It was a strange feeling. His bones even felt weird, especially his shoulder blades. Uneasiness covered him like a second skin. Half afraid, he stayed close to the walls as he walked, but he still felt exposed, still felt the weight of what he was hiding in his backpack.
Physically, Billy went to the remainder of his classes; but his teachers should have recorded his mind as absent. His head seemed to be rolling around inside his backpack staring up at the altered face of his dad on the Chess Club flier. And although it was tucked away at present, just the idea that it was out there messed him up. The picture might as well have been painted up on a building downtown like a mural.
While that was going on, Billy simultaneously tortured himself by looking around at the other students, all the while trying to figure out just which of these villains it was who drew on his dad’s face. The very thought of his dad having enemies around him felt eerie, a chilling sensation and one that he could live without. And although Billy did not relish the thought of his dad being his teacher, he was more than a little worried for him. In fact, this worry was growing by the minute.
Whoever could be making fun of his dad? And why? Was it just one guy? Maybe it was a small group of them. What if this was something big? What if there were a tremendously large network of anti-Mr. Harris club members, like an opposing camp. For all he knew, they could be well-organized and popular. Another thought: Whoever it was would probably take on Billy just as easily and just as quickly as they would his dad.
This was a living nightmare. How could this be happening in a small town like Pecan Falls of all places? They were only one week into this new school year and Billy was already having thoughts of putting a hundred miles between him and these halls. What other horrors awaited him? What could he possibly …?
Oh no, he interrupted his thoughts again. Another one! He rushed over to another bulletin board where yet another Chess Club flier had been marked on. This time, his dad had horns, angry eyebrows, and fangs. Rather than ripping the flier from its tack, he calmly pulled the tack off and repositioned it elsewhere. He took the first flier out of his backpack and gazed upon them both. Is this the work of the same person? How many more of these idiotic fliers are on campus? There was only one way to find out. He bolted toward his dad’s classroom.
Walking about a mile a minute, he came around a corner precisely as Justin was coming around the other side. They nearly collided, which would have been funny if we could add some sound effects (maybe the sound of bowling pins being knocked down).
“Finally!” Justin exclaimed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
“What do you want, Justin?” he replied rather impatiently.
“My girlfriend was wanting to know if you were the one drawing all these funny pictures on your dad’s face.” Justin had barely finished the question before Billy walked away from him in angered silence. “Dude,” Justin said disappointingly. Now it seemed he had to return to his girlfriend with nothing to report.
School was out for the day, but William Harris was still at his desk. A half-dozen students sat around his room. All was silent except for the soft sound of a Claude Debussy tune playing in the background. The desks had been arranged to face each other to support the vinyl cloth chess boards. Three games were currently in play. The handsome pieces were tall and made of tough plastic with green felt on the bottom of each piece.
Mr. Harris had just finished grading papers and brought out his phone to text his wife.
I love you, Mrs. Harris.
A moment later, the silent reply came. I love you too, Mr. Harris.
Would you still love me if I suddenly grew an exoskeleton?
You’re weird.
Out in the hall, Billy approached his dad’s classroom cautiously trying not to make a sound. He remembered seeing that the Chess Club meets on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. He knew that there was a good chance that they were there. And he was right. He had no intentions of disturbing the club or drawing attention to himself. But he had to talk to his dad about these fliers. How many of these horrible sheets did he post? How extensive was their placement around campus? And how easy would it be to collect them and have them mercifully and humanely destroyed?
He stood by the door trying to get his father’s attention without being noticed by any possible chess-playing oddballs.
His dad finally saw Billy waving at him from the hallway. William’s eyebrows popped up and he awkwardly waved back wondering if Billy had just stopped to surprise him and say Hi. But Billy made it known that he wanted to speak to his dad, so William got up from his seat and joined him just out of visual range of the game-playing students. He looked down at Billy’s sad face.
Mr. Harris usually liked to keep the mood light. But on this occasion, genuine concern could be heard in his voice. “Hey Biggin’. What’s wrong?”
Billy had no idea how to articulate what he was feeling. He knew that anything that he could say would probably just sound corny. So instead, he chose simply to lift up the two vandalized fliers that had caused him such a painful afternoon and let them do the talking. Deep down inside, Billy already knew that his dad would make light of it. He would not be as negatively affected by the fliers. But Billy did not expect his dad to actually laugh at them. He was astonished by his father’s good-humored reaction.
William pointed at one of the fliers as he chuckled. “I really like that one. It’s funny. But I think the funniest one is the one over by the Chemistry lab. In that one, my face is covered in spots. I have a thermometer in my mouth and a hot water bottle on my head. Great stuff.”
“Huh? You knew about these?”
