Mr. 60% Read online

  “And?”

  “Matt, I talked to every teacher you’ve had for high school science. They all said the same thing. You never once turned in a homework assignment and your participation in discussions was nonexistent, but they had to pass you because you aced all the in-class labs. Mr. Sixty Percent strikes again.”

  Matt flipped through the brochure and saw pictures of students laying the foundation for a house.

  “I could write you one of the letters of recommendation. Mrs. Bishop, from physics, has agreed to write the other one. You know how she is—won’t pretty up your attitude or anything, but she’ll attest to your skills, and the fact that you show up every day. I think you’ve got a shot at getting in.”

  “More school.” Matt closed the brochure. “You think that’s what I’m after?”

  “Flip it over to look at the back,” Mr. Marsh said. Matt saw a picture of three students in safety goggles standing in front of a circuit board. “They have an electricians’ program. There’s a two-year apprenticeship, but you make money while you’re doing it. Nothing special, but it’s a decent living wage.”

  Matt skimmed the text, remembering Mrs. Bishop and her labs.

  “Once you’re done with the apprenticeship, you’re a licensed electrician. And with the real estate market doing what it’s doing around here, plus all the new buildings going up at the university, there’s going to be more jobs than the local workforce can handle. That’ll last for a while. As in quite a few years.”

  Matt studied the rest of the pictures on the brochure.

  “By year four, you’d be making more money than I do. I’m not joking now,” Mr. Marsh said. Matt looked up from the brochure and into Mr. Marsh’s eyes. “By year seven, you’ll make more than Mr. Gill.”

  Matt held up the brochure. “Can I keep this?”

  “You bet,” Mr. Marsh said. “Here, humor me, take an application, too.” He handed Matt a manila folder full of papers. Matt stuck it under his arm.

  Matt stood. “I better go back to class.”

  “All right, Matt, let me know if you want me to write that letter,” Mr. Marsh said as Matt opened the door.

  “If Ms. Edwards calls me again…,” Mr. Marsh added as Matt stepped into the hallway. Matt turned, his face carefully blank.

  Mr. Marsh shrugged. “Just saying. If she does, I guess I’ll know your answer.”

  Matt was already seated in 212, the room mostly full, when Amanda entered. She was wearing a brace that covered her palm and knuckles and extended to her elbow. She crossed to where Ms. Edwards was sitting at her desk, leaned over and whispered something in her ear, then chose a desk on the opposite side of the room.

  Matt tried to keep himself from looking at the clock. He waited as long as he could stand, but each time he glanced at it the numbers had only changed by a minute or two. The papers on his desk shuffled and reshuffled themselves in his hands. He tried not to think about what might be happening at the trailer, but that was impossible.

  He stood up and crossed the room. The other students were sitting in circles, absorbed in their discussions. Matt walked to Amanda’s desk.

  “Hey.”

  Amanda looked up.

  “You still doin’ the book drive?”

  Amanda showed off her arm brace. “It was hard enough before. Now it’s pretty much impossible.”

  “Sorry.” Matt shuffled his feet. He jerked his head in the direction of his desk and all those papers. “Edwards said she’d give me credit if I came in and did stuff for her. TA-type stuff. Today’s alphabetizing.”

  Amanda just looked at him.

  Matt cleared his throat. “But I’d, uh, rather be out in the car, you know? Than in here. Being in this building after last period is brutal.”

  Amanda’s forehead creased. “Matt, if that’s an invitation, it’s the worst one I’ve had all year.”

  “Whatever.” Matt turned to walk back to his desk.

  “Wait,” Amanda said. She pushed herself out of her chair using her good arm. “Unfortunately, it’s the only one I’ve gotten this year. Let’s go pick up some books.”

  Matt checked out with Ms. Edwards and followed Amanda through the door.

  —

  They were mostly quiet as the Buick drove through the rain. The windshield wiper on Matt’s side was old and useless; it blurred the words on street signs and smeared the headlights of other cars across the glass. He pulled his denim jacket tighter around his shoulders.

