Growing Like a Tree

CH-2

We were at swimming class. Shane, one of the more popular kids, called Chase a name while they were out in the water. The teacher was out of hearing. Chase was a better swimmer than Shane. I didn’t see the entire incident, but I heard that Chase ripped Shane’s floating tube away from him and tried to hold him under the water. Our swim teacher broke up the fight and rescued Shane, scolding Chase and making him sit on a bench by the poolside away from the other children for the duration of the class. All the other kids gave Chase a wide berth while he sat in time out on the bench and whispered about how he was a murderer.

His father was a burly man, with honey gold skin and curly brown hair. The teacher complained to him as soon as he turned up to pick up Chase. When he heard what his son had got up to in class that day Mr. Vermont’s jaw line firmed up into a solid right angle and his brown eyes darkened. His expression when he looked down at Chase after hearing from the teacher was stony. Chase was as placid as a puddle. He kept his head down and his eyes on the floor. To me, he seemed to be ashamed of himself and was feeling remorse for his actions. His father was not placated by his expression. They left the poolside hand in hand; the boy being pulled along by his obviously silently enraged father.

After they left, I was assigned to put away the floating tubes after class. I gathered them up to take them to the storage room which was along the corridor on the way out of the pool area. Everyone else had been herded into the changing rooms by the teacher. Right before I got to the storage room, I heard a loud smack then a small groan. A man’s voice followed gruffly:

“Shut up!”

I hesitated, then inched the door open slowly. I saw Chase and his father in the far end of the room, Mr. Vermont looming over his son. He had Chase collared with his left hand, and with his right swung a full-armed slap that rang out like a firecracker across the empty room as it landed on Chase’s face.

Once, twice, three times, Chase took those hearty slaps to the face, the last blow making his knees buckle. His chest heaved, collecting air ─ I thought ─ for a wail of epic proportions… but that wail never came. I saw him clutch at his chest, sounding as though he was choking instead.

“Get up!” his father ordered fiercely.

He tottered to his feet wiping his face with the back of his hands, swallowing sobs and sniffles.

“You’re a ── disgrace! Get yourself together!”

Chase was hardly composed before his father had him by the scruff of his neck and began hauling him towards the door. I tried to withdraw quickly and quietly but I didn’t make it very far. I tripped in my retreat and had dropped all the floating tubes in the corridor. I bent to pick them up with my back to the two of them, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the floor. Mr. Vermont stormed out with Chase in tow, not even pausing to spare a look in my direction. I held my breath until the echoes of their hurried footsteps left the corridor. My insides were in a turmoil.  This was the second time I had seen someone hitting him, and just like before he didn’t make a sound.

The next class, the teacher made Chase give a formal apology to Shane who was wary of him the entire lesson and hadn’t forgiven him in the least. He always made a formal apology after getting into one of his fights. The teachers always made him do it. I couldn’t help but stare at him after what I had seen.

His face was only a little swollen, but when he took his shirt off to go in the pool, I was surprised to see dark bruises on his arms and a big one on his left side. When the teacher asked what happened to him, he said he fell down some stairs. The teacher gave him a look of disgust and went to tend to the rest of the class. He kept his eyes on the ground and went straight into the water. Everyone was staring at his bruises. After swimming a few laps, he got out of the water when most of the class began to be distracted, and immediately slipped on a t-shirt without bothering to dry off. I watched him quietly grab his things and steal away. Countless stares followed him as he all but ran away from the poolside. The teacher didn’t go after him or call him back to the class.

I suppose he had been waiting in the parking lot because I saw him slip into a black car when I went to meet my mother after class. That was the beginning of my fascination with Chase Vermont.