FRIDAY<\/p>\n

It was the afternoon of Friday 13th, the last day before February vacation. A whole week off from stupid middle school, I thought, excitedly.
\nFrom the moment I stepped onto the bus, the atmosphere felt electric, everyone happy for the much-needed winter break. Nena\u2019s song, 99 Luftballoons, was playing on some concealed boom box in the back.
\nMany of the bus\u2019s green fake leather bench seats were split and duct-taped. As I made my way down the narrow aisle in search of a seat, I heard the usual remarks offered to most eighth graders from the high school kids who\u2019d already claimed their territory.
\n\u201cYou can\u2019t sit here, dufus.\u201d
\n\u201cThis seat\u2019s taken.\u201d
\nEven on such a joyous afternoon, I was quickly reminded that riding the bus was a hard kick in the teeth. It didn\u2019t matter whether they were wearing black leather vests and chain wallets or Swatch watches and turned-up collars on their pastel IZOD Polo shirts, the high school kids were just plain mean.
\nAs I made my way further down the line, the objections got even stronger.
\n\u201cOh, I don\u2019t think so, dweeb.\u201d
\n\u201cIf you even think about sitting, you dink, I\u2019ll beat you to a pulp.\u201d
\nEat shit and die, I replied in my head, but never out loud.
\nI hated sitting with the nerds or the kids that smelled like spoiled lunchmeat, but after receiving enough rejections I began to wonder, Maybe the older kids see me the same way?
\nAlthough school had its social order, this mobile environment was even less forgiving. At a time in life when the mind is impressionable\u2014constantly worrying about what others think of you, even about what you think of yourself\u2014the bus\u2019s sadistic hierarchy created scar tissue that would help to define many lives for years to come. It was a cruel testing ground for survival, where the tougher or more popular kids claimed the back of the bus. Those coveted seats were sacred territory that most of us spent years aspiring to. On the big, yellow school bus, physical threats were the least of our worries. This is psychological warfare, I realized early on.
\nBesides having to deal with the pecking order, there was incredible peer pressure to do things most of us would have never dreamed of doing\u2014like distracting the elderly driver, Mr. Gifford. Given that the bus had no seat belts, this daily practice seemed pretty insane to me. I\u2019d never actually seen Mr. Gifford\u2019s eyes; the two narrow slits were usually squinting into the rear-view mirror. \u201cSit down!\u201d he constantly yelled.
\nThere was always the smell of smoke wafting from the back, though I was never really sure it was cigarette smoke. Usually, there were two kids making out\u2014a boy and girl\u2014and it wasn\u2019t always the same couple. The bus had its own sub-culture, a microcosm of the twisted society we were growing up in.
\nIt\u2019s amazing Old Man Gifford can keep this giant bus on the road and not in one of the ditches we pass on our way home, I thought.
\nAs I claimed my seat beside another outcast Junior High-Schooler, I spotted my brother, Wally, sitting toward the middle of the vessel. Wally had straight brown hair, serious brown eyes and the chunky Bloomfield nose. He looked like my father. Unfortunately, a terrible case of acne was in full bloom, taking away from his rugged handsome looks. Our eyes locked. I nodded toward him. Although he returned the gesture, he was much more subtle in his action. You\u2019re such a butthead, I thought.
\nA cold breeze tapped me on the shoulder. It\u2019s freezing in here, I realized, turning around to see that the windows were open in the back of the yellow torture chamber. As I turned, I caught a whiff of my bus mate. And thank God they\u2019re open, I thought, trying to place the unusual smell. Fried Spam? I guessed, before noticing that the stinky kid was wearing a Smokey the Bear sweatshirt that read, Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires. I had to do a double-take. No way, I thought in disbelief, it looks like Beetlejuice, here, has a death wish\u2026wearing a lame pullover like that. I\u2019m surprised he doesn\u2019t have a Just Say No campaign button pinned to the front of it. I chuckled aloud, drawing a look from my new best friend. I pity the fool, I thought, quoting Mr. T.\u2014one of my favorite TV personalities\u2014in my head.
