Prairie Fire

Chapter 1
The city bus was moving east along North Avenue much slower than Andrew Sikorski had anticipated it would on his very first day at Archbishop Malloy High School. Located on Chicago’s Westside, the prominent Catholic school was approximately a forty-five minute ride from Andrew’s house in Oak Park, the childhood home of Hemingway and several well-known mobsters.
A sound mathematician, and just an overall bright young boy, Andrew had timed the route precisely during the past two weeks to eliminate the slightest chance that he might be late. But late he was becoming on this unseasonably sultry morning for early September. In the past weeks, he had taken several dry runs, picking up the Oak Park bus a couple of blocks from his home and changing to the Chicago bus at the city limits. All trials were during the morning rush hour. Using a slide rule, he considered an extra half an hour for the increase in passengers from four high schools along the way, all of which began classes on this same morning. Checking the enrollment of each school, he devised a formula to estimate the number of additional riders along the route. Amazingly, he was quite close with his calculations, but he had failed to take into account the time spent of boys harassing girls, as one of the schools was a Catholic girl’s academy. Dressed in plaid uniform skirts and white blouses, they were the center of attention of the rowdy public school boys. “Can I help you up the steps?” a boy would ask, offering a hand and a smile. “Can I help you off?” one would dramatically suggest. The girls acted as if they were offended by the shenanigans, but they would then smile covertly. All of this took time; time that was turning Andrew into a basket case.
“Please hurry!” he pleaded to the bus driver from his front row seat. “I’m late!”
“You’ll get there, kid”, the sweaty driver said as he turned the large wheel to swing the bus back out into traffic from a previous stop. Rings showed under his armpits and a kerchief, tied at the neck, was already wet. It would be a very hot day.
Behind Andrew were two scruffy boys who seemed to be quite carefree.
“You’re going to get expelled,” one taunted Andrew, elbowing his friend. “Expelled, expelled, expelled,” the other laughed, making a goofy face.
Andrew ignored them.
“Come to the lake with us,” the first said. “You’re late already. It won’t matter.”
“We’ll be swimming like all the fishes,” the second chirped pursing his lips open and closed like a fish with large round eyes.
Andrew continued to ignore them, but they had diverted his attention from the route. He looked at a street sign and yelled to the driver, “You missed my stop!”
“You got to ring the bell, kid,” the driver yelled.
“But you missed my stop! It was Latrobe, and I’m right here by the door,” Andrew cried out with anguish as the two kids acting like morons behind him rolled with laughter.
“He missed his stop at Latrobe,” one mimicked, punching his brethren in the arm.
“Hey, don’t hit me so hard,” the boy yelled, rubbing the arm.
Meanwhile, Andrew pulled down and held the cord that signaled a stop and the driver called out to him, “Let go or I take you past the next stop, kid.”
“This is intolerable,” Andrew yelled back.
“Intolerable,” one of the boys said with wide eyes and a crooked head.
The other stuck his tongue out to the side and shook his head. “Intolerable!”
They laughed and punched each other on the arms.
Finally, Andrew got off the bus two streets past his stop and started to run back awkwardly with his heavy book bag bruising his side while the two morons made faces from a bus window.
At that moment, two blocks ahead on Latrobe another tardy boy was walking toward the school, but at a much more casual pace. Tony Barbini was enjoying a smoke as he gazed up at the broad oak leaves of the trees that shaded the street. Eisenhower was president and the world was just fine, he pondered. Tony was a freshman like Andrew, but there any similarity ended. Taller, with brown hair, he kept the required Malloy dress tie waded in his hip pocket, and he carried no textbooks. Incorrigible is how nuns from the various grade schools he had attended fondly described Tony. They would rap him on the head with their knuckles, but they then gushed over him as well. Tony had enjoyed his grade school days, and he was sure he would take pleasure in Malloy, seeing that his dear mother had begged and pleaded for the school to take him in. But he was in no hurry to begin this coming joy. He took one last drag on the cigarette and flicked it into the street when a voice gruffly shouted at him.
“Hey kid, you got some smokes for us?”
