America 1982-Chapter 42 - 1: Summer Arrangement
Ottilia Farrell looked straight at Dennis, who was sitting opposite her with an expectant smile, and said with a hint of helplessness:
"Dennis, I don’t think you need any advice or guidance on college admissions right now."
"Please, Miss Farrell, I’ve always wanted to go to college, and I want to become a rock star, so I want to know which school could..." Dennis said undaunted, under Ottilia’s direct gaze.
Before he could finish, Pam stuck her head out from the corridor outside: "Dennis, we agreed that in ten minutes it’d be my turn to ask Miss Farrell for advice on college admissions. Teacher, which university do you think I should attend to become a train driver... "
"Shut up, Pam! Don’t ruin my quest for knowledge! Don’t make me hate you a second time!" Dennis said without turning his head, then continued to look at Ottilia Farrell with a serious, studious expression.
Ottilia Farrell rubbed her forehead gently with her hand and after a moment of silence told Dennis, "First, Dennis, I think that to become a rock star, you at least need to understand songwriting, and you, with a D in reading, would probably struggle to read lyrics, let alone write them. Secondly, Pam Marvell outside, I would advise you, considering your near-blindness without glasses, to consider a different career for your own sake and for the sake of other American citizens who need to take the train."
She could understand the real reason why so many boys were seeking college advice from her — because she was beautiful and kind and not too old, so these teenage boys liked to come and chat with her.
Ottilia was somewhat thrilled inside, as she wasn’t a formal teaching staff but rather an administrative teacher. Having infrequent student visitors remember her, and thus affirming her from a certain perspective, made her happy.
So, when these boys showed interest in attending college, hoping that Ottilia would provide advice, she was overjoyed, thinking she could influence these students, who had no intention of studying, to become diligent and eventually get into college with her charm.
But she soon realized that was just her own wishful thinking. These guys weren’t coming for college advice or to be influenced; they simply wanted to sit in front of her and have a joyful chat about anything except studies.
Among these boys, the typical ones were the two in front of her right now, Dennis Herbs and Pam Marvell.
The first time Dennis met her, he seriously talked about preparing to get into Princeton, and Ottilia felt this boy’s dreams perfectly aligned with her own. She knew a lot about Princeton, having worked hard to get in herself, and she was just about to share those insights with Dennis.
Then, Pam Marvell, who was next in line for advice and who consulted her about which university to attend to become a chef, incidentally revealed the truth to her. Dennis had heard from Tommy Hawk how Ottilia had regretted not getting into Princeton, so he used that reason to gain her favor.
Ottilia also checked the boys’ grades and, frankly, 90% of them were not even close to finishing high school credits, let alone ready for college. She had doubts whether they could even get a high school diploma.
No wonder Mr. Williams had introduced her to Tommy Hawk on her first day — now it was clear that, at least for this year, Lincoln High School’s only student who really needed college admissions guidance was him alone.
Thinking of Tommy Hawk, Ottilia was pleased. His Advanced Placement (AP) test results had come out recently—with scores of 5 in five subjects and a 4 in one, which was quite outstanding for Lincoln High School, ranking beyond 7,000 out of the more than 20,000 high schools in America.
Noticing the corners of the beautiful teacher’s mouth rise, Dennis crossed his arms: "Miss Farrell? You’re thinking about Tommy again, aren’t you? Tell me the truth, I’ve noticed the pattern. When it comes to college admissions, Tommy is the only one who can make you smile, just because he’s the only one who needs your help with college planning?"
"Yes," Ottilia didn’t deny it, and said earnestly to Dennis, "Tommy is working hard. Dennis, I appreciate that you and Pam come every day with various excuses to chat with me, but based on your grades, I cannot offer any college advice. So, be like Tommy, study seriously, and when one day you hold excellent report cards, not Playboy posters, when you talk about your future plans with confidence rather than making them up, I will definitely help all I can."
"Just because Tommy got those scores in the test he went to Boston for? Miss Farrell?" Pam asked seriously as he popped his head from outside.
Ottilia nodded, "Yes, Pam. The college preparatory course exam."
"I got it, Miss Farrell, I’ll come back with excellent grades," Pam said with certainty.
Ottilia gave him a supportive smile, "That’s right, Pam. I believe you can do it."
"Dennis, don’t waste time, let’s find Tommy first and have him take a few more tests to get the grades before coming back," Pam then called to Dennis, who was reluctant to leave.
Ottilia let out a sigh in despair, "Pam, that’s cheating."
"Exactly, Tommy probably doesn’t have time to take tests for us right now. His dad and Tony dragged him to a bar to watch a game. I heard Tony say if they lose money again, his dad’s going to donate Tommy to a hospital to study AIDS," Dennis added.
