A Semester in the Life of a Garbage Bag Page 18

  Fat chance. All the newspapers and magazines were positive that SACGEN was the big success of the decade. Everyone was so busy patting everyone else on the back that, when the students tried to give the real story, they were dismissed as spoiled brats making trouble. And because of the cover-up, it was only the DeWitt kids who had seen blackouts and breakdowns. There was truth to be told here, and no one would listen.

  Sean sat up in bed, shaking his head to clear it. There was something wrong with a world where no one would listen to twenty-two hundred students whose education and well-being were in danger, while an eighty-eight-year-old poet with a yo-yo had the ear of the entire nation.

  Wait a minute! Of course! No one would pay attention to twenty-two hundred teenagers, but what if they had a spokesman? A famous spokesman, like Gavin Gunhold?

  Flinging the covers aside, he crept out of bed and padded barefoot out of his room and down the hall to Gramp’s door.

  Gramp was enjoying a good dream, as his face was blissful in repose. His right middle finger was moving rhythmically, as though attached to an imaginary yo-yo, and he was murmuring, “On registration day at taxidermy school …”

  “Gramp — are you asleep?”

  Gramp opened one eye. “Buzz off.”

  “Gramp, it’s me — Sean.”

  Drowsily, the old man sat up, squinting at the clock on his night table. “It’s four o’clock in the morning! What are you — crazy?”

  “I just had the greatest idea for Gavin Gunhold.”

  “Oh, him. He’s pretty much booked up until May. Call Ashley.”

  “No, no!” Excitedly, Sean related the idea of having the poet speak for the students of DeWitt and expose SACGEN to the world.

  Gramp was unimpressed. “I’ll say whatever you like, but there’s no reason for anyone to take my opinion of SACGEN seriously. I’m a poet.”

  Sean shook his head. “All we need you for is to get the people and the media to show up. We organize a special ‘Thank You’ reading at the school, fill the place, and wait for SACGEN to go on the frizz. When people see it, they’ll have to believe it.”

  “But you claim the Department of Energy sends over a busload of engineers every time SACGEN is in the public eye. Surely they’ll do it again for us and our reading.”

  “Yes,” said Sean, “but you’ll explain exactly what we’re doing, so the reporters won’t let the Department of Energy pull any cover-up. We’ll let Sopwith and Johnson work the windmill, just like it was a normal day at school and, with everyone watching, the other engineers will have to sit tight. Then it’s “The Gavin Gunhold Show” until the windmill breaks down.”

  “And will it?”

  “Of course it will. It always does.”

  Gramp thought it over. Finally, he said, “You know, you’re not a robot after all. You’ll never end up pledging your life to an argon-neon laser.”

  Sean grinned. “It’s a good plan, huh, Gramp?”

  Gramp lay back down. “If it works, I’ll be the first one to admit you’re a genius. But if something goes wrong, you’re the one who explains to your mother why we have to move to a new town.”

  ***

  Howard Newman was so impressed by what Sean had to say that he stopped dealing the cards. “No way!”

  “Yes,” Sean insisted. “We’re going to get the windmill once and for all.”

  Carefully, Howard refunded the five toothpick ante to Randy, Chris, Leland, and Ten-Ton, and shut down the game in order to give Sean his full attention. “Talk to me.”

  Quietly, Sean explained to them the upcoming Gavin Gunhold presentation and the plan to discredit SACGEN. “Mr. Gunhold has already agreed to do it, and if I can count on a few helpers to make sure the engineers don’t try to pull a fast one, it should go off smooth as silk. The windmill will break down in front of witnesses and reporters.”

  “Yeah, but it’ll still be standing,” said Howard, vaguely disappointed. “I was hoping for something with a little more violence. But listen, hey, whatever does the job.”

  “Awesome idea, Sean,” Chris approved.

  Leland nodded. “The vub resonates, baby.”

  “Great,” said Sean. “One last thing. Raymond will be back at school in a couple of days, and he’s really mad at the windmill because of his ankle. Don’t tell him about the plan. I want it to be a surprise.”

