Chapter 5: The Fight

The yellow school bus pulled up to their narrow drive on the gravel road where Graydon and Alex Jr climbed aboard. It drove another hundred yards to the “Y” intersection of the Wolf Creek spur and turned around. Their house was the last stop. It was four miles to school.

Graydon sat at the window with Alex Jr. beside him. He watched the sagebrush flats roll by, the rock piles and stunted apple trees and lilacs marking where earlier homestead efforts had withered from lack of water. Wolf Creek is a seasonal stream, its waters peaking during flood runoff in early spring. Come summer it dwindles until the gravel alluvial fan stretching outward from the canyon mouth absorbs the flow. Most summers find the creek bed dry where Wolf Creek empties into the Methow River, but upstream from the canyon mouth there is always enough water to support a trout and whitefish population.

Graydon fought his first fight before the week was over. It was the fourth day and he was sitting alone outside, watching kids in groups playing and gossiping. All grades--elementary through high school--shared the school grounds. Recesses and lunch periods were staggered to minimize mingling and bullying between older and younger students. The students shared a tall gymnasium standing between the elementary and high school buildings. The trouble started behind the gym.

Three older boys were harassing two girls, circling around them. The larger boy moved in, pinned a girl against the wall with his left arm braced across her chest, and ran his right hand up her skirt. The girl shrieked and tried to break free. Donny, youngest son of a prominent orchard and potato farm family, forced his hand between her legs. The other girl trapped in the circle blushed scarlet but said nothing. The other boys nudged each other nervously, laughing.

Graydon didn’t remember much afterward. He did recall running headlong to hit her attacker full force with a body check, knocking him away from the girl. They fell to the ground together, himself on top. The surprise of the attack gave Graydon a temporary advantage but that lasted only a moment. Donny’s friends pulled Graydon off Donny, who jumped up and lashed out at Graydon with a round-house punch. After that it was a melee of wild punches with Graydon trying to get inside Donny’s longer reach.

“You’re new here,” the Principal said, frowning at a bloody-faced Graydon whose split lip and swollen eye were evidence that he hadn’t done well against the larger boy. “You’d best remember that we don’t tolerate fighting. If you expect to get along here, stay out of fights. Now what’s your story?”

“Sir, he was grabbing that girl.”

“What do you mean by grabbing?“

“He had her up against the wall, and he held her there, and he ... he put his hand up under her skirt, sir.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. I talked to the students who were there and their story is a bit different than yours. The girls said they were being teased and the other boys said that was all that happened until you came charging in to attack Donny without cause.”

“No, sir. That’s not what happened.”

“Son, you’d better understand something. Donny and his friends grew up here and those boys have known each other and attended this school all their lives. Donny’s family owns one of the largest orchards in this valley, and his father is president of the school board. Are you trying to tell me that all of those students are not telling the truth about what happened? And I’m supposed to believe you, who’s been in our school less than a week?”

Graydon sat silently. He’d long ago learned he could never carry an argument with his step-father, no matter the truth of it, and it was obvious that this situation was similar. His words counted for little. He said nothing further.

“Very well, then,” the Principal said, finally breaking the silence. “Let me warn you, we’ll be watching you. This is the first and last trouble I’ll tolerate from you. Now I suggest that you get out of my sight until time for the bus.”

The bus took a long, roundabout route on its rounds past Twin Lakes, up to Patterson Lake, then doubling back to go up the Wolf Creek road. It was a mile’s walk from school to the Wolf Creek junction. Graydon could easily hike it in time to intercept the bus. He walked alone that day and every day thereafter when weather was good. Otherwise he had to ride an hour-long route with Donny and most of his friends, and endure their jibes and taunts. There was little danger of more fighting. The bus driver was strict about that. If Graydon sat by himself, away from the others, he could ride in peace.

The girls in his class ignored what he tried to do. They’d rather endure Donny’s occasional gropings. They clustered together so nothing more serious could happen; they were more wary of being associated with a newcomer, a loner labeled as a trouble-maker.