Chapters One Through Three

Sam and Ron first met in lower school and have been buddies ever since. They became good friends with Dickey and Joe over the past year through their mutual love of tennis. It began in September of the previous year. The coaches' mean and sinister looking secretary Ophelia Emig had instituted new rules requiring reservations for the use of the tennis courts after school. She referred to the types of games, singles and doubles, by the number of players: Two Play and Four Play. The boys were certain Ophelia—who they referred to as "Never-Feel-Ya"—had chosen to label them this way because Four Play was as close as she would ever get to foreplay.

On the day Ophelia renamed tennis games the boys played doubles on the only available court. They normally played singles but Four Play became their preference and they were on the courts almost every afternoon.

The friendships grew and they began spending most of their free time together. This included a four day Fourth of July vacation at the beach in Galveston. Thousands of teenagers go there for both the Fourth of July and Labor Day weekends. The beaches are filled with young people and parties are happening every night.

Tennis isn't the only activity the boys enjoy doing together: another is poker. During a holiday weekend in Galveston it takes little effort to find a hotel room with guys sitting around a bed playing cards at any time of the day or night. Occasionally Sadi Joron would take over. Sadi Joron is an acronym made of letters from each of their names (SAm, DIckey, JOe, RON). The boys each contribute the same amount of money, one of them plays and when the game ends they split the winnings—if there are any.

They usually put in a total of twelve dollars which normally represented four times the amount required for the first buy-in. It's fun, minimizes their downside and is another activity in which they're involved together. On one particular night over this Fourth of July vacation the partnership finds itself tempted by something different.

. . . . .

There is a beach party the first night hosted by a University of Texas fraternity: Tau Delta Phi. The boys are looking forward to it as these parties are always great fun and include a lot of free beer. Not long after they arrive word starts spreading about some of the frat's upper classmen having a big poker game. The buy-in is fifty dollars with additional chips being bought in amounts of ten dollars or more.

Sam looks at his friends. "What do ya' think guys?"

"It's way bigger than any game we've ever played in," Ron said. "Let's not."

"I mean for Sadi Joron. Let's do it!"

"I'm in," Joe said.

Dickey nods. "Me too."

Ron rolls his eyes. "You guys can throw your money away. I'm out."

"Don't be such a pussy," Dickey said. "We're talking Sadi Joron."

Ron looks away for a few moments before turning back to his friends. "Okay but I think it's a mistake. Who's gonna be the one to lose our money?"

"I vote for Dickey," Sam said. "He wins more often than the rest of us."

Joe nods. "Yeah he's the best choice."

Sam puts his hand on Dickey's shoulder. "I guess you're our man Mr. Torrance. Make us proud."

"How much do you guys want me to go there with?"

"What do you think you'll need?" Sam said.

"Well since I've never played with these guys I've got to have enough to hang around a while . . . say eighty bucks?"

"Twenty each?" Joe said. "I can handle that."

"Do you think they'll mind if we watch?" Sam said.

"That's gonna make me nervous. If nobody minds I'd rather y'all didn't?"

"You're the racehorse," Joe said. "You gotta saddle up so it's comfortable."

Ron pulls twenty dollars from his wallet and shoves it toward Dickey. "Here's my money. I'm going to get a beer."

Joe watches Ron walk away. "What's wrong with him?"

"Yeah," Dickey said putting the money in his pocket, "he doesn't seem too happy."

"He's just in a bad mood because Jeanne's not going to be here," Sam said. "He'll be okay."

At eleven o'clock Dickey knocks on the door of room four-seventy-two of the Galvez Hotel. A fellow he remembers seeing at the party opens it and looks through the space left by the safety chain.

"Yes?"

"I'm Dickey Torrance. I was at the party and heard there was a game."

After closing the door and removing the chain the boy inside reopens it.

"C'mon in."

Dickey enters. The boy closes and relocks the door before gesturing toward other boys sitting around a large folding table on the far side of the room. "Take any open seat."

Dickey follows him while trying to calm his nerves. The game's still poker. You just need to be careful.

Shortly after midnight Ron, Joe and Sam are walking through the party crowd talking to people they know. Ron points toward the bar.

"There's Dickey."

Joe and Sam look up and see Dickey picking up a large cup of beer. Sam shakes his head. "This can't be good. He hasn't been gone that long and when he comes back he goes to get a beer before looking for us."

Dickey sees the boys and approaches their three concerned faces with a solemn one of his own.

