The Last Stand of Haviland Dinwiddie

Chapter 6

By Dabeagle

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The next two weeks left me feeling off my game in ways that are hard to describe completely. In my old school I'd had some people I was friendly with, but it was hard to get close to anyone. I never confided, never let on what happened behind closed doors. Part of it was the suffocating way my father ran our house, the way he'd controlled me since I'd been little. What he hadn't counted on and never noticed was how I responded to my mother's kindness. How first she soothed me, whispered enough love and encouragement to keep all the good parts of me from withering. Later I did the same for her, having come up with my strategy for the next time he got violent – because there was no doubt there would be a next time.

Calling the state police had been my one and only moment of bravery.

So when we left town, I had no one to really say goodbye to. I thought I did, at the time. I thought I had friends, even though I wasn't on teams or hanging out with them on weekends or birthdays. In the end I always told them my father said we had plans or that I wasn't allowed to go. I was angry not to be able to join others, but my fear outweighed my anger.

But now...I was realizing how hollow and basic those other connections had been, no matter how necessary they'd felt. I had crushed hard on a few boys, but I'd held that back very well, given my father. There was never any hope of any sort of relationship – in fact, I avoided them. It was too risky, no matter how much my heart wanted something, anything to happen.

But now it had. Something had happened within me, and I couldn't handle it. I was used to keeping things under control for the outside world, but this was new, because I saw him everyday. He was in my car. I saw him at work. I saw him at night when I closed my eyes, painted on the back of my eyelids. I had dangerous daydreams where I confessed my heart only to watch things shatter between us. It's stupid. It's only been a few weeks, and it feels so real, but how can it be? How can anything so brief and intense be real?

I had to manage it. You manage by controlling things, through planning and organization. I'd been out of control since I'd arrived – wearing tee shirts, and once I ran without the compression leggings. Exposure to the sun would make my skin darker, and what was I thinking? It was all too much too quickly. The job. Daphne and Tony, but most of all...Rigby. But now I had to manage this feeling, to be close without being too close. I partially solved that by logging into his account and doing some of his work. It was just basic things: homework sheets, simple stuff, stuff he wasn't doing for some reason.

The Monday of Halloween week I picked Rigby up for school. He looked adorably tired in the mornings, but I assumed he was tired because of his home. I hadn't gone back much, but when he asked me in, I always went, and not just to spend time with him. I didn't want to send a message that I judged his environment or held it against him. His mother, though, made me uncomfortable. I know she has three guys on a merry-go-round of cheating and getting her pregnant, but I thought she looked at me like she'd like to ride me around for a few laps while the calliope music played.

“Halloween's coming. What are you doing?” I asked.

“Thinking about egging Gordo's car,” he said and yawned.

“Rigby.”

“I know, I know. He's still an asshole, but I think I'm about over it.”

“Did you start the English project?”

“What are you, my mother? No, wait, she doesn't care how I do in school. My fath- hah, no. Guidance counselor!” He turned toward me. “What are you, my guidance counselor?”

“I like the project. I was just curious. Damn, bro, you're touchy,” I told him.

“Ah, yeah, I know,” he said. “You know what, E? Something weird's been happening with my school stuff.”

“Weird how?”

“Stuff I haven't done? It's showing up as done, and I'm getting a grade for it. I'm thinking...I don't remember doing that work. Then I start to wonder if I'm losing time somewhere or something. I don't smoke, I steal a beer here and there, but I don't do anything that would make me lose time. I wonder if I have a brain tumor or something.”

I pulled into the school parking lot. “I thought maybe that's why you looked tired – up late doing your work.”

He shook his head. “Nah. I mean...” He glanced out the window before looking back to me. “I don't read too well.”

I frowned. “That doesn't track. You're not stupid.”

“I know I'm not stupid. Like math, I'm fine. Well,” he amended, “better than when I have to read. But...I read really, really slow. I've never been good at it.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. “Have you ever been tested or got more help?”

“I've had teachers that wanted to get me tested, but my mom thinks I'm just lazy.” He climbed from the car, and I joined him. He took a few breaths of the cool morning air and turned his gaze back to me. “It's not that I'm lazy. I'm just really slow at reading. I get frustrated, and I stop. I don't read at all if I don't have to, 'cause it's so much work.”

The warning bell rang inside, and we separated to head to class. I was thinking about asking him to do his homework with me. It wasn't a selfish idea – I could help him. He'd learn and maybe get some confidence. I sighed and felt guilty, because I knew what I was doing: talking myself into something I wanted. Sure, there were other reasons, good reasons even, but that didn't mean I didn't have some selfish motivations.

