Read Fat School Confidential Online
Authors: Joe Rourke
Carmen had told me about. With man-made lakes and flock of ducks and geese to occupy the little guy, the park proved a hit. After grabbing a bite to eat, we headed home. Although those few hours didn’t make up much of a respite, they made for some serious quality time—time that would become scarcer.
As the days and weeks passed by, as the routine of rehearsals became commonplace, I noticed Daniel showing up on campus with less frequency. Something was afoot, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Tom Eccleston and Sheila Skolnick, along with Frank Mills, had no problem running day-to-day operations, but without Daniel at the helm, who really was in charge?
Chapter 7
Meet the New Boss – Same as the Old Boss
I asked Carmen, the office manager, about a newly vacant office. I had to watch how I worded things with her. One day, she’d gossip with me like an old friend, the next she’d selectively forget what she’d told me the day before. I learned to watch my back with her early on.
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So, is it available?”
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You didn’t hear it from me, but yes, it’s available,” she replied, adjusting her headset.
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Cool.”
I set up shop in my new digs. The new office was tiny, but it had a loveseat next to the desk, a huge, floor-to-ceiling bookshelf on the opposite wall, and a window overlooking the main entrance. Most important, the office was all mine. To add a more personal touch, I brought in an assortment of collectibles from home—giving everyone a sense of who I was off the clock. Staff offices were often adorned with personal knick-knacks from home. Why shouldn’t I do the same? Various-sized Godzilla and other monster action figures, tin toys, B-movie posters, and movie-related accoutrements now shared space with schoolbooks, files, and A.O.S. literature. My son wouldn’t miss them. At home he had plenty of Kaiju toys to spare. Besides, with rehearsals and lesson planning occupying more and more time before and after school, I needed a home away from home.
Okay, so I didn’t need a home away from home. But part of me had a real problem delegating authority and trusting that someone else could watch over my students while they worked on Little Shop. Another part of me felt my job hinged on turning in a stellar production. The truth was, my job was secure—so long as I didn’t screw up anywhere else.
With the additional workload, time spent with my family was squeezed into a couple hours a day, with the weekends offering precious little more. But I made that time count.
With Halloween closing in, the air in Central California had cooled to the high-fifties. The plans this particular Saturday were to keep Bobby occupied, while Mama made the little guy’s costume. Never one to settle for a prepackaged, commercial outfit, Ellie loved creating from scratch. This Halloween was no different. She was going to transform “The Dude” into “The Gnome.”
“
If you could keep him for as long as you can, that would be great,’ Ellie said, sewing away at the kitchen table. In blue jeans and a simple black blouse, she seemed strangely overdressed to be stuck at home. But that was part of the charm. She never could look frumpy. And I loved her for that.
I took the little guy to grab a bite to eat, then off to a pumpkin patch. Situated a couple miles north of Reedley, the Hillcrest Pumpkin Farm had everything: piles and piles of pumpkins, rope bridges, walkways, and hideouts. Most of all, the farm had a miniature, working steam locomotive.
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Papa, look at the smoke!” Bobby exclaimed, pointing at the thick plume rising from the engine.
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Wanna ride it?” I asked. With a smile that could light up the dark side of the moon, the little guy nodded.
The Hillcrest & Wahtoke was big enough to carry full-sized passengers, but small enough to circle the grounds more than once. The look on Bobby’s little mug when he first saw that train said it all. And when we took a ride on that train, winding through a vast Christmas tree farm, I realized that although we were miles and miles away from the familiarity of L.A., I could get used to this. Sure, L.A. had two sets of miniature trains in Griffith Park, but they were smack-dab in the middle of the city. Here, we had room to stretch our legs—literally and figuratively.
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I want to go on it again!”
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You sure you don’t want to pick a pumpkin first?”
Nodding his head, Bobby indicated he wanted to stay on the train as long as he could. Never one to refuse a request by my little prince, I paid for two more trips before grabbing a bowling-ball-sized pumpkin. We went home, satisfied, the smell of hot oil and smoke still tickling our insides.
Back at school, I talked Daniel into using the abandoned art classroom behind the Admin building for my drama class. The workout room had long outlived its usefulness, and the art room was perfect. An adjacent walk-in closet housed the wardrobe we were using for the show. In between classes, I showed Veronica what I’d amassed so far. Glancing at the clothes hanging off a portable rack, Veronica gave me a look that said, “And?” From the back of the rack, I pulled out a vintage black and white, polka-dotted dress.
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Cool, huh? It belongs to my wife. She wore it at Cal Arts when she graduated.”
I paused before correcting myself. “Actually, she wore another black and white dress, more Audrey Hepburn-ish than this one. But this one’s perfect for Little Shop’s Audrey, don’t you think?”
Veronica examined the dress, stopping at the waist. It was too small for Danni’s ample proportions.
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That’s for Danni?”
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Yeah. With a little letting out at the seams, of course!”
The worried look on Veronica’s face was still there.
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Hello! We’re in the middle of nowhere, Mr. Rourke. Where are we going to find a seamstress?”
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Brenda has an aunt in Visalia. She could do it.”
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She’ll have to come with us, right?”
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I’ll go check out a van.”