  “Sorry about the heater. It only works in the summer.” Amanda gave him a pale smile.

  “No problem.”

  They stopped for pickups, one after another. Each time after Matt set the box between them, Amanda would look through the books before driving away. “So many good ones,” she said. She held up an old copy of Are You My Mother? “This one used to make me want to cry.” She pulled out Fox in Socks. “My mom and I used to see who could read this one the fastest. I think she let me win.” Amanda looked at Matt. “What were some of your favorites? Growing up?”

  Matt studied the dashboard. “Not a big reader.”

  Amanda pulled back into traffic, sloshing through puddles. The Buick was at a stoplight when Matt’s phone rang.

  He checked the number. The trailer. His stomach went cold. He glanced at Amanda, then answered the call.

  “Hey. Everything okay?” Matt spoke in hushed tones.

  “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.” The raspy voice was unmistakably Jack’s.

  “What do you need?”

  “Huh? Talk louder. Can’t hardly hear you.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I need you to pick something up for me.”

  Matt couldn’t remember the last time Jack had asked for something from town. “What?”

  “Halloween cards.”

  “Hallo…” Matt glanced at Amanda. She kept her eyes carefully focused on the road. He shifted in his seat so that he was facing the side window. “Halloween cards?” he whispered. “I told you to only use this number for an emergency.”

  “Yeah. Halloween cards. A big box of ’em. I need lots.”

  Matt shook his head, the hand not holding the phone clenched into a fist. “Do you know what month it is?”

  “Huh? What are you, talking with a sock in your mouth?”

  “Do you have any idea how long it is until Halloween?”

  “Course I do. I’m not that far gone, you little shit.”

  “It’s not that.” Matt tried to keep his voice low. “I just…Don’t you get it? No place will be selling those right now.”

  “Just bring me a bunch a them cards.” The line went dead.

  Matt took great care in putting his phone back in his pocket, the overly calm gesture a substitute for smashing it against the dashboard.

  The Buick slipped under a freeway overpass, the steady pounding of the rain disappearing for a moment before starting up again.

  After a few minutes Amanda softly said, “Matt?” He was staring out the window. “Matt?”

  “Huh?”

  “I don’t want you to think I was eavesdropping. You know, not on purpose or anything. But I think I know a place.”

  “What kind of place?”

  “That sells Halloween cards. Even now.”

  Matt looked over at her. “Yeah?”

  “The Dollars Discount store, behind the old business district downtown. They have a seasonal section with all the holidays.”

  “I think I know that place.”

  “My mom and I go there sometimes.” Amanda giggled. “They sell those marshmallow Peeps in the Easter section. Sometimes we buy a few packages before we go out to the movies.”

  “They keep that stuff in stock?”

  “Probably not. I think it’s just stuff left over from the last year.” Amanda’s cheeks went pink. “But come on, they’re Peeps. Those things have enough preservatives to survive a nuclear winter.”

  “Mmmmm,” Matt said. “Year-old candy. Tasty.�
��

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  Matt shook his head. “Not really. I used to like those, too.” It was quiet for a few moments. “Sorry to be a pain in the ass, but do you mind if we swing by there before we pick up the next box of books?”

  Matt walked a crooked line down the deeply pitted gravel road between the trailers, dodging puddles. He had told Amanda to drop him off up at the main road before the entrance to the park. The rain had slowed to a drizzle and the picnic table regulars were back out, huddled inside frayed Goodwill Windbreakers, lighting cigarettes underneath cupped palms.

  “Look at that. He’s more reliable’n the goddamn United States Postal Service.”

  “Hell, yes. Not wind or rain or any of that shit gonna slow that boy down.”

  “You got any deliveries for us, today? Maybe a little discount for your Meadow Street Estates brothers?”

  Matt gave a small wave and entered trailer #6. He took off his jacket and shook it over the square of carpet they used for a mat before draping it over a kitchen chair.

  Jack sat in the recliner, wrapped up in a blanket. A fuzzy game show played soundlessly on the TV. “ ’Bout time. What took you so long?”

  “Nothing. I had some stuff to do.”

