Page 25 of Ginjuh

Matt glowered at her but quickly dashed away towards his first class. Mrs. Feldman watched him as she disappeared down the hallway and into a classroom. Then her eyes were back on us. Her expression softened as she took me in with a sigh.

“Zachary.” She shook her head. “The shithead’s got a smart mouth but you know you shouldn’t put your hands on another student.”

I couldn’t help but snicker.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Feldman.” I looked down.

“I’m calling your parents.” She jabbed a finger at me. “You’re lucky that I’m not calling Mr. Pelton.”

I winced.

“He’d tan your hide from here to Chicago if he heard tale of this.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I agreed.

“Don’t let it happen again.” She warned me. “Next time—if you should be dumb enough—your rear end will be in an I.S.S. seat until you go off to college, you hear me?”

In School Suspension. Yikes. That was for the Bad Kids.

“Yes, ma’am.” I nodded, still looking down.

“Good.” She smiled when I looked up. “You’re one of my good young men. Act like it, all right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Thank you, Mrs. Feldman. I really am sorry.”

She nodded. Then her eyes landed on Austin and her expression softened even more.

“Thank you for trying to break it up, Austin.” She said. “You all right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He replied.

“How’s your dad?” She asked, her arms sliding away from their crossed position over her chest.

“He’s fine, Mrs. Feldman.”

“Well, you tell him I asked about him. All right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She waved us off with a flurry of hands. “Get to class. Both of you. Go learn to do something besides act like barbarians.”

Austin and I each gave her a chastened smile and dashed off to Pre-Calc. It was not the most auspicious start to a Friday.

When Austin and I arrived at Grandpa’s farm after school, something was wrong. The two of us had had our arms on the console between us and our fingers had maybe touched a few times, daring to test the waters between us. I kept my eyes on the road and Austin kept his staring out the passenger window, but every few moments, one of us would shift our fingers just enough so that we touched. When I spotted dad’s car up at the end of Grandpa’s driveway, I had put both hands on the steering wheel, my brow furrowing as I tried to figure out what dad was doing at Grandpa’s house. He never went out there unless forced. Austin noticed me pulling my arm away and looked up to see what had bothered me. He frowned when he saw the car, not quite sure what the strange car meant.

“That’s my dad’s car,” I said. “What’s he doing here?”

“Is that…unusual?” Austin asked.

I shrugged and pulled up alongside dad’s car. He was standing at the base of the steps up to Grandpa’s house, his finger pointed up at my Grandpa as he stood on the porch, his arms slack at his sides. Without saying another word to Austin, I leapt from the car and slammed my door, running over to see why my dad was pointing up at Grandpa and talking loudly.

“…and now he’s getting into fights at school.” My dad continued shouting up at Grandpa, his finger still pointed up at him. “Being out here all the time with you isn’t good for him, Mr. Pelton.”

When I reached my dad, without thinking, I slapped at his arm, forcing him to stop pointing up at Grandpa in such a way.

“Zach.” My Grandpa barked.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Ginjuh?” My dad growled at me.