He stopped laughing and stood up straight. “Sure I do. I think they’re hilarious.”
“Hilarious?!” Billy was stunned. “You aren’t embarrassed or even a little worried about these?”
William laughed again. “No. Of course not. I’m the one who drew these.”
Billy’s eyes nearly leaped out of his head. “YOU did this?” His voice nearly broke. “Why?”
William’s voice sounded like years of experience talking. “Well, I’ve been teaching long enough to know that someone would eventually come along and do this anyway. So naturally, I always like to beat them to it. That way, I can control what is done. Besides, I think I do a much better job than these amateurs.”
Billy’s face contorted into a comical grimace expressing the need for clarification.
So William continued. “Think about it. Would you rather see one of the students do this or have me do this to myself?”
Billy hated it but at times his dad’s argument was unexpectedly sound. He never would have thought that up in a million years. He searched for words. “Uh, okay … But I don’t see why you would want your picture on these at all.” He held up the fliers together in one fist.
“Well, it is only for the benefit of new students and transfer students who want to play chess. They don’t know who I am at first, but they’ll recognize me in the hall and ask me questions about it.” William looked down at Billy and noticed his expression. It was obvious to him that his son was still uncomfortable with the idea. “You really are bothered by this, aren’t you?”
Billy felt dumb. He had been worrying all afternoon about his dad being made a mockery by one of the students (or a large organized network of students); and as it turned out, his dad was making fun of himself all along. Now there was a plot twist that came out of nowhere. All Billy could do was hang his head down. “Yeah, I guess so.” How could he tell his dad that having him at the school all the time was a major source of embarrassment to him? Fliers or no fliers.
William paused for a moment. He then spoke reassuringly as if he found a solution. “Well, I’ll tell you what … I guess I can go around the school and take them down; I usually do anyway after the first month. But you’re going to have to learn how to laugh at yourself. Don’t become one of those people who are offended by everything easily. Remember Proverbs 17:22? ‘A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones.’ Don’t go around looking for things to bring you down or steal your joy. Keep it happy. Keep it positive.”
Billy had the sudden urge to leave - - although he did not know where he could go. He just had a premonition that he was about to get stuck doing something that he did not want to do. “Alright, dad. Look, I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Wait. Since you’re here anyway, you ought to come in and try the Chess Club.” William made a quick and friendly gesture toward his classroom.
Billy quietly looked around the room. “I don’t think so, dad. This doesn’t really look like my thing.”
“I know. They’re too nerdy for someone as cool as you. Well, I certainly won’t pressure you. But I still think that you should try it out since you’re here. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to come back.”
“Yeah, no. These people are too … weird.”
William straightened his back to reach is full height. “Weird? So you think these ordinary, fun-loving students are weird? You don’t even know them. Whose standards are you measuring them by anyway? Are you qualified to declare who is weird and who is cool?” Suddenly, William’s face changed. Anyone with half of an eye could easily see that an idea just came to him - - and it was a sneaky one too. “You know, I could get you in this room and playing chess in roughly a minute by saying just one word.”
A nervous smile crept onto Billy’s face. He would not admit to it, but he was intrigued. “No, you can’t. Impossible.”
“Oh yes, I can - - with just one solitary word. In fact, I can go back in the room, sit at my desk, and say one word and it would be as good as done. In addition, this one word isn’t even in English. What would you say to that, tough guy?” William smiled knowingly from ear to ear. He was not bluffing.
Still, Billy foolishly doubted his dad. Just what strange magic did Mr. Harris possess? Billy knew one thing: he was not going to enter that room. His only course of action was for his legs to carry him back down the hall and straight out the door. “Nah. There’s no way that’ll happen.”
“Do you mind if I try?”
Billy was feeling awfully sure of himself. He was not going in that room. No force was able to make him budge. “Sure. I’d like to see you try. But I still say that it’s impossible.”
William’s same sneaky grin remained unchanged. “Okay. Just stay right here. Don’t move.” He slowly backed away from his son as if he was balancing a hot cup of coffee on his head.
Billy let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “Yeah. Okay, dad.” He rolled his eyes. This was total nonsense. If he were the betting type, this would be easy money.
William casually walked back to his desk, sat, and picked up a pen again as if he was going to be entering grades in his grade book. His return went completely unnoticed by all students. Without even looking up at anyone, he said just one word. “Alejandro.”
A boy with black hair instantly popped his head up from his game, looked over at Mr. Harris, then looked at the door, and saw Billy standing there. A huge smile appeared on his face and his arms flew up in the air. “Bienvenidos. Welcome sophomore!” He sprang from his seat and rushed over to Billy.