  This was something that had occurred to Sean on the way to school. Someone who brought shame and ridicule onto SACGEN, and therefore Q. David Hyatt, would be the last person in the world selected to go to Theamelpos. So Raymond could not be told about the plot against SACGEN, because he would do anything and everything to stop it. It was a little sneaky, keeping him in the dark, but it was necessary. SACGEN had to go, for Raymond’s and everyone’s good.

  “Right,” agreed Howard. “We don’t tell Raymond. It’ll be our get-well present to a dear friend.”

  Ten-Ton looked confused. “Howard, you don’t like Raymond, remember?”

  “I am big enough to forgive and forget,” said Howard piously. “As soon as the windmill did a number on his ankle, I forgave and forgot.”

  “So I can count on you guys,” said Sean. “Great.”

  The plan was in motion. Ashley had already pledged her full support to the venture, although Sean hadn’t mentioned anything about SACGEN. To her, Gavin was appearing as a thank-you gesture to the school that had discovered him. This way, Ashley couldn’t leak the news to Raymond.

  The two made an appointment to see Mr. Hyatt for permission to go ahead, and naturally, the principal was overjoyed. Here was an opportunity to show off his suit, his car, his SACGEN and his poet, all on the same night. He praised Ashley and Sean for their initiative, escorted them out of the office and rushed to phone the Department of Energy with the good news.

  ***

  The next day, Raymond was back in school, thump-swinging deftly around on his crutches. By the time Sean arrived in the morning, his English partner was being waited upon like some Oriental warlord by Nikki, Marilyn, and Carita. His cast already bore several smart signatures, including that of Leland Fenster, with the dedication Zunging negatoid, baby. Get positive soon. The victim was seated on an inactive radiator (from the good old days before SACGEN), balancing on his lap a tray that held an enormous Burger King breakfast, while his fans hovered around, watching his eating with great concern.

  “Don’t forget about your French toast, Raymond,” Nikki counseled wisely. “Here, you can wash that down with some coffee.”

  “Hey, Delancey,” Raymond greeted Sean. “Come on over and grab some hashbrowns.”

  Sean kept his distance until the girls went off, bearing the empty tray.

  “Having a broken ankle isn’t too bad,” Raymond proclaimed as Sean settled himself on the radiator beside him. “Everyone’s treating me like delicate crystal. Miss Ritchie can’t hit me up for any garbage jobs, because I’m injured. And the cast comes off in six weeks, add another month to strengthen the ankle, and a nice safe caution period after that, and Jardine will be good as new to zoom off to Theamelpos in July.” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want to give Miss Stockholm damaged merchandise.”

  Sean felt a sudden pang of conscience. The attack on SACGEN was sure to put hopes of Theamelpos in the grave. He grimaced. It was just Raymond’s consistently lousy luck that the chance to get a shot at SACGEN had to come up now.

  “I’ve got some news,” he began carefully. “Ashley and I are setting up a public appearance for Gavin Gunhold right here at DeWitt on the sixteenth.”

  Raymond’s face broke into a big smile. “You’re a real pal, Delancey. This’ll be the icing on the cake for Theamelpos. Q-Dave’ll die of happiness. But how are you going to fix it so your folks don’t show up?”

  “They’ve got a big party in the city that night, so they won’t be around.”

  Raymond nodded in contentment. “Fan-tastic. Before, I was pretty sure we were going to Theamelpos; now I’m positive. Gramp is the swee
test guy in the world to do this for Jardine. And I’m not going to forget you either, Delancey.”

  Sean was sure of it.

  Danny Eckerman walked up to them, oozing charm. “Well, well, and how are we feeling today?”

  Raymond scowled. “We were feeling fine, but then something real ugly came up.”

  “I was really shocked to hear about your leg,” said Danny in concern. “Do you think it’ll interfere with your preparations for the Christmas activities?”

  “I’m working just as hard now as I was before,” Raymond assured him. “I was doing nothing, and my future plans include a lot of the same. Now beat it.”

  Danny’s smile never wavered. “If you need some help, I can arrange to get you somebody, because the time really is running short.”

  “Now I know why the doctor gave me two crutches,” Raymond informed Sean conversationally. “One is to lean on, and the other is to beat off annoying idiots.” He raised a crutch threateningly.

  “Well, I’d better be going,” said Danny pleasantly. “Keep me posted on your progress.”

