Bad Juju (2 page)

“Let’s pray,” Tom stated as they stood on t
op of the hill in the darkness.
All three of them bowed t
heir heads down while he spoke.  “Dear God, protect my son.
Please bring him back to me if he’s still alive.”

Chapter
1

2000, Hayward, Wisconsin

Tom and Jessica Novak sat in the waiting room of Dr. Berger’s office
.  The cozy space was
decorated with primary colors, toy bins, floor mats, and small tables
, putting them
and their son, Henry, at ease.  The doctor encouraged them to watch her interaction with Henry through the large rectangular window while they waited. 

At five years old, Henry lagged behind other children his age in almost everything, especially communication.  His three year-old sister was learning five or more new words a day while his vocabulary hadn’t increased over the last year. 

Tom and Jessica had been in Dr. Berger’s office all morning.  Hunger set in and patience evaporated.  After her last series of tests, the doctor marked up her clipboard and took Henry’s hand.  Knocking on the glass, she motioned for Jessica and Tom to enter into her office.

Taking a seat, Tom asked, “So what’s the matter with him?”

“Health wise, he’s fine.  But you already know that.  That’s why you are here.  I need to go through my notes and reread what his other doctors have documented,” said Dr. Berger, looking down at the clipboard.

“Please, enough with the suspense.  As of this moment, and we realize your diagnosis could change
.  W
hat do you think is the matter with him?” Tom pleaded.  His light blue eyes were full of concern.  A long silent pause occurred.  “C’mon, Doc.  We can take it.”

“Well then, without preparing a formal evaluation, I believe your son has autism, possibly Asperger’s, but this can change.  Here’s some information on both of the impairments,” said Dr. Berger as she handed them stacks of informational flyers.

“Autism?  I heard of it, but am not sure what it is,” Jessica asked as she plucked long dark hair strands of hair out of her scalp.

“It’s a disorder one is born with. 
If
, and it’s still very much an
i
f
, Henry has autism, there is an enormous range of behaviors, personality traits, learning abilities…” Dr. Berger stated.

“Doc, worst case scenario, will he be mentally challenged?” Tom questioned.

“I don’t know.  With severe autism he won’t be able to communicate, he’ll have learning disabilities, might injure himself, maybe seizure, and he might even become aggressive.  But I doubt that is the case.  He is currently talking.  Maybe not as much as you would like, but he answered my questions.  Little things like his rocking and word repetition I noticed.  He seems impulsive, avoids eye contact, pulled away when I took his hand…Again, don’t quote me, but he seems more on the high-level side of autism otherwise called Asperger’s Syndrome.  Communication will still be a problem, but it’s possible for Asperger children to learn, even excel in certain subjects.  If he has Asperger’s, then there is plenty of hope.”

***

The doctor’s educated guess became her diagnosis.  Throughout the years, at least half dozen specialists concurred.  Henry was high-functioning but odd.  His peculiarities kept him from socializing.  His limited communication graduated into one-way conversations.  He didn’t know how to appropriately respond to others’ emotions.  Empathy and sympathy were foreign.  However, he was able to tell his parents that he loved them and excelled in school.  For this, Jessica and Tom thanked God every night. 

Raising a son with special needs was a hardship they eventually got used to.  Both parents threw themselves into their evangelical church, receiving even more support from their congregation.  Natalie, their other child, was both physically and mentally healthy.  Things could have been much worse, and they considered themselves blessed.

Years after Henry’s initial evaluation, his reading comprehension was above grade level
and
he excelled in math.  With ease, he watched his teachers demonstrate how to solve a problem on an overhead and then perfectly complete the corresponding worksheets and tests.  Every new step, process, formula, and rule was retained in his memory.  But there was a dark side to his talent.  Anytime a teacher deviated from the routine and tried something creative, problems would occur.

Despite Henry’s linear thinking, he was placed in an accelerated math program since the 6
th
grade.  Now a freshman in high school, he sat with sophomores in an advanced placement geometry class.  He loved the class for two reasons: the ease of the subject and Brittany
Bonaducci
.

Chapter
2

Ms. Fontana was well aware of Henry’s idiosyncrasies.  In fact, the whole town of Hayward was aware.  He came with an Individual Education Plan (IEP) and two overprotective parents who weekly barraged her and Henry’s six other teachers with phone calls.  She taught geometry in Henry’s favorite format for months.  The rest of the class craved something different from the worksheets and tests.  Mr. Hines, the math teacher in the next room, suggested a lesson on triangles using puzzle pieces.  She decided to try it.

Henry
invited himself into
Ms. Fontana’s class
every day during lunch
.  Her classroom was empty
and his geometry class followed
.  She liked to use the time to grade papers.  At first she resented Henry’s endless chatter about war movies and History Channel episodes.  One day she interrupted him and asked if he would like to grade papers.  He readily accepted.

Meticulously, he graded stacks of homework and tests with the coordinating answer keys, saving her hours of work each week.  She enjoyed the lightened workload, and he preferred her quiet room to the lunchroom of his peers, not knowing how to fit in.
  They soon formed the favorite student-favorite teacher bond.

Ms. Fontana prepared him for a change in the day’s lesson.

“Will there be partner work?” he asked.

Already sensing his apprehension, she answered, “Yes.  Assigned partners.”

This seemed to pacify Henry at the moment. 
Sadly, they both knew no one would voluntarily choose him as a partner. 
The first, and then second bell rang.  Class had begun.