"Guys I did my best." There is no response. "Well I did but these guys were really good and kept betting and raising like crazy. They made every hand so expensive to play."

"Is there anything left?" Joe asked.

Dickey nods slowly and reaches into his pocket.

"The only thing I could do was to keep folding my cards until I got something decent to play. The betting was so stiff I just got scared and left early."

"I told you!" Ron said.

"But not before I WON TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS!" Dickey takes out the money and hands seventy dollars to each of his partners.

Everyone congratulates Dickey. "Sorry I was acting like such a prick before," Ron said. "I'm in the dumps about Jeanne going to her cousin's wedding in Miami instead of coming here."

Dickey smiles and shakes his head. "Forget it."

Joe puts his arm around Ron and laughs. "Amazing how some extra money can change your mood isn't it?"

Sam gently punches Ron's shoulder. "I think the party's about to become a lot more fun."

Earlier in the evening Sam had noticed a beautiful Asian girl dancing. He couldn't take his eyes off her. She looked like she was his age, about five-feet-five and very slender. He watched her long straight black hair sway across her back as she danced. When she smiled her face radiated. He thought she was incredibly sexy in her white shorts and red and white striped sailor's shirt. Its plunging neckline went just low enough to draw attention. Her tight shorts covered a firm behind and exposed a pair of magnificent legs.

Glancing around the party he sees her again. No male companion. Just talking to another girl. Sam motions toward them.

"Fellas who wants to go with me and meet the friend of that Asian doll over there?"

Dickey quickly steps forward. "I'll go."

They make their way to an area near the beer kegs and Sam slowly shakes his head. "I've always had a thing for Asian girls."

When they reach the young ladies Sam smiles and extends his hand to the one who has enchanted him. "Hi my name's Sam Cohen."

She smiles and gently shakes his hand. "I'm Cindi. Cindi Lee. This is my friend Candy."

Sam introduces Dickey and after some conversation between the four of them he steps to Cindi's side to speak directly to her. Dickey does the same with Candy. She is cute, has a bubbly personality, pretty eyes and is also wearing a low-cut top which accentuates her ample cleavage.

"Cindi are you going to be here for all of the fourth?"

"No. I have to drive back tonight. My family and I are going to Dallas for a christening."

"Too bad it's happening during the holiday."

"Yeah but we're also going up to Lake Texoma to ski for a couple of days so it'll be fun."

"That's cool. Where do you go to school?"

"I'll be a freshman at Lon Morris College."

Sam's heart sinks. She is two years ahead of him. Even so he's enormously attracted to her. How can I keep her from finding out I'm younger? She's so beautiful. It's probably best to steer the conversation away from school.

"Where are you from?"

"Houston. What about you?"

"Houston too. Do you come down here very much?"

"As often I can."

"My friends and I do too." Sam pauses and quickly tries to think of something else to say. "The band's really good isn't it?"

"Great."

Other than Cindi laughing at a few of his comments it goes on this way for awhile.

"Sam do you plan on pledging Tau Delta in the fall or are you already a member?"

There it is. The subject he's been dreading. Sam frantically tries to think of a nonchalant way to respond which won't squash his chances. Before he can gather his thoughts everything on his mind suddenly spills out of his mouth.

"I'm a couple years younger than you Cindi. I turn seventeen in November and I'm about to go into the eleventh grade. I hope that's not a problem." Sam cringes. What's the matter with you? You've just met the girl!

Cindi now understands why his mood had abruptly changed after her question. As he nervously waits for a response Cindi thinks about how flattered she's been by his attention. Throughout their conversation she never thought of him as being younger.

He acts and talks like a boy in college. He's too cute and nice to be bothered by age . . . especially in view of mine.

"Sam there's not as much difference in our ages as you think. I started school a year early. I'll be eighteen on Christmas day. We're only eleven months apart."

"Christmas day? That's December twenty-fifth!"

Cindi smiles. "Yes it is every year."

"My birthday's November tenth. So we're really more like ten-and-a-half months apart. I mean for all practical purposes we're pretty much the same age . . . at least during the six or so weeks between our birthdays."

They both laugh and Sam puts his arm around Cindi's shoulders pulling her against him in a brief friendly hug. When he releases her she doesn't pull away.

The two couples spend the next hour talking, flirting and dancing. They continue talking until Cindi glances at Candy and silently mouths, "We need to go." She then turns to Sam and looks at him with disappointed eyes. "I'm afraid we're going to have to head out now."

"When will you be back from your trip? I'd like to see you again."

