Spitfire and Messerschmitt

Chapter 15 :: Sunday Dinner

Sunday afternoon I went over to Mercedes' house about two. I had dinner with her family and I was formally introduced to everyone.

I'd met her mother, Camilla, and her father, Ruy. Now I met her older sister, Yolanda, then the oldest set of twins, Maria and Elizabeth, the younger twins, Isabel and Rosalie, her brother William, known as Memo, and Richard. I'd seen them all at Blade's briefing; I'd heard the names, but they hadn't been pointed out to me.

I'd brought a vase with flowers that my mom had told me I needed as a hospitality gift. My flower offering wasn't alone on the dining room table, not by any means.

I wasn't sure where I stood with Mercedes' parents. I'd played poker with her father the night before, but he'd made no sign one way or another about what he thought about me. Mercedes' mother was a gracious hostess, putting me completely at ease.

The food was more like what I'd have expected my mom to make: pot roast and baked potatoes, green beans cooked with onions, rolls and salad. There was jello and pudding for dessert. Nothing really fancy, but all prepared with care and quite yummy.

"One thing I like to do, Davey," Ruy d'Silva told me after we'd been sitting at the table for a while talking, the ruins of the meal still on the table, "is get out of the way of my good ladies as they deal with the aftermath."

"He takes a walk," Camilla said. "Good riddance! Ten people in the house and half the dropped dishes are his!"

He stood up and beckoned, so I followed along. In a few minutes, we were outside, the two of us alone and walking. He set a nice pace, not really brisk but not leisurely either.

"About now, both of us are trying to take the measure of each other," he told me after a few minutes.

"Sir, I'm not trying to do anything."

He laughed. "Sure you are! You want to run off with my daughter!"

"I think Mercedes has her heart set on walking down the aisle with you at her side," I told him.

He snorted. "I suppose. Like I said the other day, you're nice enough. Assuming you don't get her killed."

I sighed. There was no reply to that. None.

We walked a little further, crossing the bridge over the pathetic excuse for a river that was the Rio Concho. We reached the main street and he waved up and down it. Small businesses, a few fast food restaurants, lined it in both directions.

"I don't blame Mercedes for wanting to leave this. When I was her age, it was all I thought about." He turned to me. "I went off to college and it was there I realized I couldn't run away from this. You kids deserve so much better than what we have! I've spent the last twenty years working to get classes with meat on them in the school. Three times they've tried to make me the principal but I felt I was more use in a classroom. Ruiz is a good man, but over his head. He was a fine English teacher, but it's starting to slip out of control. Friday was just the latest problem; too many kids are contemptuous of authority, of us, their teachers.

"In college I looked around and saw kids of privilege, kids intent on changing the world. Most of them were really clueless. They had no idea what it was like in a place like San Angelo. They had all these grand schemes and plans, none of which paid any attention to what was possible, to what life was really like in a town like this. I would, I told myself, make a difference."

He stopped and looked at me. "I couldn't even make it work with my own kids. Mercedes is the only one with the slightest hope of doing something better."

I contemplated his words and spoke carefully. "It sounds like you're giving up. On San Angelo, on us."

"I guess that's true. It's a hard thing, Davey. A hard thing to realize that you've been standing with your finger in the dike, while the water was rising all around you from the million other leaks."

He laughed, then. "I can't imagine why I'm having this discussion with you. The thirteen year old who's chasing my youngest daughter."

I couldn't resist a dig. "Sir, she's been chasing me since the first time we met. She calls me Messerschmitt, the prey of Spitfires like her."

He laughed then. "I can imagine her saying that! I wondered."

"Don't give up," I told him. "At least not until after we take chemistry." I thought I was kidding; I realized I wasn't almost as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

He touched my shoulder. "Tell me, if you asked your father, would he pay for your vacation next summer? The one Mercedes wants to go on?"

"Yes," I told him. "I suspect he would. We've been to Cancun, to Baja California, to Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands. I think if I wanted Hawaii, it would happen. But I won't ask. Mercedes wants to do it herself. Maybe not this summer, but the summer after." I told him.

His grip firmed on my shoulder. "Ah! A realist! A young man who understands! I want a promise from you, Davey."

"What?" I asked. I wasn't sure why, but I found I liked him. I liked him a whole lot. I respected my father, but I didn't like him. I both liked and respected Ruy d'Silva; I didn't have a clue what the difference was or why.

