The Nonconformist
by Ken Cohen
Chapter 12
Gray
High school German was a compressed three-year course. Any student who completed it would earn two high school credits of the nine needed to qualify for university.
In grades 10 and 11, their German teacher Frau Mahon was experienced and universally respected. She was no longer at the school.
Now, in grade 12, the new German teacher was Fraulein Gaudeur. In her first year as a teacher, she tried hard but was nervous and didn't bring much life to the subject. At times she seemed frustrated with the class despite it being an advanced group. She didn't command their respect. The general feeling among the students was that maybe Fraulein Gaudeur would find a boyfriend, let her hair down and learn to relax a bit. Until then, it would be a long year.
Grayson Samuelson was a sullen student. Mostly he was bored. He had a tight, narrow face, handsome in its own unique way, and a rarely seen smile that shone when it made a rare appearance. He was one of the smartest people Danny had ever known, a quick, sharp intelligence that mistrusted authority. With ironic confidence, he easily questioned conventional thinking. That confidence could expand into arrogance when it suited his mood.
Emotionally he ranged from tender and gentle to short-tempered and impatient.
As in previous years, Gray sat in the window aisle at the back of the German class, the farthest point in the classroom from the doorway at the front near the teacher's desk. Most of the time he stared out the window at the athletic field behind the school. He never participated in classes. Since he was a top student, most teachers left him alone.
One Friday morning a month or so after school started, as usual Gray was his sad, bored self. While Fraulein Gaudeur discussed how to conjugate the subjunctive tense of some oddball German verb, Gray appeared to be sleeping in his usual seat in the back row along the window aisle three desks directly behind Danny. For some reason the teacher chose that morning to become annoyed. The classroom was quiet.
"Gray, either wake up and pay attention or leave the class." She must have expected him to open his eyes and apologize.
Gray stirred to life and briefly appeared to consider his choices. Then he picked up a pencil with his left hand and whipped it with remarkable accuracy up the window aisle. The small missile soared rapidly past Danny's head across the left edge of his peripheral vision to the front of the room where it struck a prosaic gray steel file cabinet with a distinct clang and fluttered to the floor.
His athletic ambidexterity was impressive. All that fancy word means is that his left hand could perform the same duties of his right. In any case, by the moment of impact, Gray had stood and was rapidly gathering his things. At that point Danny awakened from his own dazed condition and realized what had taken place. He sat mouth agape, awestruck. Before Fraulein Gaudeur could utter a word, Gray strode past her toward the door. "Get out of here, go to the office, now," she shouted at the back of his head as he exited the classroom.
Gray hurling a pencil was as close to violence against a teacher as Danny ever witnessed.
The teacher's raw anger felt unnerving. She picked up the phone on her desk, dialled a two digit number, spoke softly into the mouthpiece for a few moments before replacing it. She took a deep breath, then stood and said, "let's continue."
Danny heard later that Gray spent the rest of the class time as well as the lunch period that followed sitting in Mr. Field's office downstairs. As punishment, he was required to write German exams from previous years. Word got around that he aced them. He also had detentions for several days after school where he would be writing more old German exams. Everyone already knew how smart he was, the guy had some kind of photographic memory. And it appeared he really didn't care about detentions or much of anything else. A couple days later he showed up for German class again, wordlessly resumed his usual seat at the back, and rested his head on his desk.
At lunch that day with Mike, Kenny and the rest of their group, Danny was distracted. Wow, he thought, that guy over there, really cute, a little older, he's new, never saw him before. Beautiful face, wavy light brown hair half in his eyes, perfect skin and his body, oh my God, and he rapidly became aroused. Oh well, can't be helped.
"You like that, don't you?" Mike's voice snapped Danny out of his bedazzled state. Kenny examined the ceiling, shaking his head.
"Huh?"
"That guy who just walked by, Will Peterson, you were practically drooling over him."
"Gee, Mike, give me a break, I wasn't looking at anything, I was thinking about someone he reminds me of, a cousin of mine."
"Yeah, right. Who's your cousin?"
"No one you know, a guy in Montreal, that guy reminds me of him, they look alike almost."
Ken smirked. Mike shook his head telling Danny, "First show me a photo. There isn't one, right? Then eat your sandwich, drink your drink and behave yourself, young man."
