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part 2 of the story
The Special Class

Dan Yonah Johnson

    “What?” laughed Julian with an incredulous wrinkle to his brow. Dee Dee chuckled as if she knew the story.
    “Yeah, well,” chuckled Robert. “Just consider. My mom’s first name is Rose. And then she marries a guy with the last name Rose. So then, she’s Rose Rose. Except. She has a speech problem. What do they call it? Oh yeah. An impediment. That’s what they call it. So. She can’t say R. All herRs come out as Ws. So. Even though her real name is Rose Rose...she’ll go up to somebody and tell them that she’s Wose Wose. Then. I guess she thought it would be real cute to name all her kids with R names. Why the hell? I dunno. But that’s what she did. Me and my brothers all got double R names...Robby, Raymond, and Ransom. But I’ll tell ya. You haven’t lived until you hear my mom come out into the yard and holler for us,

WOBBY!
WAYMON!
WAMSOM!
    ...for the whole goddamn neighborhood to hear. It’s fucking awful, I tell you. Then...holy shit. Sometime or another she’s listening to my doctor. And the doctor is just like talking about my condition and all. And he used the word retarded. But he didn’t mean my head is retarded...he was talking about my body...my growth. But like I said, my mom only went through the fifth grade. So, when she hears Doc say the word retarded...she just freaks. And so then, she just up and runs over to the school and tells Mr. Pace that he’s gotta put Wobby in the Special Class because Wobby’s weetawded...”
    Julian gasped and rolled into an uncontrollable dry giggle. Dee Dee slapped Julian’s arm and joined in the giggling.
    “So...,” continued Robert as he himself broke into a halting laugh that he had to twist his head out of. “So...like...because my mom sounds weetawded, Mr. Pace just believes her and throws my ass in the Special Class. Simple as that!” Robert’s shoulders went into a full-hunching laughter arrest.
    “So, you’re not willy weetawded!” retorted Julian.
    “No. Actually, I have a big dick. How ‘bout you?” bantered Robert.
    “Umm. Not so much,” went Julian.
    “That why you’re in the Special Class?” inquired Robert eyeing Julian’s chest.
    “Pretty much,” confessed Julian with a ripple of a laugh.
    “Well,” went Robert, stretching his short arms and small hands out. “Welcome to the Island of Misfit Toys, my friend. Welcome aboard!”
    Dee Dee held out her arms too, laughing.
    “So, if you really shouldn’t be in the Special Class, did you fight it, or what?” asked Julian.
    “Nah!” huffed Robert. “Look at what we got! A nice gig, ya know? We get to do all kinds of cool stuff. The room’s way cool. We get recess by ourselves. Jess doesn’t even come out to play duty teacher. She just says if anyone ever asks her, she’ll just tell ‘em she can see us from the windows. We got it made, Bud! We got our own big fuckin’ universe. Ya know? And we don’t have to put up with the assholes, ya know? We don’t have to take those stupid tests...you know...where ya fill in the little circles with the number 2 pencils and shit. And Jess is way cool. Hell, she went to Woodstock! Ya know! You wouldn’t believe the stories she told us about that! Shhhhh!” Robert’s eyes squinted and flicked side-to-side. “There’s a lot of shit we can’t tell! All I know is: We gotta keep this shit goin’!”
    Julian laughed out loud.
    Dee Dee giggled again. She put her index finger to her lips and went, “Shhhh.”
    Julian laughed harder. But then an analytical thought came to him. He said, “You know... Really, everybody in the Special Class is smart in some kind of way.”
    “Yeah,” replied Robert in a confirming shrug. “Like Dee Dee here. She’s just a couple years behind in reading ‘cuz of when she was sick and out of school before they figured out what she had. She’ll be fine. And then, Aaron and Joe. They know what’s goin’ on—we just don’t always know what’s goin’ on with them. You know what I’m sayin’? And then you got Spanky and Darla...”
    “Uh, yeah,” laughed Julian. “Spanky’s poetry has some serious double meanings!”
    “Oh, no,” countered Robert, shaking his head slowly and methodically. “It’s straight out. Those two...fuck like rabbits!”
    “WHAT?!”
    “Oh, yeah. Aaron ran onto ‘em one day in the bushes around the corner...where they are now. Yeah. I do believe that was the first time we all heard Aaron yell, Jesus Christ! God Damn It to Hell! That Was Good! We think maybe it’s something he’s heard through the walls at home, or something like that. None of our business.”
    Dee Dee kept a low giggle running right along.
    “Uh. How old are they anyway?” asked Julian, just starting to calculate the mass of trouble should it all just blow out into the open.
    “Oh, hell,” blustered Robert. “They’re 16 goin’ on 17. Won’t be long that they can get married if their folks let ‘em. But still, it’s not that long ‘til they’re 18, and then they can do what they want...that is, if the State weetawded police or whatever don’t stop ‘em. Guess that could always happen. But I don’t think there’s nuthin’ on earth that can make ‘em stop doin’ what they do. By the way, how old are you, Julian?”
    “Thirteen, next month.”
    “Oh, ho! You’re the baby of the group! Me and Dee Dee are 15!”
    “A sweet baby, though!” sang Dee Dee. “You can be my baby, Julian!”
    Robert and Julian just looked at each other with very wide eyes.
    “Well. Best offer I’ve had all year!” was all Julian could think to say.
    “There ya go,” added Robert.
    Jess Moloney called out from her second-floor window. It was time to go back.
    Robert gave a wave and a nod. As Aaron and Joe came along, he said to Aaron, “Can you go tell Spanky and Darla that it’s time to go?”
    Aaron nodded and darted toward the building corner in his rocking and chopping gate. As he disappeared around the corner and the rest of the group entered the freight elevator foyer, Julian could hear the faint strains of Jesus Christ! – God Damn It to Hell! ...in the distance. But at least it didn’t take long for the stragglers to catch up in all their sweatiness. And with Robert’s expert navigation of the cabled transporter, from the lower world to the upper, the Special Class returned to base, more or less intact. Darla, dear. Button your blouse, honey. There, that’s better.
    When everyone got settled, it was time for math. As Jess always put all subjects in a literature-based format, she had assigned the class to write poems about math, and then present them. It was Joe Cool’s day to present, and he was very happy to do so. He lumbered himself to the middle of the circle with his paper in hand. Taking a moment to visually address his audience through coke-bottle thick glasses, he flashed his wide toothy grin. Then he hunched his bespectacled eyes over his paper, his nose almost touching it, and announced the title, Forever and Ever.

