F. Wilson - Secret Circles

A few hands went up.

“If you did, you witnessed history of sorts: the first black woman ever to win. A black woman as Miss America, a black man running for the presidency. Times have changed, and I say it‟s about time. But Jesse Jackson is up against John Glenn, Walter Mondale, and a relative unknown named Gary Hart.”

John Glenn—an astronaut, running for president. He‟d get Jack‟s vote.

Smiling, Mr. Kressy paused and scanned the classroom.

“How many of you just thought, Ooh, an astronaut! I’ll vote for him ?”

A number of hands shot up, but Jack kept his down. Almost as if Mr. Kressy could read minds.

And his tone hinted that John Glenn might not be such a good idea.

“Why?” Mr. Kressy said. “Because some scientists built a rocket and shot him into space? So what? The Russians did that with a monkey. Would you vote for a monkey?”

This got a laugh.

“Really: How does being an astronaut qualify him for president?”

Kelly Solt, a cute, heavyset blonde, raised her hand.

“It means he‟s brave.”

Mr. Kressy waved an arm. “No argument there, Kelly. The monkey had no choice, but John Glenn chose to do it, and that takes courage.”

Matt Follette grinned laconically from his perpetual slouch and said, “Maybe it just takes dumb.”

This got a laugh. Matt had already established himself as the class cynic.

Mr. Kressy didn‟t seem amused. “I think we can assume he‟s not dumb. But the country is full of brave men—lots of ex-soldiers who risked their lives so that I could stand here and lead you in a free discussion of ideas. But that doesn‟t mean every one of those brave men would make a good president.”

He looked around. “Anyone else?” He pointed toward the rear of the class. “Mr. Neolin … you look like you have something to say.”

Jack turned and saw Elvin Neolin, one of the piney kids. He was small, with ruddy skin, high cheekbones, and black hair. He looked shocked that he‟d been picked.

“Uuuh, no.”

Bulky Jake Shuett, seated to Jack‟s right, leaned over and whispered, “How about that? The dumb-ass piney can talk.”

Jack knew what he meant—this was the first time he‟d heard the boy utter a word, but …

“Doesn‟t mean he‟s dumb.”

Shuett made a face. “All those inbreds are retards.”

Jack felt that was a pretty retarded thing to say, but let it drop. Mr. Kressy‟s class wasn‟t the place to get into it. Instead he looked at Elvin and wondered if he and his fellow pineys knew about the big pyramid on Old Man Foster‟s land. Maybe, maybe not. Nobody knew everything about the Barrens.

Mr. Kressy walked to the center of the room and stood a few feet from Jack.

“Okay, another show of hands. How many still want to vote for John Glenn solely because he was an astronaut?”

No hands went up this time.

“I see. I take it that means we must find other reasons to vote or not vote for him. Since the winner will be leader of the most powerful nation on Earth, maybe we should learn what the man stands for.”

Karina raised her hand and said, “Don‟t you like what he stands for?”

“I have no idea what he stands for. At least not yet.” He wandered back to the front of the room.

“But he and all the others will be taking positions on certain issues. We‟ll hear a lot of political palaver between now and the election. I want you to listen. We have a civics book we have to study, but this is civics in action. Listen and think.”

But Jack was thinking about this afternoon … how he was going to earn sixty bucks for mowing the Lodge‟s lawn while he figured out a way to get inside.

5

“You look so hot.”

Jack glanced up and saw Weezy straddling her bike, shaking her head. “As hot as Carson Toliver?”

She gave him a puzzled look, then laughed. “In your dreams.” He didn‟t know why he‟d asked, but that wasn‟t an answer he liked. She shrugged. “You know what I mean.”

Yeah, he knew. And truth was, he felt very hot.

The grass around the Lodge was even thicker than he‟d anticipated. The mower

kept clogging, and the sun kept hammering away at him. After school he‟d changed to a T-shirt and cut-offs before coming over, but that hadn‟t helped much. He was drenched.

But worth it for sixty bucks. He‟d more than earn it this week, but have a much easier time next.

“Have you been able to look inside yet?”

The mower clogged and stalled again. Jack would have to unclog it, then start yanking on the cord to restart the motor. He felt his mood heading south. He gave Weezy a look.

“Boy, do you have a one-track mind. No. As you can see, I‟ve been a little busy.”

“Yeah, I guess. Still … every day our pyramid sits in there is like … a beehive buzzing in my head.”

There she went again, rewriting what he‟d told her. “I said I might have seen a pyramid.”

“Only one way to find out.” She shifted her gaze and stared over Jack‟s shoulder. “Is anybody home?”

Jack turned and realized she was looking at the Lodge.

“Whoa, Weez. We can‟t go snooping around here now.”

“Looks empty,” she said. “I wonder if the door‟s locked.”

He could sense her getting carried away. Didn‟t she have any brakes on that brain of hers?

“Don‟t even think about it.”

“Can we at least look in the windows?”

His voice rose as he felt his patience thinning. “Look, you need a little patience and I need to finish here before midnight.”

“Okay, okay. When you do finish, Eddie‟s waiting on you to help him reach the final round of

Death Star .”

Yeah, he‟d rather be handling an Atari 5200 joystick than soggy grass, rather be piloting the

Millennium Falcon toward the Death Star‟s power core than pushing a mower.

“Death Star? What is a Death Star? It sounds rather entertaining.”

Jack started as he looked up and saw Mr. Drexler, wearing his ever-present white suit, standing in the Lodge‟s front entrance beneath the huge sigil.

How long had he been there? Had he heard anything?

“It‟s in a movie,” Jack said. “Science fiction.”

His interest vaporized. “Oh. I don‟t like fiction.”

Weezy looked jumpy. Jack understood. Even though the Lodge had been here forever, probably before the town, maybe before the Pilgrims—long before the Indians, according to her—it was fanatically secretive and mysterious and nobody knew what to make of it. And here she‟d been talking about poking around inside it.

Giving her a keep-mum look, he left her behind and walked over to Mr. Drexler. Mainly because he was standing in the shade, but also because Jack wanted to broach a certain topic. He hesitated, then decided to go for it.

“What‟s it like inside?” Jack said, pointing to the building.

Mr. Drexler regarded him. “It is what one might call „functional.‟”

“Do you give tours?”

“Tours?” he said, his eyebrows lifting. “Tours are only for prospective members during recruitment. You are too young for recruitment.”

“But you recruited my father and gave him a tour.”

“Then you can ask him all about it.”

“He won‟t tell me much. How about it? Make an exception for the son of a recruit who turned you down?”

“That‟s hardly reason for an exception.” He sighed. “I might give you a cursory tour sometime, but not today.”

Yes!

“Can I bring a friend?”

Mr. Drexler nodded toward where Weezy waited with her bike. “By „friend‟ I suppose you mean your girlfriend, the contentious Miss Connell.”

“She‟s not my girlfriend.” Though she could be contentious as all get-out. “But yeah.”