Change the subject. "How's Matthew's knee? Will he be ready for the next game?" He was referring to Matthew Braun, the football team's middle linebacker, who was on the receiving end of a cheap hit after a play had been whistled dead in its last game.
"Yeah," said Mike, "I talked to him yesterday, he says it's feeling a lot better. If I have a chance, I'm gonna fuck up that asshole, what's his name again, that guy who plays tight end for Lawrence that did that to him. Getting thrown out of the game in the last three minutes means nothing when you're down three touchdowns. He should be suspended for the season. That son of a bitch will pay for what he did, sooner or later." He was referring to the first game of the season they won by a wide margin a few days earlier.
"Speaking of which," said Mike, "Johnny told me what Gray did this morning. He really threw a pencil at the German teacher?"
"Yeah." replied Danny. "It was something, never saw anything like it. Gray's a bit crazy. And kind of awesome. He never did anything like that when Frau Mahon was in charge the last couple of years. He wouldn't have done that to any other teacher, not even one of those dumb math so-called teachers. I guess if there's any explanation, it's what Johnny said. Gray's brother is really sick. Someone said it's some sort of blood disorder. Gray's probably pretty upset."
"He's Jewish, you know," said Mike. "I got him talking one day, he told me a little about the school he was at down in the city before he moved up here a few years ago. He was bullied there, got in a lot of fights, lots of trouble with the principal because of fighting. Kenny, aren't you Jewish?"
"Yeah, but my family is non-observant. My parents call themselves agnostic. The question they ask is, what kind of deity would create all this in just six days but would do nothing in the face of something like the Holocaust? My parents believe the Holocaust was an example of the indifference of the universe and that God in particular and gods in general are either figments of wishful human imagination or disinterested non-participants in human affairs. They think of modern religions as mythologies, no better or worse in their own ways than Egyptian, Roman and Greek mythologies were in their day."
Afterward, that afternoon, Danny was in the halls walking with Mike to their next class. They had algebra together. Gray stood outside the door to the classroom. Mike asked him, "Gray, my man, how they hangin'?"
"Hi, Mike. How's the best high school quarterback in Toronto these days?"
"Flattery will get you nowhere! How's the school's best known misanthrope?"
This brought a rare smile to Gray's face. "You and your fancy compliments, Michael, I need a dictionary to look up your complaint that I'm the most anti-social guy you know. Some people just can't take a compliment in the spirit it's intended."
Mike whispered to Danny, "About your last question, there's nothing like genuine spontaneous flattery to boost a guy's ego."
"What are you guys whispering about?" asked Gray.
"Mike was just saying how much he secretly appreciates the acclaim of fans such as yourself, it boosts his fragile ego. Especially coming from someone as brilliant as you. Someone who incidentally should be on the football team catching Mike's pinpoint passes. Or maybe playing quarterback if you can throw a football as well as you do a pencil."
"Daniel, are you trying to butter me up? I'll beat you for the split end position next fall. Keep your hands and mind off me, young man. By the way, are you guys available to shoot some hoops after school? Coach said we can use the gym."
"Sure," said Mike.
"Absolutely," Danny said, "as long as you keep your sharp fucking elbows out of my face and don't throw any pencils at me! Don't you have a detention?"
"Yeah, I do. We'll start at 3:30 in the gym?"
"Yeah, now that you reminded me," said Mike. "I think football practice starts late today. Today's the day he said we're starting at 4:30. Gray, I hear you have a detention after school today?"
"That question has been asked and answered. So?"
"Hey, Gray," Danny said, "that was some pencil you launched this morning. I felt a breeze as it flew past. Nearly broke the sound barrier, I think they measured an unusual phenomenon in the physics department."
"But you have a detention," said Mike again.
"I might be a few minutes late but I'll make it."
Danny woke early on Tuesday morning, the day after the Canadian Thanksgiving school holiday of early October. A clear blue sky and early sunlight. He arrived at school half an hour early. He'd spent some of that long weekend getting his assignments and other homework caught up to date and felt pretty good about it. He wasn't expecting to find anyone in the school that early except maybe a few early-bird teachers and the caretaker who had just unlocked the front door.
So he walked to the library to do some reading. He found the door open and was surprised to see Gerald Borstin sitting alone staring at the ceiling.