A sudden rush of terror overpowered Billy. Huh-oh! he thought. He nervously looked for a polite escape, but the young man managed to get to him first.
“You are a sophomore, right?” The student with a slight accent was already ushering Billy into the room. He must have possessed some uncatalogued superpower for controlling other people’s movements.
“Uh, yeah.” Confused, he now magically found himself in the front of the classroom.
His dad secretly smiled. Billy had fallen for his little trap. Now it was all a matter of time. Good, he thought to himself. He needed a place to belong.
Alejandro excitedly turned to the others. “Hey, guys! We’ve got a sophomore here!” The others in the group did not bother looking up. Unimpressed, they kept playing their games. The boy turned again to Billy. “What’s your name, sophomore?”
Billy was too stunned to think about anything other than answering the question that was put to him. “Uh, Billy. Billy Harris.”
“Uh Billy Billy Harris? That’s a funny name. Kinda redundant.” Alejandro stopped sharply and quickly put his twos and twos together. “Un momento. Billy Harris? As in William Harris Jr.?” He turned to address William. “How about it, teach?”
Finally, Mr. Harris spoke up. Pointing a pencil his way, “Billy is my son and has been all his life. You can tell because we have the same cowlicks.”
With a sly smile, the boy replied. “Well, there is no reason to apologize for that, Mr. Harris.” He turned to address Billy. “But just because you have the same cowlicks as the teach, don’t think that that entitles you to any special privileges. You can lose games as well as any of the rest of us – maybe better. ¿Comprende?”
Billy nodded apprehensively.
Alejandro faced the rest of the group in introductive mode. “Hey! This is Billy the Sophomore.”
Right on cue, four of the remaining students all said in bored unison, “Hello and welcome to Chess Club, Billy the Sophomore.”
Billy thought, Oh no. This is weirder than I imagined. A chess-playing cult.
The young man directed Billy around the room by placing his hand on Billy’s back and giving him a friendly shove. “So, do you already know how to play chess or would you like us to teach you?”
This was a dangerous question. Any way he answered, it was like committing himself to something that he would rather not do. Nevertheless, he felt a little flushed by this pointed insult. He answered in a rather defensive tone. “I know how to play chess, thank you very much.”
“Good! That means that you can sit down and start playing. And this is great news for us because your presence here gives us an even number. Now everyone here can play. But first things first; let me start with the introductions. As you heard, my name is Alejandro. And I am the Chess Club welcoming committee.”
“…self-appointed.” A boy with dish-water blonde hair spoke up in a somewhat playfully sarcastic tone. He had blue eyes and a superhero t-shirt on. His teeth broke through a crooked smile.
Alejandro did not look back at who spoke - - in fact, he did not even gesture towards him. He simply said, “And THAT is Joey. Watch out for him; he likes to sneak up from behind with his rooks.”
Joey gave Billy a welcome smile and waved. “We already know each other. Welcome fellow sophomore.”
“Hi, Joey,” Billy said with recognition.
As Alejandro spoke, he made his way behind a boy with long black hair and maybe an earring or two under there somewhere. The beginnings of a beard were growing on his face. The largest student in the room, he was dressed in such a way that would discourage people from messing with him. Alejandro put his arms on the young man’s shoulders and continued his introductions. “And THIS big ray of sunshine is the lovable – but misunderstood – Quotes.” As he said the name, Alejandro made hooks out of two fingers on each hand and bent them as he said ‘Quotes.’
Billy did not know what to make of that. “Quotes?”
Alejandro corrected him. “Oh, no, no. It’s pronounced …” He theatrically repeated the hand motions. “ …Quotes.” For a moment, he could detect an expression of worry on Billy’s face. “Nah. Just kidding. You can say it anyway you want. Quotes will let you know himself if he doesn’t like the way you say it.” He turned to face the senior. “Isn’t that right, big guy?”
Quotes grunted.
Billy managed a smile and began to nod his head. “Quotes. That’s a cool nickname.”
Alejandro explained. “Well, he needed a good nickname in the worst way. His parents actually named him Electron. They said something about receiving a negative charge from him when he was born. So when people pronounced his name, they often motioned quotation marks by bending their fingers. So now we just call him Quotes.” Alejandro leaned closer to Billy to talk softly in his ear. “Actually, Electron isn’t exactly a bad name, all things considered. His sister’s name is Pineapple Yogurt. We are guessing (or rather hoping) that his parents were on something prescribed by physicians at the time.” He backed into his original posture and voice. “Give folks the benefit of the doubt, right?”
Billy smiled. “Well, personally I think it is a cool nickname.”
Without missing a beat, Alejandro led him away to continue the introductions. “Whatever, brah. There will be plenty opportunities to offend Quotes later, trust me.” He pointed to the next kid. “This character is Eugene. He’s really a special case. And Eugene actually is a nickname as well.”