\nI\u2019d just popped my last Luden\u2019s cherry cough drop into my mouth when I heard it. There was a commotion behind us, much louder than the usual raucous. What the hell? No sooner did I turn in my seat to investigate the ruckus when my heart plummeted past my stone-washed jeans straight into my worn Chuck Taylor high tops.
\nOwen Audet\u2014the most feared enforcer on Bus 6\u2014was standing toe-to-toe with Wally. He was more than a head taller than my poor brother. Oh no, I thought, Wally\u2019s gotta be shittin\u2019 bricks right now. I swallowed hard. I know I would be. Owen was big, dumb and mean\u2014and heavy on the mean.
\n\u201cI need to borrow another book,\u201d the Missing Link barked, looming over my brother.
\nThere were a few laughs from the bully\u2019s brain-dead minions.
\nMy mouth instantly went dry, while my heart began to race. Although my brother was on the \u201cbig-boned\u201d side, built like a Sherman tank, he still looked so small next to Owen. That dude\u2019s a Clydesdale, I thought, and Wally\u2019s road pizza.
\n\u201cSor\u2026sorry, but I can\u2019t do it,\u201d Wally refused, his voice three octaves higher than normal. Even though he sounded like a yipping dog, he somehow stood his ground.
\nOwen\u2019s face turned beet red. He obviously didn\u2019t appreciate being challenged in front of the crowd.
\nIt\u2019s Friday the 13th, I remembered, and Jason\u2019s back.
\nOwen grabbed for Wally\u2019s backpack, who pulled away violently.
\n\u201cOoooh,\u201d the crowd groaned.
\n\u201cYou must be out of your damn mind, loser,\u201d the aggressor hissed.
\n\u201cI\u2026I would be if\u2026\u201d Wally stuttered, looking like a terrified Kindergartner, \u201c\u2026if I let you take another book.\u201d
\nI didn\u2019t blame him. After the way Pop reacted the last time this same nightmare happened, I thought, Wally has no choice. My find quickly flashed back.<\/p>\n

~~~<\/p>\n

A month earlier, Owen had snatched one of Wally\u2019s school books, opened the bus window and tossed it out\u2014while everyone laughed nervously, hoping they weren\u2019t next.
\nThis could never happen to me, I realized, priding myself on the fact that I never took a book home. This wasn\u2019t because I wasn\u2019t supposed to, or didn\u2019t need to. I\u2019d simply decided early on that if the material couldn\u2019t be learned in the classroom, there was no way I was going to \u201cget it\u201d at home.
\nWhen we got home, Wally explained that he\u2019d been \u201cbullied on the bus.\u201d
\nOur father\u2019s reaction was even worst than the crime Wally had reported. \u201cBullied?\u201d Pop roared, addressing Wally, me and our little brother in the living room, \u201cthere\u2019s no such thing as being bullied unless you allow it, right?\u201d He didn\u2019t wait for an answer. \u201cLions are not bullied by sheep,\u201d he barked, \u201cand I hope to God I\u2019m not raising sheep!\u201d
\n\u201cOkay, Pop,\u201d Wally mumbled at a little more than a whisper, \u201cI get it.\u201d
\n\u201cThere\u2019s only one way to set a bully straight,\u201d Pop added, staring my older brother in the eye.
\nAny one of us could have recited his next words by heart.
\n\u201cPunch him square in the nose as hard as you can.\u201d
\n\u201cWalt!\u201d my mother yelled from the kitchen, clearly opposed to the tough lesson.
\nPop peered even harder into Wally\u2019s eyes. \u201cAs hard as you can,\u201d he repeated through gritted teeth.
\nThree heads nodded.
\nMessage received, I thought, loud and clear. When teaching us, Pop never gently peeled back the onion. He always sliced it right down the middle, cutting straight to the bitter tears.<\/p>\n

As if that wasn\u2019t bad enough, Wally had heard two earfuls over the missing book\u2014not just from our father but from his teacher, as well. My brother had reported that his book was missing; that he\u2019d lost it. It was better than the alternative. If he\u2019d told the truth, it would have been so much worse. Owen would have been enraged and Wally\u2019s classmates would have labeled him a stool pigeon. And Pop, well, Pop would have thought he was a coward\u2014a fate worse than death itself.
\nYup, it\u2019s so much better to lie sometimes, I decided.<\/p>\n

