American Phalanx Ch. 02

Our eyes bugged open and we all hurried back to the trail and started running.

"Are we seriously going to be late for class because we were too busy throwing rocks at cars?"

"Jesus, no wonder we're all doing bad."

The landmarks started zipping by in the distance as we hit the dirt with frenetic energy. For some reason, I found it hard to exert myself and I started breathing loudly and raggedly.

We all stopped talking to save our short breaths. The school barn began looming in the foreground as the sun was straight at the middle of the sky.

"If you apply the sum formula to sin two theta, you get sin theta cos theta plus cos theta sin theta. Which is....?"

....

"Sigh. Stupid kids. TWO sin theta cos-"

WHAM!

The door slammed open and the five of us rushed inside the barn, coughing and sputtering on the floor. We entered the door right behind the girls' side, which is why our entry was followed by loud female shrieks.

"LATE!" Miss Fitz yelled in a much shriller, more annoying voice. She marched over to us, forefinger and thumb held high. We pushed through and fell over the girls trying to get away.

"Hey-!" protested Jessica as I climbed over her to get to Rachel.

"You left this in my room," I carelessly blurted out as I handed her her shirt. Rachel doesn't say anything, but snatches it from my hands and blushes, saucer-eyed.

The five of us all were rounded up and taken outside for a quick meeting with the birch rod. Our calves throbbed in agony as we sat down, cross-legged and struggled to catch up with the lesson. Luckily, Miss Fitz was just as taken aback by all this, and struggled to resume her lecture.

But when she did start again, it was completely impossible to follow her. I turned my head around, looking at my friends who were equally dumbfounded. Only Farley and Magnus retained enough composure to at least pretend they were keeping up. On the other side of the barn, the girls were constantly looking at us and whispering to each other.

When Miss Fitz finally gave up on teaching us anything and called a break, the five of us breathed a collective sigh of relief. We were still so high and disorderly that we immediately got up and started heading out. I could hear our teacher mutter 'ingrates' before we stepped outside.

Lunch break was agony without any lunches.

The gang split off to explain stuff to the other boys, showing off their joints to their rapt amazement. We would later become legendary for showing up to class high, but for now, I leaned against the wall, trying to regain my bearings and shake off my lightheadedness.

A pair of hostile sultry, angry hazel eyes and a gorgeous, sneering face flashed hostility at me before walking away. Jessica walked off to talk to a redfaced Magnus while Rachel stood a few feet from me, regarding me with worry.

"Dude, are you alright?"

The look of concern on her eyes triggered a flashback of last night's dream and I flinched for a split-second before lying "I'm okay."

"No way! You're hiding something, doofus. Is it because of what we did last night?"

"Uh. That? Oh! That! No, it's all good."

Rachel continued to look unconvinced.

"It's nothing!"

"Nothing?"

"No, not what we did! I mean, nothing's going on between us right now."

"Uh, uh...I mean, nothing bad! I, er..."

"Take a deep breath."

I did as she suggested, untying my tongue and shoving out my anxiety from my lungs.

"I feel kind of bad for pushing things so fast. I feel like there's a lot of stuff we should have done first."

A thoughtful look graces Rachel's features.

"Like what?"

I reached out and grasped her hand. "Like this."

She didn't blush this time, but gave a little smile as she looked down at where our arms linked. Both our hands were a little rough, but hers were more slender and un-calloused than my thick paw. I gave her fingers a little squeeze. She squeezed back.

Comfortable, I started leading her away from the schoolhouse to a shady spot by the stand of poplar trees. We walked past the girls who were socializing there, garnering a bunch of looks. Rachel started blushing again, but so did I. Neither of us let go of each other's hand or tried to look away when the others stared at us. Our silent gesture was practically screaming our relationship to the whole town.

We chose place to sit down not too far away from the others, but remote enough that I couldn't feel everyone's eyes on my back. Hearing Rachel open her crumpled paper sack was enough to make me ignore everything else.

"Can I have some of your lunch? I ate mine on the way here."

She gave me a sideways glance and furrowed her brow. It wasn't until she squinted her eyes this way that I noticed her long lashes.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. It's a long story."

I told her about how the gang had picked up some skunkweed and how we took a little sample this morning. Our antics had her thumping the ground in laughter. When I felt like she was mocking me, I snuck her half of her lunch and gobbled it down, blaming it on my appetite.