"The rest of the summer's really crazy. After the trip to Dallas I'm going to Lon Morris to take a summer drama course. I'll be back in Houston for part of the Labor Day weekend and then off again for the start of school. I'd like to see you too if you can work around this crazy schedule of mine."

"How can I reach you?"

Cindi takes a piece of paper from her purse and writes down her phone number. Candy then borrows her pen and gives her number to Dickey.

"I'll call you just before Labor Day weekend and we'll get together."

"That sounds great Sam."

Sam and Dickey walk the girls to Cindi's car: an orange and white Corvette.

"Wow!" Sam said. "What a fine car!"

"Thanks. It was a graduation present from my parents."

"Would they like to adopt a son?"

Cindi laughs and they sit on the hood of her car and talk for a few more minutes. "I'd like to stay longer Sam but I really need to get on the road before it gets any later."

"I understand."

The boys open the girls' car doors and help them inside. It takes all Sam's self control to keep from trying to kiss Cindi goodbye.

She looks up at him. "It was nice meeting you. Enjoy the rest of the Fourth."

"Thanks and you do the same in Dallas. Drive carefully."

The girls drive off and Sam turns to Dickey "Are you going to call Candy? She seemed to like you."

"I don't know. She's definitely good looking and all but she really talks a lot. I think that constant chatter would get on my nerves after awhile."

Sam smiles to himself. That's Dickey. He meets a fine girl, she makes it obvious that she likes him, volunteers her phone number and he's assessing whether their personalities have any long term compatibility.

"It's just a date. You don't have to marry her. Besides you might get lucky."

"I guess you'll be calling Cindi?"

"Like a big dog."

. . . . .

Time passes quickly and the beginning of the school year approaches. Labor Day is the last day of summer vacation and only ten days away. The boys want to go to Galveston for the holiday weekend but none of them have much money so the idea is nixed.

The start of the fall semester marks the beginning of senior year for Ron, Joe and Dickey. They spend most of the next week-and-a-half talking about different universities and major fields of study. For Sam the rest of the summer is about making more money to go toward buying a car. He works in the meat and fish department of his cousin's grocery store and is saving as much as he can.

One day while warming up for a game of tennis Sam suddenly stops in the middle of a practice rally making no attempt to hit Ron's ball.

"What's wrong with you?" Ron calls out.

"Do you guys realize this will be our last school year together? You're all going off to college next year and I'll be left here playing tennis with strangers."

"I hope you don't embarrass us," Dickey said.

"Look at the bright side Sam," Joe said. "You've got another whole year with Never-Feel-Ya you lucky dawg."

Sam's comment resonates with each of them. The boys know they'll always be close friends but once they leave for college things will never be quite the same again.

. . . . .

Sam calls Cindi just before the Labor Day weekend and is told she'll be coming in late Friday night. Saturday morning he gets up, takes a shower and catches the bus to work. All the way downtown he thinks about Cindi and plans to call her during his lunch hour. At twelve-thirty he goes to a phone and dials her number.

"Hello," says a man with a Chinese accent.

"Hi may I speak to Cindi please?"

"Who this?"

"My name is Sam Cohen."

"Sam Cohen . . . you Jew? I have customer Marvin Cohen who is Jew. Very nice man."

Sam is stunned yet somewhat amused. "Yes I'm Jewish and Marvin is my cousin."

"You Marvin Cohen cousin?" the man says excitedly. "You must be very nice man too. Wait I get Cindi."

"Hello," says a tentative voice unmistakably Cindi's.

"Cindy hi! It's Sam. Welcome back."

"Hi! Thanks it's good to be home. So you're the very nice man on the phone."

"Who was that?"

"My grandfather. What did you say to him?"

"It seems that my cousin is one of his customers. What does he do?"

"He's in the wholesale fish business. How did he put together that you were the cousin of a customer?'"

"When I told him my last name he wanted to know two things. Was I a Jew and was I related to his customer Marvin Cohen?"

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry."

"No it's okay. He was just checking for references."

"He's very frank and says whatever's on his mind but he means well. He and my dad have a lot of Jewish customers. He's probably never met your cousin and only knows him by name. My dad's been running things for a long time ever since the doctor told Pops to slow down. He mainly opens the mail and gripes about how much everything costs."

"He seems to like Marvin."

"He must pay his invoices on time. Pops likes everyone who pays on time."

"Ha-ha! That's hysterical. I hope I get to meet him which brings me to the purpose of my call. Would you like to go out tonight?"

"Well what'd you have in mind?"