  “Did you bring ’em?”

  “Bring what?”

  “The Halloween cards. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Oh, shit.” Matt threw up his hands in frustration. “I must’ve left ’em in her trunk. I’ll get ’em tomorrow, okay?”

  Jack sat up straighter in the recliner. “Her?” he said. “You holdin’ out on me?”

  “Never mind.”

  “You got a girlfriend and you don’t bring her by here?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  Jack snorted. “Like hell it ain’t like that. I was a teenager, you know. It’s always like that.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe you have a ‘her’ and you never told me about it.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Is she real pretty?”

  “No.”

  “No matter. A girl that’s too pretty is usually a big pain in your ass.”

  “You’re a big pain in my ass.”

  Jack chuckled and wheezed, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the coffee table. Matt walked around the trailer, picking up random pieces of clothing and dumping the ashtray gunk into the trash.

  “We’re almost outta them morphine pills,” Jack said.

  “I know.”

  “I’m gonna need some more soon. Real soon.”

  Matt sighed. “I’ll take care of it.”

  He continued to clean up. There was an uproar outside and Matt peered through the tiny kitchen window. The Buick Electra sat in the middle of the gravel road, Amanda talking to the guys assembled there. The picnic table regulars were laughing, shouting over each other. A couple of them pointed to trailer #6.

  Matt jumped out the front door as the Buick pulled up in front of the trailer. “What are you doing here?”

  “You forgot to take your cards. I thought I’d—”

  “Right. Just pop the trunk and I’ll get ’em.” Matt rushed to the rear of the Buick, ignoring the catcalls from the men on the picnic tables.

  Amanda opened the door and pushed herself onto the gravel. “I can’t pop it open, the knob thingy is broken. You have to use the keys.” She walked to the rear of the car.

  Matt glanced at the door of the trailer. “Okay, just hurry.”

  Amanda had to jiggle the key before the latch clicked open. “I think we’ll be able to get them out in time, Matt. It won’t be Halloween for quite a few months.”

  Matt pushed open the trunk and picked up the box of cards. “Thanks. I’ll see you at school, okay? Bye.” He turned toward the trailer.

  “Hello, young missy!” Jack leaned against the doorframe in his bathrobe.

  “Oh, shit,” Matt muttered.

  “Hi!” Amanda called, waving. “I was just dropping some stuff off for Matt.”

  “We appreciate it. Why don’t you come in and say hello?”

  “You don’t want to do that,” Matt said. “I’ll see you at—”

  “Sure,” Amanda said, pushing past Matt. She walked to the front door and held her hand out to Jack. “I’m Amanda.”

  “A pleasure. We don’t get none too many visitors around here. ’Specially not ladies.” Jack took Amanda’s hand in his. He leaned forward slowly, carefully, bracing himself against the doorframe with his free arm, and kissed Amanda’s hand.

  “Aren’t you sweet?” Amanda said.

  “One of us has gotta be. If you been with Matt I’m sure ya noticed he’s not exactly schooled in the social graces. I blame his mother for that.” Jack’s eyes crinkled up as he chuckled.

  “Tell me about it.” Amanda joined Jack in his laughter. “No chance you two are related, then?”

  “I’m his uncle, but don’t hold that against me, young lady.” They both laughed some more. “Come on in, if you got a free minute. We can get a pot of coffee going. Matt buys terrible stuff but at least he gets a lot of it.”

  Amanda turned her head and looked back at Matt. He shook his head, his mouth in a straight line. Amanda flashed him a smile. “A cup of coffee sounds great.” She followed Jack, squeezing through the door and into the kitchen area.

  Matt stared at the trailer. “Shit.”

  The three of them sat at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around chipped coffee mugs for the warmth. Jack and Amanda talked and laughed while Matt mostly stared at the table.

  “So how’d you come to have that brace on your arm?” Jack said.

  “Oh, it’s embarrassing,” Amanda said. “I was helping my mom carry groceries into the house and I slipped in our driveway. I sat there in a puddle of broken eggs and spilt milk, crying my eyes out.” She held up her brace for them to see. “I dislocated the wrist and fractured my forearm bone.”

