Teen Angel (27 page)

Dot cracked up. “I get it. He was doing it, huh?”

Sonny spent the whole school day going to the bathroom. She went fifteen times in all. During one of her visits, she composed her epitaph. It was so moving she almost broke down at the thought of it.

SONNY PALOVSKY
“THE STRINGBEAN”
(1949-1963)

What greater tragedy is there than youth mowed down like crabgrass, extinguished like a Philco picture tube. And she had finally gotten “her friend.”
“TEEN ANGEL, CAN YOU HEAR ME?
”

At three o’clock, Sonny slowly walked out of the building. Her own funeral march rang in her ears.
Maybe it would all turn out to be a joke
. She couldn’t imagine hurting anyone for real.

Across the street, they were charging a nickel per person for ringside seats on one of the parked cars. Sonny didn’t really mind if the Teen Angels put a couple of extra coins in the till. After all, that was family and went towards parties. But when she saw Lenny
Swinestein
taking bets and she was the dark horse, dead duck, with ten-to-one odds against her, it was enough to scare a person.
Like it was really real
.

“Please darlinks,” she said as she approached the growing circle. “No more autographs and photos. Not today.” No one smiled. Why were they acting so grave? It was her tombstone.

“What are you waiting for?” the Gooch jeered. She had already taken off her jacket. “Change your mind, chickenshit?”

Sonny passed her and joined D.B., Mary Kelly, and Marilyn, who sat on the hood of a silver Chevelle. “How’s it going, you guys?” she said hopefully.
D.B. used to be her best friend
.

“Let’s get this over with already,” Marilyn said.

“Hey Sonny!” Dot ran, trying to catch her breath. “I was afraid you’d start and something happened to you and all–”

“It’s going to be all right,” Sonny said.

“You know, you don’t have to do it,” Dot whispered. “I don’t want you to
get
hurt. You know, you can get hurt real bad. …”

She interrupted. “Shut it.”
God, I’m shaking
.

“Cut the crap, already,” the Gooch growled. “Are you going to fight or not?”

Somehow the Gooch was different from all of them. The only time she smiled was when she was threatening someone. Then her eyes burned as if she could settle a score. She was tougher than anyone Sonny had ever known. She took off her own jacket.

They walked toward each other. Sonny smiled faintly.
Can’t we make up somehow? If you want to be friends, I won’t hold a grudge
. Even though she was without a jacket, she felt sweat beads forming on her forehead. But she was cold too and had goosebumps on her arms and around the nape of her neck. Her palms were clammy.

The Gooch stopped. She was waiting for Sonny to make her move.
Don’t shoot till you see the whites of their eyes
. There were two feet between them now.

All of a sudden, the Gooch lunged out at her. In one motion, she pushed Sonny back several feet. Then she pushed her again.

“Are you going to take that?” Hansy called.

“Yeah.”

“Come on, Sonny.”

She started to back away. But the Gooch tripped her. As she fell on the hard asphalt, scraping her knee, she cried, “Look, we don’t have to do this.” Blood throbbed from the cut and she had a big hole in her stocking. “I don’t hate you.”

“I can’t stand your guts,” the Gooch said. “It’s too late to back out.” She knocked Sonny down again.

As she lay on the ground, Sonny heard the soundtrack of every war and fight movie. “You can do it, we know you can do it.” Paul Newman got hurt bad in
Somebody Up There Likes Me
. The sight of her own blood paralyzed her.

The Gooch sat on top of her and pinned her arms down. Sonny struggled to get loose from her hold, and for a second she almost managed it. Then she tightened her grip on Sonny’s arms.

“GET UP!” Someone screamed. “Come on, Sonny.”

“Fight.”

“Throw the Gooch off!”

Sonny grabbed the Gooch’s hair and pulled as hard as she could.

“Damn it!” she cursed, whipping around and slapping Sonny across the face.

“Shit!” she cried. Sonny started punching blindly and forced the Gooch off” her stomach. But when she tried to stand up, she caught her from behind and knocked her down again. This time when Sonny hit the ground, she scraped her elbows and tore her sweater. The Gooch kicked her in the side.

“Please … stop …” She began to whimper.

“SHUT UP!” The Gooch grabbed her neck and began choking her. Sonny tried to push her off but couldn’t.

“Don’t …” Sonny moaned.

