Isaac
“Well, Isaac?” Mr. Dillings, the principal, leaned back in his chair, fingertips drumming his chest. “As an educator, I’m not in the habit of encouraging students to forgo finishing the year and taking the GED…but aren’t we about done here?”
I met his gaze without blinking. It wasn’t the first time we’d had this discussion. When I turned eighteen in the middle of my junior year—and gotten in a fistfight with three members of Ted Bowers’ crew—Dillings proposed the GED. I could’ve gotten a full-time job to help pay the bills with Pops, and the humiliation of being held back would’ve disappeared with me.
But the GED wasn’t the same as graduating. It screamed “dropout.” Anyway, I wanted an education. My mother’s death had tossed me out of the stream of life to flounder and gasp like a fish out of water. I’d climbed back in with hopes of having a little piece of a normal life. Instead, poverty, a drunk for a dad, and being held back a year all compounded until acting was the only thing protecting me. Acting onstage to exorcise the demons that screamed in my heart. Acting like a criminal at school to keep from being torn to pieces.
My mother wanted me to finish school.
Stay in school, baby, she said, over and over. This world will try to take things away from you, but it can never take your mind or what you put in it.
I wanted to quit a thousand times, but her words kept me going. And I wanted to set a good example for Benny. What would it say to him if I became a dropout?
“It’s time, isn’t it?” Mr. Dillings said. “Only six months to graduation. You can still walk with the seniors if it’s important…” His words trailed off, leaving the truth dangling between us: We don’t want you here anymore.
“Yeah,” I said, standing up. “I’m done.”
Dillings eased a sigh of relief and rose with me. He straightened his cheap suit jacket. “I think it’s best. You’re a bright young man with a brilliant talent. I have no doubt—”
I walked out and shut the door, cutting off whatever piece of life advice he’d been about to lay on me.
The hallways were empty. No one saw me as I walked out of George Mason High, leaving all my shit in my locker, and crossed the parking lot to my Dodge. I started the engine but let it idle, not knowing which direction to go, which road to take.
Pops would expect me to work at our dying business, but there was no money there. I doubted Martin could afford a full-time guy at the theater. I could probably work for an auto shop in Braxton, make some decent money to grow my pathetic savings account…
I glanced back at George Mason.
“So fucking what?” I said, as if speaking the words could solidify them in my heart. “There’s nothing at that school I give a shit about.”
Willow Holloway…
Of course, a beautiful girl like that shows up three days before I get kicked out. I didn’t know her and she didn’t know me, but she was the first bright thing in my shitty world outside of the stage. There was never going to be anything there, but I’d started to look forward to sitting next to her in English class. My eyes followed her everywhere, and they immediately saw how Ted and his gang scared her shitless.
Fucking Ted Bowers. He’d looked at Willow like she was a meal he was going to devour. Was entitled to devour. I’d wanted to slug his obscene smile but I restrained myself until Ted made a comment about my mom and my control snapped.
I lit a cigarette and flexed my aching knuckles. Getting kicked out school made me feel like shit. But I punched Ted Bowers for both my mother and Willow Holloway, and that made it bearable.
I put the truck in drive and tore out of the parking lot.
Back at the trailer, I parked in the yard but didn’t get out. The idea of going inside and confronting Pops made me so goddamn weary. He’d been bitching at me to quit school and work more, but getting kicked out was just going to give him an excuse to vent his bottomless well of rage.
Instead of heading inside, I walked over dirty snow and slush toward the eastern edge of the property. At the semi truck tire, I tapped a fresh pack of Winstons on the heel of my hand. A low voice stopped me. It was only nine in the morning but Benny was under the overturned truck, rapping in a soft, sing-song tone under his breath.
I tucked the cigarettes away and whistled. Benny peeked out from under the truck, and took the earbuds out of his ears, his eyes widening.
“Yo, Isaac. What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same.” I fixed him a hard look. “Why aren’t you in school?”
He stared right back. “Why aren’t you?”
I jammed my freezing fingers into the pockets of my jacket. “I’m done. I’m going to take the GED instead.”
Benny came out from under the truck. “You’re dropping out.”
“I’m nineteen,” I said. “I’m an adult. It’s the right thing to do. You, on the other hand, are ditching and could get your mom in trouble for truancy.”
He scowled, but I saw the guilt in his eyes. “I didn’t feel like going.” He tugged at the hem of the jacket I’d gotten for him. “When you got no money, you can get ragged for wearing new stuff as much as for old stuff.”
“Uh huh. You do this a lot?”
“No.”
“That the truth?”
“It’s the truth,” he said, and I believed him. It was our thing—me and this thirteen-year-old kid and our weird friendship. We were honest with each other, no matter what.
I took a seat on the semi-truck tire. Benny sat beside me.
“So what happened?” he asked.
“I punched a guy.”
Benny’s dark eyes widened to show the whites. “You did? Who? Why?”
“Some asshole was giving a new girl a hard time.”
“Ohh, a girl?” He nudged my arm.
“Yeah. There are girls at GM.”
“Who is she? What’s her name?”
“Doesn’t matter. Probably not going to see her again. Or maybe I will…” I trailed off, remembering how Willow sat up straighter at Paulson’s announcement about Hamlet auditions, like someone had called her name.
“You want to see her,” Benny said, grinning. “You want to baaaaad. You like her.”
I shoved him with an elbow. “How the hell you figure that?”
“You got kicked out of school for her, for one thing,” he said. “For another, your face just got all soft and mushy.”
“It did not,” I said.
“What’s her name?”
“Willow.”
He wrinkled his nose. “That’s the whitest white girl name I ever heard.”
I chuckled. “She’s super rich too. And young.”
And completely off limits.
My smiled faded. “Why the fuck am I talking about her with you? You need to get your ass to school. Tomorrow, and the day after that. I’m going to be around more to make sure.”
Benny rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay.”
A silence fell.
“You going to miss school?” he asked.
“No.” I glanced at him sideways. “Yes. Some of it.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded. My hands twitched for a Winston. Benny knew I smoked, but I kept it away from him.
“What part?” he asked. “‘Cuz I can’t think of nothing I’d miss.”
“You’d miss doing kid stuff. Being in a club after school or doing sports with friends. Going to dances.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Benny said.
“I’m not going to be hanging around all day doing nothing. I have to work now.” I tugged his sleeve. “And you have to go to school. Right now. I’ll drive you.”
“No way. They’ll call Ma at her work. I don’t have a note.”
“I’ll write you one.” I stood up. “Come on. It’s cold out.”
He sighed and dramatically hauled himself off the tire. “Hey, is your dad going to be pissed about you leaving school?”
“Probably.”
“Will he try to beat on you?”
“Maybe.”
“Isaac.” Benny stopped walking and looked up at me fearfully. “You’re going to leave Harmony soon.”
Honesty. Both onstage and with Benny. These were the talismans I held onto.
“Yeah,” I said. “I am.”
Benny swallowed hard, swiped a hand over his eyes, and then nodded. “Good.”