"What do you know about the science fair?"

I shrugged. "I've heard of it."

"Mercedes wants to be a serious scientist. She tells me you do too."

I met his eye. "Until I met her, I had no idea what I wanted. I like the ocean, studying it appeals to me. Being with Mercedes appeals to me more."

"Never lie to yourself, Davey," he admonished me. "I want the two of you to do a science fair project. The two of you, working together. You will do the whole nine yards. Decide on a topic, make the applications, do the work. Above all, do your best."

I blinked. More expense, when it came time! I smiled at him and quoted Rock Hound's line from Armageddon. "I know I'm the cynical weasel here, but what's in it for us?"

He laughed, "I saw that movie! Simple, Davey. Win a scholarship and I'll put matching dollars into a fund for Mercedes to go to Hawaii, since I won't need that much to fund her college education. I will talk to your father and he'll do the same thing, I suspect, for you."

"Mercedes wants to do it on her own."

He looked at me, one eyebrow arched. Yeah, okay. I knew in my heart of hearts, we didn't have a prayer, not in a year. Maybe as juniors, where we could get decent summer jobs; or we could go after we graduated. I'd been thinking that I'd try my hardest, Mercedes would try her hardest and we'd try to console ourselves with the year after next.

"If she does it on her own, I won't even insist on going with you," he told me. "Feel free to tell her that for me. I will too, in case she doesn't believe you. But she won't. And if you're honest, you know how little chance you have of success."

"So, we do a science fair project?" I got back to the topic of the moment.

"Yes. Like I said, you do the work. If you do it right, your team could be a finalist. I know my daughter, Davey. I'm coming to know you. You look like you don't care, but I think in your heart of hearts, you really do. Maybe more, in your own way, than Mercedes. Please."

There was that. Adults are always sneaky; they know the things to say that push our buttons.

Shortly thereafter we were back at their house. Her brothers and sisters were gone, Mercedes and I spent a while sitting in her living room talking about all sorts of things, just getting to know each other. We talked, briefly, about a science fair project. Mercedes didn't want to talk about the money part of it, but she did think the idea of doing some real research was attractive. She would, she told me, think about it.

I hated to leave, but eventually I had to.

Home, I read more about Wizenbeak, read about his first big battle. I'd already noticed that Wizenbeak and I had something in common. The first times he'd had to fight, he'd not bothered with extensive thought about what he had to do; he just did it. I was fairly sure Wizenbeak would have punched Terry Toohey in the stomach, too.

There were no late night visitors to my room. I turned off my light and sat down on the edge of my bed. I reached out to the bedpost and lifted Mercedes' bra and held it in my hand. I sighed, trailing the fabric through my fingers. I wanted her. I really wanted to make love to her; I wanted to be with her. I put it back and then simply lay down on the bed. I thought about whacking off and then decided that I was going to save it up for when Mercedes and I were together, whenever that was.

When I got up in the morning, Emily had already dosed the water, then she had waited long enough and was already swimming. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon.

"How is it you shower so much faster than me?" I asked, thinking myself witty.

"You spend time drying off. I noticed that the other day." She splashed water in the pool. "Why bother?"

I stood stock still, thinking about just how stupid I was. I did dry myself after my shower. I was obsessive about getting dry. Why? I'd been going from being dry to being wet as soon as I hit the water for nearly every day for six months. What was the point?

The more I thought about that simple thing, the more I realized that Emily had pointed out a profound truth. I got out of the shower and dried off. I had never once contemplated that in the context of putting on a pair of swimming trunks and jumping in the swimming pool. It was such a trivial thing, but it pointed to a way of thinking I'd never explored.

Lately, over and over, I'd run into the fact that my assumptions about my life and myself in particular, people and life in general, were all wrong. How many other things were there in my daily life that I assumed because I'd never really thought about it?

A few minutes later, Wanda appeared, headed for the pool, nude again. I saw her and pointed. "Stop!"

She stopped, startled. "Emily," I asked, "come here please and help me judge." Emily was equally unsure what I wanted, but she came and stood next to me.

I pointed to Wanda. "Did you shower?"

"Of course I did, Davey! Eew! Gross! Thinking about people not showering first before getting into the pool!"

"So," I turned to Emily. "Is Wanda dry or wet?"