Tony turned and saw two older boys sitting on a bench in a gangway by a small candy store. They were both strong athletic looking boys.
“Sure,” Tony replied obligingly.
He went to them and shook out a few cigarettes from his package of Lucky Strikes. The one who had called out, a muscular boy with dark features, took the entire package from Tony’s hand.
“Didn’t your mother tell you you’re too young to smoke? It’ll stunt your growth.”
The other, shorter than the first, but a strong boy also, snickered and said, “That’s good Mike. If he doesn’t grow any more, he’ll be a midget.” The boy quickly looked to Mike for a reaction to his wit and was disappointed that there was none.
“That wasn’t very nice. I offered you my cigarettes and you did that,” Tony said.
“Hey you,” the smaller said. “You getting smart with Mike and me?”
“No,” Tony replied. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just telling you that wasn’t very nice.”
“Maybe it is a big deal,” the boy said, watching Mike from the corner of his eye. “Let’s kick his ass, Mike.” He closed his hands into fists and stood up from the bench.
Mike remained seated, watching Tony with amusement. “You’re late on your first day and you’re pissing Johnny off. You’re not very smart are you?”
Tony shrugged his shoulders. “I’d better get going,” he said.
“Here, let me give you one of your smokes back,” Mike offered.
“No, keep them.”
“I insist.”
Before Tony could turn to leave, Mike took a cigarette from the pack, then crushed the remaining smokes in his fingers, allowing the tobacco to fall to the ground.
Johnny hooted with his hands to his stomach and sat back down.
“Very funny,” Tony said as he turned and left.
The two boys watched him walk away.
“I don’t like him, Mike. We should have kicked his ass.”
“He’s a punk,” Mike said.
“Well, we’ll watch for him in school,” Johnny stated and was disappointed again when Mike only grunted.

CHAPTER 2
Perhaps if the two freshmen had not been late on that first morning, or if Tony had not been delayed by Mike and Johnny, or if Andrew had taken an earlier bus, the lives of all four boys might have turned out differently. Who can tell about fate? As it was, Tony and Andrew arrived at the front door of Malloy High School at the same time, both very late. Tony held the door for the blonde boy with perfectly parted straight hair.
“Late too, huh?” Tony said.
Andrew was not about to partake in chitchat and ran by Tony without as much as a ‘thank you’. Tony jogged and caught up with the boy in the empty hallway.
“Boy, you sure got a lot of books,” he said, watching Andrew struggle along at a near run. “Need some help?”
“No. I just need to get to my class.”
“Which one you going to?”
“B-10. It’s in the basement. But I must go to my locker first.”
“B-10! That’s my class too. I’ll go to your locker with you. I don’t have any books.”
The cavalier attitude of this boy reminded Andrew distressingly of the two ingrates on the bus, and he wanted nothing to do with him. “No. You go ahead.”
“Nonsense,” Tony said. “I can’t let you go in later than me. You’ll get crucified.”
Andrew was in too much of a hurry to ask what he meant, but the comment bothered him.
Having deposited his books in his locker, Andrew hurried to the classroom. Tony was amazed that the boy knew precisely where his locker was located in addition to the location of their first class. He had absolutely no idea where to find his locker or the class. He hadn’t even been sure where Malloy was located.
“How do you know where everything is?” Tony asked, mystified.
“I simulated my first day two weeks ago,” he answered hurriedly. He had said more than he wanted to the boy.
“Simulated? You’re kidding!” Tony thought a second and said. “You actually wasted a summer day coming here when you didn’t have to?”
Andrew didn’t answer him. Upon arriving at their classroom, Andrew reached for the doorknob, but Tony stopped him.
“What’s wrong?” Andrew exclaimed with dismay.
“We don’t have a plan.”
“A plan! What are talking about?”
“Look at that teacher,” Tony said, pointing to a hefty priest with a chubby face. There was nothing friendly about his appearance as he jawed at frightened students. Though the closed door muffled the priest’s voice, it was intimidating to Andrew. On the blackboard behind the teacher was his name in large letters ‘FATHER CHESTER SADAK’!!!!! Several thick exclamation marks followed the name.
