All The Young Punks Pt. 06

"Especially jocks," said Bryan.

Joe pointed at him. "Exactly!"

It was a challenge keeping the plot secret. With so many on board, they expected it would leak. Late on Monday, Joe heard Manfredi had caught wind of the scheme. Rumor had it, he laughed and said something like, "Right, as if a bunch of stoners and punks are going to show up for a loser nerd."

Joe suspected his overconfidence would work to their advantage. By the time he realized he had a serious challenger... it would be too late.

--- SICK OF YOUR CRAP ---

Ten feet inside the school auditorium, Vice Principal Reed stopped Joe. They hadn't spoken since spring, back when he told Joe he knew he had bitch-slapped John Russo and reminded him he had two strikes against him.

"What the hell is going on, Theroux? There's never been this many students at this thing, and certainly not this motley crew." He gestured toward the stoners and punks standing against the back wall. "And why is half the basketball team here?"

Joe shrugged. "It looks like Betty might have a shot this year."

"Really?" Mr. Reed smiled. "Okay. As you were."

Joe arrived as the student council candidates were giving their two-minute speeches. It was dreadfully boring. They presented in monotone alphabetical order, twelve candidates for seven seats. Then the class treasurer and vice presidential candidates spoke. Everyone received polite applause and a few cheers. You could tell where their friends sat in the auditorium. The Whipper's voices gave Bryan and Lori vocal support but saved the best for last.

Each student ended their speech and then dutifully announced the candidate following them in the program. Joe had told their group to remain polite until the incumbent walked up. The auditorium was three-quarters full, but it didn't sound so until Mike Manfredi's name was announced.

His large contingent of Italian disco queens and dudes screamed. His jock buddies cheered and whistled. The Whippers timed their voices so that when the Manfredi applause died down, a cascade of boos rained down from the back of the room. They weren't overly obnoxious, but heads turned as his people looked back to see who was jeering their man.

Miss Murray, Joe's cute guidance counselor, caught his eye in the wings, twenty-five feet away. She mouthed, "What are you doing?"

Joe shrugged as the booing faded. Mike stepped up to the lectern. They watched his confidence shrink a little as he was wholly not accustomed to being jeered. As he spoke, he was looking beyond his supporters, at the punks and rockers and basketball team and the nerds. They slipped in chortles and a couple of boos, but not enough to cause faculty to step in. Normally smooth-as-silk Mike stumbled three times - once badly. Laughs punctuated his gaffes. He was definitely rattled. When he finished, Betty's supporters remained silent as his people applauded, then they booed as he walked off, forgetting to announce Betty McDonald; or was it an intentional slight?

When Mr. Reed tried to get his attention, Mike walked faster, ignoring him. Mr. Reed stepped up to the mic and announced Betty. The Whippers went wild, clapping, cheering, whistling and hooting. They kept it up until Mr. Reed, annoyed, moved Betty aside and leaned into the mic.

"Hey, quiet down back there!"

They got louder, making the vice principal more agitated.

"Show some respect! Don't make me clear you out of here."

Betty's speech was fine. She quietly made her points. In closing, she punched the four lines Joe had written. Her voice was timid, but she took a big swing and hit those notes as hard as she could. Her supporters responded loudly for each line in a coordinated chorus.

"I'm running again, for the fourth straight year, because I'm not a quitter!"

The chorus sounded out. "Betty won't quit! Betty won't quit! Betty won't quit!"

"I was mocked last year." She pointed at the crowd. "You made fun of me. Well, I'm sick of your crap!"

The chorus laughed while chanting. "Sick of your crap! Sick of your crap! Sick of your crap!"

"I know I'm a long shot. None of you think I can win. I'm a big underdog."

The chorus pumped their fists. "Under-dog! Under-dog! Under-dog!"

"I'm in it to win it, and if you vote for me on Friday; we can do it!"

The chorus went wild re-chanting the lines. "Betty won't quit! Under-dog! Sick of your crap! We can do it."

Betty walked off to rowdy chants, applause, and cheers. Manfredi supporters were in shock. Mr Reed smiled, shaking his head, as the Whippers carried on long after she disappeared behind the curtain. The rally rocking scheme worked to perfection. As they filed out of the auditorium Sandy pulled Joe aside.

"That was incredible. I mean, I didn't imagine it going so well."

"Everyone played their part. Did you see how shaken Manfredi was?"