"I don't know. Maybe go to the drug store and eat ice cream . . . play the jukebox."

"No I did that last New Year's Eve. You'll have to do better."

"Ha-ha! How about going to a club to dance?"

"Now you're talkin'. Where?"

"Have you been to The Top of the Mark?"

"Never heard of it."

"It's a great little club on the top floor of a building and overlooks the city. They have a terrific band. I think you'll like it."

"Sounds lovely and it's only our first date."

"Well since you're leaving town again so soon I wanted to make a good impression. I don't want you to forget me."

"I couldn't possibly do that. You're the only person who ever volunteered to be my brother."

That evening they have a wonderful time talking, dancing close and stealing kisses on the club's patio. Cindi sits very close to Sam on the drive home and they both hope there will be more nights like this.

It's the Saturday before the boys' meeting with Mr. Holland. Sam comes home from work and finds a note saying Ron and Joe have called. He goes to his room and dials Ron's phone number. "Hello."

"Hey Ron. Sorry about your uncle. When'd you get back?" "Thanks. We got back yesterday but I haven't had time to call anyone before today. What the hell happened at school? I talked to Joe and he said y'all were in a big fight?"

"Yeah," Sam chuckled. "They're calling it the Jewish Rumble. I'm sure Joe filled you in on the details. It could have been a lot worse if they hadn't separated everybody as quickly as they did."

"You mean it could have involved even more people? Joe said it was spreading through the crowd pretty fast." "Hell no! I mean it could have been a lot worse for me! What the fuck do I know about fighting? I'm a lover not a fighter. I was there for Joe and shaking inside the whole time." "He said you guys really saved his ass."

"Let me tell you something. Joe doesn't need much ass-saving. I didn't realize what a tough son-of-a-bitch he is. He's not all that big but you know he's strong as shit and can really throw a punch. He broke Trey Cunningham's nose?" "I heard. Amazing. Joe's such as low-keyed gentle guy." "That anti-Semitic shit woke the beast in him." "Joe also said you gave Patrick a black eye. How about Dickey? Did he get in some licks?" "He's fucking fearless. He rushed in like Wyatt Earp in a bar fight. I've never seen either of them like that."

"Who'd-a-thunk-it? You'll find out the verdict Monday?"

"Yeah. Holland's going to talk to people to see who's telling the truth. I'd say Trey and Patrick are gonna fry . . . probably get suspended. They not only started the fight but were yelling all kinds of racist shit."

"Last semester I had Spanish with Trey. What a prick. Nobody's going to mind that asshole being gone for three days."

"So what's up for tonight?" Sam asked. "I'm going with Jeanne to her parents' anniversary party." "How long's it been for you guys? A year?" "More than a year. Since the summer before eleventh grade." "Ain't love grand. Well I need to call Joe back. Have fun tonight and tell Jeanne hello."

. . . . .

Jeanne Rosen is a tall pretty girl with beautiful eyes and a sweet smile. She has the reputation of being very quiet, a bit shy, and a prude. In spite of this she's very popular. Ron's secret crush on her began in middle school where he spent every moment between classes scanning the halls in hopes of a glimpse of her.

It would be during the summer prior to their junior year before Ron would allow himself to consider the possibility she might like him too. Jeanne's parents had allowed her to begin car dating and Ron got in the line of boys who all wanted to take her out.

They'd been on two dates and Jeanne had lived up to her reputation. She was very quiet and regardless of how hard Ron tried conversation was rare. He makes a third date with her hoping it will finally break the ice. He's going to take her to see the new James Bond movie "From Russia With Love" and then to a restaurant for pizza.

Jeanne and Ron love the movie and talk about it all the way to one of Houston's favorite teen hangouts: Valian's. This is great! Regular conversation. I just hope when we've finished talking about the movie we still have something to talk about.

They are waiting for a table when Ron notices his old tennis partner Steve walk-in with Jeanne's good friend Beth. Ron sees them as conversation savers. "Steve," Ron calls out waving. "Why don't y'all join us?"

"Sure."

Ron motions to the hostess. "Make that a table for four please."

The pressure is now off Ron. He's no longer solely responsible for making small talk. They're seated and the girls talk with each other as do the boys and everyone has a good time.

Long after finishing their pizza and drinks Jeanne looks at her watch. "Ron it's almost midnight I need to be home soon." "Me too," Beth says. Ron and Steve pay the check and the two couples say goodnight.

