Page 98 - What They Did to the Kid

86 Jack Fritscher

until yesterday, but today they’re gone, except for this one called
Tomorrow’s Man.”
To keep from smiling, I ran my tongue over my bridge of front
teeth.

May 1, 1957

What I hadn’t figured was how cleverly quick Hank could be appeal-
ing to German discipline. Gunn was so impressed with Hank’s
quick-flexing explanation of physical fitness that every boy in our
class had to come up with seven dollars, so Hank the Tank could
order us each a rubber strap with a handle on both ends to build
up our chests and lung capacity. For the first week, our senior-class
wash room, where twenty wash bowls stood side by side under a wall
of mirrors, was dangerous with boys holding the red rubber strap
straight out at arms’ length and stretching—three, four, five, ten
repetitions—till our faces exploded.
Hank the Tank, of course, had no trouble pumping the red rub-
ber strap that looked like he was stretching a huge hot water bottle.
I waited my chance and when Hank the Tank was at full explo-
sion, I snapped my red rubber strap like a locker-room towel at his
backside and we both went chasing down the stairs, falling over
hooting boys.

May 24, 1957

Lock called a senior class meeting and announced that we deserved
to celebrate our high-school graduation with an actual ceremony.
Dick Dempsey made forty-two diplomas out of typing paper, let-
tered them, and rolled them up. We all came together in our senior
classroom the last Sunday afternoon in May. Actually, our intel-
lectual independence was sad. Lock and Dempsey tried to make the
occasion solemn and real. Father Gunn refused to come. The other
priests said they were busy grading final exams or preparing for
Ordination, except for one priest, who came and stood uneasy near
the back door and left, embarrassed, as soon as all the rolled typing
paper was distributed.

©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
HOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS BOOK