Skip This

Jayne handed the duffels across, then flipped over the fence. "Are you sure about this?" she whispered to Robert.

"You don't have to whisper out here," he said. But his voice was such an invasion on the silent wilderness of the elementary playground that he added quickly (and much more softly) "unless you want to."

"Well, I want to. I feel like a terrorist."

Robert snatched up both bags and stalked away muttering, "This. Is. Necessary."

Jayne thought irritably, You'd never know the whole thing was my idea. Hating to keep pace with somebody unpleasant, she lagged behind. The building seemed deceptively close, when viewed from her back yard. She recalled, now, that it was really quite a distance. Was it really so long since she'd walked to school? She used to climb that fence every day without getting caught, just so she wouldn't have to ride the bus or walk the sidewalks with her little brothers. The feeling of exposure, which had been so acute perched on top of the playground fence, faded, and she began again to enjoy herself. Walking like this, under a full moon, with Robert, it had an antique feeling. She imagined that her grandparents had walked like this together, watching the way the moon bleached the color out of everything and rendered even the darkest corners pointless. After a little while, Robert relaxed and fell back beside her. Then, he handed her one of the duffels and smiled.

She smiled, too, enjoying the adventure. "The one day of our lives we're allowed to skip," she said, "and they cancel it because of one jerk with a can of spray paint."

Robert grinned viciously. He was still angry, but now his anger was directed at its proper target. "We'll teach them to cancel Senior Skip," he said.

Across the playground, past the slides, another shadow climbed over the fence and paraded openly through the white night. Like Jayne and Robert, the figure walked with an air of purpose and carried a duffel bag. Unlike them, this person had gone so far as to wear a ski mask. Suddenly, the shadow person threw down the duffel, raced across the playground, vaulted up a short ladder, and skidded down the slide belly first with a loud masculine "Whoooeee!" that reverberated off of the school building.

Jayne froze in place and craned her neck, for a moment looking very much like a penned animal. Robert raced over to the slide shushing noisily.

The guy muttered "Sorry, Robert," in a distorted voice. "It's just that I've wanted to do that since second grade."

Jayne said, "I'm surprised you didn't fall. Those slides are made for some skinny asses."

"Do I know you?" said Robert.

Instantly, the figure slumped. "Name's Miles," he said hopefully.

Robert demanded, "Are you a senior?"

Miles sank further. He made such a dejected picture, standing at the bottom of the slide, tracing one foot through the sand, the moonlight picking out the dirt he'd just gotten on his black clothing, that Jayne took pity on him. She ducked past Robert and looped her arm around Miles' shoulder. "Oh, so what if he's an underclassman," she said. "We need everybody."

"All right," said Robert, skeptically. Then, to Miles he added, "But, Damn, don't do that again. Mr. Garrett lives right there." He pointed in a direction compatible with the high school principal's home and punched Miles' arm in a commanding way.

"Sorry. Didn't think about that," muttered Miles.

When the three of them reached the elementary school, they met ten other people. All seniors, to Jayne's relief, and no more mysterious ski masks. Miles was one person. She could deal with him. But a whole crowd of juniors and sophomores and (perish the thought!) Freshmen! Well, things could have gotten out of hand.

"Where's everybody else?" asked Julie Schreiber.

"Chickens," said Jayne. "They're meeting at the high school. They just didn't want to Skip The Walk."

"I was wondering about that. How are we going to Skip The Walk? I mean and still carry the bags?"

Jayne's mouth fell open, and she made a slight choking sound. She had just envisioned the line of them skipping rope from the elementary to the high school. She started to say, "I don't know."

But before she could speak, Miles mumbled, in his indistinguishable way, "I could carry them. That is, I could carry six. And if somebody else carried six...."

"I'll carry!" chimed in Lester. Though he weighed no more than most other guys, Lester's nickname was Fatboy. He was notoriously lazy, ate huge quantities of junkfood, and maintained his size largely through high metabolism. Jayne was almost surprised to see him, but then, you had to do something memorable in your senior year.