I got one
I got two and three
I got more
As many as I please
I make money
Easy as pie
I make money
Clear to the sky
I make it from dirt
I make it from air
Rich people say
I can’t take it from their hand
But I go an’ tell ‘em
Oh, yes
I am.

    The whole class clapped, and Joe flashed another huge grin. His bushy eyebrows hopped up and down above his overly magnified eyes. And he just sat his large frame down on a pillow next to Jess.
    “That’s really cool, Joe Cool!” chortled Robert Rose. “It’s like, about numbers that go on...forever and ever!”
    “Yes,” said Jess. “It’s called Infinity—when real numbers just go on forever. Very smart, Joe. Very smart!”
    Joe gave up another infectious overpowering grin, and flicked, “Meow, meow, meow!”
    Class went on for a while and then it came time for lunch. By then, the ritual was already ingrained in Julian. The troop followed Robert to the elevator, and he landed them safely to the first floor. The cafeteria was down the hall and already emanating a great cacophony of voices. As they entered the propped open double doors, it was apparent they were among the last to arrive. Which was good for the Special Class. It made for short duration in the food line. But it was not-so-good for others as it meant that the Bank of Joe wasn’t open...until it was. Immediately at least a dozen souls rushed Joe. And then it became clear to Julian as to why Joe always wore bib overalls. The pockets were many and deep, perfect for complex transactions. For not only did Joe provide lending services, but also safe deposit. A fair number of weaker youths, fallen upon by larger predatory classmates on the way to school and relieved of their lunch money, had established that if they could get a week’s worth of lunch money to Joe, it would be safe. Joe was always dropped off and picked up at the school door by his dad. From the standpoint of monetary security, his dad’s car was as good as a fucking Brinks truck. Joe only charged a dime for the service, but it all added up. He could write a poem about it. Joe’s dad was particularly proud of his son’s business at school and would often brag of it at his lodge meetings.
    While Joe wrapped up the day’s transactions, Julian, Dee Dee and the rest of the crew had set their trays down to lunch. Julian and Dee Dee took to the end of a table. They were happy to be doing the lunch thing again together. Through their eyes, it silently and mutually occurred to them that maybe it should go on, day after day, forever like infinity. They talked about how bad the school lasagna was. Dee Dee’s mom made great lasagna.
    “Maybe you could come over to my house for lunch someday?” stated Dee Dee in the tone of a leading question.
    “Where do you live?” asked Julian.
    “On Halsey,” replied Dee Dee.
    “WHAT?!!!” exclaimed Julian. “I live on Fairmoor—just around the horseshoe!”
    “What? REALLY?!” went Dee Dee.
    “Where on Halsey? What house? What does your house look like?” blurted Julian.
    “It’s a yellow house,” replied Dee Dee.
    Julian’s eyes went wide like fielding a fly ball on a clear day in July. “Does it have a big ol’ pine tree in the front yard?!!!
    “Yeah. That’s the one!” went Dee Dee with a laugh. “You know where I live?!”
    “Yeah! I know exactly where you live! It’s so weird! It’s like I’ve always known!
    Dee Dee just looked at Julian with a big smile. She didn’t know what it all meant but she could tell that Julian didn’t either. Except. That it just felt like it was supposed to be.
    Julian thought quick. “Hey. Do you like watching baseball—like on TV?”
    “Yeah. I guess so...my dad watches. So, I do too, sometimes.”
