Ezzy's Huddle (Ezzy's Education: Part 21), by Garrett Murch
Homecoming Friday had arrived and the football game was a mere twelve hours away. Lucinda, who had now purchased a forget-me pill for Trunk and a black and gray camo jumpsuit for Verica, wore a navy-blue dress with the word “Justice” painted on it a dozen or so times in gray. The paint on Wednesday’s red dress spelled “Democracy” in pink. Thursday’s was “Freedom” in black acrylic on cream polyester.
In one hand Lucinda held a white baton, in the other a black nerf football. A posse of girls and a couple boys stood with her at the student parking lot entrance as their classmates arrived. Sunlight beamed onto and over a few oak trees, casting a long shadow into the side of the school.
The election of a student body president was in four days.
“Remember, walk like a boss when we head inside,” Lucinda said. “Except those of you taking video: you make sure to get good shots of me for InstaTok.” Her posse nodded and some of them seemed to equate looking like a boss with pouting.
“Start the music,” Lucinda said to ginger-haired Dizzy Beagainin Jabs, the only girl who was skinnier than Lucinda at Ebbing High School.
“Maintain your boss look,” Lucinda said in a commanding voice that managed to sound desperate. “The blindness will end soon. Trust in me.” Some of the pouting faces became confused pouting faces.
Boom! Katy Perry’s “Wide Awake” began screaming out of the little speaker held by Dizzy Beagainin Jabs. Lucinda led them into the school. The group of Justice soldiers swaggered like a single organism down the hallway, coordinated well enough to make a dance choreographer jealous.
“Doesn’t Lucinda know she’s already lost the race,” a student said to a classmate, their backs against the lockers to allow Lucinda’s procession to pass. “She looks angry even though she’s smiling.”
Lucinda looked at her Justice troops and said, loud enough to be heard over Katy Perry, “Keep looking like a boss.”
The procession turned down the next hallway. It approached Kelile Lewis and Madison Hendrickson, who were talking. “I still can’t vote for Trunk,” Madison said. “I’m going to write in Ezzy Bello.”
“Can we do that?” Kelile asked.
Lucinda’s smile, aimed at Madison and Kelile, resembled a fox panting in a field, baring its teeth while in search of mice. As she passed beyond them and students got out of her way,
Madison said to Kelile, “Yes, you can write in Ezzy.”
“Well, I shouldn’t talk about who I’m going to vote for,” Kelile said. “I understand. Trunk’s your teammate. Just think about it.”
“I will.”
“Hey man,” Madison said. “I’ve gotta review my notes for AP Chem. Good luck in the game tonight. See you at the post-game party out in Tackle?”
“For sure.” “Cool, man.”
Lucinda looked back at the two boys as she marched with a twisted swagger, still pumping her baton up and down. Around the next corner, Ms. Scales was gushing over Kayla Jennings, now the homecoming queen and wearing her sash over a magenta, merino wool sweater.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Ms. Scales said. “High honors, all-state field hockey for three straight years, and now homecoming queen?”
Kayla, looking past Ms. Scales at Lucinda, said, “I guess it—”
“Now,” Ms. Scales said, interrupting Kayla, “if you would use your position of homecoming queen to advance Justice, that would just be the real crown jewel, wouldn’t it?”
When Dizzy Jabs’ speaker blaring “Wide Awake” passed by, Kayla said, “Excuse me, Ms. Scales.” She walked away, swiftly down the hall ahead of the growing group of students (close to a dozen of them) marching and singing along.
* * *
7:23 a.m.
Ezzy entered the school’s side entrance that Friday morning, having parked on a nearby residential street to avoid the student parking lot. She wore brown, stretch denim pants and a dark green flannel shirt. Luke Bryan’s “Huntin’, Fishin’ and Lovin’ Every Day” played through her AirPods. She was feeling happy. She had aced both her exams that week and was about to escape the madness of Ebbing High School again for a couple days of fly fishing. Her mother’s enthusiasm over her candidacy for school board had suddenly subsided. She’s been seeming close to her normal self again!
Link was at Ezzy’s locker, making an arm motion like he was casting a fly. Ezzy laughed as she removed her AirPods.
“I’ve been practicing my casting on the lawn the past two days with my new fly rod,” he said. “Before and after school. Well, not after school yesterday because I was bussing tables at Ninety-Nine.”
“Good,” Ezzy said. “Maybe my father won’t laugh at you. You’re all packed for the weekend?”
“I am.”
“Oh, hi Officer Holmes!” Ezzy gave Officer Holmes an authentic smile. He had been maintaining a presence in the student parking lot and the hallways. No eggs had been thrown on school property for over forty-eight hours. “Good morning, Officer Holmes,” Link said.
“Good morning,” Officer Holmes said to them. “Whole town’s in an uproar over Lucinda Barron wanting to end the Ebbing football program, huh?”
“Yeah,” Ezzy said. “It’s outrageous. Both the idea of banning football and the childish reaction to it by Trunk and his flock.”
Officer Holmes nodded once.
“We’re glad you’re here,” Link said. “Trunk is telling everyone Lucinda has a plan to manipulate the ballots so votes get switched from him to Lucinda.”
“He’s offered zero evidence to back up this allegation,” Ezzy said. “But his flock believes him.”
“It’s all over InstaTok,” Link said.
Officer Holmes shook his head. “People are losing their minds. Have a good day, you two.”
In a moment, Ezzy heard music she did not recognize. Nearly every student in the hallway was facing the music. Ezzy asked Link, “Do you know that song?”