"I kind of felt bad for him," she scrunched her cute nose. "almost."

"I'd like to be a fly on the wall when he meets his guys later."

Word spread around the school that Betty and the nerds had punks, hippies, stoners, basketball players, and even some cheerleaders behind her. Apparently, Mike's ladies' man image was dubious. He had burned a few popular girls.

The notion that Betty might upset three-time class president Mike Manfredi, had taken hold of the school. Kyle Bartlett, another nerdy kid who worked on the school newspaper, asked Joe why he was suddenly involved in school politics. Joe played dumb.

"Involved? I have only one vote, and I'm using it for Betty. She never quits, and I like that. She deserves a chance to serve our class."

At the rally, the Whippers were careful to not show their true numbers. They had fewer than fifty students attend, not half of what Manfredi had. It was enough to make noise and serve notice, but not reveal their cards. Joe sensed Betty had enough support to win, provided his people showed up on Friday.

The day before the election, the school was abuzz with news of the rally. Kyle ran a headline in the four-page student newspaper, 'Manfredi Faces Serious Challenge'. Less than one-third of the class of '79 was in that auditorium, but every student heard the noise they made. There were whispers that many were going to vote for the first time. By the end of that school day, Joe was feeling very good about Betty's chances.

Before school, on the morning of the election, Betty approached him on the faculty stoop.

"I couldn't sleep at all last night."

Joe snapped his fingers. "Do-doot-do-do-do."

Betty was confused. "What?"

"It's a song by Bobby Lewis... Tossin' & Turnin'... no?"

She had no clue.

"Never mind."

"I'm worried. He's got his friends..."

"If you lose," Joe cut her off. "what happens next?"

Betty paused, thinking, looking at Joe, pondering his question. "Nothing, I guess. I mean... I just lose again."

"That's it, but I guarantee it'll be close this time. Hasn't this been fun? You didn't quit."

"But to go this far, and..."

"No matter what happens, I'll be right here. Nothing will change."

Thanks, Joe, you're a good guy."

Joe ended on a positive note. "You're gonna win this thing. I know Disco Boy is worried. He was running his mouth yesterday. He's cocky. I don't think he realizes how organized we are. We've whipped it good."

Joe was giddy when he arrived at the library to vote. There was a line snaking between bookshelves, out the double doors, and into the corridor. At least half of the kids were invisible students: the disaffected, disconnected, and uninvolved in school activities. Joe felt first-time voters were there for the underdog. When a group of football players standing in a huddle looked Joe's way and gave him a silent nod, he knew they had this thing in the bag.

Joe stopped by later in the day. The lines were not as long, but there was still a wait. Miss Murray saw Joe peeking inside the library and walked out to see him.

"I understand you're behind this turnout... using your clout."

"What clout?"

"Don't be obtuse. Your little band. I've heard about it."

"Obtuse? I'll have to look that up later," he smirked. "Mr. Reed once called me that."

"Last year, two hundred and forty kids voted, far less than half the class. It'll be over four hundred today. I'm impressed."

"Betty's a good kid. It's all about her. You saw her speech. She rocked."

Miss Murray shook her head. "You're a clown. I know you orchestrated that rally. It was obvious you led the chants."

Joe played it cool, not saying a word, just looking at her moist, glistening lips.

Miss Murray leaned closer. "I heard that Manfredi kids are voting for Betty."

Joe smiled, "Are choosing sides?"

She smiled back. "Yes." The bell rang. "Get to class, Joe. You're late."

Joe stared at her full red head of hair. He liked Miss Murray, she was cool. She had tried to convince him to apply for college. Joe went to her office to talk twice in his junior year, just so he could look into her beautiful green eyes for a while. "By the way, my band is not so little."

"I've heard some things. Kids are talking. Good for you. Now get to class."

The polls closed after the lunch period. The votes would be counted during the final period. At the end of the day, just before the closing bell, the school secretary would announce the results school-wide during end-of-day announcements.

Joe wished he was with Betty, but she was in honor-level accelerated classes, and he was not. Joe fidgeted in Mr Brennan's social studies class, where he had previously learned about The House whip in civics. Mr. B, a retired US Marine and combat veteran in Vietnam, discussed the school elections for a few minutes before the announcements. He said was impressed and pleased that so many kids had gotten involved. He shot Joe a look, his stern Marine face slightly softer than usual.