    “Yeah. So. This weekend. This Saturday. The World Series starts—Mets against the Orioles. It’ll be on TV...on Channel 4. I think the Mets will lose the series, but you never know. You know? You wanna watch?” proposed Julian.
    “Yeah. I’d like that,” replied Dee Dee sure as fate. “What time?”
    “I think the game starts at one. I guess they’ll have some show stuff on before that.”
    “Oh cool. That’s perfect. We can have a real lasagna lunch and watch baseball together!” prognosticated Dee Dee. “My mom and dad will be happy to meet you! They like it when I make friends.”
    “Wow. Yeah. Let’s do it!” exuberated Julian. But then he stopped in a thud. “But...”
    “What?”
    “Well. Um.” Julian paused. “Uh. Like...Will your folks mind me...being white and all? And uh, me being...just different and all? You know. I was just wondering.”
    “Oh!” Dee Dee waved him off. “My mom and dad are okay. They say it takes all kinds. My mom always says God don’t make junk. Do you believe in God, Julian?”
    Julian thought for a moment, adjusted his ball cap, and then said slowly, “I do now.”

    The Special Class returned to Room 19 as usual. The afternoon class was science. It was about light. Jess Moloney explained that a spark of light could go out from somewhere in the universe millions and millions of years ago and just now be seen by people on Earth. She explained that light doesn’t die. That got a reaction out of Robert Rose. He brought up the poem by Dylan Thomas they had read the week before in English class. The poem that goes, rage, rage against the dying of the light. “What about that?”
    “Well. Yeah,” laughed Jess. “Thomas was a raging alcoholic. He blacked out a lot.”
    The class all laughed. And Danny-Spanky said, “Yeah, my dad was drunk once. He was out, man. Really out. So, I asked him if he was dead, and he said, Yup, I’m dead. Now, leave me alone. But before you go...go get me another beer.”
    The Special Class all laughed again. And Julian laughed a little wryly in his own particular thought—about how so many folks in the world don’t know a lot...even though they think they do. He thought about his mom—how all her big words and her big rocket science job didn’t even add up to real science. She just didn’t know. Really. And suddenly for the first time, Julian felt sorry for her...in her disabilities.
    “Yeah,” said Jess. “Light doesn’t die. It just goes somewhere else. And fast. That’s why they talk about the speed of light. It’s really fast.”
    “FasssT!” echoed Aaron Wills, rocking spastically backward and forward. “Fast like a mother fucker!”
    And Darla laughed because she knew what the word fucker meant and on account that Spanky was fast. Such were the applied lessons of science in Room 19 of the Special Class for the day.

    Julian walked home from school. The sun was out, bright, and clear. He thought again of the words, rage, rage against the dying of the light. Not only were the words cosmologically incorrect, but so too the action called for. Rage? Julian considered that his rage-meter might well be done burned out. He felt like he had fallen through the cracks of the world for the very last time. He was all the way on the other side now...for good—in a world of baseball and lasagna and all colors. The world left behind was black and white, laying low and voiceless in the depths...lying in a grave...lying in wait for some other day to be brought up...to the world of many colors. And Julian stopped a stone’s throw from his house...and looked up into the sky. Amid the sun and white puffy clouds, Julian could see his other girl-self clearly.
And Julia smiled.

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