~~~<\/p>\n

Back on the bus, the crowd grew louder. \u201cOooooh\u2026\u201d they sang in chorus; everyone was now up on their knees to witness the inevitable pummeling.
\nI\u2019d always looked up to my brother. Now, I just felt bad for him.
\nAs Owen\u2019s jaw muscles flexed violently, his beady eyes darted back and forth\u2014his baby brain clearly considering his options. He looked toward Mr. Gifford, whose squinted eyes were looking into the giant rear view mirror positioned directly above his head.
\n\u201cYou\u2019re lucky, you little queer,\u201d Owen spat at my brother.
\nWally kept his ground. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you pick on\u2026on someone your own size?\u201d he stammered.
\nI couldn\u2019t believe my ears. It was like experiencing a scene from Karate Kid. Wally\u2019s sticking up for himself, even though Magilla Gorilla\u2019s threatening to bash his squash in. Although my brother had found the courage to stare the predator down, I knew he wasn\u2019t crazy enough to accept the giant\u2019s invitation to tussle.
\nOwen laughed, cynically. \u201cOh, you\u2019re my bitch now,\u201d he said, \u201cand I\u2019m gonna take care of you good when we get back from vacation. You got it, bitch?\u201d
\nThe crowd didn\u2019t laugh this time; everyone feeling bad for Wally. It could be any one of us at any time, I thought. Owen was an equal opportunity bully who didn\u2019t discriminate.
\n\u201cI\u2019m gonna beat you down,\u201d Owen promised Wally, \u201cand it\u2019s gonna be like that for the rest of the year.\u201d He chuckled. \u201cAnd next year, too.\u201d By now, his putrid breath was inches from my brother\u2019s crimson face, spittle flying with every terrifying word he spouted.
\nI\u2019d never felt so freaked out, and the scumbag wasn\u2019t even talking to me. I don\u2019t know how Wally\u2019s staying on his feet, I thought, proud that my brother\u2019s eyes never left Owen\u2019s.
\nAs the bus screeched to a stop in front of our house, Wally turned to leave. The brakes weren\u2019t done squealing when Owen pushed him in the back, collapsing him to the filthy floor.
\nEyes wide, Wally looked up from his prone position.
\n\u201cSay one word,\u201d Owen growled, \u201cand I\u2019ll kick your friggin\u2019 teeth in right here.\u201d
\nWally scrambled to his feet and glared at him again before marching off the bus, hyperventilating from either fear or anger. Most likely both, I figured.
\nAs the bus\u2019s folding door closed and the air brakes belched out a sigh, I turned to Wally. \u201cDo you think the Sleestak will actually\u2026\u201d I began to ask.
\n\u201cShut your damn mouth before I kick your teeth in!\u201d he barked.
\n\u201cWell, okay then,\u201d I mumbled. My big brother was a master of wedgies and Indian sunburns, with years of experience under his belt. I hope you get yours after vacation, I thought.<\/p>\n

As we entered the house, Ma was at the stove, making a vat of hot dog stew. \u201cHow was everyone\u2019s day?\u201d the short woman asked. She had the kindest eyes and most loving smile\u2014except on those moody days when she\u2019d eaten a bowl of spiders for breakfast.
\n\u201cJust great,\u201d Wally said, storming toward our bedroom.
\n\u201cBetter than his,\u201d I said, pointing at my brother.
\nWally stopped at our bedroom\u2019s plastic accordion door, spinning on his heels to stare me into silence.
\nThe menacing look worked. \u201cI had a good day,\u201d I told my mother, prepared to quell any questions she might have. \u201cMr. Timmons, my science teacher, nearly choked to death on an apple in class today,\u201d I told her, laughing.
\n\u201cAnd you think that\u2019s funny, Herbie?\u201d she asked, disgustedly.
\nI shrugged. \u201cYou would have too, Ma, if you\u2019d been there,\u201d I told her. \u201cHe was just starting to turn blue when he coughed it out.\u201d
\n\u201cDear God,\u201d she said, \u201cthat\u2019s enough. I don\u2019t want to hear another word about it.\u201d
\nI smiled. Mission accomplished, I thought, knowing there was no way she\u2019d remember my comment about Wally. \u201cOh, and we\u2019re on vacation all next week,\u201d I reminded her.
\n\u201cI know, I know,\u201d she said, her face incapable of concealing her disappointment. \u201cWhen Alphonse gets home, I want the three of you to clean up that pig sty you call a bedroom.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy would we clean it now, before vacation week?\u201d I asked. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t make sense, Ma. We\u2019re only going to mess it up all week.\u201d
\n\u201cBecause I said so, that\u2019s why.\u201d She stared at me for a moment. \u201cIf you want, I can have your father\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cFine,\u201d I quickly surrendered, \u201cwe\u2019ll get started when Cockroach gets home from school.\u201d
\nMy younger brother was still in elementary school and took a later bus. I have a half hour to play Atari, I thought, and that new Donkey Kong game is mint.<\/p>\n