Lunch rolled around, and I sat down with Tony and his friends. I hadn't really connected with the guys at the table, but I was comfortable enough for conversation. As soon as I sat, Tony asked what I was doing for Halloween.

“I'm in an apartment, so no one coming to the door,” I replied. “I guess I'll be trying to keep Rigby from egging Gordo's car.” That generated some laughs. “What are you doing?”

“Horror movie night at Daphne's. Good news – she's inviting you, too. Now you can hear me scream when she digs her fingers into my ribs during intense scenes.” Tony chuckled. “You want to? Movie night with us?”

“Uh. Isn't that like...date night for you guys?”

“Only sort of,” he replied. “Her mom loves movies, so we watch with her.”

“Yeah, 'cause it's always close to being a date when your girlfriend's mother is there to cock block you,” Brian said, causing the others to laugh.

“Brian, you don't even have a girlfriend to think about getting your cock blocked,” Tony shot back, and of course there was chatter around the table with friendly insults being flung. Tony turned back to me. “If you were going to hang with Rigby, why don't you ask him to come too? We're camping out in her living room.”

“It's a sleep over?”

“Yeah. My parents have been talking to Daphne's mom, because they're afraid of a pregnancy, and the idea of a group thing seemed to make them more comfortable.”

“They have nothing to worry about,” Brian snickered.

Tony ignored him. “They're on board if it's a group thing. What do you say? Should be fun.”

“So you want me to stay over so you can sleep over with your girlfriend?” I shouldn't be so excited about a sleepover. The fact I'd have to ask and that I was certain my mother would say yes only made me more giddy than I should be. “Yeah, I'll ask.”

“See, Brian? That's how a friend reacts,” Tony said.

“First, you didn't ask me. Second, I have to take my cousins trick-or-treating. Third, the last thing I want to do is watch horror movies.”

“You'd show up if it was the D&D movie,” someone else said.

“That movie is so underrated!” Brian protested. I tuned out the conversation, thinking about the idea of a sleep over. Realistically, it's not that big a deal, except for kids it is. It's this magic thing where you stay up past your bed time and you have junk and laugh after the lights go out. I'd never had that, much less watching movies at someone's house. I couldn't even fault Tony or Daphne for deciding to ask me to help their plans along. It probably made the most sense – they knew me and knew I probably didn't have plans, because I knew so few people. In a sense it was doing them a favor. I think if I'd shown any interest in their movie nights they might have invited me anyway at some point, because, as they'd pointed out, they weren't alone ignoring a movie and making out. They were watching it with her mom.

Knowing Daphne enough, though, I decided to have some fun with it. When we sat down for class later I gave her a put-upon look.

“What?” she asked, freezing a little.

“Tony's plan. You guys are going to owe me so big.”

Her expression was completely confused. “Plan? What is he up to?”

The class started, and I left her hanging until near the end of the period. She tried texting me, kicked the side of my chair, but the class was busy enough I played off not being able to reply. With just a few minutes of class left, the teacher sat down, and she pushed my shoulder.

“You're so evil, Harvey! What plan?”

I stretched out a little and winced at her. “Asking me to hide in the bathroom after your mom goes to bed so you guys can get in some time? It just seems so....”

“What are you talking about? Halloween? That's not – oh, stop smiling! Harvey!” She pursed her lips at me as I broke down into giggles. “I underestimated you, Harvey.”

“I couldn't help it. I'm sorry,” I said, not sounding sorry at all. “But really, he wants me to stay over so his parents will let him stay over?”

“Partial truth,” she said as the bell rang. “I'll tell you later. He said you're going to ask Rigby? You guys had plans?”

As we headed into the hallway I said, “Not really. Just trying to keep him out of trouble.”

“Someone needs to. I'll get even with you later,” she said with a grin. I headed into my final class and went to sit in my usual seat next to Rigby. He was at the front of the room talking to the teacher. His fuzzy hair was starting to grow out a little, and I wondered what he'd looked like with longer hair. Willing myself to not stare at him, I pulled out my laptop and pulled up the site all my assignments were on.

I kept flicking my gaze back up to Rigby, though. Of course, I just liked looking at him, but I also started to wonder why the teacher wanted to see him. With a furtive glance around me, I logged out of my account and logged into his, just to look at this class. Scanning his assignments, he looked mostly caught up on homework, so I was reasonably sure the teacher wasn't on his back about that. The teacher stood up, and Rigby headed my way, so I logged out and closed the laptop as the teacher got the class started.