With the exception of the music on the radio Ron drives Jeanne home in silence. He so wants to kiss her. What do I do when we get there? She's got that move into her house perfected. Maybe I should try to kiss her in the car . . . probably not a good idea.

They arrived at Jeanne's house and Ron follows her along the narrow walkway, up the steps, and onto the front porch. Standing by the front door Ron swats away moths and June bugs hovering around the porch light. His heart is pounding. After unlocking the front door Jeanne turns around and smiles. "Thank you Ron. I had a really good time."

Unlike their last two dates she doesn't immediately scoot into the house. In fact she doesn't move at all. Ron stares at her trying to muster the courage to kiss her. Jeanne looks at him while pushing her long brown hair away from her eyes. Standing in silence she continues to smile as her eyes remain locked on his as if to say, "It's okay." Ron cautiously leans forward and to his surprise she meets him halfway with a peck on the lips.

Jeanne then makes her retreat as she turns and goes inside. Closing the door slowly, she leans her head against its edge and gives him a smile and a wink.

"Good night and call me again." Before Ron can speak she's gone.

He stands frozen for a few moments until the porch light goes off and jolts him back to the present. Feeling dizzy he puts his hand against the brick wall of the porch and steadies himself.

"Oh my God!" he whispers. "She kissed me!"

. . . . .

It's Sunday. The day before the boys find out Mr. Holland's decision. Still in bed Sam reaches out to answer the telephone. "Hello."

"Hey," Joe said, "what're you doin'?" "Nothing. I'm just getting up. How 'bout you?" "Pee Wee's having a poker game this afternoon. Wanna play?" "Are the others going?"

"No. Ron'll be with Jeanne, and Dickey's got plans with his folks. Pee Wee's not sure there'll be enough players so he asked me to help him find some. Right now it's just him and me. You'll make three." "Sure I'll play. What time?"

"Two-thirty. So are you ready for Holland on Monday?" "What's there to be ready for? All we did was protect ourselves." "I know but I didn't like the way he was acting when we were in his office." "I wouldn't lose any sleep over it," Sam said trying to mask his concern. "Right always prevails."

"We'll see."

Sam parks in front of Pee Wee's house and walks up the driveway to the front door. He is glad to have something to do so he can get his mind off his problems at school. After the comments and teasing die down the game keeps him distracted for a few hours. It breaks up at six o'clock and Sam and Joe walk out together. "Joe, how do you think we should play this tomorrow?" "I thought you weren't worried about it?" "Maybe a little." "I've been mulling it over and I guess we're just gonna have to roll with it 'til we can see what Holland has on his mind. I was thinking we'd all meet at the flagpole at seven-fifteen and go together." "Yeah let's do that. I keep going back to the fact that we didn't do anything wrong. They threw the first punches. We came to help you and all of us have a right to defend ourselves. Have you talked to Dickey?" "He's out-of-pocket until tonight. I'll call him later and let him know when we're gonna meet."

"In the morning then."

When Sam gets home his mother is in the kitchen preparing dinner and his father is on his second scotch and water watching a baseball game.

"Mother how long 'til dinner?"

"About half an hour."

Sam goes up to his room, picks up the telephone, and lays down on the bed. Glancing at the paper with Cindi's phone number he places a call. "Hello."

"Cindi hi. It's Sam."

"Cindi's not here. I'm her roommate Karen. She's at the library." "Oh . . . well would you please tell her that I called?" There is a moment of silence. "Do you want to leave your number?"

"Oh yeah. That would help wouldn't it? It's 713-555-4949."

"I'll tell her." "Thanks a lot and nice meeting Cindi's roommate Karen." "And nice meeting Cindi's Sam. B-bye."

Cindi's Sam? Hubba hubba! I wonder what she's told her. He felt a thrill that a girl in college liked him especially one so beautiful. If she doesn't call back tonight I'll call again tomorrow night. Lots of college kids make alternating calls to each other to spread the expense. I hope her parents will be okay with it.

He smiled. Of course they will. I'm Marvin Cohen's cousin.

After dinner Sam went to his room to do his homework and try to keep his mind off the next morning. Just as he was finishing the phone rang. "Hello."

"Hi it's Cindi. Am I calling too late?" "No I'm usually up 'til 10:30 or so. Thanks for calling back. How are you?" "I'm fine. Just tired from studying. Why did you thank me for calling back? Don't girls usually return your calls?" "I didn't know if your parents would let you make long distance calls." "As long as I don't abuse it they're okay. How about yours?" "Kind of the same thing but a little different. As long as I don't abuse it they won't notice it on the bill. If it's not much different than the usual bill my mom just pays the total and doesn't look at the rest of it." "And if she notices?" "I'll have to pay it." "I guess both of us have a reason not to talk too long."