"You dick!" she said without seriousness, throwing me a punch on the arm which felt strangely good. It brought me back to past years, years of our friendship.

Suddenly everything felt natural.

"Now what am I gonna eat?" She still had a smile on her face, but her eyes had an expectant look to them.

My eyes crinkled as the corners of my mouth lifted up into a sly grin.

"I've got a sausage on me if you want it."

"Hmph! I don't know if that'll fill me up."

"Why, you-!"

I lunged forward and knocked her back until I was lying on top of her. A little tickle torture ensured I stayed on top. Her golden locks were splayed out on the ground, picking up bits of leaves and dirt. I rested the side of my face on her chest.

"Hmmm," I mumbled. She rested her arms on my shoulders.

"I'm hungry," she repeated.

"We'll figure something out." Every muscle in my body decided this was a good time to take a nap. I relaxed my arms and legs a little, making me weigh down on her more.

"You're heavy..."

"Hmmm."

With a quick, forceful shove to the side, she flipped me to the ground. Like a cat, she scrambled on top of me, switching places.

"This is better." She blew a strand of hair from her face before she settled herself. I wrapped my arms around her small torso and just breathed slowly.

"How cute," came a high-pitched voice from above.

The figure stepped forward until she was between us and the sun. Her features resolved into view, revealing fine clothes and very delicate features.

"Sup Jessica," I said, closing my eyes again.

"Teacher rang the bell. Come back to class."

Surprisingly, the town princess was being helpful and not heaping scorn. Maybe it's because she was addressing Rachel, and not me. Rachel got up quickly, while my body had already turned the soft earth into a bed. I was powerless to get up.

"Help me lift my lunkhead."

"Ugh, fine! But only if he apologizes for messing up my clothes."

"Sawry Jessie."

"Tch!"

The girls each grabbed an arm and lifted me up onto my feet.

"Thanks, doll," I said as I flipped the back of Jessica's skirt up, exposing her butt to the air.

"Are you sure you picked the right guy?" asked the brunette, patting her dress back down before sticking her tongue at me.

"I have my doubts now and then, but he's alright."

I break off from the girls to head over to the men's entrance of the barn. My high had mostly worn off now, and it was no longer math, but literature class, which I had a much easier time following.

Our fathers had hit quite a few bookstores and libraries during their trips El Pecado and Greenville proper, and it was easy to take as much as they wanted because books weren't a popular item during the hard years. We had plenty of fiction novels for our reading classes. The only problem was keeping them safe from worms and moths.

We had moved past Lowry and Rowling and the young adult series (god Twilight was just pure tedium), onto Steinbeck and Hemingway and much more difficult fare. The font was smaller, the words were difficult to read or understand, and we had to constantly pass around dictionaries. The guys would laugh whenever the girls started crying during a particular passage, but everyone at least slightly enjoyed the escape reading provided from our boring lives.

There weren't enough copies of each book for everyone to have one, so we'd have to split into groups of two or three to share. If the book was a classic, or a translation, or had undergone revisions, we'd all have different editions which made it harder to discuss the material.

"So, is Abra some kind of floozy? I mean, going after a guy's brother right after he leaves to fight in a war is hall-of-fame whore stuff." Vinnie leans back and taunts the girls.

"No!" responded more than a few annoyed female voices.

"She likes Cal because he struggles with his conscience. He has a dark side to him. Aron's only been good because he's too afraid to be bad."

"I ain't afraid to be bad, baby. Why don't you come over to my house this Saturday?"

"Why? So I can wash the spaghetti sauce out of your pants?"

Everyone started laughing at Vinnie. That was good. Everyone knew Vinnie's mother used to beat him when he was a kid for getting marinara on his clothes, which only made the girls tease him for it even more.

"Now, now, fellas. Let's get back to the book. We're almost finished," Farley interrupted, posing as the voice of reason.

"Shut up, Dirty-Shirt!" the girls yelled back at him. Dirty Shirt shrank away and stopped talking because he was a fat nerd who was terrified of girls. The name seemed like it was going to stick.

The girls could be terribly vicious and they would usually band together as a single team.

