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“Shut up, Dilly, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him.
I swear I’m gonna haul off and punch this kid one day. Even though I’ll likely get my ass kicked. Dilly’s a bully, and he’s not exactly a little kid. He got left back once or twice and he’s got some weight behind him. Most of the other kids are afraid of him, but I’m not. I think that’s why he likes to bother me. I’m more of a challenge.
“Do too,” he replies. “My daddy said that your mom was on the reservation.” He picks his nose and examines his trophy before wiping it on the seat back in front of me. “And now she effs every guy in town.”
“Shut up Dilly,” I say in a low voice. “You don’t know the first thing about it.”
“It’s true. She gives them bee-jays or she fucks ‘em.”
His fat face looks proud. Triumphant. There’s some spit on his chin and I stare at it as he laughs. He’s never looked so punchable as he does right now, so I figure what the hey, and my right arm shoots out and connects with his chin. The other kids go wild, screaming and hooting, and Dilly falls into the aisle between the seats. When he finally comes up for air, he’s clutching his chin and screaming, “Miss Heppner, Miss Heppner!” She’s our bus driver ever since the old one got shit-canned. “Kent hit me!”
I just turn and squint back out the window at the arid Texas landscape.
“Kent, what in glory’s name are you doing back there!” Miss Heppner yells.
I want to say that Dilly started it, that he starts everything, but what’s the point? He’s always going to be the one who wins in this situation. His daddy is the police chief, and he’s got it out for my mom and me. But it’s my honor at stake, and I don’t have much of a choice. Every kid knows that if someone puts down your mother that you have to stop them, and stopping them means punching them.
So that’s what I do.
“Kent hit Dilly, Miss Heppner,” a little girl named Daisy yells out. “And Dilly didn’t do nuthin’!”
“Am I gonna have to stop the bus early?” yells Miss Heppner. Her voice sounds a bit like my mother’s does sometimes. Blustery, but weak somehow.
“No Miss Heppner,” I finally say. “Fight’s over.”
“Well it better be. You’re on thin ice, young man. After I drop you off I’ll have to talk to the superintendent about letting you back on!” She struggles to turn the large wheel of the bus as she yells.
“Yes ma’am,” I say, but just loud enough that she’ll hear and stop yelling.
She’s muttering to herself now, and I can tune that out. I’m glad, because often people say the meanest things just under their breath. The other kids are all riled up, excited that something happened on the bus. Everyone except the one kid, Jerry, who sits at the front since Dilly pushed his face into the window really hard and held it there.
I guess he’s happy that he’s not the one that got messed with today.
We drive by a field of steer and I see an old bull standing in an open field, by himself, with all the cows in the next field. He’s just peacefully eating grass, and I wonder why he has to be all alone.
Climbing off the bus, I hear Miss Heppner shout, “You better behave now, Kent. We’ve had just about enough of your antics, you know,” and a few kids jeer after me. I drag my backpack filled with tonight’s homework in crumpled, mimeographed sheets, and watch the dust raise in its trail. I take the “scenic route” back since I don’t want to walk in on my mom doing effs or bee-jays or whatever it is that it’s called.
I hope we have something to eat for dinner tonight.
I wish my dad didn’t leave us. Then my mom wouldn’t have to do anything for money. We’d still have a normal family and I wouldn’t have to listen to Dilly making fun of her as I took the bus home. He might even have helped me with my homework. I’m completely lost in math class.
When I become a daddy I’m never going to leave my kid. He’s going to be the most important person in my life. That’s just gonna be the way it is and nobody will be able to change that. Not my mommy, the police chief’s son, or anyone. My kid will be number one.
And so will I.
I’m not going to let any kid bully me, no matter what trouble I get in. No way, no how. I kick the ground and watch the swirls of dust rise up around my shoe.
I’m starting to regret going by an English name at school. These kids are going to hate me no matter what. Maybe I should go by Kanen again. My uncle told me it means “one who is a leader.”
That’s who I really am. Not Kent who gets bullied by some police chief’s son for not being who he really is.
Thirteen
Chastity
It’s one of those days. I let myself into my apartment, and immediately change into the softest, most comfortable clothes I have, and curl up on the overstuffed couch. I grab a throw pillow and hug it to myself. I’m not sure why I agreed to interview for that dumb job, and then to take it, of all things. Why do I need it? The answer is that I don’t. At least not yet. The insurance settlement gave me enough cash that I could live decently down here for a little while, especially if I scrimp and cut corners a little bit. And besides, my feet will thank me if I quit.
I rub my feet, which are still aching up a storm, and am reminded again of Kanen’s expert hands on me. The muscles in his arms were rippling and bulging as he massaged my feet, deftly finding all the spots that were bent out of shape by those ill-fitting heels. I could watch those tattoos and ripped arms all day. But don’t get too excited
