Period 8 Read Free Page A

semis.”
    â€œWhat happened? You went all the way to the finals last year,” Arney asks.
    â€œYeah,” Josh says, stuffing his mouth with the first sandwich. “I was sweating it this year, you know, having major doubts, and Firth told me to put it in the hands of the Lord.”
    Light laughter. “How’d that work for you?” Arney says.
    â€œNot sure,” Josh says back. “When I won the quarters I dropped to one knee and pointed to the heavens.”
    Marley Waits laughs out loud. “How’d that work for you?”
    Ron Firth drops his forehead to the arm of his overstuffed chair.
    â€œAgain,” Josh says, “not sure. I thought I was giving it up to the Lord but Terrence Davis was standing on the balcony right above me.”
    â€œWho’s Terrence Davis?” Marley asks.
    â€œThe guy who kicked my ass in the semis,” Josh says.
    Firth looks up. “Do I have to do everything for you, Tak? You got to look where you’re pointing, man.”
    â€œMy Asiatic brother Tebowed up to his next opponent?” Justin Chenier says. “Damn!”
    â€œYou think this Davis guy intercepted it?” Bobby Wright asks.
    Paulie closes his eyes and smiles. Literal Bobby.
    â€œActually, I think this Davis guy didn’t care if I Tebowed him or not,” Josh says. “All he cared about was how quick he could put my shoulder blades on the mat.”
    Ron Firth laughs. “You sure you dropped to the right knee? If you do it wrong, it’s occult.”
    Josh just smiles and stuffs his face with the second sandwich. He points to his mouth. “Got a lot of catchin’ up to do,” he says, but all anyone hears are words passing through bread.
    Logs wads his lunch sack and puts a three-pointer into the wastebasket. “So, what’s up?” he says as the last of the Period 8 kids settle in, digging through backpacks and getting comfortable in desks and beanbags and old chairs Logs has hijacked over the past forty years on their way from the teachers’ lounge to the Dumpster. What’s up? is the way Logs starts every Period 8.
    Any subject is fair game. No qualifications to enroll, no grade or credit, no attendance taken, but in a given year membership is consistent. There were years when Period 8 was the only reason Logs taught, when the educational philosophy du jour provided him almost no satisfaction; years when his personal life was in such a shambles he could barely bring himself to the classroom each day. But Period 8 always brought him to life and grounded him. “I’m an old guy and you guys are young,” he says at the start of every year. “But we have one common reference point: we’re all as old as we’ve ever been. We all have history, and a future. History is known, the future not so much. My history is longer and hopefully my future shorter than yours. But we have the same challenge: to view what has happened to us in a way that influences what will happen.”
    Period 8 protocol: nobody gets hurt. Well, hurt maybe a little, but not injured.
    â€œWhat’s up is this ,” Hannah Murphy says.
    Paulie can tell from her tone this is going exactly to the place he wants to avoid. Sweet Hannah. No prisoners.
    â€œHannah Murphy,” Logs says. “Take it away.”
    â€œAre all men pigs?” she says.
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    Star lets herself into her empty house. Her dad is at work and her mother is collecting for the Junior League auction. She looks at her watch, thinks about school, shelves the thought. She’ll catch up. She’s always been able to catch up. She reaches to the bottom of her purse for a small pill, pops it, and starts running a tub in her bathroom.
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    â€œAre all men pigs,” Logs says, scratching his chin. “Preamble to the male Bill of Rights, I believe. But methinks this question is loaded.”
    â€œWill a guy screw anything that makes itself