Emily understood and laughed. "Dry."

"Of course I'm dry! If I was still wet, Mom would have kittens if she saw me traipsing through the living room dripping wet!"

There was, of course, that.

Emily glanced at me and we both laughed. "Oops!" Emily said.

That brought a smile to my face as well, while Wanda stood on the edge of the pool, frustrated because she didn't understand.

Eventually I was swimming my laps, and they were sitting on the edge of the pool. Wanda was, I heard a couple of times, trying to persuade Emily that she should swim nude, too. Emily was going to take a lot of convincing, I expected. Saturday had taken a lot of convincing, and I suspected Emily didn't see any reason to do it again any time soon.

We happened to get to school at the same time Mercedes was being dropped off. Wanda and I stopped to chat with her while Emily went on to her first class. Anyplace Mercedes was, was a place I was sure to go...

I was just sort of drifting, thinking of all things, about Algebra class. Wanda was talking about something and then said something that got my attention. "I heard we're going to get a new German teacher today. I haven't heard who, but whoever it is, he or she is supposed to be on an indefinite contract, in case Fraulein Kimmel returns."

My jaw dropped, I shook my head in disbelief. I'd forgotten that Wanda was in her fourth year of German!

"Did Fraulein Kimmel ever give you any shit because you are my sister?" I asked Wanda.

She shook her head. "I never thought about it. I felt pretty bad about Frau Weiss last year..." Her voice trailed away. What had Wanda said? The teacher last year had been hit by a car too...

My mind raced again. It was odd, I was getting bursts of thoughts that would run through my mind. It was weird; sometimes afterwards all sorts of things made sense. Other times, nothing seemed to happen. This was a happening thing.

All those times Hannelore had called me Parker; I thought she was just trying to do some stupid put down. What if the explanation was simpler? She didn't know my last name?

I smiled at the two of them and said I had to make a phone call. Mercedes laughed. "Davey, one of these times when you say you're off making a call, and I see some guy in a colorful costume zipping around, fighting for truth, justice and the American Way, you're going to be busted right from the first!"

Peter Parker, I thought. Spiderman. Wonderful, my new alter ego. Then I could confuse everyone, as well as Hannelore Kimmel.

I walked away from the biology lab, found an untenanted spot and called Blade.

"You know," Blade said, speaking without preamble, "I got my butt chewed for giving you my secret agent phone number. You're batting a thousand, Davey. Once again I'm sitting right across from Willy who is glaring at me, giving me the evil eye, when we are supposed to be comparing notes in a meeting that wasn't supposed to be interrupted."

"I thought of some things. Important things," I told him. "The German teacher last year, a Mrs. Weiss, was run down in a crosswalk in a hit and run last Christmas or thereabouts."

I hate cell phones; there is no sound if the other person is being still. Nothing. "I knew that," Blade said, his voice flat. "Imagine that. I knew about that."

There was another pause and he was back. "Imagine that. Willy knew about it, too. We seem to have flunked the connect-the-dots class. Sorry, Davey."

"A couple of times Hannelore called me 'Parker' not Harper. I didn't think anything of it; I thought she was just trying to jerk my chain. Except, Wanda just reminded me that she's in the Fourth Year German class. Maybe Hannelore really does think my last name is Parker. Because, according to Wanda, Hannelore never bothered her or said anything to her."

"Interesting," he said. "Is that all? We have to get back to connecting the dots. It's what they pay us to do, and we're not making much progress."

"That's all," I told him.

There was another brief pause and this time it was Willy Coy. "Hello, Davey. Are you okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"I know sometimes Blade makes noises like he's not happy to hear from you. He is, really. So am I. That said, Davey, how many people know you have his number? That you are calling him?"

I thought carefully. "Wanda, my dad and my friend, Mercedes."

"Try to keep it to that if you can. Take care."

At lunch I had barely sat down next to Mercedes in the cafeteria when my phone vibrated. My mom wanted me to send Emily and Karen to the school office. They were, she told me, going to have new schedules.

Of course, that left Mercedes and me alone, which was just fine with me. Gosh, it even lasted almost two minutes before someone else asked if he could join us. It was Rob Oliver, from the baseball team. He was a sophomore, the guy who'd made comments at practice on Saturday about my putdown of Terry and his friends. The guy who'd stepped in during my fight.