Besides, he made a great picture with two duffel bags in each hand, one looped between his shoulders and the final bag strung from his forehead. Not, Jayne thought, that I have room to talk. She hadn't skipped rope since grade school, and there was something she'd forgotten about the rhythm of twirling your wrists and jumping. Some, like Robert, just flipped the ropes over their heads, then walked over them when they hit the ground. Julie, on the other hand, could probably still do Double Dutch. Jayne finally surrendered and took two of the heavier gym bags from their volunteer porters. In fact, Julie was the sole athelete, and Miles and Fatboy only had to carry the duffels about half the distance to the high school.

More people joined them as they neared the end of the service road, and by the time they stood grouped together in the parking lot, their numbers seemed very impressive. Twenty five of us, Jayne thought, and she smiled unconsciously.

"What are you grinning about?" Robert asked.

She looked around at them and tried to put her emotion into words, but she couldn't explain. She couldn't explain this mixture of football players, cheerleaders, band geeks, skaters, and bullies, none of them with their regular crowds, and all of them looking so purposeful. She couldn't explain twenty four seniors and one underclassman in a ski mask. She couldn't explain twenty five gym bags full of jump rope or the way the moon washed across all of them, distorting their features. The grin bubbled into a laugh, and she said, "Where did you get so much rope?"

The answers floated back to her from the corners of the crowd.

"The Mall",

"K-Mart",

"I had to go all the way to Tri-county since you dopes bought out this town."

Jayne looked to Robert as if to say, see, that's why I'm smiling, but Robert was studying Miles. "Man," Robert said. "I'm trying to place you, Miles." There wasn't any malice in the voice, but Robert wasn't so accepting as Jayne. "I know a lot of juniors," he went on, "but no Miles."

As they all began to scrutinize him, Miles resumed the awkward shuffle of the playground and dug his hands deep into his pockets. "Actually, I kind of thought..... since... you know... I'm not a senior. I kind of thought I might have to... kind of.... earn my spot," he said.

"You are not even a junior," said Robert, circling his victim now. "I'd say you were a freshman, but they're all short this year. How'd you find out about us sophomore?"

Miles sighed deeply. "Wasn't too hard," he mumbled. "It's kind of all over." He looked from face to face, then stammered, "I guess... I guess I'll just go home."

Robert shook his head. "Oh, no," he said. "You'd go home and..."

"Robert!" Jayne snapped, "he is not going to report us. And he brought more rope than anybody. Now, leave him alone and let's get busy."

For a moment, Miles hung in the balance there, between Robert and Jayne. Then he pulled a fist up out of a pocket and said, "I thought, you know.... like I said... since I'm not a senior..... I thought I'd have to earn a spot.... so I brought this." He revealed a silver key in the palm of his hand. "It's the office key," he said. "Since... you know.... "

The crowd shifted then. Shifted to Miles and Jayne, leaving Robert in an empty circle of his own. Jayne took the key. "Where did you get this?" she asked.

"Not telling," said Miles. "Somebody'd get in a lot of trouble."

"Yeah," said Robert, "Like you."

"Like me," Miles agreed.

Suddenly, Jane laughed and threw her arms around Miles and Robert both, companionably knocking all three of their heads together in the process. "All right." she said. "Ground rules. Tie this place to hell and back and everybody save four ropes for the office. No spray paint. No beer."

"But Jayne!" complained a football player.

"Don't be an asshole" she said. "It was one jerk with a can of spray paint who got us into this trouble. Now if we're going to be punished for vandalism, then we're going to vandalize something. But if you can't see the difference between making a hassle with a bunch of rope and ......"

"It's not the spray paint. It's the beer. I've got a whole keg covered up back in my truck."

Jayne said, "Well, hell, do what you want afterward, but let's get this done. We'll teach them to cancel Senior Skip Day."

