Brebnor told them one day he'd found his car radio antenna had been snapped. He'd
replaced it only to find it bent and twisted into a bit of artwork. He'd straightened it
out, but the next day the would-be artist/vandal struck again.
"What makes you suspect Ramos?"
"I know he's the culprit. He's got a guilty smirk on his face, like he knows something."
"Where do you park now?" Lightbody asked.
"Right across the street…on the west side of the building?…on Myrtle Avenue."
Lightbody said, "You know, this kid, he comes up to me one day, and he says to me,
What do I have to do to pass this class? So I look at him and I say, You know what you
can do? I'll tell you what you can do…You know where my car is parked?…since you're
no longer interested in Earth Science, why don't you wash and wax my car…every day
…You do that, I guarantee you'll pass my class."
Ghamsam was the first to laugh. "Did you really tell him that?"
"C'mon, Ghansam, of course I didn't tell him that. Do you think I'd strike a deal with a
thug like Ramos? I said to him, Mr. Ramos, so far you've done everything in your power
fail this class. I would suggest you don't make any travel plans for the summer."
Brebnor looked away, impressed with Lightbody's firm handling of Ramos, but
churning inside with leashed fury.
"Where do you park?" he asked Lightbody.
"The Mobil gas station?…It's about two blocks away. I pay the guy couple o' bucks to
keep an eye on it. I walk the couple o' blocks. Good exercise. I think it's worth the
money. I don't have to worry about some vandal slashing my tires."
Brebnor groaned and decided not to ask if he could park there too.
This Fall term he was lucky to be assigned classrooms on the west side of the building.
That way he could keep an eye on his car parked across the road on Myrtle Avenue. It
meant being on his feet most of the time, walking to the window as he talked, and
throwing quick glances outside from the third floor. If in the middle of the lesson his
glance told him something was happening, or had happened, to his car while his back was
turned, he didn't know what the fuck he'd do.
(from "Ah, Mikhail, O Fidel! a novel by N.D.Williams, 2001)
FARJOURNEY CARIBBEAN 