"Right. Your roommate sounds nice." "Karen's great. She and I have known each other since we were little girls. Her family move to San Antonio a few years ago and during that time we didn't see much of each other. We moved in here together and it was like we've never been apart."

"Nothing like good friends. You're always there for each other."

"Is Dickey your best friend?"

"One of them. There are four of us who run around together. The other two are Joe and Ron. We're all very close." "Am I going to get to meet them?"

"Absolutely. Probably the next time you're in town." "I'd like that."

They talk about their date and what a good time they both had. Cindi tells Sam about her classes and the drama tryouts. Throughout the conversation he agonizes over whether or not to tell her about his situation at school. He knows he should but just as he is about to do so she spares him the pain.

"We probably should try to keep this call short so we can talk more often." "Right. I'll call you in a few days."

"Okay. Talk to you then."

Sam hopes he'll be able to sleep in view of what is coming his way at school. Even though he believes what he said to Joe about right prevailing his concern is growing. It is too late to call Joe but Dickey has his own phone line. He needs to talk about tomorrow. "Hello."

"Hey Dickey. Have you talked to Joe?" "Yeah. Meet at the flagpole at seven-fifteen."

"Are you worried?"

"I don't know. We can't get in trouble for starting the fight but I guess we could for being in it." "Surely we're allowed to protect ourselves." "But you and I weren't threatened or even nearby when it started," Dickey said. "I just hope we aren't penalized for coming to the aid of a friend. I think anybody would've done the same thing." "That's what I think. Have you said anything to your parents?" "No. How 'bout you?"

"No way! I'm hoping when I do everything'll have been straightened out. Anytime there's even the slightest possibility of my doing something wrong my mom immediately assumes I'm guilty. So I'm not telling them until I have to. I don't want to listen to her lecture me." "I guess we can only hope for the best. Well I gotta go. I'll see you in the morning." After hanging up the phone Sam tries to come up with sensible scenarios under which they might be able to come out unscathed. Surely Holland believes that anti-Semitic and racist remarks can't be allowed. Joe had a reason to fight back and we were justified in coming to help him.

He decides to suggest this to Joe and Dickey in the morning. We probably ought to keep that as our focus when we meet with Holland. It's a reasonable argument. I just hope Holland's a reasonable man.

. . . . .

Leni Allen sees her son Ron off to school. She closes the front door behind him and walks into her kitchen for a second cup of coffee before leaving for work. Sitting at the breakfast table her thoughts painfully travel to memories of her parents and two brothers who were killed during the Holocaust. Every time Ron or his brother Jerry leave the house she remembers that terrible day.

Leni's attention is drawn to flickering sunlight reflected from a small framed drawing on a nearby wall. Ron had sketched it years ago when only a small child. The distraction replaced her sadness with happier moments and memories of his childhood. "Look what Ronnie drew today," she had said to her husband Jack when he came home from work. He studied the drawing of the pony she'd handed him. Jack looked down at his six-year-old son who stood smiling proudly as he awaited his father's response. Jack leaned down and picked him up so they could look at his art together. "Ronnie this is beautiful . . . just beautiful." Kissing his cheek Jack hugged him close. "My son the artist!" This was the first of what would become common occurrences in Ron's life. His early talent to draw progressed to painting which would prove to be his calling. Ron's ability to transpose images to canvas amazed his family, teachers, and friends. It was a gift for which he received constant praise.

"Dad you have to hear his music," Jerry told Jack one Saturday night when Ron was at a friend's Bar Mitzvah party. "He plays the banjo and guitar almost as well as he paints."

"I knew he was trying to teach himself to play but I didn't realize he had actually done it." "It's amazing. He plays by ear. How come he got all the good genes?"

Ron's dream of one day going to a top art school meant he had to excel. When he was about to enter the tenth grade his parents made a proposal to him. "Most boys in high school," Jack said, "get parttime jobs for extra money just like Jerry did. Your mother and I are willing to provide you with enough of an allowance so that you won't have to work but there's a condition that comes with it." "What's the condition?" "Instead of your periodic classes at the art studio we'll arrange for an instructor to come to the house and work with you on a regular basis." "That's it? That's the condition?" "You have to commit to spending the necessary time painting on your own so your skills will improve. Then you'll stand the best chance of getting into a first-class art school for college." "We don't want you to spend all your free time every week painting," Leni said, "but no less than what you'd spend at a part time job after school and on weekends." "I will. I promise!" "And this all has to be done without neglecting any of your schoolwork." "Deal!" Ron hugged his parents. "Thank you! Thank you so much."

