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Shock and Awe

Alicia Parks

     “Hey, Cody. I heard your dad got blown up Saturday.”
    Cody gaped up frozen and airless, stomach roiling, but was spared the effort of responding by Carrie Godfrey, who flung herself like some kind of battle maiden between Cody and Rob Kildeer’s giggling circle of jock friends.
    “That was out of bounds,” she said. “That was so out of bounds there aren’t words in the English language to describe how out of bounds that was. You ignorant assholes, I hope your fathers all get struck by lightning next week so you know how it feels. You don’t joke about that shit.” She turned to Cody said, “My mom died of cancer last year. If you ever want to talk to someone I’m willing,” and stalked out.
    Cody slipped out a moment later and slunk into the boys’ bathroom, hoping not to attract notice and, as quietly as possible, disgorged what little breakfast he had been able to force down. It honestly wasn’t safe to be in there at all – especially with being an even more tempting target than usual – but his fear wasn’t quite high enough to justify throwing up in the hallway, so he risked it. He made it back out of the bathroom again without incident and slid into his desk just as the morning bell was jangling to a halt, followed a good five minutes later by Carrie, who touched him “reassuringly” on the shoulder as she passed and nearly made him jump out of his skin.
    How the hell was he going to make it? Through the day, let alone through the however many months it would take this novelty to wear off. “Ladies and Gentlemen! Cody Johansen, the amazing human dishrag,” – he had, astoundingly, picked up an actual friend two years ago at a summer art program his mother had bullied his father into allowing him to attend, and under Kyle’s family’s tutelage Cody had worked his way up to “sturdy doormat,” but not everyone had noticed the change – “has a new vulnerability! Be sure to stop by at least three times a day, per person, and ask him about his blown up father!” Cody had finally nailed down the knack, just in the last year, of not crying in public, but that skill was being sorely tested and he was almost shaking with the effort, boring holes into the blackboard with its suddenly incomprehensible chalk squiggles.
    On the edge of his consciousness the teacher’s voice wavered in and out of focus. Maybe he should have obeyed his mother’s urging and stayed home more than three days – “When Seargent Dosset was killed his kids stayed home for two weeks” – but even with the four hours a day he’d been finagled to spend at Kyle’s house – “In a time like this people need their families, honey” – he hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of staring at those four walls for another day. And it wasn’t like he could get any grieving done there anyway, with his mother and her uncomplicated grief constantly hovering over him telling him how sad he was. Kyle’s family knew how it was between him and his father, minus the actual hitting, so they more got where his grief was starting from. Just as he was about to admit defeat on the crying thing and go into the hallway, the intercom crackled on and the voice of the principal started speaking.
    “Hello, this is Mr. Collins. It has been brought to my attention that some of you are behaving in a completely inexcusable manner to one of your fellow students who has just experienced one of the worst tragedies that can befall a kid.”
    Cody let his head fall forward onto his hands and fisted his bangs.
    “Please take some time to think about how you would like to be treated if it happened to you. If I hear that anyone is kicking someone while they are that far down they will receive an immediate and nonnegotiable three day suspension and five page research paper on the experience of grief. Thank you.”
    The complete and utter silence that followed that announcement did not provide enough cover for Cody’s slightly ragged breaths and he bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed, trying to pull himself in.
    “I’m sorry, Cody,” said Rob in a small voice. “I shouldn’t have said anything close to that. Carrie was right that it was out of bounds.”
    Cody nodded unevenly, not sure if he was accepting the apology or just agreeing that it was out of bounds, and gestured urgently to Ms Zimmerman to keep droning on.
    By the time class was over he was feeling a little steadier. There was at least some chance that that announcement would keep him safe until he wasn’t quite so on edge about the thing itself. And/or had some sort of handle on how he felt about the son of a bitch being gone. Mr. Collins didn’t put up with shit the way the middle and elementary school principals had, so thank God it hadn’t happened when they first got to Iraq. He snagged Carrie on her way out of the classroom. “Did you do that?”
    She looked at him, clearly unsure what the right answer was.
    “Did you?” he asked more urgently.
    She gave a slight nod.
    Cody sagged. “Thank you. I didn’t... Like I knew it was going to be two solid weeks of that, minimum, and I had no idea how I was going to survive it.”
    She touched him again. “I’m sorry.”
    He could tell she meant it too, and not in a snarky way. “Thank you.”
    “I meant it about my mom and you could talk to me.”
    “Thank you. I might.” He couldn’t imagine actually pouring his heart out to an even vaguely popular girl, but it seemed like the polite thing to say.