Billy was not sure if he heard that correctly. “Eugene is your nickname?”
Eugene turned to him sharply, smacking on some gum. With a big smile, “Yeah! … on account that I was born there.”
“Eugene, … Oregon?” Billy thought about rubbing his eyes. There better not be a quiz over all these names, he pondered.
“Born and bred,” he replied.
Alejandro pulled Billy in and whispered in his ear. “Another warning. Watch out for him. He’s got jokes.”
Billy hoped he would never discover what Alejandro meant by that.
Eugene leaped up and made a wide sweeping gesture to his chair as if it were a prize on a game show. “And you, Mr. Billy Sophomore, may have my seat. That’ll be my punishment for losing this terribly-played game.”
Alejandro bumped Billy into the sitting position. “Cool. Check you out. No waiting. No long line. You’re already in a game. That must be some kind of record.”
William sat quietly in his seat, looked at his wristwatch, and smiled. It might have taken a little longer than he had anticipated, but Billy was about to play a game against one of these so-called nerds – and, in some weird way, enjoy himself.
Alejandro drew his attention to the student sitting opposite of where Billy now sat. “And this is your new opponent: Maggie.”
Billy practically did an old-fashioned double take. “Uh … You’re a girl?!”
The girl he was referring to was not smiling. “Oh, you’re good. You must’ve seen one in a movie.” If first impressions count for anything, this was going to be a stormy game. In a bitter voice, she continued the compliment. “Your powers of observation do you credit, sophomore. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to beat you and your keen intellect. Apparently, nothing escapes you.”
Overhearing this exchange, William knew that his son was in mortal danger. He did his best not to grin.
Billy instantly found himself issuing an apology. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect to see a girl in Chess Club.”
“Uh, ‘girls.’ Plural.” The voice came from the girl sitting next to Maggie.
Billy already felt like an idiot. Now it was completely confirmed. “Uh, sorry.” He lifted his hand in a polite wave. “I’m Billy.”
Her tone matched that of Maggie’s. “Yeah. That’s the rumor going around. I’m Berly.”
“Nice to meet you.” Billy tilted his head slightly. “I’ve never heard of the name Berly before. Is it your last name?”
“No. It is short for my first name, Kimberly.”
“I thought Kim was short for Kimberly.”
Maggie interrupted. “Yeah, yeah. It’s your go, detective.”
Billy looked down and noticed that Maggie had already arranged the pieces in their starting positions while he was talking to Berly and making a general fool of himself. His opponent had taken the initiative to make the first play by moving a pawn forward. He responded by picking up his knight and hopping it over a row of pawns.
He sensed something awkward and strange and it did not take long to discover what. He turned to see that Eugene was staring at him. Eugene sported a corny grin as he smacked his gum and waved his hand. Billy spoke up. “Hey! I thought that Alejandro said that my presence here give the club an even number. But it doesn’t. There is an odd number in here and Eugene is just sitting there grinning at me.”
Alejandro felt that he had to explain. “The numbers add up just fine. You see, I was counting our Chess Club president, Rodney, who is absent today.”
Without warning, everyone except Billy, Mr. Harris, and Quotes suddenly exclaimed, “LONG LIVE RODNEY!” Their voices were loud and in perfect unison. This caught Billy completely off guard; in fact, he quite nearly jumped out of his skin.
In a normal voice, Joey had this to say, “I think he had to get another allergy shot after school. But don’t worry; I’m sure he’ll be here next time. He hardly ever misses Chess Club. You’ll want to meet him.”
Allergy shot? Billy thought. Well, that is something he can’t control. But Billy could not help but sound a little sarcastic as he said, “I can hardly wait.”
Eugene made an attempt to verbally communicate amidst his loud gum-smacking. “Thanks for coming today, sophomore. This might be a stretch to the ol’ imagination, but some students want very badly to come to Chess Club, and yet they don’t. They think that it is inhabited by a whole flock of weirdoes. Ha! Can you believe that mess?”
William looked up from his desk in silent amusement.
Billy was somehow conscience of his father’s peering eyes. He fully concentrated on not returning his gaze and answered, “Really? Weirdoes? Where would anyone get an idea like that?” He was unaware of how much guilt he was projecting at that moment.
Eugene blarted out a loud laugh. It sounded like a horse stomping on a bagpipe. “I like you, Billy Sophomore. You’re funny.”
Quotes growled.
Just a few short minutes ago, Billy was pacing the halls worrying himself sick over the display of a few artistic interpretations of his dad’s face. Now, he was in the very den of the chess freaks. So much for popularity. Out of the frying pan …