He blossomed as an artist. The numerous award-winning paintings he would produce throughout the balance of his high school years were testaments to his unique talent.

. . . . .

Six-thirty Monday morning Mr. Holland is in his office preparing for the day which includes his seven-thirty meeting. Ron meets his friends at the flagpole at seven-fifteen. Sam briefly discusses his recommended strategy and they agree to try to move Holland in that direction.

Dickey looks at his watch. "It's that time guys." Joe nods. "Let's go do this." Ron walks with his friends to the school door. "Good luck guys."

The hall monitor opens the heavy door. Joe, Dickey, and Sam walk inside and turn to walk up the hall. All three flinch at the loud sound of the door slamming shut behind them. They make their way to the administration office. Trey and Patrick aren't there yet. "Have a seat," Mrs. Wentworth said. "Mr. Holland will see you when everyone is here." At seven-forty Trey and Patrick arrive and a few minutes later Mr. Holland comes out of his office. He leads the five boys to a room off the library where they all sit at a large wooden table.

Mr. Holland sits at the head of the table. Trey and Patrick are to his left; Joe, Dickey, and Sam to his right. He looks through the file he'd brought with him and glances at Trey and Patrick. He then focuses his stare to his right moving from Joe to Dickey to Sam and back again.

"I've completed an investigation into last week's ruckus and I've talked to a lot of students who saw what happened."

He again looks at Joe, Dickey, and Sam. "Your version of the events don't seem to match up with what most students said happened. Most of the ones I talked to said the racist and anti-Semitic comments were comin' from people between the flagpole and the street. With Joe's back to the street this'd suggest he thought it was Trey and Patrick and just took matters into his own hands. By your own admission," he said to Joe, "you were the one who busted Trey's nose." "Mr. Holland it was Trey and Patrick who said those things. At one point Trey looked straight at me and said it. I did hit Trey but only after he and Patrick had pounded on me and split the side of my head open." "Well Trey and Patrick tell it differently and most of the students agree with their version." "I'm telling the truth sir! You didn't find any people who saw it like I said it happened?" "Did you not hear me? MOST of the students saw it like Trey and Patrick said. There were two who told me some of what you said but neither of 'em saw anything 'til your friends moved in to help you whup-up on these two boys. When I pressed 'em they weren't absolutely certain Joe was bein' held."

"Mr. Holland wouldn't you want to help a friend that was getting beat up?" Sam said. "That doesn't seem to be the case here. Like I told you most people saw it as y'all just jumpin' on Trey and Patrick." Sam looked into Mr. Holland's eyes. "May I please go over the events with you?" "I know what you're gonna say. Y'all covered 'em when we met last week. There's no point in wastin' time with that again." "But sir if you'll just listen to reason—"

"Listen to reason?" Holland angrily interrupted. "Is the only source of reason what you say? I talked to eyewitnesses and their versions trump yours." Dickey was dumbfounded. "Why do you believe the ones who agreed with their story and dismiss the ones who agreed with ours?" "How many times do I have to say it? There were a lot more who told it like Trey and Patrick said and no one saw Patrick holdin' Joe while Trey supposedly hit him." "But that's what happened," Joe said curtly.

"Boy don't use that tone with me! Even your two partners didn't see who threw the first punch and the kids I talked to didn't even know there was a fight 'til they saw Patrick tryin' to pull you off of Trey." "Mr. Holland we went to help because Patrick was holding Joe and Trey was slugging him!" Dickey said firmly. "Shut up!" The room went silent. Holland took a deep breath trying to control his temper.

"I can't prove it but the two students who saw it your way sounded like they'd been coached. I was told by more than one person that Joe was itchin' for a fight. They said you walked over to Trey and punched him in the nose. After he fell you pulled him up to punch him again while Patrick was tryin' to pull you off." Holland motions toward Trey and Patrick, "That's the same version these two boys told."

Joe's eyes opened wide and he shook his head in disbelief. "And then your two friends pulled Patrick off you so you could keep hittin' Trey!"