The Atari gaming system was the best Christmas gift my brothers and I had ever received. Although I\u2019d begged for Rock \u2018Em Sock \u2018Em Robots, Ma adamantly refused. \u201cNot on your life,\u201d she told me, \u201cthe last thing you guys need is more encouragement to fight.\u201d Instead, we received a much better\u2014and completely unexpected\u2014Christmas present.
\nThe Atari 2600 came with two joystick controllers with red buttons, a conjoined pair of paddle controllers, and black game cartridges that looked a lot like Pop\u2019s 8-track tapes.<\/p>\n

Wally stormed out of the room just as I was entering.
\n\u201cWhere are you heading?\u201d I asked.
\n\u201cTo do my paper route.\u201d
\n\u201cCan I come with you?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cCome on, Wally,\u201d I said. \u201cI can help you and\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cI said no,\u201d he barked. \u201cBesides, I need to hurry today and get it done quick.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cNone of your business.\u201d He stepped through the kitchen, heading for the front door.
\n\u201cBe back for supper,\u201d my mother told him.
\n\u201cI will, Ma,\u201d he said, walking out of the house and slamming the door behind him.
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with Wally today?\u201d my mother called out, just as I was starting to control the block-headed ape on the black-and-white TV screen.
\nNice try, Ma, I thought, confident that I\u2019d never make the same mistake twice. \u201cHe\u2019s just wiggin\u2019 to get his paper route done, so he can veg out tonight,\u201d I told her. \u201cThe Dukes of Hazzard are on and he\u2019s in love with Daisy.\u201d I smiled, thinking, We all are.
\n\u201cWell, there\u2019ll be no Dukes of Hazzard, if you boys don\u2019t get that room cleaned up.\u201d
\n\u201cWe\u2019ll get it done, Ma,\u201d I yelled from the bedroom. \u201cMe and Cockroach will tackle it when the space cadet gets home.\u201d
\nI returned my attention to the TV screen, and began jumping barrels with my two-dimensional video ape.<\/p>\n