    By the end of third period, however, a new problem had developed. No one was being overtly cruel and most of them seemed to be genuinely not cruel at all – although he couldn’t be sure – but people were pressing in from all sides issuing condolences that just made him feel worse. “I know how you must feel.” “Oh Cody, you must be so sad.” “I know if my dad died I would be...” And worst of all, the repeated thing about being grateful for his father’s service and sacrifice, all delivered with an obnoxiously stiff formality. As if he should feel honored and privileged that it was his dad who got to be blown up. As if, given the choice between father and country, of course he would have chosen his country and was merely somewhat bummed that it had come to that.
    By lunch he knew he was going to need a second announcement if he was going to get through this, and he just as surely knew that it was not an announcement he could ask Mr. Collins to make. Such was the measure of his desperation that he faux-confidently marched over to a table of girls he knew were his best bet, even if he normally wouldn’t dare to address someone so popular. Or for that matter so female. He forced himself keep going until the table top was actually brushing his legs and then stood there, waiting for their judgment before he risked the second step.
    Kathryn Beauchamp, the biggest gossip in the school by a factor of three, looked up and arranged her face into a suitably condoling posture.
    “Oh, hey Cody. I’m really sorry about your dad.”
    He bobbed his head in an automatic thanks and then took the next step in his plan. His heart was pounding but he couldn’t go forward without this question and he was in enough of a dither that asking something this overt was almost possible. “Yeah. I wanted to ask, I mean... How much are you saying that because you genuinely feel sorry for me and how much because you’re a bitch and about to laugh behind my back at how pathetic I am?”
    Kathryn’s face fell open, echoed by the rest of her posse. “Cody! I don’t...” she flapped her hands around for a moment, either a) trying to come up with way of saying just how much she didn’t or b) trying to come up with a plausible sounding lie so she could trick him into exposing some additional vulnerability to hit him with. Hard to tell. “I don’t talk about you that much. I mean I guess I have some, but I’m way not in the inner ring of your personal hell. And I would never ever act like this was a joke. Like I’m totally disgusted that Mr. Collins had to make that announcement.”
    Yeah, ok. That sounded legit. He made eye contact with the other five girls at the table to be sure they were all on the same page and they nodded. He nodded sharply and made to sit down. They all looked startled but rallied and moved their book bags aside to make room. “I need to ask you a favor.”
    “What?” Kathryn was clearly lost.
    “People are all ‘you must be so sad Cody’ and “I know if I lost my dad’ and” he grimaced distastefully “‘grateful to him for his service’ and it’s driving me crazy and I need you to spread some stuff around for me.”
    Kathryn blinked at him a moment to be told that this was her social role but let him go on.
    “Because it isn’t as simple as that and making me feel like it should be that simple is just making me feel worse.”
    They all looked authentically crushed that they’d been getting it wrong for someone who needed as little wrong as possible. Which was nice. “Oh. I’m sorry. How is it?”
    “My father was an abusive asshole who always hated me and put me in the hospital twice.” They were all looking at him with saucer eyes. “I’m not saying I’m straight up glad to see him go, it isn’t that simple either” – it was about equal parts weeping relief that he was gone, crushing grief that whatever small hope he had had that his father would someday love him was forever lost, and breath-stealing twists of guilt that those were the only two things he felt – “but enough of me is that ‘I know how sad I would be if’ isn’t helping.”
    “Ya. Totally,” breathed Kathryn’s second in command. Emily, maybe. “I’m really sorry. Like... for both things.”
    “Is that why you used to always wear that ‘kick me’ sign around your neck?”
    Cody felt his jaw drop onto the table.
    Kathryn winced. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Totally rude.”
    “Yeah.” He couldn’t think of any reason to deny it. “But then I just walked up to you and said ‘I need something spread around and I know you’re the worst gossip in the school,’ so we’re probably even.”
    “Oh.” She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “Yeah, I did notice that. I, um. I was just thinking if you were getting it at home too...”
    “Yeah.” No reason to deny that either. “Like school was only maybe forty percent of my ‘kick me’ sign. I came to school with a good one already started. But you think I don’t anymore?”
    They all thought for a moment. “Not really.”
    “For sure not like you used to.”
    “You still aren’t going to win any international prizes for assertiveness, but like you stand up for yourself a little now. I’ve seen you.”
    “Oh. Well, thank you.”
    “So yeah.” Kathryn seemed eager to move on from their respective faux pas. “If you’re using me for your publisher, what is the message that I’m spreading?”
    He had to think for a moment. What was it that he wanted people to know? “‘Cody’s father was abusive so his feelings are really complicated right now.’”
    She nodded firmly, followed by her minions. “I can do that.”
    “And, um. This ‘grateful for his service’ thing has got to go. I never liked this stupid war, my father never liked this stupid war, we shouldn’t be there and the fact that any human soul is over there fighting that idiot war really pisses me off. And it’s all a load of hooey anyway, he wasn’t ‘serving’ anything, it’s all just some asshole cowboy president with a bug up his ass threw him into this, this machine that war is and it zapped him dead like you zap a bug and with the same amount of thought and consideration for individual character. No glory, just guts. In the sense of spilled out on the street.” He took a deep breath and tried to pull himself back in. They were all staring at him. Dishrags don’t raise their voices and they certainly don’t rant. “Sorry.” Another deep breath. “So the take-home message is that Cody isn’t feeling so good about the military right now since it kind of killed his father so however you personally feel about his ‘service’ maybe better not to bring it up right now.”
    The girl next to him, Hannah maybe, touched his arm and he flinched again. “I’m sorry.”
    “Of course you would feel that way.”
    “I’m going to give it through today,” Cody went on, “or at least try to, for your publishing company to spread the word. But if anyone gives me shit about his ‘service’ after lunch tomorrow I’m going to give them a short arm to the gut, I don’t care that I don’t know how to punch and will probably hurt myself more than I hurt them.”
    They all nodded in unison, eyes huge. “Yeah. Sure.”
    “Totally.”
    Cody nodded shortly and left for his usual spot underneath the science wing stairs to inhale what lunch he could manage. Having effectively skipped breakfast he was pretty nearly ravenous. As he left the cafeteria he saw out of the corner of his eyes the various members of Kathryn’s clique each headed to separate corners of the lunch room.

