soccer balls at the back of his head or tripping him while he ran to catch a frisbee. But we weren't bullies -- just playful.

******

"Wally, how long did it take you to finish your cards?" I asked on a Monday afternoon in gym class. We had just handed in our index cards that morning and were relieved to have completed everything on time. I actually skipped on the manual writing by paying my sister five bucks to copy all three hundred or so cards.

"Like two hours. Some of the definitions sucked, so I had to do them on my own," Wally said.

"Shit. Really? My sister did all mine. Whatever, he's not gonna look at each one individually. But I think I looked at Bo's and Head's and they sucked hardcore," I said.

The HEN index card assignment was successful for the most part as all eight contributors finished on time and had their work posted up. I knew that nobody would keep our work confined to just the contributors; distribution would begin. Head hooked up his crush, Fanman hooked up his crush also, Wally hooked up his honeys, Warren hooked up his Jewish friends, I hooked up some football teammates, Fat Boy gave to some Indos, and Bo distributed as well. I wasn't particularly worried because I knew Walker only checked the first few cards and the general thickness of the cards to confirm the amount done. So Wally and I ended all thoughts of the index cards at that point and turned our attention to Benson, who was waiting to introduce his face to a basketball.