Our bedroom door opened and closed like a cheap accordion, catching Cockroach\u2019s fingers within its folds. \u201cOuch!\u201d he yelled out.
\nI laughed. I couldn\u2019t help it. In fact, each time my little brother screamed out in pain, Wally and I laughed like it was the first time he\u2019d ever hurt himself. Cockroach\u2019s injuries never get old, I thought.
\nAs soon as he stopped his belly-aching, Cockroach and I went straight to work. \u201cEither that,\u201d I told him, \u201cor Ma won\u2019t let us watch Dukes of Hazzard.\u201d
\n\u201cShe wouldn\u2019t do that,\u201d he said.
\nI shrugged. \u201cYou wanna risk it?\u201d
\n\u201cWhat about Wally?\u201d he asked. \u201cIsn\u2019t he gonna help us?\u201d
\n\u201cHe\u2019s on his paper route.\u201d I thought about it, surprised that I still felt bad for my older brother. \u201cLet\u2019s just get it done, you little cabbage patch kid.\u201d
\nHe flipped me the bird.
\nOur bedroom consisted of single bed and a set of bunkbeds that was also used as a fort, a spaceship, or anything our cross-wired brains could conjure up\u2014with a bed sheet draped down from the top bunk. There were two bureaus, Cockroach\u2019s padlocked toy box and a small black-and-white TV that sat on a rickety fake wooden stand, the Atari console and joysticks lying in front on the shag carpeted floor. Three beanbag chairs helped to complete the cluttered room.
\nCleaning was not as simple as it sounded. Not long ago, Ma had insisted, \u201cYou guys are gross and, from now on, you\u2019ll be doing your own laundry and making your own beds.\u201d I had KISS bedding that once belonged to Wally. Although Cockroach liked to pretend he was sleeping on Star Wars bedding, he enjoyed my hand-me-down astronaut set. It wasn\u2019t easy changing the bedding on a bunkbed, but we finally got it done.
\nFor the next hour, while we put away clothes and moved things around\u2014mostly kicking everything under the beds\u2014Steven Tyler from Aerosmith wailed away on Cockroach\u2019s massive silver boom box. Although we each owned a portable stereo system, Cockroach\u2019s was in the best shape. He takes good care of his stuff, I thought, in case he ever wants to unload it to the highest bidder. It was in pristine condition, with no stickers or corroded battery compartment,. He barely used it, so this was a treat.
\nWhen we were done straightening up, I turned to Cockroach. \u201cLooks schweet, huh?\u201d
\nHe nodded in agreement. Without a proper inspection, the place looked immaculate\u2014or at least as clean as it had been in a very long time. \u201cSchweet,\u201d he repeated.
\nIt was amazing to me how different my brothers were. Being stuck in the middle of them, I usually played the family diplomat. Cockroach\u2019s real name was Alphonse, after our Pepere\u2014but we always called him Cockroach. I wasn\u2019t sure if it was because of the way he scurried about, or because no matter how badly Wally and I beat on him we couldn\u2019t seem to kill him. I learned later on that he\u2019d actually been nicknamed after a character on one of Pop\u2019s favorite TV shows, Hogan\u2019s Heroes.
\nCockroach was more like a skeleton wrapped in olive skin, while I was built on the sturdy side like my older brother. Although we also shared the small potato-shaped nose, I had blue eyes with curly blonde hair, which made more than a few people confuse me for a girl when I was young. Cockroach had darker eyes and a nose as slender as his build, making him appear like the one piece that didn\u2019t quite fit into the family portrait.
\n\u201cWhat do you want to play?\u201d he asked me once we\u2019d finished cleaning. His deep dimples framed a grin that was sure to make most females crane their necks.
\n\u201cWe could play with your Stretch Armstrong doll,\u201d I teased.
\nHis handsome face went white.
\nI laughed, remembering that ridiculously violent day.<\/p>\n

~~~<\/p>\n

My brothers and I had enjoyed a few rare days of peace, until turning into our usual slugfest. During the melee, Wally grabbed Cockroach\u2019s Stretch Armstrong doll, who ended up getting the worst of it.
\nWearing blue bikini underwear, the bare-chested, blonde-haired rubber doll could take a real thrashing. We could stretch him and even tie him into a knot before he went back to his original bulky form. Whether catapulted high into the air or used as the rope in a heated tug of war match, the action figure was reputed to be indestructible.
\nScreaming for mercy, Cockroach watched on in horror, while Wally and I put that poor doll to the test. We pulled and pulled, both of us ending up on our backsides, digging in our heels to create more distance between us.
\nAs the first break in the skin revealed itself, Cockroach cried out, \u201cYou\u2019re hurting him!\u201d
\nThat\u2019s when something came over me and Wally\u2014who was also known as the Mangler. We pulled harder, mutilating Mr. Armstrong beyond recognition and dispelling the fact that he couldn\u2019t be destroyed. As Wally and I finished ripping the arms off of old Stretch, a clear gel that looked a lot like Crazy Glue oozed out.
\n\u201cNo!\u201d Cockroach wailed.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s weird,\u201d Wally commented, nonchalantly, \u201cthe jelly doesn\u2019t have any smell.\u201d
\nInconsolable, Cockroach went down on all fours to mourn the death of his favorite playmate.<\/p>\n