The secretary named the seven students who won council seats, including Brian and Lori. Joe was not at all surprised, because they were running in a large field. Joe had gamed the council vote. The ballot instructions said pick up to five council candidates. They had a block of votes behind the Whippers, but the block only voted for their two candidates, denying all other candidates those numbers. They were a lock to win.

Next, the secretary named the treasurer and vice president. When she got to the final race, she paused. Joe was on the edge of his seat.

"For the senior class president, the final tally was, two hundred seventy-one to one hundred eighty-six, and the winner is... Betty McDonald." It wasn't even close.

Joe leaped to his feet. "Yes! She did it." He pumped his fist and gave high fives to celebrating classmates who were as happy as him. Even Mr. Brennan cracked a smile and clapped, just three times.

When the final bell rang, Joe rushed into the corridor, where students were laughing and yelling. He had never seen anything like it. He couldn't even remember a past school election. Racing down three flights of stairs, his feet barely touched one in three steps. He bumped into a few friends. Stoner Dean said it was the best day of high school... ever. Joe's old guitarist, Pete Smith, gave him a high five.

Joe extended an olive branch. "You should come out and see the band sometime."

"I've been thinking about it," Pete said. "But I didn't know if ..."

"Fuck it, come to a show. We're good."

"I heard," he nodded. "Alright, I'll try to get out."

Joe ran off to find Betty, but she was nowhere in sight. Around every corner, he encountered people who joined the revolution. They patted backs, gave high fives, and laughed about how the invisible students had won an election. Joe sat on the stoop outside the faculty entrance hoping Betty would come by. She didn't.

Jackie strolled up on him. It was time to go home. She smiled. "So, you did it."

"Pretty cool, huh?"

"Yeah, it is. Let's go get Jules and Jeanie. We're running late. I saw some senior nerds crying."

"Watch yourself, that's your tribe."

"I am not a nerd! Why are you such a jerk?"

"You get straight A's. You skipped a grade because your brain is so fucking huge. You're a nerd, deal with it."

She punched Joe's arm pretty hard for an almost fourteen-year-old bookish girl.

******

Joe had to wait until Monday to congratulate the new class president. She was waiting for him at the stoop before school. As he walked up she started sniffing and shaking.

"You're not gonna cry, are you? You fucking won!"

He put his arms out. She walked into them. Joe wrapped his nerd friend in a punk embrace.

"I know. I can't believe it." She sobbed. "I looked for you Friday after school. Where were you?"

"I was looking for you too. I was right here. We just didn't connect. I was bummed I didn't see you."

"Me too, but I was so happy. Everyone was, it was crazy. My parents are really proud of me."

"They should be. Hey," Joe stepped back. "you're getting snot on my leather. Did you see Manfredi?" Joe definitely had snot on his shoulder.

"Sorry," She wiped her face. "I heard he's wicked pissed off."

"Fuck 'em. He'll learn more from this loss than he did from his three wins. He doesn't know it yet, but we did him a favor. Never underestimate an underdog."

"I still can't believe it," Betty said, gathering herself.

"Remember the promise you made me. If you win you'll come to one of my shows."

"That's gonna be hard, my parents are..."

"Oh no," Joe wagged his finger. "You're not welching on that promise."

"I can't go to a bar alone."

"You won't be alone, I'll have Conte and Good & Plenty hang with you."

"But my parents. It'll be really hard."

"Getting you a hundred and fifty more votes than you had last year was hard, but we did it."

"Thank you, Joe." She hugged him again.

"You're welcome, President McDonald."

-- FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH --

A week after the class elections, the band played their first downtown gig at The Living Room. Joe was eager to debut the new tee shirt wrestling bit. The friends of the band had not yet seen it. After a Rhode Island School of Design girl defeated a Brown student, Joe informed the tall brunette that she had won a special prize.

"What did I win?"

"If you can remove this shirt from my back, you can keep it."

She stared at him, "Really?" Then she turned to the audience. They cheered her on.

Joe put his guitar on a stand and backed away. He was hopeful she'd play along. There was no guarantee a dance-off winner would go for his sweaty Star Wars shirt. Joe stood with feet planted firmly while she pondered.

"Well, Darlene," he said in a taunting tone. "Are you going for it?"

"Take the shirt!" Someone shouted.

"Kick his ass!"

"Take his shirt!"

