The Best Day of School Ever (A Poot Story)

Three days after we burned the house down, me n Poot started back to school. Three days after we started back to school, Poot come by the house in the afternoon. I knowed something was up.

“Robert’s here,” Mom said in her sweetest voice.

Ordinarily I would say “Who?” when someone mentioned Robert. But when Mom used that voice, she was only talking about Poot.

I was in the den doing my homework, trying to write a paragraph about a president. But what I was really doing was trying to be a good boy, trying to convince God I wasn’t never going to do nothing wrong ever again and not to send me to hell and not to let the police come get me.

“I got homework, Poot. I can’t fish today,” I snapped hoping he would go away without a fuss.

“Heck. I wrote that paragraph while I was still at school.”

“Well I ain’t fast like you, Poot. And besides, I want to make good grades this year.”

“I ain’t wanting to go fishing. I just want to show you something down on the river. It won’t take long.” Then he played dirty. “I won’t keep him but a few minutes, Mizz Hodge,” he said turning to Mom who was still in the room. And just like that Poot got his way. Again.

“OK. You go with Robert, Zane. But don’t get him in any trouble, you hear?” Mom snapped at me like I was the one who did bad stuff.

So we got on our mopeds and rode up Harding Street to the Boulevard, and then up the Boulevard and across the Tallahatchie Bridge and out Wade Road. We seen two Hondas down at the swing so we went down there. It was Peanut and Tooter. Peanut was a fighter and Tooter Henderson specialized in slingshots. He shot a slingshot as good as me n Poot shot .22 rifles. Maybe better. He always had a Wrist Rocket with him and a pocket full of marbles or steel ball bearings. Me n Poot was famous for shooting stuff with our rifles, but Tooter shot as much stuff with his slingshot. His dad bought him all the marbles and ball bearings he wanted because he said shooting a slingshot was a good way for a boy to stay out of trouble. Once, he shot out every outside light at Bankston School. We had all snuck out one night and met up at Bankston. Tooter said, “Watch this,” and then he proceeded to shoot out all the lights on the breezeways. He done it all in minutes.

Marty said that wasn’t no big deal, try a street light. So we followed Tooter around North Greenwood while he shot out streetlight after streetlight. He was good.

Anyway, we got to smoking and talking about all the stuff Tooter had shot. Then we hatched an idea to shoot out the back windows of people’s houses who lived on Robert E. Lee while they were home. We could go up the river bank on the town side and Tooter could shoot out the windows. Then we would all jump in the river and swim away. At night of course. You can’t do that with no rifle. Tooter said, name the night and he would do it.

I could feel my bowels starting to loosen.

Then we got to talking about the time Tooter taught Al Taylor how to shoot a slingshot. We was all on the river at the swing and Tooter was shooting anything anybody could point out. Al asked if Tooter would teach him how to shoot. So Tooter told him the secret was in using your thumb like a rifle sight. Tooter demonstrated how you stick your thumb up between the post of the slingshot and “cover what you are wanting to hit with your thumbnail. Then pull back as hard as you can and let go.”

So Al done it. He took aim at a snag on a log, stuck his thumb up for a sight, pulled back as far as he could, and turned loose. Now, having studied ballistics, I figure that ball bearing hit his thumbnail at about 800 feet per second. Al yelled so loud everybody in every grave for three counties woke up. He took to jumping around like a kangaroo, holding his thumb and hollering. Then he fell down and rolled on the ground crying like a baby and kicking the dirt. We was all laughing so hard we couldn’t catch our breath. Al walked home that day with tears streaming down his face, still holding his thumb like it was about to fall off and crying every step of the way.

The next day at school, Al showed up with a huge white bandage on his left thumb. He didn’t even make it inside before everyone was asking him what happened. All the guys started chuckling, and Al got really pissed. He said he had to go to the hospital and get shots and get his thumbnail taken off and when he got well he was going to do some serious arse whuppin.

Everybody went, “Oohh, I’m scared.”

Then in class, somebody, Richard Byrd I think, started reenacting the event when the teacher wasn’t looking, acting like he was pulling back a slingshot and shooting himself and holding his thumb. Within minutes of first period starting, six of us was already sent to the office. It was like that all day, a steady stream of kids sent to the office.

Then after lunch, when we was on the breezeway walking back to class, me n Poot got Betty Shinrod to run up ahead and do another reenactment. We could always get her to do stuff because she wanted the boys to like her, so she done it. Everybody laughed and Mrs. Cummins got real pissed, again.

Then when we was back in class, Principle Bailey come over the intercom and said for everybody to leave Al alone and not to make no more jokes about his thumb. Then, I guess he held the button down a little too long, and I swear he chuckled a little before the intercom went off. The room immediately broke into uncontrollable laughter, even the girls. Every room on the hall was laughing like crazy. Mrs. Cummins started pounding her desk with a book like a judge pounds a gavel, screaming, “Class! Class!”

When things finally settle down she said, “If there are any more eruptions, everyone will stay after school.”

Poor choice of words. Richard Byrd said, “Ahhh. Eruptions!” And the class broke up again.

We all stayed after school. Not just our homeroom, but the entire eighth grade which caused huge traffic issues outside. When we finally got turned loose, Mrs. Cummins was walking Al down the breezeway towards him mamma’s car. Mrs. Taylor got out when she seen Al was crying and when his mom approached Al blurted out, “I’m gunna beat the hell out of the whole damn school.”

Mrs. Cummins said, “Hey boy,” and jerked Al around by the shoulder.

Mrs. Taylor then started shouting at Mrs. Cummins and a whole crowd of kids and moms gathered around and it was almost a riot. Peanut was dancing around shadow boxing and everybody was enjoying the fun. Parents were yelling, Al was weeping and we was happy. This is how school should be, I thought.

“That was the best day of school ever,” Tooter said.

We was all sitting on the riverbank now smoking cigarettes and talking this stuff. The sun was down, and it was getting dark. So much for only being gone a little while. Mom would blame me, of course.

“Yeah,” Poot said. “That was the best day. Better even than the Monday after me n Zane broke in and tore up the school.”

For a few seconds there was total silence. I was horrified. For two years Poot had kept our secret. Now he done got careless and let it out.

I felt my bowels loosening some more.