“Fight!” the Gooch screamed. “Do you hear me?”

She just wanted it to be over with. She was scared so bad. And winded. And hurting. Sonny tried to reach for the Gooch’s hair but she slapped her.

Sonny looked up at her and saw the expression of excitement on her face.
The Gooch was enjoying this
. It wasn’t like when her father got angry and lost control. This was different.

The Gooch released her neck and began shaking Sonny. “Are you going to fight or aren’t you?”

“Come on, Palovsky!” Some P.R. chick was screaming. “You can do it!”

Mary shouted in her ear. “GET UP!”

“Yeah.” D.B. added her two cents. “Come on, Sonny! Don’t give up.”

They were all having a blast while she was getting the shit
kicked out of her. Some jerk threw an empty soda bottle which shattered the window above them. As the glass rained down on them and some woman started screaming about calling the police, she did not stir. The only sensation she felt was a deep numbing pain. Sonny wanted to sleep. But the Gooch would not stop shaking her. “Fight, you little chickenshit!” she screamed. “Do you hear me?”

“Stop them! She’s going to kill her!” It was Dot’s terrified voice. “Please.”

From somewhere inside of her that was bruised and tired of the Gooch bullying her, making her eat shitloads of crap, and calling her names, she reached out and punched her as hard as she could in the tits.

“That’s it!” Some guy shouted. “Get her in the tits again!”

The Gooch whipped around and yanked Sonny by the hair. “You bitch!” she screamed.

“Let go!” Sonny tried to scratch her arm but had no nails. The Gooch continued to pull her hair as she struggled, waving her arms wildly. Her hair felt like it was being dragged by the roots out of her scalp. But she could not cut loose from the Gooch’s hold.

“I give up!” Sonny screamed in desperation. “Stop!”

The Gooch would not let go. When she dropped her arms in a gesture of pleading, she noticed the pearl ring her mother had given her. Sonny aimed it and dug the prongs into the Gooch’s right cheek.

“UGGH!” she cried out in pain, releasing Sonny to grab her own cheek. She looked down at her hand and discovered blood.

“Have you had enough?” Sonny demanded.

“Fight, chickenshit!” The Gooch went for her throat.

This time Sonny slit open the Gooch’s other cheek.

“Cunt!” she screamed, covering her face with her hands.

Someone was moaning. As the sound got louder, everyone split for the alleyway, back to the school building, down 176th Street. They lay in the middle of the street, entwined like they had been making out and were “too involved” to move. Sonny’s elbow and knees bled, her sweater was torn, and she had a hole in her stocking the size of a rock. Dry blood which had turned brown was caked on the Gooch’s cheek.

A car stopped in front of them. “What’s going on here?” a policeman demanded.

Neither of them answered.

Another cop with red hair and glasses joined him. “Come on, move it,” he said as he lifted Sonny roughly. “If you kids want to kill each other, that’s okay.” He reached for the Gooch’s arm and picked her up. “Which of you broke the lady’s window?”

“She did it!” a woman with peroxide hair screamed shrilly. “That one,” she pointed to Sonny. “I saw her.”

Sonny cried, “I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did,” the woman insisted. “I saw it with my own eyes.”

Sonny shook her head. “I didn’t. I swear to God.”

“Okay,” the first cop said, pushing Sonny toward the car. “We’re going to take you both downtown.”

“But we didn’t do anything!” Sonny cried.

“Yeah,” the Gooch muttered. “Nothing happened.”

“Uh uh,” the other cop said. “You’re coming with us. We’ll call your folks and then decide what to do with you.”

Sonny pleaded, “I swear I don’t know who broke the window.”

“I saw her!” the woman continued to scream. “Someone’s got to pay for this window.”

“Okay, lady. We heard you,” the cop said. Then he turned to Sonny and said, “Just get in the car, okay? If you don’t want any trouble, move it.”

Suddenly she began running. Not that she thought she had a chance, but maybe she did. As fast as her spider legs would carry her. Down to St. Nicholas. She ran across the street against the light and heard the screech of brakes behind her. But she didn’t turn around.
Faster!
At the corner of Amsterdam, she felt an iron tug across her chest.

“You trying to be smart? You could get into a lot of trouble,” the cop said, pushing her. “Now we’re going to walk back to the car like a good girl.”