He sat down across from us, a sparkle of humor in his eyes. "Friday you had a bevy of girls at this table, now I just watched you send two of them away."

"They had to go to the office," I told him.

"You mean they're coming back? Cool!"

"I'm Davey Harper, this is Mercedes d'Silva," I told him.

He laughed. "Davey, there isn't a person at this school who doesn't know who you are! Tearing into three guys at once! That was some righteous whupass!"

I swallowed. Sure Davey, tell him you freaked when you saw three guys wearing coats in summer time. "I have some history with them," I said carefully. "I'm not very proud of what I did."

"Administration didn't bust your chops over it, I hear," Rob said.

"Self-defense," Mercedes piped up. "A gun, knives, ninja stars... You won't be seeing those three around any time soon!"

I wished Mercedes hadn't said anything. Wanda had said that today I'd be a big hero; so far, I wasn't anything -- which was fine by me.

"Well," Rob said, nodding, "there you go. We don't need that kind of shit here at school!"

"Like I said," uncomfortable from the praise, "I'm not really proud of what happened. I'd just as soon put it behind me."

Emily and Karen returned to the table, both looking pleased. "Davey, thanks!" Emily said, "I don't know what to say!"

I chuckled, "Well, let me tell you, if you have Ms. Churchwood for algebra third period, along about tomorrow evening you are going to be cussing me up one side and down the other when you find out what you've missed."

"She is really, really hard," Mercedes agreed, "but she is really very good."

The two of them had seated themselves on the same side of the table as Rob, although I could tell that Emily wasn't happy to be sitting next to him. There was room for only three people on a side and neither of them had joined Mercedes and me.

I saw Rob smile at Emily and then check her out. On one hand, I wanted to go into big brother mode and deck him. On the other hand, that would see me sitting at home for a month or so. Besides which, Emily was going to have to deal with guys checking her out.

"Emily," I said, keeping my voice low. "Four people at this table know why Rob is making you uncomfortable. Like I told you the other day, guys are guys. Just tell him."

Emily looked at me, her face suddenly pale.

"Hey!" Rob exclaimed. "You don't have to tell me anything! I can go sit next to Davey! Not a problem!"

"I was raped," Emily said, her voice soft.

Rob recoiled. "God! I don't imagine me telling you I'm sorry does much for you, but I am!"

Mercedes shook her head. "Not to mention Emily has an appointment to get expelled along about November."

Like me, Rob shook his head, not understanding.

"I'm pregnant," Emily sounded really depressed.

"God! That's a tough decision to have to make!"

Karen sniffed, "Her mother is like my parents. They kicked her out, like mine did me. Oh, I'm just 'visiting'," she made air quotes. "Right!"

Rob sat still, looking distressed. "You're pregnant, too?"

Karen frowned and shook her head. "My parents are Southern Baptists -- I like to dance."

"That thing Friday..." Rob looked at me, obviously wondering if it had anything to do with current events.

"My history," I told him. "Nothing to do with anything."

"I have a cousin who went to work in Hollywood," Rob said. "She tells me all these stories about the people there. I never thought I'd hear stories like those, here in San Angelo."

He looked at Emily. "I know this is short acquaintance, but I really, truly want to make movies. I need, my cousin says, good material. The human condition, she says, is the key to everything. Make people laugh, make people cry, get their pulse pounding, the adrenalin flowing... any of it and all of it.

"If you like, I'd like to talk to you. It would be like an interview."

"He's talking about a documentary," Mercedes told Emily.

Emily shook her head and Rob started to speak again.

"Rob," I said, and he looked at me. "You made Emily uncomfortable when you sat next to her. There was no way you could know that was going to happen. Now she's said no. Rob, back off."

I was surprised, because he turned to face Emily. "Filmmaking sucks rocks, Emily. People who want to be in a documentary usually don't belong in one. The people who should, usually don't want to be there. Today, tomorrow, next month or next year -- if you ever want to have a sounding board for how you feel, come see me."

He lifted a small case on his waist; I'd seen it and thought it was a CD player. "My digital camera. I never leave home without it! I won't push, Emily. Never. But if you want to tell me about yourself, if you want tell others about your story, I'll be here."

Rob seemed to realize at that point he faced three hostile women and me, who was simply unsure what was best.

It was a deep chill on the conversation, relieved only when the bell rang and we stood up to go to afternoon classes.

