Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jules: Age Seventeen
Connecticut
Mr. Harrison was grading papers at his desk with a red marker when Jules stopped, just outside his classroom, on Monday afternoon.
He’d dug a bit into that SOP or standard operating procedure that Mr. H had mentioned on Friday, after the altercation with Sneerface.
Jules had discovered that there was no budget for guidance counselors at this tiny rural school, so the task fell on the staff, who were assigned to mentor the juniors and seniors as they contemplated their impending post-graduation options.
So he really wasn’t in any kind of trouble. This was just gonna be a quick exchange, like, “You thinking about college?” “I’ve already applied to UCLA.” “Great, see you later.”
Jules knocked on the half-open door.
“It’s open! Oh, hey kid. Come on in, grab a seat. Gimme just... ten... more... seconds... Done.” The teacher finished the paper he was working on, then pushed the entire pile to the side.
“Lucky you, you got assigned the new kid,” Jules quipped as he set his backpack down on the floor next to his chair.
“No, no, I requested you,” Harrison told him.
Really?
Harrison leaned back in his chair. “How’s it going, so far?”
“It’s... okay,” Jules said. He was still feeling his way among his brand new, ready-made, off-the-rack gang of friends.
But having Belle and her wildly entertaining entourage in his classes, and going with them to get pizza after school on Friday had been a vast improvement over the earlier part of the week.
Saturday’s trip to the beach had been fun, too.
Although when it was time to go home, Jules had gently but insistently taken the car keys out of Tom’s hand because the boy had consumed way too much of the cheap beer from their very large cooler, while Jules had just had one.
The concept of designated driver seemed alien to them, but they rallied around the idea instead of mocking him for not drinking more, so that was a win.
Now Harrison was just sitting there, looking at Jules as if waiting for him to expound, so Jules let loose some of the many reassuring statements he’d gotten into the habit of telling his mother.
“Being here’s a new experience, but college will be, too.
I’m looking at this like a practice run.
You know, honing my people skills, seeing what works, what gets me punched in the face.
So far, negative on the face-getting-punched, so yay. ”
Harrison laughed at that. He had kind of a weird laugh, just one short exhale, “Hah,” but it came out more like “Huh,” as if his amusement was laced with disbelief or confusion that the world could be so stupid.
He didn’t add any comments to his exhale as he sat there watching Jules.
Who’d answered his question and then some, so he sat and just looked back at Harrison. Your turn, Mr. H.
The clock on the wall was ticking audibly as the second hand swept around and then around again while Jules just waited.
“Hah,” Harrison laughed again, finally breaking the silence. “You interested in learning how to fight?”
That was not even close to the question Jules was expecting, so it was his turn to laugh. But the teacher was dead serious. Jules sat up. Leaned in a little. “You mean... self defense?” he asked.
“That’s part of it.” Harrison adjusted his mug filled with pens, lining up the handle with the front edge of his desk. “Sometimes it’s defending other people, sometimes it’s just... good to know. I learned a lot in the Marines and, well. I thought you might be interested.”
“I’ve been reading books,” Jules told the man. “Trying to learn, you know, things like center your balance, hands up to protect your head,” he demonstrated, but then shrugged. “Hard to know if I’m doing it right.”
“You seemed ready for anything on Friday, with Rodney Burke.”
“You saw all of that?”
“Yeah. I thought you handled him well,” Harrison said. “De-escalation is always preferred. But that crowd was going to make it impossible for him to walk away.”
“Yeah,” Jules said. “I was aware of that.”
“I woulda stepped in if I had to,” Harrison reassured him. “But enter Belle, stage left. Hah. Gotta dance. I swear, that kid.”
“She’s pretty special,” Jules agreed.
“The special kids always find each other,” Harrison said. “Thank God.”
More silence then, more ticking clock and more of that unwavering watching until Jules finally realized that this time, the ball actually was in his court.
Mr. Harrison had asked him a question that he hadn’t answered yet.