Andrew hesitated a moment, then said, “We’re wasting time.”
Tony again restrained Andrew’s hand on the doorknob. “What will you tell him?”
“I’ll tell him what happened,” Andrew answered impatiently.
“Which is?”
“The bus was late!”
“Oh, no!” Tony said disparagingly. “Chicago buses are never late.”
“But it’s the truth.”
Tony shook his head with his lips pursed. “It won’t work. Now do you have a brother?”
Andrew hesitated, and then said, “Yes, but….”
He cut Andrew off. “Pay attention. Your brother was afraid to go to school alone on his first day. Your parents are working, so you had to take him. Remember that he goes to a Catholic school. You won’t get much sympathy if it’s a public school.”
“But I can’t lie like that.”
Tony pointed to the priest. “See that face. He’s not in a good mood. If you don’t have a good explanation, he’ll hurt you.”
“What do you mean hurt me?” Andrew exclaimed, genuinely horrified. “A teacher wouldn’t hurt me! That’s unheard of!”
Tony draped his arm around Andrew’s shoulder in a brotherly manner. “This isn’t grade school where the nuns rap your knuckles. These guys will wallop you.”
Andrew watched Father Sadak ranting about something with a piece of chalk in his hand. His black cassock was already marred white from chalk dust. He didn’t look friendly at all.
“But…”
“No buts. Just say that! Believe me, it’ll work.”
Surrendering, the boy nodded and adjusted the books in his arm. He just wanted in the classroom.
“Okay,” Tony said and opened the door.
Father Sadak abruptly stopped his ranting and turned toward the interruption, leaning forward with his hands on his hips. As one, the heads of the freshmen students rotated toward the late boys. There was complete silence as Father Sadak moved toward Tony and Andrew still with his hands on his hips.
“Do you two know what time it is?”
“We’re a little late, Father,” Tony apologized.
“A little late! Two minutes is a little late.” He looked up at the clock on the wall. “Twenty minutes isn’t late, it’s missing the class. Why did you even bother showing up?”
The priest leaned slightly forward. “What are your names?”
“I’m Tony Barbini,” Tony answered somewhat cheerfully. “And this is…”
“Let him answer!” he boomed as Tony realized that he didn’t know the boy’s name anyhow.
“Andrew Sikorski, Father,” Andrew said in fretfully timid voice.
“I can’t hear you! Speak up.”
“Andrew Sikorski,” he answered maybe a decibel higher.
“What?” the priest bellowed, turning an ear for effect.
“Andrew Sikorski!” the boy sobbed.
The priest leaned back and folded his arms.
“Okay, now that we know who you are, pray tell, why are you two late? You first, Mr. Sikorski.”
Andrew fought the tears back and had to swallow a couple of times to get a voice. He could only think of the excuse Tony had proposed. He glanced toward him and then said unsteadily, “My father was working and I had to take my brother to school.”
“Oh,” the priest said looking out to his audience of students, “and what about your mother?”
He looked down at the floor to keep his eyes away from the priest.
“Look at me!” he chided abruptly, and Andrew jerked his head back up.
“She’s dead,” he said softly, looking away.
Father Sadak nodded. He was in no mood to offer sympathy.
“I see. And what grade is your brother in?”
Andrew didn’t answer.
“Come on now, Mr. Sikorski, it’s very simple. Just how old is your brother? That will tell us what grade he’s in.”
Andrew wiped his eyes underneath the glasses. He had never before lied to an adult, let alone a priest, and he was sick of doing so again.
“He’s twenty-four.”
The class broke into laughter, but was quickly silenced by a glare from the priest. His angry eyes returned to the boy.
“So you deliberately lied to me?”
Andrew nodded, “I’m sorry.”
With his hands on his hips, Father Sadak bent down so that his face was close to Andrew’s. His breath reeked of stale cigarette tobacco, unlike the sweet pipe tobacco aroma around Andrew’s father.
“That’s quite a story. Did you make it up yourself or did someone help you with it?” He looked behind the boy at Tony sensing he was the roguish one, and returned his intense stare to Andrew. “Well Mr. Sikorski, we don’t have all day. Did someone, perhaps your friend here, prompt you to tell such a story?”