"Mr. Holland," Sam said, "if you talk to more people you'll find plenty who saw it as we've said." "I've conducted my investigation and I'm satisfied that it was adequate to reach a decision." Dickey glances at Patrick and Trey who are looking down at the table smirking. "Mr. Holland you have it all wrong." "All wrong?" Holland said angrily. "You three are right and all the others who saw it are wrong?" Dickey hesitates and Sam said, "Yes if that's what they told you." "Don't sass me boy!"

"I'm not sir I'm just trying to offer the truth about what happened."

"The truth? The truth as you'd have me believe it to be. Let me tell you the truth. The truth is that this school will not tolerate bullies and ruffians." He turns to Trey and Patrick. "You boys are excused and I'm closin' the file on your involvement. Now I don't want to find out that you've been in any other kind of mischief. Unda'stand?" "Yes sir," they said. "You can go." They leave the table making no effort to hide their grinning scowls from Joe, Sam, and Dickey. After the door closes Mr. Holland looks at the three boys. "I've given a lot of thought to this matter. After a great deal of investigation and assessin' the facts I find you three guilty of bein' in violation of the Code of Behavior that we and the school district demand at this school." He pauses and clears his throat.

"Joe and Sam by both personal admission and the testimony of others not only engaged in unacceptable behavior but inflicted pain and sufferin' on other students. You're both suspended for three days beginnin' now and won't be allowed to make up any tests you might miss."

Holland holds up his hand as Joe and Sam begin to speak and continues, "Dickey you were definitely involved but there's been no evidence of you throwin' any punches. You'll spend fifteen hours a week for the next two weeks helpin' the janitors. Two hours everyday after school and five hours on Saturday mornings startin' at nine o'clock." He closes his file. "Have I made myself clear?" "Sir," Joe said, "I'm applying to colleges this year and with a suspension on my record I might not be accepted." "Yeah you might not." "Won't you reconsider?" "No. The facts are the facts. You made your bed now lie in it." The boys are shocked by what they've heard but know they're fighting a losing battle. Holland picks up his file from the table and stands to leave.

"Just one thing Mr. Holland," Dickey said. "You're judging Joe as being wrong for defending himself against a racist anti-Semitic attack. Then you fault Sam and me for coming to the aid of a friend in danger. Sam did no more than I did that day. If you're going to hand out this ridiculous punishment to them you should give the same to me." Dickey's decision to receive the same punishment came easily to him. His entire life his mother had told him to stand up to injustice and always do the right thing. There was nothing right in allowing a friend to be punished more severely for doing the same as he had done.

"Ridiculous? Son you're within a gnat's ass of gettin' what you're askin' for. Are you sure you want to do this? You heard what your friend said about a suspension on your record keepin' you out of a lot of colleges didn't you?" "Yes sir I did. This isn't about me and unlike your decision this is about what's right." "As you wish." Holland sits down and reopens the file. He reads as he writes on the left side of the folder. "All three receive three-day suspensions."

He leads the boys back to the administration office where he tells Mrs. Wentworth to give Joe and Sam the letters she had prepared and to type one for Dickey too.

"These are letters to your folks explainin' what you did and your punishment. I'll be callin' 'em this mornin'. After Mrs. Wentworth's through typin' that letter y'all got fifteen minutes to leave campus."

Mr. Holland walks to the door of his office but stops before going inside. Turning back he looks disgustedly at Dickey. "It's like my daddy used to say. 'Ya' ain't no better than the company ya' keep.'"

After he closes his office door the boys go to the bathroom while Dickey's letter is being typed.

"Can you believe this?" Sam said. "And Dickey have you lost your mind? Why did you ask for the suspension?" "Yeah Dickey," Joe said. "You didn't need to do that." "I did need to. That cocksucker!"

They walk back to the office and Dickey picks up his letter. "Guys I gotta go by my chemistry class and find out what Thursday's test is on. I'll talk to you later."

As he walks away Sam asks Joe, "Why do you think Dickey asked for the same punishment?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if he was trying to make a point." "What kind of point?" "That he was going to stand by his friends even if it meant hurting himself. He's a real stand-up guy who always comes down on the side of what's right." Joe smiles. "He's also a hard-headed son-of-a-bitch and even if it goes hard on him he won't give in."

Joe and Sam walk in silence to their lockers and get their books. They walk together down the stairs and through the exit before saying goodbye and heading in different directions home. They hadn't taken three steps when Joe turns around. "Hey Sam. Let me ask you something."

Sam looks back. "Why do you think Holland wanted to go easier on Dickey than on us?" "He said it was because no one saw him throw a punch." Joe shook his head. "That's what he said but I think it's because Dickey's not Jewish. I bet Dickey thought so too."