McMullen Circle by Heather Newton

Author:Heather Newton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Regal House Publishing
Published: 2022-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Good Boys

Elena Domiano didn’t know why it affected her so much, this boy dying. She had served him for three years on the cafeteria line at the McMullen School before he graduated and never had a real conversation with him. But he was a smiling boy, a kind boy, this Rob Whitaker, class of ’69, and as Elena dished out vegetables to high school girls with bloodshot, mascara-smeared eyes, and boys with no appetite, she herself felt ripped open and raw. Killed in Vietnam less than a month after landing there. Elena, who was not a crier, couldn’t look the students in the eye for fear of bawling. Instead she focused on a spot just beyond each one’s left shoulder, breathing around the mass in her throat as she scooped broccoli casserole and creamed corn onto their plates.

A girl Elena had seen hang out with Rob Whitaker pushed an empty tray through the line. When Elena asked her choice of vegetable the girl shook her head and burst into tears. Her friends moved close, patting her shoulder, and led her away.

Elena remembered a day last year when she was serving with another cafeteria lady, Dot Hopkins. Dot was in her seventies. She came up to Elena’s shoulder and was deaf as a rock. That day Dot’s job was to serve rolls and brush liquid butter on them if a student wanted it. Dot had a sing-song going, asking each student, “You want butter on that? You want butter on that?” It drove Elena crazy.

Rob Whitaker came through with the rest of the football team, his hair still wet from a shower. “A roll, with butter, please,” he said to Dot.

“You want butter on that?” Dot said.

The football player to Rob’s left laughed out loud, but Rob just gave Dot a smile. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, raising his voice so she could hear him.

Elena didn’t recall ever seeing Rob be unkind. She wished she could say the same for her own boys. The two oldest were moving down the line now with the lower school classes. Frankie, twelve, was right behind nine-year-old Mikey, trying to step on the backs of Mikey’s shoes to give him a flat tire.

The headmaster allowed Elena’s boys to attend the McMullen School even though technically a cafeteria lady wasn’t faculty. Thank God for it. She needed Frankie and Mikey to be where she could keep an eye on them. Frankie was a mess, always looking for a way to beat the system, and Mikey looked like an angel, with his curly blond hair and blue eyes, but he wasn’t.

Frankie stopped fooling around when he got close to Elena.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you,” she said, scooping corn onto his plate.

“What’d I do?” he said.

“Come right home after school,” she said to both boys.

They pushed their trays past her down the line. In the back pocket of Frankie’s Sears Toughskin jeans she could see the outline of a plastic army man he wasn’t supposed to bring to school, the barrel of the soldier’s green rifle sticking up above the pocket line.

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