~~~<\/p>\n

\u201cYou guys suck,\u201d Cockroach said, back in the present.
\nI couldn\u2019t argue with him. Our job as big brothers is to toughen you up, I thought, justifying the cruel act. I then realized that Wally the Mangler destroyed everything in his path. The new Merlin six-in-one hand-held electronic game I\u2019d gotten for Christmas a couple of years ago, the table-top motorcycle game he unwrapped last year\u2026everything.
\n\u201cYou want to play Operation?\u201d Cockroach asked me.
\n\u201cNah.\u201d
\n\u201cPerfection?\u201d
\n\u201cHalf the pieces are missing,\u201d I reminded him.
\n\u201cBattleship?\u201d
\nI shook my head. \u201cCan\u2019t, the batteries are dead.\u201d I smiled. \u201cWhat about Twister?\u201d
\n\u201cNo way,\u201d he said, \u201cit just turns into a pig pile with me on the bottom.\u201d
\nI laughed. That\u2019s right.
\nHis eyes went wide with excitement. \u201cWhat about G.I. Joe\u2019s, Herbie?\u201d he asked. \u201cWe haven\u2019t played war in a long time.\u201d
\nI was well beyond the cusp of being too old to play soldier, but making Cockroach happy was the perfect excuse for me to play. It\u2019s the least I can do after helping to murder Stretch Armstrong, I thought. Besides, war is not an individual sport.<\/p>\n

Wally and I had received the entire G.I. Joe Command Center a few years earlier when we\u2019d both gotten our tonsils removed. \u201cIt\u2019s for all three of you to share,\u201d our mother had announced, referring to the large gift. In recent months, Cockroach claimed the cool play set as his own, and we were good with it.
\nIt didn\u2019t take long for my little brother to set up everything on the floor we\u2019d just cleared. The grey G.I. Joe Headquarters Command Center was walled in the front and wide open in the back, allowing for the tank to drive in and out of its bay, and the Jeep to enter the Motor Pool. Multiple G.I. Joe action figures manned the communication tactical station with colorful stickers illustrating the security monitors. An armory, filled with weapons, was located directly beneath the Heli-Pad\u2014home to the awesome Dragonfly Helicopter. A holding cell for captured enemies was normally empty\u2014as Cockroach and I rarely took enemies\u2014while machine guns and canons defended strategic positions on top of the spot-lit wall.
\nFor the next hour or so, we fought\u2014and defeated\u2014battalions of imaginary enemies.
\n\u201cCome in, Flying Squirrel,\u201d I called into a damaged walkie-talkie, \u201cthis is Swamp Yankee. How copy, over?\u201d
\n\u201cI read you, Swamp Yankee,\u201d Cockroach called back on his matching broken walkie-talkie. \u201cThe enemy has been neutralized.\u201d
\nI laughed. Cockroach is too smart for his age, I thought. It must be from all the TV he watches. It didn\u2019t really matter that our walkie talkies had been broken since we\u2019d gotten them. We were kneeling side-by-side only a few feet apart.
\n\u201cSo you really like this girl, Donna Torres, huh?\u201d Cockroach commented, parking the Jeep in front of our perimeter.
\nI wheeled the tank through the Headquarters compound. \u201cLike totally,\u201d I said, never looking up. Donna\u2019s different, I thought, she\u2019s beautiful. Most girls aren\u2019t too hard to look at, but Donna\u2019s in a class all her own.
\n\u201cHelp, I\u2019ve fallen and I can\u2019t get up,\u201d Cockroach joked, mimicking the funny commercial of an elderly woman pushing a panic button on her necklace.
\nThat\u2019s clever, bro, I thought. After a few moments of tank patrol, I blurted, \u201cI think she\u2019s the one.\u201d
\nChuckling, my little brother took the plastic helicopter into the air. \u201cSure she is, Herbie. You said the same thing about Abby Gerwitz last summer.\u201d
\nHe\u2019s right, I thought. For as long as I could remember, I had a huge crush on Abby Gerwitz. But who hasn\u2019t? I thought. \u201cShe likes Richard Giles and everyone knows it,\u201d I told him, and because of that my feelings for her had died a very cruel death. \u201cDonna\u2019s the one,\u201d I repeated, hammering my point home.
\nCockroach stopped playing. \u201cHave you told her?\u201d he asked, giving me his undivided attention.
\n\u201cSort of.\u201d
\n\u201cSort of?\u201d
\nFor weeks, I couldn\u2019t stop thinking about exchanging valentines with Donna; giving her those small chalk hearts that said everything I didn\u2019t have the courage to tell her: Be Mine and I Love You. I decided that these colorful messages of affection were much safer to give than a greeting card or a box of chocolates. But what if she doesn\u2019t like me? I kept thinking, torturing myself. I\u2019ll be a laughing stock at school. I began getting heated, picturing Paul Roberts laughing at me, and then me punching his smug face over-and-over-and-over again. Even young, I sensed that love never went unpunished.
\nOn Valentine\u2019s Day, I got to homeroom early and left a box of the chalk hearts in Donna\u2019s desk. I signed the gift, From Herbie. While my heart pounded out of my chest, I watched from the back of the room as she found the candy. She looked back at me and smiled. \u201cThank you,\u201d she said, and I nodded\u2014my face feeling like it was on fire.
\nThe more I thought about it, the more I realized that Donna had never gotten the real message I was trying to send.
\n\u201cI gave her a Valentine\u2019s,\u201d I explained to Cockroach, \u201cbut I\u2019m not sure if she thinks I gave it to her as a friend.\u201d
\n\u201cOh\u2026\u201d He thought for a moment. \u201cThat\u2019s pretty lame.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat do you know?\u201d I snapped back. Cockroach was still too young to understand the risk and devastation associated with being rejected by a girl\u2014especially a girl as perfect as Donna. It was like being picked for teams in gym class; no big deal unless you were picked last. And you only have so many shots in Middle School, I thought. If you\u2019re rejected by more than one girl, then you\u2019re destined to be stuck in Loserville for life.
\n\u201cSo what are you going to do?\u201d he asked, bringing me back into the moment.
\n\u201cI think I\u2019m going to write her a letter.\u201d
\n\u201cReally?\u201d
\n\u201cNo question.\u201d
\nWhile we played, I began to daydream about my crush. I could picture Donna as plain as the bearded G.I. Joe doll I was holding.<\/p>\n

