Chapter 24
WISH THIS WAS A BASKETBALL COURT…
On the day of the big hearing, Gaynor, Pierce, and I go to school dressed like the Blues Brothers or those dudes from the Matrix movies, minus the sunglasses and the random philosophical ramblings.
Gilda would’ve joined us, but she doesn’t own a dark suit.
We’re trying to look respectable, like attorneys on TV do when they head to court.
(I mean the classy lawyers from shows like Law & Order, not the cheesy ones who do their own late-night TV commercials and say stuff like “Have you or a loved one slipped on a grape at the grocery store? Your case may be worth millions of dollars. We’re the lawyers at I Can’t Believe It’s a Law Firm, and you’ll pay us no fee unless we win your case, in which case you will pay us those millions of dollars I was just talking about.”)
Vincent O’Neil sees us in the hallway and starts making cracks.
“Hey, guys. Nice suits. Who’s about to die? Oh, right—Joey ‘The Locker Looter’ Gaynor.”
“Very funny, Vincent,” says Pierce. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…”
“Why? Did you guys just fart?”
Gaynor just sort of glares. O’Neil scoots up the hall, laughing hysterically at his own joke.
“Mr. Gaynor?” The vice principal’s secretary calls from the school office. “Is your mother here?”
Gaynor shakes his head. “No, ma’am.”
The secretary gives that a harrumph.
“Mr. McCarthy is inside,” she says. “Waiting.”
Gaynor, Pierce, and I march solemnly into the office.
“Mr. Grimm? Mr. Pierce?” says the secretary. “What do you boys think you’re doing?”
“Standing up for Joey,” I say, even though technically it’s impossible for me to stand up.
“Me too,” says a voice behind us.
I wheel around. It’s Uncle Frankie.
“Hiya, Clarice,” he says to the secretary.
She blushes a little. “Francis.”
“Need to have a quick word with John. It’s about, you know, this Joey Gaynor situation here.”
“I see.”
“I know John’s a busy man, but this will only take a minute or two.”
“Very well, Francis. Wait here.”
“Thanks, Clarice.”
The secretary goes back into the office. We look at Uncle Frankie, puzzled.
He shrugs. “Back in the day, John McCarthy and I were on the same yo-yo team. Clarice, too. We took State that year.”
Wow. I guess those multicultural mannequin munchkins at Disney World are right.
It is a small world after all.
One minute later, Uncle Frankie is in the vice principal’s office, chatting with his old friend.
Five minutes later, he’s back in the hall.
“Okay, Joey. Me and John had a little chat. They’re gonna cut you a deal. You’ll be serving detention for a month, but you get to stay in school.”
“For real?” says Gaynor with a catch in his throat.
“Yeah. We’re gonna make a few other changes, too, but for now—go hit the books. I got bigger fish to fry. Literally. My fishmonger dropped off a hundred-pound cod this morning.”
“Thanks, Uncle Frankie,” I say.
“No problem. We gotta look out for each other. Am I right, boys?”
“Yes, sir!”
Gaynor, Pierce, and I head off to class, high-fiving as we race down the hall. Probably not our smartest move after Gaynor just escaped being expelled. I catch one more look at Uncle Frankie about to walk out the front door, and I shoot him a thumbs-up.
I guess God was listening after all.
And he knew exactly who to call.