Gerald looked like a god with a scowl on his face. He was a couple inches taller than Danny. Long straight dark brown hair combed down across his forehead, big brown eyes peering out beneath large droopy eyelids, eyes that seemed to convey the message 'I'm not much interested in anything, especially not you.' He lived in the wealthy part of the neighbourhood where large homes backed onto a ravine up at the north end. He dressed in sharp, expensive stuff, Danny guessed. Tight fitting shirts, pants that showed off his undulations, subtly bulging here and there. Just eye candy for Danny, he didn't know much about clothes. Gerald on the other hand appeared to know plenty.
Gerald played the role of the big-shot, a large ego bolstering a casual, arrogant attitude. But moody bitterness blunted and dissipated his physical beauty, so Danny actually paid him little attention. Danny learned back in primary school days to keep his distance from Gerald.
He sometimes wondered what the guy's problem was. He was a bit of an oddity. Despite his striking physical features, Danny had never seen him without his shirt in gym class, nor did he ever shower at the end. Something must be hiding behind that arrogance, Danny sometimes thought. Many teenagers were a mystery. Others might even wonder what Danny's problem was, as Danny himself wasn't generally Mr. Cheerful. Being a teenager isn't easy for anyone.
At the beginning of grade 11 a year earlier, Gerald was seen in the company of Darrell Gruenrath and his friends. Darrell, along with John Payne, were expelled back then. But Gerald was still usually seen around the school in the company of two other friends of Darrell, who were now in grade 13. Darrell had no difficulty making friends. Money attracts certain flies, like honey.
On that crisp blue Tuesday morning, Danny, feeling in a good mood, walked into the library bright and early, saw Gerald sitting alone with his usual frown, and impulsively called out, "Good morning, Gerald." Why not? he thought. Maybe he'll actually be friendly.
Gerald looked a little surprised for a second, then reverted to his usual glare and said "Fuck off, fag."
Well, Danny could have been a hero and taken him on, but Gerald pierced Danny's frail ego with one word. Why did he feel like crying when he heard it? He had nothing to challenge it with.
So he turned and left. Fag, huh? He walked to his home room, found the door open, and walked in. He spent the next twenty minutes finishing his statistics homework.
The class slowly assembled as usual for the national anthem and Lord's Prayer. Then the bell rang, they filed into the hall and began walking to their first class, which for most of them on Tuesday morning was English. They were reading Hamlet. Wandering along the hall with everyone else like fish in a current, daydreaming, he was rammed hard from behind into a bank of lockers as an elbow collided with the left side of his head. He found himself on the floor, head hurting, thought it must have been an accident, looked up.
Gerald Borstin, stared down at him, said something like "Don't ever talk to me again, you fucking fairy, next time I will rip your ugly head off." Then he walked away.
He could feel the hate like a wave. Not just the physical pain but the shock of the thing, Gerald hovering above, his loud words echoing for all to hear. Students mostly scurried by pretending not to notice. A few looked down and saw a boy alone on the floor surrounded by books and papers, holding his throbbing head and squished nose, feeling dizzy.
He heard "Danny, what happened? You okay?"
It was Matthew Braun. With Sharon Miller. Looking down at him. Embarrassed he jumped to his feet too fast, felt dizzy, leaned against some lockers, breathing hard, mumbled "Hi Matthew, Sharon, yeah sorry, tripped on something I think, I'm okay no problem, thanks." He needed to get up, show them. Nothing wrong. Pretend nothing wrong. Why did he hate asking for help?
"Sure you're okay, Danny?"
"I'll be along in a minute, get to class before you're late."
"Okay, see you later." Off they went, Sharon looking back as she walked away. A teacher lost in her own thoughts ambled by.
The hall cleared rapidly, the bell rang for the start of the first class. He was back on his knees picking his stuff up. His head hurt bad, he was dizzy. Was his nose bleeding? No blood, just pain. Felt like crying. Late for class. Detention. Should have kept his mouth shut. Fuck. Why, he wondered, do I get into stuff like this? Why am I such a dork? On the floor in the school hallway, angry at myself for creating a needless situation and again not fighting back. He told himself, don't be miserable all day. Think positive, fix the problem. I don't deserve a detention for being late, that's the first problem.