Donna\u2019s so choice, I thought. She had the prettiest chocolate-colored eyes and a smile that made me feel like I was the only eighth-grade boy walking the earth. Every day at school, she either wore Jordache or Sergio Valente jeans; these were skin-tight right down to a pair of jelly shoes or clogs. Unlike most of the other girls who wore big hair with bangs\u2014mall hair, as we called it\u2014 or tied up in a scrunchy, Donna\u2019s dirty blonde hair was parted in the middle and feathered back. Just like Farah Fawcett on Charlie\u2019s Angels, I thought. She usually wore a shirt with shoulder pads and her jewelry was simple; gel bracelets and friendship beads. I\u2019d only seen her in leg warmers and a colorful headband once, realizing she\u2019d look good no matter what she wore.
\nYup, I thought, I definitely have to write her a letter. It\u2019s the only way she\u2019ll ever know that I\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cHerbie!\u201d I heard someone scream.
\nI looked up. Cockroach was gone and I was sitting on the floor alone. Wow, that\u2019s weird, I thought.
\n\u201cHerbie!\u201d I heard again, struggling to register reality.
\nIt\u2019s Ma, I realized. \u201cSorry, Ma, I didn\u2019t hear you.\u201d
\n\u201cHow could you not hear me? I\u2019ve been yelling for you for ten minutes.\u201d
\nNow there\u2019s an exaggeration, I thought. \u201cSorry, Ma,\u201d I repeated.
\n\u201cYour father\u2019s home from work. Go get cleaned up for supper.\u201d
\n\u201cOkay.\u201d
\n\u201cNow,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