Andrew didn’t want to answer, but he couldn’t tell the priest another lie.
“Well!” he bellowed so that Andrew jumped back into Tony.
Unable to take any more, he cried, “Yes, he did.” A finger went partially up in the direction of Tony.
The priest nodded and eased back.
“Okay, Mr. Sikorski. You can take a seat. I’ll figure out a proper punishment for you later.”
Struggling with the schoolbooks against his chest, he looked straight at the floor and moved quickly to an empty desk in at the rear of the class. Father Sadak turned his attention to Tony while the class waited in silent and fearful anticipation.
“So, you’re not just satisfied with causing trouble for yourself. You have to bring misery to others also.” He waited for effect, and then asked, “And what is your name, again?”
“Tony Barbini.”
“Tony Barbini, what?” The priest barked.
Tony shrugged, “Just Tony Barbini. I don’t use a middle name.”
The class snickered, but went silent with another glare from their teacher.
“It’s Tony Barbini, Father! You’re not in some public school, Mr. Barbini!”
“Tony Barbini, Father,” he complied.
The priest shook his head and a deceitful smile crossed his face.
“You are not starting on the right foot, Mr. Barbini. Is there a particular reason you decided to waste a valuable space at Malloy?”
“I really wanted to go to Madonna, Father, but they wouldn’t let a boy in the school,” Tony joked, referring to a nearby girl’s school.
The class of fourteen-year old boys roared in unison and again became silent after a gasp when the priest cuffed Tony hard on the side of his head with an open palm.
“Don’t you blaspheme the school of the Holy Mother!”
The blow stung, but Tony didn’t waiver. He figured he’d better not say anything more lest he might get one square in the face.
“You’re a disgrace, Mr. Barbini, and you shouldn’t be here with these good boys,” the priest yelled. “Get out in the hall now and kneel.” He went to the door and held it open. “I said now!”
Tony hustled through the door and got down on his knees on the marble floor.
“Get your back straight and your arms out in front of you,” Father Sadak said stepping out into the hallway.
Tony straightened up and extended his arms slightly as if they were stubs. Losing patience, the priest grabbed the boy’s arms and yanked them. “Straight out! I don’t want your elbows bent. And the arms better not drop below your shoulders. Do you understand?” he yelled.
Tony nodded.
“What?” He cocked his ear close to Tony’s face for emphasis.
“I understand, Father.”
The priest returned to his classroom and slammed the door shut. He watched Tony from the window for several moments and then disappeared from view.
Tony looked down the quiet hallway and sighed. It wasn’t the first time he had been sent to the hall to kneel. But at least the floors in the old grade school buildings had been made of wood and were easier on the knees. This was marble and would become hard on him very fast. He rocked back and forth to ease the weight from his knees. Then he inched up near the wall. Pretty soon he’d be leaning against the wall to take the pressure from his back. Then he’d fall back on his haunches to help his knees. Tony knew the ropes. But he wouldn’t be in the hall long enough for any adjustments, for in less than a minute another priest came down the stairs. He was moving with purpose.
“What are you doing out here?” the priest asked sternly.
Tony sensed that he shouldn’t wisecrack with this one whose eyes meant business through wire-rimmed glasses.
“Father told me to kneel for the rest the class.”
“Why?”
“I was late and I guess I made up a story.”
“You lied?”
“Yes, kind of.”
“What is your name?”
“Tony Barbini.”
“Get up,” he ordered and opened the door to the class.
“Father, take this boy back into class so that he doesn’t get behind on the first day. Have him come to my office after school.”
Father Sadak smugly stated, “He shouldn’t be a Malloy student, Father Principal. And there’s another one just like him.”
“Have him come to my office also.”
The principal held the door for Tony to return, and then left.
“Take a seat in the back somewhere where I don’t have to look at you,” the priest said with obvious disdain that the impudent boy was before him again. Tony complied. He found a seat in the rear next to Andrew Sikorski who closed his eyes in anguish.
“Don’t worry about telling on me, Andy,” Tony whispered from the side of his mouth. “I shouldn’t have put you on the spot.”