He stood, picked his stuff off the floor, walked to the office. Felt like shit but had to straighten this out, no detention, wouldn't be fair. He walked through the office door and saw one of the secretaries, Miss Hanratty. She came to the counter, asked how he was doing.
"Not good, ma'am. Somebody in the hall just pushed me into a locker and then slammed his elbow into the side of my face. I got knocked down, I'm kind of dizzy, my books ended up all over the hall. So I need a pass, otherwise I'll get a detention for being late. I'm sorry about all this."
Instead of giving him a pass, she said, "Take a seat, Danny," and went into Mr. Field's office. A couple minutes later, she came out and sent him into the office.
Mr. Fields sat at his big empty desk with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Good morning, Danny. I understand you have a problem this morning."
What an asshole, he thought. He told him what happened, keeping Gerald's name out of it. Mr. Fields said nothing.
"How do you keep getting into so much trouble, Danny? Wasn't it just a year ago, that run-in you had? You're in grade 12 now, I'd expect you would have grown up by this time."
Fuck, Danny thought, I knew it, this man's like my mother.
"Sir, all I did was say good morning to this guy." He took a deep breath. "I've known him since public school. All I did was say good morning. He looked unhappy, I was trying to be nice and maybe cheer him up a little. It was a mistake. I'll just have to stay away from him. There's no use trying to make friends with people like that."
"Sounds like good advice. Unfortunately, Danny, there's an old saying that might apply to this, which is that 'no good deed goes unpunished.' You better get going."
"May I have a pass, please, sir?"
The man produced a key, unlocked a drawer, withdrew a little pad, wrote on it, peeled off the form, handed it to him. Sanctimonious, self-righteous. It's my fault for trying to be nice? Fuck him and his stupid proverbs. At least he didn't ask me for details, he doesn't care.
He left the office, went to English class, gave Miss Brown the pass. Borstin sat there smirking. Mike raised his eyebrows. Probably wondering why he was late, Danny thought. Danny was known to be obsessed with being on time for everything.
He daydreamed while the class moved on. After class, Mike met him at the door. They started down the hall to their next class. "You were late, I don't remember you ever being late for anything."
"You're right. I hate being late, and don't ask me why I'm like that because I have no idea."
Borstin walked past them quickly, muttering "fag" out of the side of his mouth.
Mike was annoyed. "What the fuck is his problem?"
Danny felt himself blush. His head hurt. "Watch it, Mike, you'll get a detention. One teacher in a bad mood is all it takes. Talking in the hall! Tsk, tsk."
"Screw that. I'm the big-shot quarterback now, remember? What teacher will have the nerve to give me a detention for talking in the hall?" He looked at Danny. "Is he why you were late? Why's he calling you stuff like that? I hate his guts, I've never liked him. Have you ever even seen him smile?"
"No. Thinks he's God's gift to everybody."
Then Mike noticed the side of his face, red, already a little swollen. "Shit, he hit you, didn't he?"
"Mike, um, look, this guy isn't worth it. He's a sick product of his upbringing. The real Gerald is somewhere hidden behind what you see, a damaged kid in a man's body who acts like a bully. The best thing I can do is ignore him. Screw him. You never know what goes on in someone else's life, do you?"
He got to his next class, the morning drifted on, a couple hours later he met up with Ken and Mike in the cafeteria. As he was about to go line up, Mike asked Danny to get him a drink. Kenny joined him in the short line and began talking to Steve Goldman, who was already lined up.
Waiting in line, Danny looked up at the menu. What's on offer today? There's a rumour the hamburgers are made of horse meat. That can't be true, he thought, but they always have tasted a little strange.
So that was off the list, he wouldn't eat a piece of some poor horse. The fish and chips is always so greasy it's repellant, oil dripping off the fried breading. He picked up a large prepackaged salad and two half pints of milk, paid the cashier. "Save me a place," said Kenny from behind him, "I'll be right there."
Danny went to sit with Mike and Barry and Sally. Walking quickly down the centre aisle of the cafeteria, his feet hit something, he suddenly found himself sprawling forward, the tray of food and then his chin struck the floor, the milk cartons under him somehow still intact. He ended up blocking the aisle. Feeling like he'd been slugged in the jaw, embarrassed at his clumsiness, he managed to get to his knees, spinning head in his hands, looked around and saw Gerald sitting a row behind with his friends eating lunch. Him? Again? Fuck, I need to find a way to deal with this guy. I'm going to stand up and kill this guy.
