Bless Me, Ultima(30)

Oh, it was hard to grow up. I hoped that in a few years the taking of the first holy communion   would bring me understanding.

“Race you across the bridge!” Andrew shouted. In a spurt we were off and running. We were halfway across when we heard the clobbering of hooves on the pavement and turned to catch a glimpse of the Vitamin Kid bearing down on us.

“Let’s go!” Andrew urged me, and although I could keep up with Andrew we did not have enough wind to outdistance the Kid. The steady clippity-clop grew louder, the frothy smell of just-chewed weeds filled the air, and the Kid passed us by.

“Toni-eeee the giant killer—” he smiled and whizzed by.

“Never beat him!” Andrew gasped at the end of the bridge.

“Nobody, can, beat, him,” I panted hard.

“I swear, he sleeps, under the bridge!” Andrew laughed. “Why did he, call you, the giant killer—”

“I don’t know,” I nodded. I thought of my brothers as giants. Now two were gone.

“Crazy little bastard!” Andrew nodded. His face was red from running and his eyes full of tears. “Someday you will beat him, Tony. Some day you will beat us all—” He waved and went off to work.

I did not feel that I could ever beat the Vitamin Kid, but Andrew must have had a reason for saying that. I looked across the bridge and Samuel was starting across. I waited for him and we walked to school together.

“Samuel,” I asked, “where does the Kid live?”

“The Kid is my brother,” Samuel said softly. I did not know if he was kidding or not, but we never talked about it again.

That year we waited for the world to end. Each day the rumor spread farther and wider until all the kids were looking at the calendar and waiting for the day. “It’ll be in fire,” one would say, “it’ll be in water,” another would argue. “It’s in the Bible, my father said.” The days grew heavy and ominous. Nobody seemed to know except the kids that the world was coming to an end. During recess we gathered in the playground and talked about it. We talked about the signs we had seen; Bones even said he had talked to people from a ship from space. We looked at the clouds and waited. We prayed. Fear grew. Then the day came, and was gone, and it was kind of disappointing that the world didn’t end. Then everybody just said, “See, I told you so.”

And that year Bones had a wild fit and busted Willie’s head open with a big jar of paste. It was too bad because after that not too many of us ate the sweet-tasting paste.

That year a pissing contest was held behind the schoolhouse, and Horse won, but the principal found out about it and all the pissers in the contest got spanked.

George got to burping in class. He could burp anytime he wanted to. He would just go “Auggghk!” Then he could do variations with it. “Augggh-pah-pah-pop!” He would do it in girls’ ears and get socked every time. But he didn’t mind, he was kinda crazy, like Bones.

And that year I learned to read and write. Miss Maestas was very pleased with me. On the last day of school she handed out report cards to the other kids, but when it came to me she took me to the principal’s office. He explained to me that I was a little older than the other kids in first grade and that my progress had been very good. Miss Maestas beamed. So instead of passing me from first to second he was passing me from first to third.

“What do you think of that?” he smiled.

“Thank you, sir,” I said. I was very happy. My mother would be proud of me, and that meant that next year I would be in the same grade as the rest of the gang.

“Your mother will be very pleased,” Miss Maestas said. She kissed my cheek.

“Yes,” I said.

The principal handed me my report card and a piece of paper. “That will explain everything to your parents,” he said. He shook my hand, like man to man, and he said, “Good luck.”

There was magic in the letters, and I had been eager to learn the secret.

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

The rest of the day we were like goats held by hobbles. At the end of the day some of the mothers planned a party for our class, but I did not feel like staying because I still felt apart from them. And my mother would not be there. I thanked Miss Maestas for her help, and when the last bell rang I ran home. The freedom of the summer raced with my footsteps as I worked my way through the sweaty, swarming mob of kids.

“School is over! School is over!” was on every tongue. The buses honked nervously for their kids. I waved and the farm kids waved back. We would see each other next fall. By the see-saws a fight had started, but I didn’t want to waste time watching it.