Johnny Wraith Stories

"Alright class. Everyone take out your spelling books and turn to page 31."

Many little fingers got busy. Hinges creaked. Hardback books were pulled out of desk wells and pages rustled. Chalk screeched across the blackboard.

"I want you to write a sentence using each of the 10 words on page 31."

Little voices whispered throughout the room each time Ms. Owens turned to the chalkboard.

One of the little voices came from Marty. He was sitting right behind me. "Traci says we can get a PEEK!" This was good news. My pulse rose. I liked PEEKS.

"Everyone. Stop talking! No one gets to go to recess early until he or she writes 10 sentences."

The voices immediately stopped. 27 hasty little yellow pencils went to work. It didn't matter how long it took to get those 10 sentences down. If it took 3 minutes, it didn't matter. Get it all down. Tear it out. Plop it down on Ms. Owens's desk, and you were out the door and onto the asphalt. That was one way to turn a 30-minute spelling class into 27 minutes of recess. That was one way to make sure I got a PEEK, because Traci, Marty, and I were almost always the first 3 to beat any of the other kids in class to the playground. Usually it was by a margin of 4 minutes or more, and we were unsupervised.

There was a trick. If you could use 2 words in 1 sentence, it counted as 2 sentences. If you could use 5 words in 1 sentence, it counted as 5 sentences. You got bonus points for adding shit like "ing" and "ed" to the end of words too.

The words were:

1. Flow

2. Curl

3. Pear

4. Pint

5. Only

6. Fired

7. Soft

8. Toy

9. Walk

10. Young

I gripped my yellow #2 and put the words down:

"My young dad was fired for only walking to work with a pint of flowing beer and buying me a soft toy shaped like a pear with curly hair."

And with that, I slapped my pencil down, tore out the page, and hopped to my feet. Traci and Marty were ahead of me, and headed for the classroom side door.

"Very good Traci," said Ms. Owens, without looking up from her paperback novel. It had a picture of a bare-chested man and a woman in a flowing white dress on the front cover. They were embracing. "Nice work Marty." Before I took two steps, I was stopped. "Johnny, put your book away first."

Shit! I thought. I turned fast for my desk.

"No running!"

Finally, I got out the door. It was hard forcing my feet to walk through the classroom rows. They wanted to run. I wanted my PEEK.

As soon as my shoes hit the pavement outside, I was running, and my right hand was reaching into my front pocket for the 2 quarters, 1 dime, and 1 nickel I came to school with each day. 65 cents. Lunch Money.

I turned the corner and made it to the shadows under the stairwell to the cafeteria. Marty and Traci were there. He was grinning ear to ear. She had a serious look on her face. Traci's hand was out, palm up. Marty's 2 quarters, 1 dime, and 1 nickel were already there.

My coins jangled on top of Marty's, and Traci's fist closed. Then she smiled as all 4 quarters, 2 dimes, and 2 nickels went into her little plastic, pink purse.

"You guys ready for your PEEK?"

Marty and I looked at one another with goofy, drooling faces and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!" we both whispered.

******

When noontime came, Marty and I were with the first group to exit Ms. Owen's class, walk around the corner, and climb the stairwell to the cafeteria. Sack Lunchers always got to go first. We weren't exactly Sack Lunchers, but we weren't exactly Hot Lunchers either. Hot Lunchers were kids with 65 cents in their pockets. Traci was a Sack Luncher and a Hot Luncher. She showed up a Sack Luncher, earned her way to Hot Luncher, and still made it home with a profit. Many years later, I learned that Traci gave away her sack lunches to Mr. Opel. He was the school's poor, fat janitor. He always wore a stained gray shirt and pants and had body odor. The good news about being a Sack Luncher was that by the time all the Hot Lunchers were seated, you were out on the playground having recess. Whether you ate or not, you couldn't get up from the table until all the Hot Lunchers had made it through the line and to their tables. It was one benefit of going hungry. Longer recess.

And recess wasn't always a good time, especially if you happened to be Darren's target for the day. Darren was about a foot taller than the rest of us because he'd been held back twice. You just had to take what he dished out.

"Hey Johnny! You ever had a Tit Twister?"

"No, please, Darren!"

"Hey Johnny! You ever had a Wedgie?"

"No, please, Darren!"

"Hey Johnny!   

******

One day I got home from school and was confronted by my angry mother.

"Johnny! You go to your room right now!"

"But Mom!"

"Now! The school called today and I am so embarrassed."

"Why did they call?"

"Go to your room NOW! Just wait until your father gets home!"

When my father got home, he took a seat at the table and I was called out of my room.

My mother explained:

"The school called today, Ms. Owens, Johnny's teacher. She asked if we wanted to sign Johnny up for the Hot Lunch Program."

"Hot Lunch Program?" asked my father.

Tears formed in my mother's eyes and her face turned red.

"YES! The fucking Hot Lunch Program! It's for poor families! So their kids can eat Hot Lunch for free. Now everyone thinks we are poor!"

"Poor? Hot Lunch? How?"

"Ms. Owens says that Johnny hasn't eaten Hot Lunch for over a month. He just sits with the Sack Lunchers without anything to eat. He goes hungry! I just know everyone is talking. I just know it!"

I had to think fast. I could see the rage brooding in my mother's face and the frustration in my father's. Think fast, or it was the Wooden Spoon, a severe spanking that bruised the buttocks and hamstrings.

To add to the effect, I began to cry. Reliving the time when my guinea pig died helped the tears come out.

"It was Darren! He's been taking my Lunch Money!"

******

We never saw Darren again. He just didn't come to school anymore. I'd heard he'd been severely beaten by his mother's boyfriend then sent to live with his grandmother, but no one knew for sure. It was partial consolation for the fact Traci never sold me a PEEK again. I didn't have any money because my mother started sending me to school with Sack Lunches, not with the 2 quarters, 1 dime, and 1 nickel required for a Hot Lunch.