Period 8 - By Chris Crutcher Page 0,4

it. I don’t want to be my dad,” he says. “At least not in that way. An affair about every year and a half, caught every time. Three weeks in an apartment or a motel, then back. Mom all hurt and shit but scared to lose him.”

“I guess your folks are better parents than mates,” Logs says. “Not good, but not all bad, either.”

The first of the Period 8 kids saunter in, and Paulie clams up. He’s been with some of these kids in P-8 for four years, and they’ve been through some intense discussions. Paulie is famous for making raw disclosures, but he does not feel like airing his shit with Hannah in this room. Not yet.

.2

“Hey, Tak,” Arney Stack says as he rushes into Period 8, removing his jacket. “Heard you got taken out in the semis.”

“Mr. Stack,” Logs says. “Missed you in class this morning.”

“Student council meeting,” Arney says. “Didn’t you get the memo from the office?”

Logs nods. He doesn’t read office memos. Arney knows that.

Josh Takeuchi opens his lunch sack, which contains the first real lunch he’s had since he started dropping weight at the beginning of wrestling season. “Yeah,” he says, opening a ziplock bag containing three baloney sandwiches and two Snickers bars. “I got taken out in the semis.”

“What happened? You went all the way to the finals last year,” Arney asks.

“Yeah,” Josh says, stuffing his mouth with the first sandwich. “I was sweating it this year, you know, having major doubts, and Firth told me to put it in the hands of the Lord.”

Light laughter. “How’d that work for you?” Arney says.

“Not sure,” Josh says back. “When I won the quarters I dropped to one knee and pointed to the heavens.”

Marley Waits laughs out loud. “How’d that work for you?”

Ron Firth drops his forehead to the arm of his overstuffed chair.

“Again,” Josh says, “not sure. I thought I was giving it up to the Lord but Terrence Davis was standing on the balcony right above me.”

“Who’s Terrence Davis?” Marley asks.

“The guy who kicked my ass in the semis,” Josh says.

Firth looks up. “Do I have to do everything for you, Tak? You got to look where you’re pointing, man.”

“My Asiatic brother Tebowed up to his next opponent?” Justin Chenier says. “Damn!”

“You think this Davis guy intercepted it?” Bobby Wright asks.

Paulie closes his eyes and smiles. Literal Bobby.

“Actually, I think this Davis guy didn’t care if I Tebowed him or not,” Josh says. “All he cared about was how quick he could put my shoulder blades on the mat.”

Ron Firth laughs. “You sure you dropped to the right knee? If you do it wrong, it’s occult.”

Josh just smiles and stuffs his face with the second sandwich. He points to his mouth. “Got a lot of catchin’ up to do,” he says, but all anyone hears are words passing through bread.

Logs wads his lunch sack and puts a three-pointer into the wastebasket. “So, what’s up?” he says as the last of the Period 8 kids settle in, digging through backpacks and getting comfortable in desks and beanbags and old chairs Logs has hijacked over the past forty years on their way from the teachers’ lounge to the Dumpster. What’s up? is the way Logs starts every Period 8.

Any subject is fair game. No qualifications to enroll, no grade or credit, no attendance taken, but in a given year membership is consistent. There were years when Period 8 was the only reason Logs taught, when the educational philosophy du jour provided him almost no satisfaction; years when his personal life was in such a shambles he could barely bring himself to the classroom each day. But Period 8 always brought him to life and grounded him. “I’m an old guy and you guys are young,” he says at the start of every year. “But we have one common reference point: we’re all as old as we’ve ever been. We all have history, and a future. History is known, the future not so much. My history is longer and hopefully my future shorter than yours. But we have the same challenge: to view what has happened to us in a way that influences what will happen.”

Period 8 protocol: nobody gets hurt. Well, hurt maybe a little, but not injured.

“What’s up is this,” Hannah Murphy says.

Paulie can tell from her tone this is going exactly to the place he wants to avoid. Sweet Hannah. No prisoners.

“Hannah Murphy,” Logs says. “Take it away.”

“Are all men pigs?” she says.

Star lets