But as he began to gather himself, he heard Kenny behind him. "I saw what you did. You're a coward, pure and simple. Why don't you apologize right now, or maybe you'd like to do it later off school property?"
Gerald, with his friend Hal standing right behind him, stood in the aisle right in Ken's face. "What's this? You're a faggot too? I have nothing to apologize for, and besides, I wouldn't apologize to anything as lowlife as you." He reached out, put his hand on Ken's face and tried to push him backward. In the next two seconds, Ken parried his arm, quickly slipped a leg behind Gerald and with a little shove back kicked his feet out from under him. Gerald hit the floor on his back, slamming his head into the flooring, right next to the kneeling Danny. Danny gazed at his stunned nemesis as Ken paused above him and waited, looking down.
At the same time, Mike was on his feet and had made his way to Ken. "Looks like you beat me to it," he said calmly. He looked over at Hal: "You want a piece of this action, too?"
"No thank you."
By this time, several other people were on their feet to get a good look at what had so suddenly happened in their midst. The centre aisle of the cafeteria remained blocked, people milled about. Danny remained on his knees head in his hands, next to the supine Gerald, rubbing his chin while people stared at him, scraps and bits of lettuce and tomato and carrot scattered across the floor. He retrieved the two milk cartons still intact and handed them up to Sally.
There was a new commotion. The teacher in charge, Miss Evanston, was walking to the trouble spot, loudly asking everyone to make way for her. Gerald had managed to stand back up and was facing Kenny again. Hal said to him in a low voice, "Here comes your girlfriend."
Miss Evanston arrived and looked down at Danny.
"Gerald, what happened here?"
"He tripped, Miss Evanston, now he's blaming it on me."
"That's a lie," Sally shouted, "he tripped Danny deliberately, I saw it and so did Mike. He's done things like this before. Someone needs to deal with this or there will be trouble."
"I saw the same thing," Ken added.
The teacher looked at Gerald. "Go sit down." He did so and Hal followed suit.
She looked down at Danny, still on his knees holding his head. "What do you say happened?"
He looked up at her. "What do you think happened? It was the second time today. You think this was an accident? I don't go around accidentally falling. I know how to keep my balance and walk in a straight line. You heard what everyone saw. All I did was say good morning to him before school today. The boy is mentally ill and needs help. Do whatever you have to do. I don't care."
"Get up, pick up the mess, go sit down. I'll notify the office of the incident."
He looked her in the eye. "You either get him to clean up this mess or get the janitor. I'm not responsible for it."
She looked around, picked another student she knew and sent him to fetch the janitor.
She looked at Kenny. "What's your name?"
"Ken Dressen."
"What's your role in this?"
"I was following Danny a few rows back of him. I saw Gerald stick his leg out across the aisle just as Danny was passing him. Danny was walking pretty quickly, so he tripped and fell forward onto the floor. His meal as you can see is all over the floor too."
She looked at Ken. "Alright. Go sit down."
Then she looked at Danny again. "Are you hurt?"
"No, I think I'll be okay." He managed to stand.
"Next time, slow down and watch where you're going."
Danny wasn't surprised. Of course she takes his side, he thought, but he didn't know why, other than the fact she still had it in for Danny.
Looking over toward Gerald, she said to Danny, "You say he tripped you. He says you were running down the aisle, tripped and fell. Whatever this is or isn't about, it's over now. I don't want any repetitions of this from either of you. The next step for both of you, if anything like this happens again, is that we call the police in and let them deal with it. You're both too big and too old for me to treat you like the children you seem to be. Do you both understand?"
Gerald looked at her. "Yes, ma'am."
She looked at Danny. "Well?"
"You heard what I had to say. This was not an accident. Nor was it an accident when he slammed me into a bank of lockers first thing this morning. The vice-principal already knows about that. I know how to walk straight and keep my balance. You heard what Mike and Sally and Ken saw. All I did was say good morning to him before school today. In a friendly way. To someone I've unfortunately known since I was maybe ten years old. The boy is sick in the head, he needs a psychiatrist. If you want to get the cops involved in this, do what you have to do. As long as you don't deal with him, I expect things like this will continue."
There were no further immediate consequences. Order was restored for the moment.
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