“Please quiet down.  We don’t have a lot of time.  Today we will be working with triangles and the Pythagorean Theorem.  You and your partner will complete this project by the end of the class,” Ms. Fontana directed.

Some of the students began to shift desks and get out of their seats in order to pair up with a friend in the classroom.

“Excuse me.  Assigned partners.  At least for now.”  She could have heard the disappointed sighs from across the hall.  “Alright, Mark and Lisa, Jose and Tara, Janice and
Deja
, Henry and Brittany…”

Once assigned, everyone slowly configured their seating.  Everyone except Brittany.  She joined Tony and Rio in the back of the classroom.  Both boys were handsome and popular.

“Brittany, over here, by Henry.  You’re his partner,” Ms. Fontana motioned.  She packed up her books and moved a few seats down while rolling her eyes.

Ms. Fontana explained the directions and passed out the sets of triangle puzzle pieces.  By the time everyone began, the class was halfway over.

***

Henry stared at Brittany’s flowing light brown hair and enormous brown eyes.  She was beautiful, possibly the most beautiful girl in the school.  He wished he could say something to make her like him, but conversation was his biggest weakness.

“Brittany, do you like history?  My great-grandfather was in World War II and his troop was on the History Channel because…”

“Don’t care.  Shut your god-damned pie hole.  We need to finish this.” she sneered.

“He was in Poland.  You ever hear of Auschwitz?  He and his soldiers liberated…”

“I said I don’t give a shit!  We need to get this done before the bell.  Quit talking and start working,” she snapped as she raced through the puzzle pieces and math problems.

A minute went by in silence.  Henry couldn’t contain himself.

“Did you know that Stalin killed way more…”

“Shut the fuck up or I’m telling Ms. Fontana that you’re jacking off and I’m doing all the work, you little freak!  We’re only halfway through.”

“Okay.  I think if we put this angle here, with this other angle…” Henry demonstrated.

“Henry, I did that problem fifteen minutes ago!  Do number 14 and I’ll do 15 - you do the evens and I’ll do the odds,” Brittany ordered.

Dejected, Henry began his set of problems in silence.  They were almost finished.  Rio pushed his desk into theirs, forming a three-way seating arrangement.

“You finished? 
Here.
  We’re done.  Need the last two answers?” Rio offered.

“Yeah, thanks.  You saved us, my hero,” Brittany giggled.

“We know how to get the answers ourselves.  We’re not stupid.  Leave us alone so we can finish,” Henry said without eye contact, not realizing Rio offered the answers to Brittany and not him.

“Uh, Brittany’s done now,” Rio said.  Then facing her with his back shoulder to Henry he asked, “So, want to come over Friday?  I can rent some movies or we could play video games?  Got a couple of others coming over.”

“Love to…” Brittany answered.

“I said we are still working.  Quit bothering us!” Henry yelled loud enough for the entire class to hear.

“I’m not bothering her, you fucking fat-ass shit.  She’s done!  You should move!” Rio yelled back.

***

Ms. Fontana could smell the testosterone from across the room. 
This was a bad idea
, she thought. 
Protective of Henry, s
he rushed over to Henry’s desk
and tried
to calm him down.

Before Ms. Fontana could place herself in between the two boys, Henry sprang from his desk and lunged at Rio.  His adrenaline and size gave him the advantage.  Rio tumbled to the floor in shock.  Quickly recouping from the blow, he regained his senses and swung a right hook at Henry’s face.  Blood splattered everywhere.  Henry was not backing down.  Both boys were fully engaged in a brawl.  The class circled and egged them both on.

“I need male staff!  A fight-Henry Novak and Rio Garcia!” panted Ms. Fontana into the intercom.

Hayward was a decent size
d
town per Wisconsin’s standards.  With a population of 17,000 and
the
touristy Lake Hayward,
the
residents
considered themselves the most
sophisticated
in
northern Wisconsin. 
However,
when it came to gossip, like all small towns, no one could hold back.  It wasn’t long until the whole town knew
about
Rio
Garcia
’s
and Henry Novak
’s
fight
.  Henry
, the weird
Asperger
kid, was pronounced the winner.

It took four male staff and two women to pull the two boys apart as they rolled around like dervishes on the floor of Ms. Fontana’s classroom.  Blood spurt in all directions, leaving its mark on homework, backpacks, and anything else
with
in its vicinity.

Both boys were
over
six feet tall, weighing somewhere
over
the two hundred pound mark. 
Rio
was lean and muscular, whereas Henry was large-boned.  Most would agree it was a fair fight, but Henry had a mental edge that
Rio
could never compete with.  Once angered, he wanted to kill. 
M
oral and social constraints were never part of his psyche.

Freemont High School’s
cavalry
arrived before anyone was seriously injured.  Both boys were bloodied and swollen, shuttled in separate ambulances
to the emergency room
.  Henry’s injuries proved superficial: broken nose, chipped tooth,
and
black eye. 
Rio
surpassed his battle wounds with a broken collarbone and left arm.  Both sets of their parents arrived and were informed by Principal Schafer there would be a meeting they needed to attend first thing in the morning.

“What happened?” Jessica Novak asked as she sat in the back of their
SUV
with her son on the way home.

“He wouldn’t stop bothering me.  I just wanted to finish my work,” answered Henry.

“Your teacher wondered if you might have been
jealous.
  A girl was involved?” Tom asked as he briefly turned from the driver’s seat to see his son’s reaction to the question.