Luckily for me, once the girls knew Rachel and I were an item, they laid off of me (the same reason they left Magnus alone), though Jessica could bring them back for a round of heckling if I cheesed her enough.

Miss Fitzsimmons was pounding back whiskey in her rocking chair. It had something to do with migraines. As a result, she always had a big drop-off in energy from the morning to the afternoon, so the second half of class was a lot more structureless and chaotic.

Often, once Miss Fitz passed out, someone would drape a blanket over her and the rest of us would file out of class early.

The rest of the week followed much the same as all the other weeks, except the gang and I would hit some spliffs before class started, and I'd do more lovey-dovey stuff with Rachel during breaks. She invited me to dinner with her family.

This Saturday would be the first time I went over to her house since we got together. My mom was fussing over me non-stop before I left the house.

"Just be back by tomorrow morning!" She cried in the distance. She had given me permission to stay overnight since Ms. Turner was obviously not going to let anything happen to her daughter. Or daughters. I was the fox being let into the chicken coop, not Rachel.

I had on my cleanest shirt and pants, and my father's dress shoes. It felt weird walking in such thin-soled shoes. Normally I was accustomed to sturdy working boots that I wore all the time except at home. In these flats, I could feel every rock beneath my feet.

Rachel's familiar yellow country house appeared in the horizon. All the lights were on and the door was wide open. As I got closer, I could see Miss Turner waiving me over.

She had three daughters living with her, including Rachel. Her husband and Rachel's father died of pneumonia when Rachel was five. It was hard enough to maintain the farm with only girls when he was still alive, so she married Hans Coleman, a fifty-year old widower, to merge their property and provide some level of security. Hans' son Derek was about fifteen, and he had to do a lot of the field work while the Turner daughters took care of the livestock and garden. I saw him taking the cows home to their shed.

Rachel's older sister Mary had married James Feynman two years ago when she turned eighteen, so she wasn't living with her sisters anymore. James ran the town pharmacy and convenience store and he provided some financial support to the house.

Miss Turner let me into her home. Rachel was the first to greet me, and her younger sisters Patty and Kate took my sports coat. For some strange reason, everyone was wearing makeup, almost as if this were a formal event. Old man Hans was wearing his fuzzy sweater and bowtie, looking like he was going to work at a chocolate shop or something.

The dinner table was set up as fancy as a family could have dinner, outside of Thanksgiving or Christmas. Miss Turner put out her silverware and fancy china for tonight, and the girls all had sleeveless dresses on, though they seemed unused to them.

Miss Turner, or Anne, if I were to be presumptuous, was the smartest dressed of the bunch, and had a light blue gown on. Her face looked like an angular, more weathered version of Rachel's, but she had the same, very light tan and pale blue eyes. She didn't have too many lines on her face except two creases at the ends of her mouth, which gave her a look of constant concern and pensiveness.

The dining room was better illuminated than our family's was at dinner, on account of the extra candles that were lit for the occasion. Miss Turner plopped down a whole roasted turkey right in the center, and Hans took to carving it, cutting me a generous slice. I helped pass around the peas, carrots and mash while Kate brought over the gravy boat. She accidentally bumped hips on the way over to her seat on my left.

Rachel sat on my right, on the short end of the table, across from her parents. Patty, the youngest, also sat to my left, between her sister Kate and their mother. Hans sat diagonally across from me, and had to stand up to pass me a turkey leg, one of two. He gave the other one to his son, David, who sat alone on Rachel's right on the long side of the table.

We all held hands and Miss Turner led us in the Lord's prayer, something we were all familiar with, though our family used the Serenity prayer, if we prayed at all.

Rachel looked so different in her dress and makeup that I had to sneak a peek while we were praying. I couldn't say that her eyeshadow and lip gloss weren't attractive, but it gave me a completely different vibe from the Rachel I was used to. And her dress emphasized her hourglass figure, giving her a more ladylike appearance. She even covered up her freckles! I saw Kate's eyes catch me in the act, so I squeezed mine shut again.

We sat down and commenced eating.

"Mmm! This is delicious, Miss Tur- I mean, Mrs. Coleman!"

"It's alright, my boy. She didn't take my name when we married, and I didn't want her to."

"Okay, then. Miss Turner, how many times did you baste this turkey?"

"Oh, I dunno, maybe seven? I was strapped to the oven for quite a while."

