Ike Hamill - The Hunting Tree Trilogy

“Yes, Ms. Smit,” said Davey. “I’m sorry that we broke the rules. It won’t happen again, and thank you for letting us come back tomorrow.”

Paul held his breath. In his experience, speaking reasonably to an adult never ended well. To his surprise, Ms. Smit paused and then smiled at Davey.

“Well, thank you ,” she said. “You are very polite.”

Davey nodded and waited for Paul before heading for the door.

Out in the hallway, Paul couldn’t contain his surprise. “When did you get so smooth?”

“What do you mean?” asked Davey.

“That was awesome, the way you talked to Ms. Smit.”

“Whatever,” said Davey. “We’re still going to the stupid study room. I hate that room.”

“Just show the people that you already have your work done and maybe they’ll let you skip,” suggested Paul.

“It doesn’t work that way,” said Davey. “Those people don’t even really work for the school. They’re just being paid by the hour to make sure that all kids show up, don’t leave the room, and don’t talk.” He set down his bag and took a long drink from the water fountain.

“They don’t let you leave the room?” asked Paul. “What if you have to go to the bathroom? Let’s go back up the hall so I can go now.”

“It’s twenty of. You can’t make it twenty minutes?” Davey wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t know,” said Paul.

The two boys retreated back up the hall, towards the bathroom. A few paces from the restroom, Davey’s feet got tangled and he crashed down to his knees. He sprung back to his feet, but a troubled expression furrowed his brow.

“I just thought of something,” said Davey. “Ms. Smit probably doesn’t even talk to the study room people, we should just not go.”

Paul’s eyes grew wide and he slowed—“Seriously? What would we do?”

“Whatever we want, I guess,” said Davey. “We could go hang out in the woods behind that creek until your mom comes.”

“How would we get out?” asked Paul.

“We just go out the side door. It’s not locked or anything,” said Davey. “What are you afraid of? Our parents pay for this after-school stuff, it’s not part of normal school. We can do whatever we want to, really.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” said Paul. He pushed into the boys room and Davey followed. Paul went into the first stall and Davey went to the sink and looked at his face in the mirror.

“Hey,” said Paul over the stall wall, “maybe we could steal one of the kick-balls from the gym, and play with it in the woods.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Davey. “Mr. Mulgrove is always in his office. He’d probably catch us.”

Paul flushed the toilet and Davey glanced down. “Don’t take your pants all the way down to pee, you artard.”

“Why not?” asked Paul, appearing from the stall.

“It’s just dumb, is all,” said Davey.

Paul moved to the sink and ran a hand through his hair.

“Gross,” said Davey. “You didn’t even wash your hands.”

Paul looked ready to respond, but whipped his head around as the door creaked open. Both boys froze and waited. Around the corner, Ted arrived carrying a wooden hall-pass.

“Well, well,” said Ted, “Stinky and Dummy, pulling each other off in the bathroom.”

“Shut up, Ted,” said Davey.

Ted puffed up his chest and tilted his head back, raising his chin, and stalked towards Davey.

“What’d you say to me, Stinky?” demanded Ted.

“Just shut up, is all,” said Davey. “Why don’t you go ask your stepdad to teach you some more stupid things to say.”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” said Ted. “I should knock you out right here. My brother showed me how to knock out punks like you.” He moved closer, invading Davey’s space.

Davey folded his arms, gaining a little distance from puffed-up Ted. “There’s two of us, Ted,” said Davey.

“So what?” asked Ted. “I’ll knock you out and take care of the dummy before you even hit the ground. I learned two new submission holds last weekend. You’re going to tap out and beg me to stop.”

“Go ahead,” said Davey, pushing back against Ted’s chest with his folded arms. “Why don’t you stop talking and just go ahead and do something.”

“Oh you don’t even want that,” said Ted. “You’ll be in the hospital.”

“Look, Ted,” said Davey, lowering his voice and staring into Ted’s eyes. “I know you’re mad. You’re mad that your real dad took off. You’re mad that that new guy is staying with your mom. You’re mad that sometimes he hits you. But you’re not mad at me, so stop pretending that you are.”

“You are so dead,” said Ted, punctuating his last word with a shove to Davey’s chest.

Davey took a half-step back, but braced himself for the second push and didn’t lose any more ground.

“Let’s go then, Ted,” said Davey. He bent his knees slightly and pushed up, sending his left fist in a wide loop around towards Ted’s head. Surprised by the aggression, Ted ducked his chin and raised both arms to ward off the blow. The instant Ted’s arms came up, Davey shifted his weight and launched a powerful uppercut with his right hand to Ted’s stomach. The two punches landed simultaneously—the hook glanced uselessly off of Ted’s arms, but the uppercut caught Ted off guard and easily knocked the breath out of him.

Ted doubled over, clutching his stomach and gasping.

“See ya, dumbass,” said Davey. He strode past and shoved Ted’s shoulder hard, sending him sprawling to the floor, under the sink.

Paul rushed towards the door to the hall and Davey walked casually.

Out in the hall, Paul was flushed but ebullient. “I can’t believe you did that,” he said as they passed a closed office door. “That was so awesome.”

“He deserved it,” said Davey.

“Well yeah,” said Paul, turning around and walking backwards to face Davey. “He’s always deserved it, but nobody ever had the guts to knock him down like that. What was that stuff about his step dad? Do you know him?”

“Just a guess,” said Davey. “Ted had all those bruises on his back that time, and then Mr. Mulgrove talked to him, you remember?”

“Sure,” said Paul. “But it only ever happened once.”

“Yeah, but you could see bruises right below the line of his shorts last summer, when we were playing soccer. I don’t think his step dad stopped beating him; he just stopped beating him where everyone could see. And I figured it was his step dad because Ted and his mom have different last names.”

“Wow,” said Paul. “That’s cool that you figured that out.”

“Turn,” said Davey. “Turn here,” he pointed to the short stretch of hall that led to the music room and the side door.

Paul looked up and down the hall and clenched his fists. He looked like a coiled spring as he changed direction and started towards the door. Davey followed casually, looking natural and almost bored.

“What if there’s an alarm?” Paul whispered.

“There would be a sign,” said Davey.

“You open it.”

Davey reached out and pressed the metal bar, swinging the heavy steel door outward. It squeaked and screeched, and bright light burst through the doorway. The overload of sensory input startled Davey, and for a second he thought that the door might indeed have sounded an alarm. He paused to let his eyes adjust to the light and then cocked his head and let the door shut on its own.

“What are you doing?” asked Paul, looking around nervously. “We’re going to get caught just standing here in the hallway.”