High School Honey

by Bill Bowler

Chapter 12: Cross Country

The desire that had been Vronsky’s only one for almost an entire year and had replaced all earlier desires, and the desire that had been an impossible, horrifying and therefore all the more seductive dream of happiness for Anna — that desire was gratified. — L. N. Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

Mr. Bloman loved to run. He had been a varsity cross-country runner in high school and college. Of course he was a natural to coach the cross-country team at Brookbank High. And he continued to run, his exercise invigorated by the memories of past achievements. It was a Godly pursuit, and he was trim at 40.

He walked down the front steps of the diner, took a deep breath of the fresh May air, and broke into a trot. As he ran, his mind wandered. He thought Vecchio looked prosperous. To lose the teaching job you thought was secure, and then to get set up in the restaurant business and have it all work out for the best... just goes to show you. And it was nice to see former students like Jack Baer making something of themselves, and to see the girls working and not on the streets looking for trouble.

Mr. Bloman’s route took him past the high school. He turned onto a side street, into a new development. Big houses, but very close together. Some Public Works hardhats were standing by an open ditch. Their hands and faces were dirty, but only one of them seemed to be working, while the others were just standing around.

Mr. Bloman felt contempt for these idlers, and increased his stride as he ran past. The laborers watched him curiously as he passed. One of them farted and they all laughed.

Mr. Bloman continued through the development, out along the sidewalk of a busy street, and down Broadway towards the center of town, having made almost a complete loop back to Vecchio’s. He was mid-way through the run, not tired; his respiratory and circulatory systems were going full blast, feeling great.

He thought about the exam he was giving the class next Monday. He was going to give them one question about the importance of victory in the Vietnam conflict, one about the failure of Communism, and one about the guiding hand of the Free Market.

He had covered four miles when he started to develop a cramp in his left side. Flea and Floater, sitting in the park, watched Mr. Bloman run past and off down Broadway toward Pasquanack. Floater rose from the bench and started towards Vecchio’s to get a milkshake to go.

Mr. Bloman circled back from the Pasquanack town line over the steep hill of Wohanus Lane. From the summit, he caught sight of the New York skyline, floating off in the distance like a Magic Kingdom. He held his pace steady down the hill past the Loom residence, then through the pine woods along the edge of the reservoir, where the pine needles lay like a soft silent carpet muffling all sound. He travelled across the reservoir and down along Broadway back towards the business district, to complete the circle.

He had run six miles, two with the goddamn cramp. He was forced to slow to a walk as the cramp began to really bother him, almost doubling him over. Breathing heavily, perspiring profusely, he mopped his brow and spit. At that moment, from behind, he heard deep, hoarse barking.

He turned to see a great Dane trailing its leash and snarling. The giant dog was coming directly at him. Mr. Bloman was exhausted, in pain from the cramp, but he broke into a sprint with all the speed the survival instinct provides, dashing towards the nearest tree. He could feel the beast gaining on him, snapping at his heels, but he pounced and pulled himself up on a low branch in a sycamore beside the First National Bank of Pasquanack building on the far side of the park.

The great Dane bounded up, his front legs on the tree trunk, barking and foaming, but his prey had scrambled out of reach. The dog began to sniff around the base of the tree, lifted his leg and peed on it, and walked off, having lost interest. A squirrel sharing the branch with Mr. Bloman, chattered at the departing dog.

From his perch in the tree, Hugo had a nice aerial view. He gazed across the park towards the front of Mr. Vecchio’s diner and observed Floater Loom emerging from the restaurant drinking a milkshake through a straw.

As Floater approached the curb, a car pulled up in front of the diner. A boy with a bandage on his nose leapt out of the car while the driver waited with the motor running.

Floater stepped back and dropped the milkshake. The boy with the bandaged nose punched Floater in the face and then kicked him in the balls. Floater doubled over and fell to the ground. The assailant dove back into the car and the vehicle sped off.

Proceed to Chapter 13...