"Well, it shows. I haven't eaten like this since...." I roll my eyes up on thought. "...Last Christmas, actually. Where did you get this?"

"I shot it myself," Hans proclaimed proudly.

"Buckshot?"

"No, I used a rifle. Hundred yards, a nice clean shot to the head-"

"Dear, that's fine. We don't have to talk about how the animal was killed," Miss Turner chided the old man. He sat down with an embarrassed smile, not upset that he couldn't talk about his impressive accomplishment.

"Anyways, when did you decide to start dating? Tell us the story," she turned to me. I gulped. I didn't have a family-appropriate story ready.

"It just built up between us over time," Rachel quickly intervened. She had thought about this more than I had. "When I came over to his house this week, I helped him with his math homework and we got to talking. It just seemed natural that we'd end up together, given how long we've known each other."

"But you're not very good at math," Miss Turner cast an almost suspicious glance.

"Well, I'm almost a retard at it, so-" I blurt out, causing everyone to cringe.

"Alright, alright. I'm not questioning your narrative, dear. I myself had wondered when the two of you were going to start seeing each other that way."

She turned to me, relaxed. "So how's your family been?"

"Doing good, doing good. My father's busy being the foreman, and my mom's running the house. Brothers...busy working the farm. We work the fields, fix the fences, watch the livestock, bale the hay..." Miss Turner casts an envious look. I can tell she's imagining what it would be like to have more sons working in her family farm.

I stir my peas with my fork.

"Actually, Dad's been so busy with the council that he brings my grampa along with him too, which leaves me and my brothers with extra chores around the farm. He's been so preoccupied and everyone in my family's so exhausted that we don't really talk that much."

"You know, your father's work is very important. As the foreman's son, it'll probably end up being you out there in your father's shoes, talking to the council and taking care of town issues when you grow up. People are so busy trying to stay alive no one else is going to volunteer for the job."

"Yeah, it's a lot of responsibility. Hopefully he starts taking me along with him to do patrols once I 'graduate' from school."

"Still, Rachel picked a fine young man. I'm sure you'd make a great foreman," Hans consoled me. I pricked my ears up at the implications.

"Thanks," I reply honestly. We all started digging into our meals again.

"Does the foreman make a lot of money?" Kate innocently asked.

"Oh, he gets a couple hundred bottle-caps a week. Jessica's dad makes more than that being a doctor."

"But he has a lot of influence, right?"

"Well, he can't do anything without everyone's consent, or at least, most of everyone. Even when he's making decisions for the sake of the whole town, a lot of people can disagree with him and that slows things down or even stops them. And he's got no more veto power than anyone else on the council."

"Alright, never mind. I didn't think your dad's job was so boring," Kate rolled her eyes.

"You have something on your cheek," Rachel said quietly. I wipe my left cheek with my hand.

"No, your other. Never mind-" She tried to correct me before she wiped it off herself with her finger. Without any ado, she brought it to her lips and turned back to her plate.

"You've gotten pretty intimate already, haven't you?" Her mother asks, cutting the silence. Rachel blinked, then blushed. Kate gave her an annoyed look.

"We've only held hands so far," I lied.

"Hard to believe from a couple that used to wrestle when they were kids," Anne teased. "But I won't pry."

"Heh, well, I've gotten a lot bigger since then. There's no point in doing it now since I'd be the clear winner," I ribbed Rachel in faux-antagonism.

"I'm pretty sure I've been on top the last few times we've done it," Rachel said in answer to my challenge.

"You're STILL wrestling?" Miss Turner's eyes took on a shocked expression.

"No! I was talking about years ago." Rachel squirmed.

"It looks like things between you are going on better than I thought," Anna remarked quietly.

"Well, all in all, I'm glad that you approve of us dating. My mother was pretty happy for us too."

"Aww," Rachel cooed as she nestled her head against my shoulder.

The rest of dinner went on swimmingly. Mr. Coleman broke out some celebratory glasses of red wine for me, Rachel, and himself. Miss Turner was a teetotaler, so he was especially happy to have an occasion to drink. She didn't allow Kate to have any, and Patty was too young to want it anyway.

The wine, coupled with the extra helpings of turkey meat, started working its way into my blood, making it thick and syrupy.

"Oh man, I'm too tired to walk back home," I yawn.