  Raymond patted his crutch. “That’s another good thing about having a broken ankle.”

  Ashley did her usual thorough job of publicity, and the Gavin Gunhold reading at DeWitt was assured of a large audience. With her faithful boyfriend, Steve, at her side, she sent out press releases, printed up thousands of flyers, and recruited students from her art class to deliver them door to door. Mr. Hyatt was so excited over the project that the school paid the expenses. For good measure, he sent notices to all parents, urging them to attend. Long Island’s Newsday published an article on the upcoming reading, and even the New York papers mentioned it. Gavin Gunhold was news.

  Gramp was serene during the big buildup, and continued to answer his fan mail and smoke his Scrulnick’s as before. There were a few anxious moments when Mrs. Delancey asked who this famous poet was, and how she, an English teacher, had never heard of him. But Sean and Gramp managed to bury the issue under many other subjects. Nikki, fortunately, chose to keep quiet.

  Howard was happy but nervous over the upcoming sneak attack on SACGEN. The sheer importance of the plan was taking his mind off cheating at poker, and he began losing thousands of toothpicks. So he postponed the game until after the windmill’s demise, and the poker players just sat around their table, chortling over their roles as SACGEN-busters.

  Sean himself was completely wired over December sixteenth, a mass of tingling nerve endings, vibrating in a vacuum. There was nothing for him to do except be scared — that, and to appear totally nonchalant in front of Raymond. With everything in motion rolling up to the big event Monday night, he couldn’t help reflecting that he didn’t even recognize himself. As recently as September, his life had been normal. Sure, he was a basketball star, and a popular guy, but everything had been safe and easy and straightforward; now here he was, embroiled up to his nostrils in a plan to put an end to a thirty-three-million-dollar project. He had gotten Gramp into it, too, not as himself, but as a long-dead Canadian poet, scheduled to emcee the revolution.

  With Raymond and Nikki the only people aware of Gavin Gunhold’s true identity, and Howard and his crew the only ones who knew the real purpose of the gathering, Sean felt himself at the center of a web of intrigue and deceit, withholding at least some information from everything else. It was definitely not Sean Delancey. This kind of scheming and conniving would have been a bit much even for Raymond Jardine.

  Well, it was all worth it. This was the windmill. All year, he’d been blabbing about how something should be done about it. And now was the time when he would put his money where his mouth was. Sure, he was going to catch a lot of flak for this. He might even get booted off the basketball team. But let it never be said that Sean Delancey wasn’t ready to stand up for his principles.

  Twelve

  Monday, December sixteenth, was a crisp, cold night with a clear, starry sky. Gavin Gunhold was scheduled to appear at eight o’clock and, first thing in the morning, the Department of Energy had sent an extra squadron of twelve engineers to help Sopwith and Johnson. SACGEN had been a model of behavior all day.

  Just before seven, the people began arriving, eager to get good seats to see the famous poet. By quarter past, the DeWitt parking lot was full, and even Mr. Hyatt’s Cadillac was forced to seek out space on the street. There were a good number of mobile units from radio and TV stations, and the newspapers and magazines were widely represented as well. The gym was filling up rapidly, and it was soon apparent that this was going to be a standing-room-only performance.

  Sean peeked out from behind the stage curtain and surveyed the crowd. There were a lot of DeWitt students and their families, but there also seemed to be many faithful Gavin Gunhold fans who had come from far and wide to see their hero in person.

  “A full house,” he announced to Gramp, who was sitting with Ashley and Steve.

  “I’m really excited,” said Ashley. “Gavin, you’re just going to knock ’em dead!”

  “Maybe even better than that,” smiled Gramp, winking at Sean.

  Sean grimaced. All weekend he had thought about Raymond and the terrible shock his English partner would go through when Gramp revealed the true purpose of the evening. He knew Raymond was in the front row in the VIP seats, and decided he must go out there and do the honorable thing. Raymond had to be warned about what was coming so that the shock would be lessened. And it was only right that he should hear it from Sean’s own mouth.

  He found Raymond in his seat, sucking up to Mr. Hyatt and senior engineer Quisenberry, who was heading up the task force to keep SACGEN from revealing its weaknesses in front of the biggest crowd of visitors the school had faced thus far.