She let herself be led and shoved into the back seat of the squad car. Terror made her numb. The Gooch sat huddled in the corner. He locked the door behind her.

They sat as far apart as they could. Their only exchange was when the Gooch turned around and said, “You’re deformed.”

“What do you mean?” Sonny demanded even though she already knew.

“You have these two things hanging out of your cunt.”

“Bull,” she cried. “You’re full of it.”

“Oh yeah?” the Gooch jeered. “D.B. saw it. And she even told me how you got them.”

It hurt everywhere. Especially in her head, which felt like someone was poking needles into it. Sonny closed her eyes but it got worse. “You know,” she blurted, “Rita had an abortion.”

“Who?”

“D.B.’s sister.”

“Wow!” she said sarcastically.

“Yeah, but she had to go to Puerto Rico and–” she paused “–she didn’t even know who the father was.”

“Everyone knows that,” the Gooch said, turning away to look out her window. Then she muttered under her breath, but Sonny heard it. “Ruben never said anything about you.”

The room was the color of snot and had a poster which said “Being a policeman is more than just a job” and showed a cop throwing a basketball to a colored kid. They sat there waiting. When Sonny heard her mother’s voice outside, she felt a rush of joy.
Everything would be all right
.

“My daughter. Where’s my daughter. You called me. This is Precinct number 34, yes?”

“Just a minute, lady. Let’s have that name again.”

“Palovsky. Sonny Palovsky.”

“Have a seat.” The policeman entered the room and pointed to her. “You, follow me.” The Gooch stood up too. “No, you stay right where you are.”

Sonny ran to her mother. She wanted to touch her hair, her cheek, cover her face with kisses. But her mother began to shake her, screaming, “0
cholera yasna!
Look at you! What a mess you made of your clothes.” Then she grabbed Sonny in her arms. “Thank God, you’re in one piece!”

“Sonny!” Mike cried, rushing from behind to hug her around the waist. “I thought you might have gotten murdered or something.”

“You watch too much television,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. Then she bent down to kiss the top of his head.

“So, now you’re a juvenile delinquent too?” Her mother pushed her away. “Look at her face!” she cried. She spit on her handkerchief and wiped Sonny’s face.

“Mom,” Sonny said. “They say that I broke this window and we have to pay twenty-five dollars, but I didn’t. I swear.”

“What’s this?” she said, turning to the policeman.

“Your daughter smashed someone’s window and it’ll cost twenty-five dollars to replace it,” he said. “If you want to take it to court–”

“How could you do this to us?” her mother demanded of Sonny.

“I mean it, mom. If I’m lying, you can kill me. I didn’t break the window.”

Her mother took a small black purse out of her pocketbook. As she counted the bills, she said, “Do you know how many hours your father has to work to make twenty-five dollars? Twenty-five dollars!”

Sonny began to cry. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Okay,” the policeman said. “Here’s a receipt.”

Her mother took it and said, “Come on.”

“Just a minute. You have to sign this form that you take responsibility for her.”

“And if I don’t take responsibility for her, who will?” She shook her head. “I’m her mother.” She signed the form without reading it. “Is that all?”

“That’s it,” he said. “Say, what about the other girl in there?”

“What do you mean?” Sonny asked. “Didn’t you call her parents?”

“Sure, we always call the parents. But they said we should keep her. They said they wanted no part of her.” He paused. “We can’t keep her here, you know.”

“What are you going to do then?”

“If no one picks her up, we’ll have to turn her over to the city,” he said. “She’ll be in their custody till she turns eighteen.”

Sonny pulled her mother aside. “What are we going to do?”

Her mother shook her head. “Let’s go,” she said firmly.

“We can’t just leave her here,” Sonny insisted.

“That girl is nothing to me,” her mother said.

“But we can’t just leave her here,” Sonny said. “You mean, she’d be put in an orphanage?”

“If nobody wants her,” the policeman said wearily, “she’ll probably become a state ward and be sent to school somewhere. Besides,” he added, looking over her records, “she’s been in trouble before.”

“Mom!” Sonny said desperately. “What are we going to do?”

“Sonny, why don’t you start thinking about what we could buy for the twenty-five dollars that you threw out like garbage.”

Sonny wriggled out of her mother’s grasp and ran into the room where the Gooch sat with her arms crossed.

“My mother’s here,” she said. “Don’t you think your parents are going to come?”