3
Only this one doesn’t melt.
It retains its clarity in the shower, and while he dresses in a clean set of Dickies and attaches his keyring to his belt loop, and while he drives to the high school in his old Toyota pickup, which still runs good even though it’s going to turn back to all zeroes again pretty soon.
Maybe by this fall.
The student and faculty parking lots of Wilder High are almost completely empty because school let out some weeks earlier.
Danny goes around back and parks in the usual place, at the end of the school bus line.
There’s no sign saying it’s reserved for the head custodian, but everyone knows it’s his.
This is his favorite time of year, when you can do work and it stays done… at least for awhile.
A waxed hallway floor will still shine a week from now, even two weeks.
You can scrape the gum off the floors in the boys’ and girls’ locker rooms (the girls are the worst offenders when it comes to gum, he doesn’t know why) and not have to do it again until August.
Freshly washed windows don’t pick up adolescent fingerprints.
As far as Danny’s concerned, summer vacation is a beautiful thing.
There are summer classes at Hinkle High one county over, where there are three full-time janitors.
They can have it, as far as Danny’s concerned.
He has a couple of summer employment kids.
The good one, Jesse Jackson, is just punching in when Danny enters the supply room.
There’s no sign of the other one—who, in Danny’s opinion, isn’t worth a hill of beans.
Hill, he thinks.
Hilltop Texaco.
“Where’s Pat?”
Jesse shrugs.
He’s a Black kid, tall and slim, moves well.
Built for baseball and basketball, not football.
“Dunno.
His car’s not here yet.
Maybe he decided to start the weekend a day early.”
That would be a bad idea, Danny thinks, but guesses Pat Grady’s the kind of boy who might have all sorts of bad ideas.
“We’re going to wax the rooms in the new wing.
Start with Room 12.
Move all the desks to one side.
Stack em up two by two.
Then go to 10 and repeat.
I’ll follow along with the buffer.
If Pat decides to show up, have him help you.”
“Yes, Mr.
Coughlin.”
“No mister needed, kiddo.
I’m just Danny.
Think you can remember that?”
Jesse grins.
“Yes, sir.”
“No sir, either.
Off you go.
Unless you want a coffee first to get you cranking.”
“Had one at the Total coming in.”
“Good for you.
I need to check something in the library and then I’ll get going, too.”
“Want me to get the buffer out?”
Danny grins.
He could get to like this kid.
“Are you bucking for a raise?”
Jesse laughs.
“Not likely.”
“Good.
Here in Wilder County it’s RR, Republicans rule, and they keep a tight grip on the purse strings.
Sure, get the buffer and roll it on down to 12.
Keep meaning to ask if you’re by any chance named after the other Jesse Jackson.
The famous one.”
“Yes, sir.
I mean Danny.”
“You’ll get there, kid.
I have faith in you.”
Danny takes his Thermos of coffee down to the library—another benefit of summer vacation.