Stotan! by Chris Crutcher Page B

of Nortie: he keeps everything in and lets it eat out his insides. His relationship with Milika is one that has a strike or two against it from the get-go anyway. Milika’s black, and Nortie’s dad is hardly a Freedom Rider. I have a feeling if he ever found out, he’d be cutting eye holes in his bed-sheets and going out late at night. Milika’s dad has the same enlightened views, only in reverse, so Milika would be in the same deep, murky, brown sludge as Nortie if he found out. You talk about clandestine: Nortie and Milika have gone on dates to some of the most obscure places in the Northwest, just to keep anyone from seeing them and telling either of their dads. Sometimes you have to wonder who are the kidsand who are the adults. Anyway, I’d hate to see this incident at the daycare mess up their relationship, so if Nortie doesn’t do something about it soon, the Great White Captain will have to intervene.
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    None of us had much trouble talking our parents into letting us spend Stotan Week at Lion’s, since it doesn’t really affect the Christmas holiday itself. Nortie was really the only one in question, just because his dad is so unpredictable; sometimes he won’t let him do things so he can show he has the power, and sometimes he acts like he just doesn’t care. Actually, it was harder to get Nortie to come around than it was his dad. He has this illusion that he needs to be around to protect his mother from his dad, and he gets real nervous when he’s away for very long. “He just doesn’t beat on her as much when I’m around,” Nortie said.
    â€œI know, Nortie,” I said. “He beats on you.”
    Nortie nodded and said he guessed that was right.
    â€œJesus, Nortie, you’re the family decoy. You get beat up because your mom won’t just get up and leave him. That’s not fair.”
    â€œFair” had never occurred to him. “It’s not that easy,” he said. “It’s not that easy to just walk out on somebody you’ve been married to for twenty-five years.”
    He was starting to sound defensive and I was feeling myself getting ready to preach, so I backed off. “You’re right,” I said. “It’s probably not that easy.”
    Anyway, I was able to talk him into coming to Lion’s for Stotan Week, which, by the way, is upon us. We borrowed Elaine’s dad’s pickup last Friday and loaded up some mattresses to keep us off the hard floor and to separate us, by at least a few inches, from the exotic plant and animal life that I’m sure is evolving there. Over the weekend we’ve been pretty cocky about how much of Max’s stuff we can take, but I notice things are fairly quiet around here tonight. We’re just lying around waiting for D-Day. We’re making it look good, though. Jeff is reading up on world events like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s got a Time and a Newsweek and a U.S. News & World Report and something called the Christian Science Monitor. He’ll read an article in one, then dig through the others to find which ones carry a report on that same event. He reads them all, then gives us the Hawkins’ Digest version. Lion, on the other hand, is making no bones about being totally focused on Stotan Week, which is why he’s lying on his bed hyperventilating. He wants to go in ready. With any luck, he’ll pass out from too much oxygen and stop that awful noise for a while. Hesounds like a pile-driver.
    Nortie’s looking a little grim—probably knows that when his dad finds out about what happened at the daycare center, he’ll consider it an offense punishable by much physical violence—so I’m keeping him close. I did notice just after we got here he had to go to the can and a couple of seconds after he closed the door I heard the seat belt click, so he’s regaining his sense of humor to some degree.