"What did Tommy do?" Ottilia asked, frowning slightly and curiously: "Shouldn’t he be reviewing the book I gave him and coming to discuss his summer plans with me this afternoon?"
"Clearly his family has other plans for him."
...
The small bar didn’t have a formal name; it had been known simply as "the small bar" since Tommy Hawk could remember. Despite its diminutive name, the place was not small at all, with two floors; the bar and main hall were on the ground level, while the second floor had semi-private booths.
But the booths were always empty—patrons, no matter their social status, preferred to spend their time in the main hall.
At one o’clock in the afternoon, with the air conditioning open nearby, it seemed to have no effect on Tony. He was staring at the TV screen, wiping away the sweat that kept emerging, "Italy! Italy!"
Like Tony, the dozen or so bar patrons and the bartender-cum-owner Keith were all glued to the TV, which was broadcasting the last group match of the ’82 World Cup—Italy versus Cameroon.
"I warned you guys." Holding a beer, Ruby spoke while watching the game, "We’re Italian, and there’s nothing wrong with loving our country. But when it comes to betting, you should be realistic. If you had placed your bets here, you would still have time to back out now. But you chose to listen to Tommy and place bets with those official companies in Las Vegas."
Colin Hawk was sitting at the bar beside Lenny Clifton, a police officer who just happened to be patrolling the area. Colin clutched his hair, not daring to blink as he watched the TV.
Meanwhile, Tommy Hawk was cornered at a bar table by burly men like Morin, Wilson, Green, and Hurl, who only followed their own father’s lead—there was no escaping them.
Whenever Tommy even slightly moved, eight eyes that hinted at lethal intent glared at him.
"You better sit tight, kid," Wilson said grimly to Tommy Hawk. "We’re here watching two boring football games, and we’ve already lost the money for dozens, if not hundreds, of beers!"
"Mr. Wilson, I told you not to be too hasty, and that you should wait until the finals to place a bet, to make some pocket change! It was you and my dad who insisted..."
"Son, I have to explain to everyone, it’s been an hour, and I don’t see any chance for Italy to win." Colin Hawk rubbed his face and turned to Tommy, "You said Italy’s lousy team would win, and we believed you three times—but they haven’t won a single game."
"Wow!" Before Colin Hawk could finish speaking, everyone around suddenly cheered excitedly!
Colin turned his head to see the TV, where at the sixty-minute mark, Italy’s forward Francesco Graziani scored a goal, putting Italy ahead 1:0 against Cameroon!
With that goal, the atmosphere in the bar lightened somewhat.
"That guy who just scored saved you, son," Colin said, breathing a sigh of relief as he turned to Tommy.
Then he stood up with his beer and shouted, "Drinks on me this round!"
The bar erupted with the patrons’ enthusiastic responses, and the bartenders and barmaid quickly became busy serving beer to the customers.
"I told you Italy would win," Tommy said, wiping away his sweat with a sense of relief.
But as he spoke, the TV showed Grégoire M’Bida, Cameroon’s forward, scoring a goal, equalizing against Italy!
"Jenny, let them pay for themselves," Colin Hawk quickly changed his tack.
Two goals in one minute made the score 1:1, which stayed that way until the game ended.
"Tommy, I’m sorry," Wilson stared at the score for a long time before suddenly turning his fierce face to Tommy Hawk.
Tommy looked baffled at Wilson, unsure why he was apologizing.
"Because after that last incident, I doubted you, doubted whether you were really Colin’s son because I thought that guy couldn’t produce a smart kid. But now I believe you’re his son—the spitting image of his damn sperms—because you’re just like your asshole father! Every time you show up, you make things worse for us!" Wilson spoke, "Just because we believed you, betting Italy would be the champion, I lost the hundred bucks I was saving to buy new tires for my truck. Now my only option is to go steal tires from Roger’s place."
"Everyone, at least we didn’t lose, right? Italy didn’t lose; they just drew again. The game’s over, can I go now? I have to discuss some university matters with my teacher at school today," Tommy said cautiously, rising under everyone’s gaze.
"Of course, son, go ahead. I’m not in the mood to talk now, my mood is foul. And remember, don’t bring up supporting the Italian team to anyone again," replied Colin Hawk with a nod.
"Why? Did you lose a lot?" Tommy glanced at his father, probing.
Colin Hawk took a miserable swig of his beer, "I didn’t touch the savings, just lost fifty bucks. But I’m not upset about the money; it’s because the sperm bank sent me a check for fifty bucks for those billions of smart tadpoles like you. I’m upset because you should get into college sooner, maybe then I could sell those sperm for a higher price because I’d have a college-educated son."
