Pursuit Of The Cygnus Thief

Chapter 33 - Tell The Truth DeCascos!

Sorry for such a long delay between updates. I never stopped working on the story, I just hated every edit that I produced. Thanks for your patience

Chapter 33 “Tell The Truth DeCascos!”

By Roseyone

     By Monday afternoon, Galinas’ full ownership of and creative rights to the weekends’ events was nearly unrivaled. With a discreet yet firm elbow, Galina prodded me for an endorsement as she recounted the story to everyone in study hall. I ignored my cues. The tale, as Galina pitched it; cast John Woodstock in the mold of a hardened criminal, she declared him a man on the make, a dirty fighter, a possible gangster and probable commie. The local boys, according to Galina, had never stood a chance against such a dangerous outsider. She savaged Mary Blodget, provided blow by blow descriptions of what she hadn’t seen, Galinas’ certainty sickened me. The crowd sucked it all up; it was free ice cream floats, cheap booze, and radioactive.

     By Galinas’ side Ron Blay listened, his skin sizzled, he sat column straight and unhappy when I’d thought he would have been grateful that Galina was no longer infatuated with John. I tried to talk with him, but Ron only ignored me because he had become some variety of friend to Freddy over the past weekend. Ron was bound by that, to display high regard toward me especially in Freddys’ absence. By the time I decided to protest aloud it was too late; the scene had already spun far beyond my reach, no one heard me over Galinas’ excitement. It was clear to me that John needed to avoid some threat and had sought refuge in Assumption, but since he had arrived John had become a flashpoint, Galinas’ defamation only made things worse. My father who too was indirectly blemished because he’d given John Woodstock shelter and decent treatment.

      After eighth period, Melba Parrish found me on the front steps of the school as I made my way to the bus stop. She had my arm, demanded that I support her and Ellas’ opposing rendition of John before a crowd of students, attracted by the potential for trouble, swirled then clumped around us to watch. All day long I’d heard that Melba, and Ella Parrish too, had taken ownership of John Woodstock, but under their proprietorship he had been righteous. John, a handsome stranger, had stood and preached the Word in their home, he’d avenged Mary Blodget with God given might, and had been made able to set a small thing right in the fallen creation. I tried to pull away, but Melba held fast, my puny bicep ached and jumped beneath her grip. She looked down at me with her lower jaw jutted forward, her nostrils flared, the squint in Melbas’ eyes threatened, and implored at the same time. You, please, please, tell the truth DeCascos! Or else!

     Galina appeared on my other side, she seized my closest arm just before she too, glared at me, but the look in her eyes was different, oh yes, the threat was there too, but it was camouflaged by something else that I couldn’t quite identify. I suddenly had the veto power that I’d tried to exercise earlier, but both versions of John Woodstock, the communist bully versus avenging angel, were inaccurate. No one knew the things that I had gathered about John Woodstock, no one else aside from my father had seen John in both situations.

      A crowd shaded the steps below, above, behind me, tension pulsed beneath the blazing sun. Everyone squinted, waited, their sweaty foreheads shone, their necks were gritty and they'd wanted clarification before the school buses arrived. I already knew that ultimately, Galinas’ lurid story would prevail because she was a more accomplished storyteller, and spoke unfettered by a religious narrative. Melba, with Ella at her side, suddenly needed me, but it was all fake shit, they’d go on hating me whether I endorsed them, or not. I jerked my arm away from Galina and then forcefully freed the other from Melba, far too many people had handled me, the ugly memories rolled forward in my mind and stung anew. I shook it off, John needed me to at the very least try to save his reputation.