Harvey Porter Does Dallas by James Bennett Page B

not gonna happen here.”
    â€œWhat makes you say that?”
    â€œWhat makes me say it is this: We’re going to let it be known throughout the school that you and I are buddies. Anybody gives you any shit, you tell them they’re gonna have to deal with me.”
    â€™Berto smiled. “Gee thanks, Harvey.”
    â€œNo problem. You did me a favor, so I’m giving you one. Any asshole gives you any shit, and I mean anyone , you send them straight to me.”
    Now Lichtenstein had a broad smile. “Gee thanks, Harvey.”
    â€œNo problem. We have to watch out for each other. Know what I mean?”
    â€œGee thanks, Harvey.”
    When Harvey unpacked his things and moved them into the hutch on 3A, a stocky white bread in a nearby bed asked him, “What the hell are you doin?”
    â€œWhat’s it look like? I’m movin’ in.”
    â€œBut this is Lichtenstein’s bed.”
    â€œIt used to be. He decided he liked it better down on 2A.”
    â€œHe did? Why?”
    â€œYeah, he did. It’s all about choices.”
    â€œI don’t get it.”
    â€œLater,” said Harvey, now that all his stuff was safely tucked away in the hutch.
    Harvey couldn’t resist the urge to explore. He went up to the fifth floor where all the classrooms were located. They had shiny, buffed tile floors, brand new desks, and fresh paint on all the walls. Harvey knew he was going to like it here. He could feel it in his bones.
    He went to the end of the corridor where he found an old fashioned, brown wooden door. Completely locked. This is the stairway to the sixth floor , he realized. The place where the coward Oswald took out President Kennedy. There was a bright red sign screwed onto the door:
    ABSOLUTELY NO ADMITTANCE AT ANY TIME
    Harvey read the sign twice, then looked the door over one more time. The lock was as old-fashioned as the rest of the door. It gave him an idea.
    He made his way clear down to the first-floor lounge again. He found Weber Weeble, with the big magnifying glass, trying to read some classified ads in the newspaper. He looked up. “Is there something I can do for you, young man?
    â€œWell maybe so. I was wonderin’ if I could borrow a paper clip.”
    â€œI don’t know why not,” Weeble answered. He fished around in his desk organizer and handed Harvey a paper clip. But it was small. “If it’s not too much trouble,” Harvey asked, “do you think you could find me a bigger one?”
    Weeble sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “I guess so.” he used the magnifier this time and brought forth a very large shiny silver one. “Will this do?”
    â€œPerfect,” thanked Harvey. He put it in his jeans pocket. As he left, he said to Weeble, “Thanks a lot, bro.”
    Weeble was puzzled. Why does this kid call me bro ? But it was too late to ask; Harvey was already on the staircase, heading upstairs.

9. CARMELITA VILLANUEVA & OBOE MEEL
    The next morning, Harvey saw a beautiful girl. She was wearing a white terry cloth bathrobe and toweling her long black hair. She didn’t notice Harvey as she made her way from the girls’ washroom to dorm 3B.
    Wow , thought Harvey. What a chica!
    He saw her in his first class, social studies, at a front row desk. He nudged the guy in the nearest desk, whose name turned out to be Victor Vice. “Who’s the chica?”
    â€œThat’s Carmelita Villanueva. She’s a babe, huh?”
    â€œYou can say that again,” Harvey said. But he thought to himself, Villanueva? Could she be a relative of Carlos? Nah, too farfetched . Villanueva was a common Hispanic name all over the city.
    So Victor said it again.
    Harvey had to put his thoughts on hold, as the teacher called the class to order and introduced herself. “My name is Roberta Bertagnolli,” she told the class. “You may call me Mrs. Bert. And this is sociology. Not social