So Jules cleared his throat and answered. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Thank you. I’d love to learn to fight.”
“Great. Let’s start Wednesday.”
Jules was startled. “Wednesday as in... day after tomorrow?” he clarified.
“Is there another Wednesday this week?”
“No, I... no, sir.”
“Fifteen-hundred hours—three o’clock—in the gym.” Harrison pushed a green piece of paper toward him, across his desk. “If you’re not eighteen, you’ll need your mother’s permission.”
“I’m not,” Jules said. “Yet.” He looked at the paper—it was a standard school permission slip but... “The Fighters Unlimited Club?” Really? On the page, the F and the U were extra large, making it look as if he’d be joining the FU Club. His mother was going to hate that.
As he’d done before, Harrison seemingly knew exactly what Jules was thinking. “Tell your mother it’s me. She’ll sign. She knows me pretty well.”
“Really.” Oh really...?
“Hah. Yeah. She was a junior when I was a senior and... Well, I’ve been married to one of her close friends for, wow, twelve years now. Met your dad a few times. He was a good man.”
“He was.”
“I’m sorry for your loss—our loss. The world’s loss.” Harrison actually meant it. So many people said the words like an incantation or spell that they hoped would shield them from the messiness of Jules’s grief. But Harrison’s raspy voice was filled with genuine, honest empathy.
“Thank you, sir,” Jules whispered.
Harrison gave him a minute to blink back the tears that still sometimes inopportunely rushed to his eyes, allowing him to regain his equilibrium. But then the man gently nudged the conversation forward. “You have any questions about the club?”
“Actually, yes, I do.” Jules glanced back down at the permission slip, which included an overview of the so-called FU club and a short bio for Mr. Harrison, whose first name was Hank, which fit him like a glove. “Is this co-ed, or...?”
“Boys only,” Harrison said. “I’ve been trying to set up one for the girls, God knows they need it, but I really want to find a female co-instructor for that. So far, no takers. But I'm still looking.”
“Who’s...” Jules started, but then started over, clearing his throat. “How many boys are in this club?”
“Hah. Does that matter?”
“It does.” Jules just went point-blank. “I’m gay and I’m not comfortable walking into a situation that could be hazardous to my health.
If you’ve already got the entire soccer team signed up and, I don’t know, a dozen other guys to make it that nice, round twenty-five that you need for the GSA, and they’ve all been doing this for oh, a year or two. .. I might want to pass.”
“Hah. Hah hah. I like you, kid. You’re fearless.”
“Mmm, not really,” Jules countered.
“You’re not afraid to ask questions or speak truth to authority,” the teacher said.
“And you’re true to yourself. Lotta folks my age don’t do any of that shit.
Don’t say shit in school.” It wasn’t quite clear if he was talking to Jules or himself as he sat back in his chair.
“Right now there are two boys in the club, you’d be the third. None of you are named Rodney Burke.”
Jules smiled. “That was the information I was hoping for. Although as a sparring partner, Rodney might be motivating.”
“He’s motivating enough on the other side of the building,” Harrison said, then knocked sharply on his desk, clearly signaling the end of their little meeting.
“Thanks for stopping in. I know we’re supposed to talk college, but I got another student coming in, so we’ll do that next time.
” He motioned toward the permission slip Jules still held.
“Get your mom to sign that tonight. You can drop it off to me tomorrow in class.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jules folded it carefully and put it in his back pocket before he hefted his backpack and started for the door. But then, he turned back. “If the FU Club’s a legitimate school club with only three members, why do we need twenty-five kids to start a Gay/Straight Alliance?”
“Hah. Because Belle didn’t even try to negotiate with me. One of these days she’s gonna learn to hit pause, think about it, then make a counteroffer. At that point, she’ll be unstoppable.”
“This school really needs a GSA,” Jules said. “I think twelve active members is a nice round number.”
“Agreed,” Harrison said. “Let’s make it happen.”