"Yeah, Baby!" said Robert. "Skip This!" and he led the pack down the basement stairs and in through the open window to the girls locker room. They took "Skip This" for their motto and scrawled it on every chalkboard. They wound their ropes haphazardly down halls and into classrooms. One team devoted itself to the gym. They all got in each other's way, and before long they were navigating their own maze to reach someplace new and unsullied. When they ran low on rope, they resorted to rearrangement, pulling all of the chairs in a classroom to block the door. All told, though, it was fast work, and within half an hour, Jayne, Robert, and Miles were assembled together outside the central office. Jayne unlocked the door, and one at a time, as the others finished their work, she let them enter and contribute their four final ropes. They were all insanely careful, keeping low and avoiding loose objects. Desks, chairs, and filing cabinets all seemed fair, but there was something impenetrable about the mystique of the secretaries' computers and the teachers' mailboxes.

Fatboy said, "I wish we could get in Garrett's office, too."

"I think we can," said Miles.

"No way," said Jayne "Garrett was on our side. He went to the school board and fought for us. If it had been up to him, Larry Christopher would have been the only one that got in trouble for spray painting the superintendent's house. If the school board ever supported the Garrett, Senior skip day would have never been canceled. Garrett's office is off limits."

"Nobody knows it was Larry...." Fatboy began.

"You sound like you're on the damned school board yourself," said Jayne. "We know it was Larry. And Garrett knows it was Larry, and we're leaving Garrett's office alone."

Softly, Miles said, "Garrett would understand the spirit of the thing. We can't leave his office out and get everybody else. I'll do it if you want."

They huddled around and held a vote. In the end, Miles won by a single hand, and Robert said. "You're no sophomore. You're no sophomore, Miles. But I know you. And I'm going to figure out who you are. And when I do, I'm going to be sorry."

Slowly, reluctantly, Jayne maneuvered across the ropes to the principal's office and unlocked the door. She had a moment of hope when the door was blocked by a rope, but Miles was as thin as he was tall, and he slipped easily through the narrow opening. Then, because they all wanted to see, Robert came over and untied that particular rope, and they pulled open the door.

Watching Miles move around the office was an education. He was not intimidated by loose objects or computers. This room held no mystique for him. He started in the center, winding the chair and desk together in a series of precise knots. Then, he looped the rope directly across the room and hooked it to a drawer of the filing cabinet. While he worked, the others slowly gathered around Robert and Jayne. "I don't like doing Garrett's office," said Julie. "He was on our side."

Robert said. "Seems like it makes us a bunch of assholes to me. Just as bad as spray paint. Miles, come on, Buddy. Leave it at that."

"Wait a minute," said Miles. "I'll stop in a minute." He snagged a rope around the fish tank and balanced it perilously atop the dying potted plant, then knelt back at the desk and slid his last rope underneath.

As Miles was standing, Robert said, "It's your middle name, isn't it?"

Miles turned to them.

"Miles Garrett," said Robert. "Mr. Jefferson Miles Garrett."

Mr. Garrett slumped, much as he had in the playground. Then, he cleared his throat and said, "I guess that ties it up?" in his own voice and not the mumble they had all mistaken for a sophomore trying to hide a cracking falsetto.

Nobody spoke as he left his office, turned around, and faced the door to pull it shut. Jayne felt the wonderful camaraderie fading as she locked it behind him.

Mr. Garrett sighed heavily and pulled off the ski mask. "Well, Skip This," he muttered.

"What were you going to do to us?" Jayne asked.

Mr. Garrett shrugged. "I was going to demand to know who did it and then, when nobody owned up, suspend all of the seniors for a day," he said. "For vandalism."

Jayne considered. She imagined Lianna Traminco, who never broke a rule in her life. She imagined Lianna's mother, when she got the suspension letter. She imagined the school board, when they heard their own logic applied in reverse. She imagined the whole town in turmoil because Senior Skip Day was canceled. "I like that," she said slowly. "A lot. I don't know about old Robert here, but I can keep a secret." She glowered around, willing the others to accept this judgment.

Finally, Fatboy said, " You always were on our side."

Robert said, "Man, you could lose your job."

"No," said Mr. Garrett. "If you don't report me, and I don't report you, then the school board will reverse my decision - they'll never let me suspend all of the seniors - and nothing more will come of the incident."

"Hell," said Julie. "They reverse half your decisions anyway. Let's stick together!"

"Yeah," said Jayne. "Together."