Checking out a van was a simple procedure. A staff member would walk into the girls’ dorm and go to what was known as “The Bubble:” a reception desk surrounded by glass. Behind the desk were locked cabinets containing first aid supplies and students’ personal prescriptions, as well as confiscated items such as cell phones, gaming devices, candy, gum, and cash. Staff would check out a van for a host of reasons. Doctor visits, airport runs, outings—the list was endless. Teachers rarely took students out, unless it was for a field trip or other education-related excursion. Gumbies were never allowed off campus, unless it was a doctor or other medical-related trip, or they were going home for good. Vans were almost always checked out at all hours by res staff, and teachers were supposed to make their requests ahead of time.
I went to the Bubble, smiled at Rosa, a thin, tired-looking res staff member, and, as luck would have it, I was able to sign off on a van. I gave her a list of names I was taking with me—Veronica, Danni, and Brenda. She compared the names with a list on her desk, making sure none of them were current Gumbies. After the OK, I rounded up the girls and off we went.
Like Elijah, fourteen-year-old Brenda had an enormous amount of weight to lose. Coming from a working class Mexican family just south of Reedley, Brenda also needed financial help going to A.O.S. She felt odd and out of place with most of the rich white kids around her, but made the best of it. And given my own mixed Mexican heritage, I did my best to accommodate and make her feel welcome.
We drove down a rural highway for a short time, before Brenda directed me to her aunt’s house. It was a low-slung Craftsman, surrounded by shady fruit trees. Brenda’s aunt, Juanita, a less-heavyset Mexicana in a housedress, greeted her niece with a big hug, and welcomed us all inside.
While Veronica and I waited in the living room, Brenda and Danni joined Tia Juanita in an adjacent workroom. After examining the dress worn by Danni, Juanita informed me it was going to need more than a simple letting out of the seams. She was going to need to sew on additional fabric on the back, and relocate the zipper to make it fit.
Ellie let me borrow the dress, but was she going to be okay with the alterations? I called her from my cell. I could tell she was uneasy about the situation by the pause that preceded her question.
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Are they going to rip it apart to add the fabric?”
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No, they’re just going to move the zipper and re-hem the back end of the dress.”
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Oh,” She said, before pausing yet again. “You really need the dress, right?”
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At this point, yes.”
There was silence on the other end. Then, “Go ahead. I can always fix it later.”
And with that, Juanita got the job done. Danni tried the dress on again, coming out to show the finished piece. She spun around to show the changes—the alterations were seamless.
Danni looked great in the dress—Audrey incarnate. But could she pull off playing Audrey? She gave me the faintest, coyest of looks.
I glanced at my watch. It was a few minutes past six. We weren’t going to make it back to school in time for dinner. After a quick goodbye, we were off again. We stopped at Subway. We made small talk as we ate our turkey-no-cheese-no-mayo-no-flavor-on-wheat sandwiches.
The girls talked of their respective programs, their families back home, and the boys—the few there were—on campus. I made the best of it, laughing at their digs towards staff and fellow students. I should have discouraged them from such character assassination, mild as it was. Then again, part of me was really enjoying this.
Academy bound, we drove through darkened flatlands. Veronica and Brenda continued their chat in the backseat. Danni, riding shotgun, marveled at her newly altered costume folded on her lap. Twirling long blonde locks around a finger, she turned to me. Without missing a beat, she said, “I bet your wife doesn’t look as good in this dress as I do.”
What the hell did she just say? Did she even think before making that comment? Was it her intent to be provocative or catty or what?
Maybe I was reading too much into it. She didn’t actually think she was more attractive than Ellie, right? Danni was fifteen years old—a kid.
I glanced behind me to see the other girls’ reaction—they were still chatting away. Glancing at Danni, I returned fire.
“
My wife isn’t a size sixteen.”
If anything could shut up an overweight teen girl, my rebuttal did the trick. Maybe I shouldn’t have responded in kind. Maybe I should have ignored her. On one hand, she was a privileged, self-entitled teen from back East. On the other, she was struggling L.T.W.C. with a good fifty pounds to lose. Danni must have thought of how inconsequential her life was when she made that comment to me. Either way, nothing more was ever said concerning Ellie—at least from Danni’s standpoint.
Back home, I related the Danni incident to Ellie.
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I told her you weren’t a size sixteen.”
She cracked up, not out of any spitefulness but of knowing whom I was dealing with.
“
What did she do?”
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Nothing. She didn’t say a word.”
Ellie gave a knowing smile before replying, “Good for you.”
Shaking my head, I replied, “I should have seen it coming.”
This statement alarmed her. Trying to read my face, she stared at me.
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Did she give you any sign of it?”
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No. I don’t think she did.”
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You’ve got to talk to somebody about this,” she said.
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Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”
Reading her face, I could tell she didn’t like my answer. She knew that whenever I’d say, “I’ll handle it,” what I really meant was, “I’m going to do nothing about it, and on top of that, I’m not going to tell anyone else about it, least of all my superiors.” Ellie was never one to let anything slip by, especially when it involved my safety or my job. Back in my L.A. Unified days (it seemed such a long, long time ago, in a county, far, far away), she begged me to report on each and every incident—like the shooting, and the threats, and even the one or two occasions when a female student acted inappropriately.
“
How old did you say she was?”