    Sure enough, by seventh period most people were condoling him in more condolesome – was that a word? – ways and by the next day they’d achieved full compliance. Major relief. Some of them were even hemming and hawing and then apologizing for having been assholes for the last ten years, which he didn’t know how to respond to. Nor did he know what to do with the fact that all the girls kept touching him, including Amy Douglass, who he’d had a really miserable crush on for most of last year. Just little touches, but the cumulative effect was enough to put him in near shut-down, even without the other thing. That was seriously all a guy had to do to get girls to pay attention to him? Maybe he’d write a book, make a million dollars.
    After school he dithered for a while and then decided to ask Kyle’s dad to spend the weekend teaching him how to throw a punch, in case he had to follow through on his threat. Not that his father hadn’t attempted a thousand times to teach him to “goddamn stand up for” himself, but it’s hard to concentrate on learning to throw a punch when you’re being told you are a “goddamn fucking loser” and have fully eighty percent of your mental energy devoted to avoiding getting clobbered by your instructor.
    Cody was pretty sure Kyle’s dad would be nice about it – they’d been all kinds of good to him since he’d become friends with Kyle two years ago – and he was. At first it was freakish and terrifying to have an adult man with his hands on him that way, teaching him how to break out of holds and so forth, but Steve made it ok. It actually felt kind of really good. Like maybe a dad should. By Monday when he had to face school again – after two days of cabin fever with his forever weeping mother and her demands on his grief – he felt like he had half a chance if it came to that.
    Most of the day had been ok. Most of the people were treating him almost like a human being and being all sorry for him, which was going to get old eventually but for now was leaving him almost floating. But after fifth period Ben Klemens and his disgusting crowd of football “stars” were lying in wait for him in the English wing. Or maybe baseball, Cody could never keep them straight and didn’t especially try, just tried to steer clear. Probably not basketball, though; they weren’t tall enough. They all giggled and poked each other when they saw him like only jocks trying to prove their manhood do, which in Cody’s experience never led to good things. He tensed in half terror, half excitement.
    “Hey Cody.” Dylan Finnerty didn’t even bother with fake condolence, he just leered.
    Cody walked right up until he was less than two feet away. It was closer than he was comfortable being with a jock, but he needed to be close if it came to that.
    “I just wanted to say how grateful I was for your father’s...” but he never got any further than that, just a whoosh of all the breath leaving his body.
    The other five or six boys looked at him in outraged shock, as if it was a surprise, and two of them grabbed for Cody.
    “You fucking little faggot.”
    Cody pushed his elbow hard into the one’s gut and was rewarded with enough loosening that he slid out of his grasp just like Kyle’s dad had said he could and was able to punch Will Dougherty in the nose. He would have done it anyway, but there was extra force behind it because of what they’d said. His father was dead and no one was ever going to call him that word again. He had just enough time to see a very satisfying torrent of blood begin to pour down Will’s face before the whole thing turned into a fifteen person melee between Cody, who managed to get some additional swings in, the jocks, and an entire fistful of bystanders who jumped in on Cody’s behalf – which for sure had never happened the other million times he’d gotten creamed. This last group managed to have the snarling football assholes mostly under control and be picking Cody up off the floor by the time first teachers got there. Cody started patting himself down. It was pretty bad, for sure a black eye and a bunch of other bruises, but he’d had way worse.
    “What happened?” Mrs. Kowalski grumped. “Who started this?”
    “He did,” said Ben hysterically, pointing at Cody. “He threw the first punch.”
    Will added, “He broke by dose!”
    A thrill of excitement ran up and down Cody’s spine. Had he seriously managed to break a guy’s nose? How freaking cool was that?
    “Is that true, Cody?”
    Cody tried to breathe deep and square his shoulders, but stopped himself halfway through in response to an ache in his ribs. “I would like to call as my witness Kathryn Beauchamp.”
    Mrs. Kowalski frankly stared at him. “What?”
    “Under the advice of my attorney I have no further comment until my witness has testified.” He swung his left arm back and forth a few times and felt only a dull ache halfway down his chest. Good. Bruised but not broken. Broken he would know, courtesy of his father.
    Mr. Kowalski seemed to be desperately trying not to laugh, but he hauled the whole lot of them off to the principal’s office.
    As Cody did his perp walk he noticed a lot of people, maybe a majority, looking at him with an awed sort of respect he had never in his life seen aimed his way. A path cleared itself magically before him and he held his chin up higher and higher, feeling a shout of joy bubble up within him but managing, if only barely, not to let it loose.



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