“All good?” I asked in a low voice as he sat. He nodded, then we both more or less paid attention until the class was over. I was curious, but not concerned. After class we made our way through the noisy halls. We emerged from the side of the school into the parking lot.

“So I heard a rumor today that you might not be single much longer,” Rigby said, his tone plainly ready to roast me.

I chuckled. “What are you talking about?”

“I guess the coven's ready to perform some rituals on you,” he said with a laugh.

Getting into the car, I shook my head and asked, “What are you talking about? I haven't had a run-in with them since my first day.”

“Yeah. I guess Kate and Libby want your dick, and Amanda wants Kate's bean, and the whole coven had some fight in a group chat, and one of them sent screen shots to someone else. It's kind of hilarious.” Rigby burst out laughing at my expression as I asked him if he was serious.

“This is the first I'm hearing of any of this,” I told him.

“You'll hear by tomorrow at the latest,” he said, sounding kind of smug.

“You sound like this makes you happy. Why?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

“The drama, bruh. The coven? All three of them getting weird with each other because of you, mostly? It's funny as hell.”

“I didn't do shit,” I told him, not that it stopped him from being amused with it. “What did the teacher want from you?”

It took him a moment to switch gears, and he became animated. “Bruh! Okay, so I'm used to teachers telling me I'm behind or I have stuff due, okay? But I told you all this work of mine is getting turned in? I have these teachers calling me up to tell me to keep up the good work and it's nice to see me working to my potential, and I'm standing there with my face hanging out, because I don't know what the fuck is going on – and I can't say that! Quit laughing!”

I covered my mouth for a second. “It's funny though! That's like someone paying your bills for you or something.”

“It makes no sense, though. Like, if someone was logging into my account by accident, wouldn't their teachers be telling them they haven't done their work? And that person would be arguing that they did do it? How would they even get my account login?”

I shrugged. “Makes sense they'll figure out the mistake sometime, right?”

“Then what, though? They show some kind of proof, and then I'm behind even more when they take away credit for all this stuff?”

“You mean all this stuff you didn't do?”

He squinted at me. “Whose side are you on, E?”

“Oh, like you were saying, I'm just enjoying the drama!” I told him and started laughing.

“Worst best friend ever,” he said, and I think my heart stopped for just a moment, then beat harder just to make up for it.

“Daphne invited us to stay over and watch horror movies for Halloween. I said I'd bring you to keep you from egging people and getting in trouble.”

“She texted to invite me. Don't act like you're keeping me out of trouble, E,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“Uh, you did say you were going to egg Gordo's car.”

“I was thinking about it.” I pulled into his driveway, the car rocking in the wide but shallow holes in the dirt. “Did you start that English project?”

“Not really. Figured I'd do it this week. You?”

“Nah.” He paused. “Want to start it? Just for an hour or so?”

“Yeah.”

“I have to work tonight, so. Not long.”

I nodded, heart moving faster. “Why don't we go to my apartment then? You can just go down to work when we're done?”

“Let's go then!” He slapped the dashboard, and I reversed from that dump and headed for home. As we drove, my mind went back to my earlier thought about what Rigby had looked like with hair.

“Did you have long hair before Brock cut it on you?”

“Not like down to my shoulders or anything,” he replied. “It was a fade, but I had it pretty long on top. It's on my Insta.”

“I don't have that, just your number.”

“Oh, right. I don't really use it much, so I didn't think of it. I'll text you the link now.” He pulled out his phone. “What are you going to do about the coven?”

I shrugged as I pulled to the curb outside our building. “Nothing? I'm not interested in any of them.”

“Kate's no virgin. She's like a washing machine – won't chase you around after you dump a load in her.”

I laughed. “I'm not doing that.”

“I don't blame you, but people are going to talk if you're turning down free blowjobs,” he said, enjoying roasting me.

“People will talk either way,” I said. “I don't care that much.” I unlocked the door and then made sure it was secure behind me before we headed up the stairs. I opened the door and toed off my shoes while whispering to Rigby not to talk; I heard my mom talking to someone that sounded upset.

“I do understand what you're saying, and I'm trying to help you,” my mom said. “The problem is that the account shows consistently late payments, and the system won't allow me to waive the fee because of that.”

“I can't afford an extra forty dollars! That's crazy for just a few days!” the man's loud voice sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.

My mom glanced at me, and I waved my hand. She smiled and nodded, then went back to her call. I led Rigby to my room and put my bag down. “Want a drink?” I asked him.

“Yeah,” he said, keeping his voice down.

I nodded and quietly went to the kitchen and grabbed us cold cans. I handed him one and closed my door. He was sitting cross-legged at the head of my bed, leaning back against the wall, as he'd done at his own house. He sipped from his can as he glanced around my little room.