When I pulled my chair out from the kitchen table, Pop was already sitting at the head of it\u2014wearing his faded dungarees and graying crew-neck t-shirt. Thankfully, his same-colored handkerchief\u2014used to blow his nose and then yank out our loose teeth, sometimes one right after the other\u2014remained in his back pocket.
\nWally was also there, his face ruddy from the cold.
\n\u201cHow was school today?\u201d Pop asked, blowing on his hot bowl of stew.
\n\u201cFine,\u201d Wally mumbled, his eyes on his steaming meal.
\n\u201cGood,\u201d I added, \u201cwe\u2019re on vacation next week.\u201d
\nThe old man looked across the table at Ma. \u201cLucky Mom,\u201d he said, grinning.
\n\u201cAnd we cleaned our room,\u201d Cockroach reported.
\n\u201cWell, what do you know,\u201d he said, \u201cit\u2019s a winter miracle.\u201d
\nFor the next half hour, besides the occasional grunt or groan, we ate in silence. \u201cLots of hot dogs tonight,\u201d Pop commented, dunking a slice of buttered bread into his bowl. \u201cDid we hit the lottery or something?\u201d
\nMa grinned. \u201cThey were on sale, Walt.\u201d
\nAs they discussed the expensive price of groceries, my mind drifted off again. I couldn\u2019t help it. I don\u2019t even care that Donna has a crush on Kevin Bacon, I thought, shrugging to myself. All those hearts on her Trapper Keeper, with his initials written inside each one\u2014who cares. I inhaled deeply. I love it when she wears that Luvs Baby Soft perfume. I could actually smell the liquid baby powder when I closed my eyes. Ahhhh\u2026
\n\u201cI\u2019m done,\u201d Wally announced loudly, bringing me back to the table. After placing the plastic bowl into the sink, my brother grabbed his heavy winter jacket and put it on.
\n\u201cWhere are you going now?\u201d Ma asked him.
\n\u201cThe cellar,\u201d he said.
\n\u201cGood,\u201d she said, getting up. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you throw a load of towels into the wash while you\u2019re down there?\u201d
\nAlthough Wally\u2019s face contorted, he nodded in surrender. \u201cFine, Ma.\u201d
\nWithin seconds, she was back in the kitchen with an overflowing laundry basket of mismatched towels.
\n\u201cBo and Luke Duke are on tonight,\u201d Cockroach reminded him.
\n\u201cI\u2019ll be back by then,\u201d Wally said, wrestling the bulky basket out the front door.
\nMy father was finishing his second bowl of soup when he asked, \u201cWhat the hell\u2019s he do down there, anyway?\u201d
\n\u201cLaundry,\u201d Ma said, standing to fetch him another bowl of stew.<\/p>\n

At eight o\u2019clock, Wally, Cockroach and I watched our favorite show\u2014the Dukes of Hazzard. While we sat entranced by Bo and Luke\u2019s unrealistic car jumps in the General Lee\u2014as well as Daisy\u2019s really short cut-off jeans\u2014Ma treated us to our favorite Friday treat: hand-cut French fries, salted and shaken in a brown paper bag. There\u2019s no better snack on a Friday night, I thought. Hold the vinegar, please.
\nOnce the show was done, the TV belonged to Ma\u2014who watched Dallas at nine o\u2019clock, immediately followed by Falcon Crest. For two full hours, she snubbed out one cigarette butt after the next into a giant ashtray that rested atop its decorative wrought iron stand right beside the couch. In no time, the living room was engulfed in smoke, a low-clinging fog that had quietly crept in. While Pop snored on and off in his worn recliner\u2014a half-empty beer can in hand\u2014my brothers and I decided to call it a night. We\u2019d already second-hand smoked a full pack that day.<\/p>\n

My brothers and I wrapped up the night with a lively game of Atari Pong.
\nCockroach preferred the longer paddles, while I was a bit more skilled and liked the shorter rectangles. I loved it. With virtual reality, there was much less need for actual reality.<\/p>\n

Once Cockroach turned out the light and we retired to our beds, I called out to Wally, \u201cGoodnight, John-boy\u2026\u201d
\nMy big brother normally responded like we were part of the Walton Family, but there was no reply tonight. There was no laughter\u2014just silence.
\nIt suddenly hit me. Wally\u2019s still buggn\u2019 out, I thought, realizing that my brother\u2019s fear was so great that it was swallowing him whole. All because of that bullshit on the bus today. I shook my head. He just needs to take a chill pill. I mean, we\u2019re off for an entire week.<\/p>\n

—<\/p>\n

Excerpt from Bread Bags & Bullies: Surviving the ’80s<\/em> by Steven Manchester. Copyright \u00a9 2019 by Steven Manchester. Reproduced with permission from Steven Manchester. All rights reserved.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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