Johnny Gets His Wings

Chapter 2

As you can imagine, the shit really hit the fan. Everybody started screaming at the top of their lungs. And what made it worse was the blood. Bradley had hit the back of his head against one of the desks on his way down to planet Earth, and it must have opened a cut in his flesh. And if things weren't bad enough, his fake appendage had become dislodged from his body. It had slipped out of his slacks and was now resting at a ninety-degree angle from his upper thigh.

But don't let your imagination run wild. He wasn't dead or anything like that. In fact, he looked me right in the eyes and called me a son of a bitch as he lay prostrate on the floor.

Then he said, "You're a rotten bastard just like your old man."

I thought about kicking him right in the ribs for his insults. However, self-restraint ruled the day.

"Sorry, Mr. Bradley. I didn't mean to do it."

"Take your sorrys and shove them up your ass. They don't mean a thing to me."

Like I said, it was a wild scene. And here's the kicker. My school was Roman Catholic and white. So this drama wasn't occurring in some inner-city shithole.

The worst part was my own confusion. Should I assist the one-legged fucker to his feet? Should I ask for help? Should I simply run away? I literally had no idea what to do. My brain was in a complete fog.

That's when Ms. Heinz entered the room. She was a short pudgy lady with gray hair and black horn-rimmed glasses. In spite of her age and gender, the blood didn't seem to bother her. She was as cool as a cucumber.

She said, "Johnny, did you assault Mr. Bradley?"

I nodded my head in shame. "It was kind of an accident."

Bradley was still on the floor. "An accident my ass. This little pecker-head sucker punched me right between the eyes. If I had two legs, I'd wallop the snot out of him."

"What should I do, Ms. Heinz?"

"Help me get him to his feet."

But Bradley protested. "Don't let him touch me. In fact, I don't want him near me. Tell him to leave! Tell him to leave!"

She gave me a motherly pat on the back. "Perhaps he's right. Maybe you should go to the office and explain the situation."

"Is my dad there?"

"Where?"

"In the office?"

Her face suddenly turned bright red. "I'm not sure, dear. But nothing your father did or didn't do is a reflection on you. Deep down, I know you're a good boy."

"A good boy? Hello! Do you see me lying here on the ground? That child is a devil."

She turned her attention to Mr. Bradley. "Leave the kid alone. He made a mistake, and he's got enough to deal with at home."

But my one-legged English teacher refused to be mollified. "Get out of here, Seleck. I swear this to the Lord. If I make it back to my feet, I'm going to punch you right in the testicles. Stick around and see if I'm joking."

That's when I made my exit.