  “It’s a wonderftil evening,” Raymond was saying. “Not only will the community get to hear our poet, but they’ll also have a chance to get a good look at SACGEN.”

  Hyatt was eating it up, while Quisenberry looked disgusted.

  “Raymond, can I have a word with you?” Sean put in.

  “Not now, Delancey. I’m busy.”

  “But Raymond, it’s important.”

  “I said not now. We’ll have plenty of time to talk on Theamelpos.” He turned back to the principal. “You were saying Mr. Hyatt …?”

  Sean retreated. Well, if Raymond wouldn’t be approached, then it would just have to be a shock. Randy jogged up. “We’re all ready, Sean.”

  “Good. We’ll be starting in a few minutes. It won’t be too long after that.”

  By eight o’clock, all the seats were filled, and the gymnasium was circled by standees. Sean was just about to give the signal for Ashley to introduce Mr. Gunhold when Mindy appeared at the microphone, Danny at her side.

  “Good evening, everybody. I’m sure we’re all excited about having Mr. Gunhold here. But first let’s have a big hand for the person who made all this possible — our student body president, Danny Eckerman.”

  There was polite applause. As Danny stepped up to the microphone and opened his mouth to speak, a crutch reached out from the front row and slammed down hard on the president’s toes.

  “YEEOOW!” Danny howled right into the microphone as the DeWitt’s students broke into laughter and applause.

  Mr. Hyatt looked at Raymond in shock.

  “Oh, it was planned,” said Raymond with a dazzling smile. “We’re comedy partners. I didn’t really hit him. He just pretended it hurt.”

  Ashley walked out onto the stage, clapping. “Oh, thank you, Raymond and Danny, for another hilarious sketch. They are two really funny guys! And now, ladies and gentlemen, the man we’ve all been waiting for, everybody’s favorite poet, Gavin Gunhold!”

  To thunderous applause from all present, Patrick Delancey ambled onto the stage, flashing the thumbs-up signal to Sean, who was hiding on the sidelines, white-faced and terrified.

  “Thank you very much. You’re a nice, friendly audience, and I want your full cooperation, especially you fellows from the press.
And also parents who have children in this school. We’ll get to all that poetry claptrap in a few minutes, but first I want to conduct a little SACGEN test.”

  Raymond, Hyatt, and Quisenberry suddenly sat bolt upright in the front row. A confused murmur buzzed through the audience. In the crowd, Sean could see Leland Fenster’s mother, president of the PTA, frowning in perplexity and, a few rows behind her, Mr. Kerr, looking on with great interest.

  “You know,” Gramp went on, “it always bugs me that, every time I pick up a newspaper, I read about what a fantastic success SACGEN is, but when I talk to the DeWitt kids, they tell me the blasted thing breaks down every five minutes and doesn’t work for beans. So tonight we’re going to find out.

  “Now, here’s something to think about. On a normal school day, SACGEN is handled by two full-time engineers. So you folks from the newspapers — count the number of engineers in that control room tonight. There are thirteen men in there right now, and just in case they can’t hack it, their boss is in the front row here, thinking up ways to shut me up before I drag his windmill through the mud.”

  All at once, the students present began to cheer and, in the groundswell of reaction, Mr. Hyatt leaped to his feet.

  “Get out of my school, you old troublemaker!”

  Gramp smiled in recognition. “You must be Q-Dave. My friends the students have told me all about you.”

  Quisenberry stood up. “I’m Senior Engineer Quisenberry of the Department of Energy, and I’m telling you that there is absolutely nothing wrong with this SACGEN unit.”

  Hoots and catcalls crested over a loud chorus of boos.

  Gramp beamed down at Quisenberry. “I was hoping you’d say that. So you won’t mind if we simulate a typical day. Sean, give the signal to remove the eleven extra engineers from the control room. And if some of you ladies and gentlemen of the press could do us a big favor and make sure that it’s done properly —”

  “This is an outrage!” Quisenberry shouted. “We do not have to defend our project —”

  “Your project has no defence!” Gramp thundered. “Ask the boy sitting next to you how he got his broken leg! During a blackout, that’s how!”