“You know, it's kind of weird being in your apartment,” he said, still keeping his voice down.

“Why?” I opened my can and sat down on the end of the bed, leaning back against the wall next to the window.

“Just the picture in my head,” he replied, turning his gaze to me. “I was picturing something more expensive or fancy, I guess.”

I chuckled. “Daphne called me posh one time.”

“Well, you dress kind of preppy. Or you did at first.”

I looked at the ceiling. “A polo isn't preppy!”

“It completely is,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Are you going to let your hair grow back out?”

He ran his fingers along the top of his head. “Yeah. I don't like buzz cuts much. My mom used to do that to me all the time. I get we're poor and can't really spend for a haircut, but maybe watch a video or something? Learn how to do something besides shave my damn head?”

I laughed at his expression, and he grinned and flipped me off before laughing as well. I looked up as my mom tapped on the door and then opened it.

“Sorry, were we being loud?” I asked, trying to recall if our volume had gone up.

“Oh, no, you're fine,” she said. “I just wanted to get off the couch for a minute and stretch my legs.”

“This is Rigby, Mom.”

“Hi.” Rigby gave her a little wave that I thought was really endearing.

“It's nice to meet you,” my mom said with a smile. Turning her gaze back to me she said, “I was going to make sopa de albondegas; are you guys hungry?”

Rigby looked from me to my mom, not speaking right away, but then blurted, “Did you say soap?”

She smiled at him, and I just laughed, while he looked confused.

“Sopa is Spanish for soup. It's a meatball soup,” my mother explained.

“Oh. I like meatballs. Why are you laughing?” Rigby asked me, lightly kicking my leg.

It honestly made me think like a twelve year old when he said meatball, but I wasn't going to say that in front of my mother.

My mother shook her head. “It won't take long.” She closed the door, and Rigby kicked me again, demanding to know what was so funny, but he was laughing a little too.

I deepened my voice. “I like meaty balls.”

“I didn't say that!” He laughed and drummed his feet against my hip, and I nearly slid off the end of the bed.

“Sorry,” I said, gasping for breath. “Okay, okay. Stop kicking!”

“Stop kicking,” he mimicked, pulling his feet back. I grabbed my bag and retrieved my laptop. “Okay. English.”

“Oh, yeah.” Rigby leaned over and pulled his bag into his lap. We both logged in and pulled up the assignment. I glanced at Rigby and noticed the small crease between his eyes as he focused on the screen, his mouth moving slightly.

“Have you ever had glasses?” I asked, moving my gaze back to my screen.

“Huh?”

I looked up, and he was still focused on the screen. I gave it a moment and then asked him again. He slowly looked up, closing his mouth and tilting his head. “Sorry, I was just kind of – what did you say?”

I turned on the bed to face him more directly. “Have you ever had glasses?”

“No,” he said, picking up his can. “I had eye and hearing tests at school.”

“Did you pass?” I asked, smiling a little.

“Gonna kick you again,” he said, a smile playing about his mouth before he took a drink. “Why?”

“You just look kind of intense when you read,” I told him.

He shrugged. “Yeah. I told you, it takes me a lot of work. I have to focus a lot to do it, so a lot of times I just don't.”

I nodded slowly and turned to my screen and the topic we'd been assigned. “Okay, so the assignment says we are supposed to pick a topic from the list and then make an argument relating to the topic.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, I was looking at that.”

I started going down the list of things out loud, trying to make it sound like I was reading to myself, but really doing it to spare him having to try so hard to read a list.

“The automotive industry? Like you can write about cars?” he asked, showing interest.

“Sure.” I opened a search tab and spoke aloud as I typed in the search terms. “Auto Industry Scandals.” Then I read some of the returns to him.

“The Pinto? Was it a bad car?” he asked.

“Let's find out.” I went down through a Wikipedia article and then clicked through to find debates and explanations surrounding the history of the car.

“A pinto's a horse. I guess they were thinking of going with the theme they started with the Mustang,” he said thoughtfully. “Did they name any other cars after horses?”

I entered a new search. “Looks like a Colt and a Bronco.”

“Oh yeah. They have a Bronco now. Never heard of a Colt, though.”

“You want to make some notes?” I asked him.

“Uh. I'll just remember.”

I was starting to get why his grades were so bad. He struggled to read, probably had trouble with writing and tried to rely on his memory.

“Let's record it,” I suggested. “Set your phone to record audio.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay.”