“It does sound familiar. I know I’ve heard it at my grandparents’ house. They love old country. Wait, I do know it! It’s “Ladies Love Outlaws.” By a band called Confederate Railroad, I think.”
“Never heard of it,” Ezzy said as the music grew louder, closer.
“My grandfather loves it.”
At the hallway corner nearest the music, students scattered. A boy slipped into a girl placing books in her locker and the two fell to the floor before the books fell on them.
Trunk Langston turned the hallway corner. Strutting, he wore his number one football jersey over his shoulder pads. Most of the boys who had been at Trendon’s house earlier in the week were with him, along with a few others.
Ezzy asked Link, “Did you ever tell Trunk his arms look lifeless when he walks like that?”
“We didn’t get that far. Maybe his boys like it; that’s all that matters to him.”
Trunk looked at his followers and said, “The girls like it when Trunk touches them.” The boys with Trunk laughed with shining, angry eyes and Trendon started chanting.
Outlaw Trunk! Outlaw Trunk!
Ezzy laughed, too. “Do they want to make Trunk illegal?” she whispered.
“I thought they wanted to let Trunk be Trunk,” Link said. “This is a new one.”
“He really needed your help. You were known as Mr. Patriot at school until Trunk decided to run for president.”
“I was?” “You were!”
“Well, I wanted to help him if only to stop Lucinda. But Trunk can’t be helped.”
Kayla Jennings rushed up to Ezzy and Link. “The bitch is coming,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Ezzy asked.
Kayla pointed in the direction of new music, its volume growing as Lucinda Barron marched around the corner, company in tow.
“Great,” Ezzy said. “Now Lucinda’s ruined Katy Perry, too.”
Madison and Kelile bolted around Lucinda. With them was Jasmine Anderson, who resented Lucinda for condemning her hero, former US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, for the sin of not being an orthodox Justice warrior. They reached Ezzy and, together with Link and Kayla, the six of them formed a huddle. Officer Holmes was soon next to them. The music on each side of the huddle stopped. They were trapped between the two flocks and their shepherds. The huddle turned inward.
“It’s not too late to mount a write-in candidacy for Ezzy,” Madison whispered.
“I’d support that,” Link whispered in response.
Ezzy looked at Link, annoyed. “We’re fishing this weekend.”
“C’mon, Ezzy,” Madison said.
“We’d have to skip fishing,” Ezzy said in quiet voice. “And go to the homecoming game, then the party after, then spend the whole weekend on InstaTok.”
Officer Holmes surveyed the hallway.
“I’d support Ezzy’s candidacy,” Jasmine whispered.
“So would I,” whispered Kayla.
Kelile nodded.
“No,” Ezzy said. “Don’t do it.”
Trunk, fifteen feet away, his number one jersey tight over his shoulder pads, opened his mouth, “Little Link. Big Black Kelile. If you want to keep Ebbing football, and I know you do, you better vote for Trunk.”
Lucinda pursed her lips. “Kayla, Jasmine, and even you, Ezzy Bello, if you all are not voting for me, you’re not people of color.”
Kayla clenched her fists. “Fuck you, Lucinda.”
“Now Kayla,” Lucinda said, “that’s not very becoming of a homecoming queen, is it?”
About twenty pouting faces with demanding eyes, including Ms. Scales’, ripped through Kayla, Ezzy, Jasmine, and their friends. Lucinda and Trunk stared through the huddle at each other.
“Enough!” Ezzy said. “You, Lucinda. You, Trunk. You’re both cruel, narcissistic, simpleton cult leaders preying on our classmates’ anxieties and frustrations. Get the hell out of our faces!”
Lucinda’s hand went to her mouth as her eyes seared Ezzy’s. Trunk’s chin submerged into his shoulder pads, which functioned like a tortoise shell. He looked left and right at his boys with his face angling down.
“Oh, look at Ezzy Bello,” said Trendon Bravissimo, stepping in front of Trunk. “Using them big words again.”
”Go!” Officer Holmes said with his deep voice. “Out of here,” he said louder. “Now!” “
Ladies Love Outlaws” played again as Trunk’s crew marched away. Some waved small American flags and some waved small Trunk flags.
Outlaw Trunk! Outlaw Trunk!
Trunk yelled back to Ezzy, “Hey, Yellow Bello. I hear you and Little Link are off to romp in the woods this weekend.” Raising his nose into the air he continued, “Lit-tle Link has a lit- tle… You’ll find out soon enough. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Wide Awake” played again from Dizzy Beagainin Jabs’ speaker as Lucinda’s crew left the scene, still wearing pouting faces. Lucinda leaned over to Dizzy as they strolled. “Don’t lose that music,” she said. “I have another use for it.” To her whole crew she said, “All multimedia must go to Verica ASAP.”
“Sounds good,” Dizzy said. “Where is Verica?”
“She’s sick today,” Lucinda said.
“Wow. Verica never gets sick.”
“I said she’s sick today.”
“You’re having her do videos still?” Dizzy asked.
“She can work from home.”
With the crowd dispersed, Madison, Kelile, Link, Kayla, Jasmine, and Officer Holmes all had their eyes on Ezzy, who looked at them one at a time. “I love you guys,” she said. “And I am beyond flattered by your confidence in me.” She inhaled deeply. She exhaled. “Please don’t do anything. Things should calm down before long.”
Ezy’s supporters remained silent, still looking at her. Madison’s arms were crossed. “Go, please,” Ezzy said. “Link, I’m parked on Latent Street. Let’s meet there at 2:30 p.m.”
Ezzy's Education, the first novel by recovering Washington, D.C. political professional Garrett C. Murch, can be purchased here as a paperback or an eBook.