Mercedes and I walked a ways together, and she stopped. "I made twenty-five dollars this weekend."

I looked at her. "I figure we need to make $35-40 a week to get enough."

"How did you do?" she asked, ignoring me.

"I lost a buck and a half."

She smiled but I could see her mind was working. "I don't need a white knight at the end of the day," she told me.

"You said that once and I agreed," I told her, a little miffed.

"I can't compete with you in the money department, Davey, I don't want to try. Don't try to buy me."

We were walking inside the main hallway towards the classrooms. I lost it. I simply lost it.

I put my finger on her solar plexus, hard. "Then don't compete with me in my game! It's not competition, anyway!"

She looked at me, looked at my thumb digging into the space between her breasts. She looked back at me. "What game, Davey?"

"My parents have money. I have money. I'm going to use my poker can savings towards this summer. That gives me about a hundred and fifty dollars to the good right now. Mercedes, you can baby sit. I can't do squat. I will do what I have to do to earn the money for this summer, okay?

"Do me a favor, right now! I'm not going to let a couple of hundred dollars stop either you or me. It's not going to happen! If we don't have the majority of the money, I'll let it go, but if it's just a few dollars, Mercedes, I'm not going to give up on my dreams! I won't let you give up on yours!"

For a second, she said nothing, then replied like I'd said nothing at all.

"So, what do you want to do after school today?"

Today! I remembered that! Today Mercedes was safe! Unless she was starting her period. I wasn't sure. "Come to my house," I told her. "We can study or something. No one else is likely to be home."

She smiled at me, and then we had to rush to get to our classes.

Colonel Terrell was in a fine mood, at least from his point of view. He assigned us a theme paper, due in three weeks. The topic was something only Colonel Terrell could think up: "Define Moat. How Wide Does a Moat Have To Be?"

As I was leaving, Shellie Gerrold stopped me. "Davey, please, a second."

I stopped, curious. We'd known each other for years and years. We had almost never spoken. Actually, except for something having to do with school, once maybe, we'd never spoken at all.

"I wanted to thank you the other day. For what you did."

It took a second, but I remembered turning my desk upside down. I shrugged. "The Colonel was being hard on you; I didn't like it. You didn't know what to expect."

She nodded. "And you got him off my case. Thanks, Davey."

I shrugged again. "Anytime, Shellie."

"I talked to Mercedes the other day. She's nice." With that, Shellie turned and walked away.

It was a good thing PE was next; I stood there with my mouth on the floor for a few seconds. What had Mercedes said? In her dreams she and I were making love to another girl. One she'd talked to Friday. Mercedes had gone to a different middle school; it was possible she already knew Shellie... more likely Shellie was the person Mercedes had talked about.

Shy Shellie? Who'd just said more words to me than she'd said in 8 years of school up until today? On the flip side, I'd stood up for her in class. Sure, I'd told the Colonel I was doing it for myself; I don't think anyone believed that at all. And today? Today I'd talked to Shellie too. Shy Davey Harper, who had not had any experience talking to girls until his older sister had taken him in hand and...

I arrived at PE erect. Late, but hard as a rock. I had to hustle to dress out, as everyone was gone; I don't think anyone noticed.

When the last bell rang, I made my way directly to Mercedes' locker. She grinned at me when I got there. "You're drooling, Messerschmitt!"

I laughed. "Can't help myself, Spitfire, when I look at you!"

Wanda showed up. "Come along, Davey."

"Can Mercedes have a ride?" I asked.

Wanda grinned. "We have a sewing lesson this afternoon, Davey."

I grimaced. Four girls and my mother; that wasn't going to be a good combination. Particularly not when the girls went off to 'work' on the 'outside projects.' Of course, Mercedes seemed like she'd understand about such things. And there was the alternative: go to Mercedes' house.

Emily sat in front; Mercedes and I got in the back. Mercedes and I held hands and spent the few minutes staring at each other.

When we got home, Mom was right there. "Freshen up, Wanda, Emily. I talked to Pammie a bit ago; today we'll go shopping for patterns and fabrics."

She turned to me. "You'll be all right alone, Davey? I don't expect us back until close to six."

"We're just going to study, Mom," I told her.

She surprised me by leaning close and planting a kiss on my forehead. "Enjoy your studies!"

Pammie and Karen arrived, and a few seconds later they were gone.