Moments later I read to him things I found, and he engaged me in questions and discussions. We dove into the history of the development of the Pinto and the infamous document that people pointed to when talking about the car in particular and corporations prioritizing profit over people.

“So it sounds like the memo was about safety standards in general, not the Pinto all by itself,” Rigby said.

“Yeah,” I said, a bit distracted. “But the memo does basically say it's cheaper not to have stronger safety standards in general. I'm not sure I understand that. Part of what they mean by cost has to be in changing a design to make it safer, right?”

“Right, but the article says the memo was something Ford was writing to the government to argue that the safety standards they were thinking of weren't worth it, basically. I wonder if we can see the memo?”

“I'm sure we can find a copy, but I don't know if we could understand it.” I looked up at him, warmed to see him so engaged. “”I mean, it's corporations writing to governments, right?”

He opened his mouth but was cut off as my mom tapped on the door and opened it again. “Your soap is ready,” she said, rolling her eyes and smiling at Rigby.

“Honestly, the only Spanish I speak is Taco Bell,” he said, causing my mom and I to laugh. Once our bowls were full, he looked at my mom and then to me. I think we were both wanting to see what he thought of the soup. “Uh, do we, you know, pray or something?”

“Nah. My mom knows how to cook,” I said with a grin.

Rolling her eyes at me, my mom told him she was just wondering if he liked the soup. He liked two bowls worth, as it turns out; with the meatballs it was very filling. After we ate the mildly spicy soup, it was time for him to go to work. I said I'd walk down with him to check my schedule for the week, and if Daphne was there we could talk about Halloween plans. As we walked through the front door, bell ringing over our heads, we could hear Hav from the office area.

“I don't even like kids. Why would I give them free candy?” he said.

“Because you'll eat half the candy anyway,” Sandy shot back.

“I could eat it all, since I'm buying!” he retorted.

“No, you can't. You won't fit into your costume!”

There was a moment of silence, and then Hav hollered, “I'm not wearing a damn costume!”

Sandy emerged from the office and spotted us, and as luck would have it, the bell jingled, and Daphne walked in for her shift.

“Oh, good, you're all here! Obviously Daphne will be Dorothy. I think Harvey can be the tin man, and the overalls should fit Rigby, so he can be the scarecrow.” She turned to look at Hav. “You can be the cowardly lion.”

“I'm not wearing a costume!” he replied.

I wasn't so sure about getting into costume either, but that all got set aside when the bell jingled yet again and the guy in the red hat walked in.

“No, no!” Hav said, pointing at the guy much the same as the first time I'd met him. “Out!”

“You just settle down, Haviland Dinwiddie,” Red Hat said pompously. “I'm here on town business.”

“I don't care if you're selling girl scout cookies, get your fat ass out of my store,” Hav replied, fists on his hips.

“I will, I will. Just wanted you to have this letter; save the town the cost of postage, you know.”

“Someone get me my shotgun!” Hav demanded.

Red hat tossed the envelope on the counter. “The town is seizing your property through eminent domain.” He smiled. “Seems there will be a nice, big all-in-one store coming to town that will be of a lot more use than this little...store.”

“You can't do that!” Sandy said hotly.

Red hat smiled. “Oh, it's being done.”

I expected Hav to lose his shit, but instead he responded very calmly. No bluster like he used with Rigby, none of the cantankerousness he gave to Sandy. Not even the disgust he'd used in ordering this guy out last time. No, his voice was calm, like reading a eulogy, and it chilled me where I stood.

“The problem with people like yourself is that you buy into the wrong people being your enemies. You find someone who can't defend themselves, and you point.” He lay one hand over the other in front of him. “Now you find yourself with a little bit of power, and you misuse it to try and settle a grievance.” He paused. “I, too, have grievances, Mr. Dooley. I dearly hope to settle them. Soon.”

Something changed in Red Hat's stance, or Mr. Dooley, I suppose. He took a half step back, and it was an awkward step. The body's involuntary response to a situation he recognized, on a primal level, as being unsafe. An ugly look crossed his features, and he turned, marching out, the bell jingling its cheerful tone.

“Hav...” Sandy said.

“You can make them wear costumes; you can be the wicked witch.” He relaxed his hands, his gruff tone reemerging. “But there better be a stack of Dots on my desk – still in packages, don't get smart!”

“Hav,” Daphne asked quietly. “You were going to shoot him?”

He snorted in laughter. “I don't own a gun. The men in my family have penises.” He moved from behind the counter, picking up the letter, and headed to the back of the building.

Sandy cleared her throat. “Well. We should try those costumes on you in case they need altering. I still have a few days.”

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