  “Ouch!”

  “I’ll say. I have to wear this thing for the next two months.” Amanda regarded the brace, then gestured toward her body with her good arm. “I guess this is an awful lot of weight to be crashing down on top of an arm.”

  “Now don’t you worry yourself about that none. There ain’t nothing wrong with bein’ a big girl. Nothing at all.”

  “Jack, please,” Matt said.

  “What? It’s true.”

  “Who cares? You don’t have to talk about it.”

  “Why not? I’ve been lucky enough to be with more’n a few big women in my life. Some a my best memories, if you want to know the truth.”

  “Jesus, Jack! Don’t be disgusting.”

  “What’s disgusting? Big women ain’t disgusting.”

  “You know I didn’t mean that.” Matt glanced at Amanda. “I didn’t mean that at all.”

  Matt and Jack stared at each other. A car splashed by outside the trailer. Amanda cleared her throat. “It’s okay, Matt, really,” she said. She put her hand on Matt’s arm briefly. “Most people just pretend not to notice that part of me. And then they end up not seeing me at all, you know? It’s okay to talk about stuff.” Her cheeks went pink. “Even if it is a little…forward.”

  “Amen. Better’n bein’ backward.” Jack smirked at Matt. Matt glared in return.

  “Let me get you a refill on that coffee,” Jack said. He tried to push himself out of his chair but his arm slipped and he fell back. Matt reached out reflexively to catch him, steady him, but Jack pushed his arm away. He started coughing then and it degenerated into one of his hacking jags; he held himself steady on the table, head bent over until the fit passed. When it was done he looked a little embarrassed. The silence in the trailer sat heavily for a few moments.

  “Hey, is that a cribbage board?” Amanda said, looking at one of the shelves. “I love cribbage.”

  “You do?” Jack said.

  “My mom taught me how in elementary school when I was having trouble in math. We play all the time.”

  “There
’s hope for the younger generation yet,” Jack said. “You wanna play? I get tired of whipping up on Matt here, and we ain’t played a game of three-way since…well, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Matt?”

  “Four years and three months,” Matt said.

  “Sounds like it’s ’bout time to try it again.”

  “Amanda probably needs to go.”

  “It’s okay. My mom’s working late tonight, so I’m on my own. Deal me in.”

  Matt sighed, pulled the board down from the shelf and slowly shuffled the cards.

  —

  An hour later Amanda’s cribbage peg rounded the final corner on the game board. She was nearing her third straight blowout victory when Jack winced and clutched at his belly. “Oof.”

  “You okay?” Matt said.

  “I think so, it’s just…” Jack tried to use the table as leverage to stand up, but he fell to one knee on the kitchen linoleum.

  Matt jumped out of his seat and grabbed Jack around the shoulders. He glanced quickly at Amanda before returning his attention to Jack. “Do you need to get to the bathroom?” he whispered. He pulled Jack into a half-standing position.

  “No, I need—” Jack gasped in pain and his knees buckled. Matt clutched him with both hands, braced himself and took on Jack’s full weight. “Chair,” Jack wheezed, clutching at his belly with both hands.

  “How can I help?” Amanda said, getting out of her chair.

  Matt stumbled with Jack to the recliner and let him slump over on top of it. Jack’s eyes were wide, beads of sweat popping up on his forehead. His bathrobe fell open and he clawed at his belly. “Hurts.” Matt could barely hear the word. He glanced at the clock.

  “Did you take your morphine on time?”

  Jack’s breath was ragged. “Think…so.”

  Matt marched to the bathroom. He opened the medicine cabinet and scanned the messy shelves. He found the morphine container, popped it open and spilled a few pills onto his hand. They were white, not blue. Aspirin. “Shit.” He opened the aspirin bottle, saw that it was filled with an assortment of pills, muscle relaxants and cold and flu gelcaps. Jack had been messing with the meds again. Matt shook out all the pills inside the morphine canister, but it was all aspirin. Jack must’ve taken it by mistake.