Darlene rushed Joe. He sidestepped her like a bullfighter, but she got a passing grip on his sleeve and the match was on. He didn't struggle as hard as he did with Monica. There was no falling to the floor or headlocks. But Darlene did grab a handful of Joe's hair, pulling hard, while yanking and twisting his shirt. After a thirty-second struggle, he let it go. Darlene held it above her head, triumphantly. She was so proud it made Joe laugh. Joe saw Randy Hien at the bar with a huge smile, clapping and cheering with his patrons.

During set break, a young man walked up and started chatting with Joe about his sideshow. He had a nervous, excited tone. "I saw you at the Met Cafe a couple of months ago after my students told me about your band. You're really good on stage. You're a natural."

"Thanks. Your students?" Joe thought he didn't look old enough to be a teacher.

"I'm Issac," he offered his hand. "I stayed behind at RISD to take a job there. Grad school is next, someday."

Sal and Johnny watched the conversation from afar, passing a joint with a few downtown regulars. Issac rambled on, a fast talker, with many compliments for the band, but especially Joe. When it was time to get back to work, Sal pulled Joe aside.

"You know that's Gay Issac, right?"

"I didn't know that was his name, but yeah, I know he's gay. It's pretty obvious."

Sal gestured to a girl they were smoking with, "She says Gay Issac has a crush on you." He smirked. "Did he hit on ya?"

"I don't think so. He was just friendly."

"Well, if he does." Sal punched his hand.

"Fuck off, Sal. If he hits on me I'll just tell him I'm not into that. And why do you call him Gay Issac?"

"I dunno. That's what his friends call him."

Joe had played dozens of gigs. It had not become routine, not at all, but he was well practiced and confident in his bits and his ability to entertain. Each night offered opportunities for improvisation. The Living Room debut was fantastic. The Brown and RISD kids loved the singalongs... but it was just another great show, like so many others. Joe's confidence level was a ten on a scale of ten.

---- HONESTY ----

Two days after the Living Room show, Joe was browsing vinyl at Victory Records. He noticed two girls eyeballing him from the adjacent aisle. He kept flipping through albums and then felt a presence.

"Excuse me," a blonde girl said. "Are you a young punk?"

Joe looked at her, then down at his leather, and back at her.

"Let's see; leather, torn jeans, messy hair. Yup, I'm a punk." He smiled. "Nice detective work."

She rolled her eyes: "No, I mean the band, The Young Punks. You play at the Met Cafe."

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Maybe that talented, handsome young man is my doppelganger."

The brunette cutely scrunched her nose. "I think he's kidding. You're Joe, the lead singer. We've seen you twice."

"Yeah. I'm just messing with ya, like we do on stage." He smiled again.

"I knew it was you." The blonde lightly poked him. "We love you guys. Your band is so much fun."

"That's the word on the street."

"What do you do besides the band?" the brunette asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you go to school around here?".

"Yeah. Central High School."

The blonde made a face. "Bullshit."

"Nope, I'm seventeen."

"He's screwing with us, again," said the brunette.

"I can show my school ID... I don't even have a real driver's license."

They looked at each other, bemused.

"I can't believe it," said the brunette. "You don't seem ..."

"The other guys in the band are in their twenties. I'm the baby."

Joe told them the story of how he started the band at sixteen, and how Sal, Johnny, and Nate were replacements for the high school players he had lost along the way.

"I can't believe you're a high school kid."

"The next time you come to see us, stand up front and I'll pick you for the dance contest. You versus you." He pointed at them with authority.

"I'll kick her ass," the blonde laughed.

"Bullshit." the brunette replied.

"Well, there's only one way to settle this, and we have a new twist in the dance off."

"What's that?' the blonde asked

"We've upgraded the prize. That's all I can say."

"Cool."

"We just played The Living Room Friday night. You can catch us there too."

"You're kidding?" They looked at each other. "How did we miss that?"

Joe shrugged.

"We'll definitely see you there," The blonde smiled. "It was nice meeting you?"

"Yeah," the brunette said, "I still can't believe you're seventeen."

"Not for long," Joe said as he went back to browsing.

"See ya." They walked off. "Bye, Joe."

Joe took Dr. Nichols' advice. He was upfront and honest about his age. It's not like he was going to pick up a college girl in the afternoon at a record shop and get laid. Besides, there were two of them. How would that even work? He figured there was no reason to lie by omission. He actually felt good about it as he rode The Ten Bus back home. He smiled, looking at his new Richard Hell, Blank Generation LP, smiling about the last words he heard the girls say as they left.