Chapter 5 - No Cowboy
After a night in which I felt totally odd, being as I only got to talk to Thaddeus Harris for perhaps five minutes in a whole day of being near him, I was a bit weirded out. Was this how the relationship was going to be? After the rather fast-paced way we'd gotten into the relationship, surely reducing it to nothing was odd.
There was a major change of pace today that began right after breakfast. Not only was it a Friday, but there was a parade downtown in which we'd be taking part. That was why we had to dress in our formal uniforms. All the squadrons were brought via blue school buses to the parade; apparently the police academy had its own float. Some of us would be on the float and others would be walking by the onlookers, shaking their hands and making the academy look wholesome. Wholesome my ass.
The bus pulled into a large parking lot filled with various floats and dance teams. I even saw the Metropolitan Marching Band lining up. Harris and Callahan stood up in the front of our squadron's bus, preventing us from leaving the bus.
"Now, this is a chance to show ourselves off collectively as an academy," Harris began, "so that means no screwing around. Most people hate cops enough as it is; don't give 'em another reason."
Fenster was now raising his hand. I rolled my eyes.
"What is it, Fenster?" Callahan asked, sunglasses reflecting his waving hand.
"How do we show ourselves off? What are we supposed to be doing?"
"Nothing," Harris replied with a mischievous smile. "Cadets will either be on the float or walking along beside it. If you are on the float, shut up. If you aren't on the float—"
"Shut up?" Fenster offered.
Harris took this the wrong way.
"You tellin' me to shut up?!" he said, his eyes flashing dangerously at the chubby blond.
"No, I—"
"What Lieutenant Harris is trying to say is that everyone keep their mouths closed," Callahan finished, briefly looking at Harris while she said mouths closed. "Smile, if you must."
I saw Harris continue to glare at Fenster like an irked junkyard dog as Callahan put a hand on his shoulder and directed him out of the bus.
We all stood around in the parking lot, kicking around random garbage and some streamers left over from the previous floats as the parade slowly lurched to a start. We would be walking right in front of the marching band, who were apparently playing our police academy's theme song. I watched Captain Tackleberry direct some of the heavier, out-of-shape people to the float, perhaps as a way of preventing them from collapsing on the long, three mile route down Main Street.
"It's freakin' hot out here," Mullers grumbled, annoyed that we had to wear our long-sleeved black uniforms and matching hats in scorching summer weather.
"Better make sure I don't collapse again," I replied, making fun of myself, as Manson walked over to us.
"What's going on with you and you-know-who?" she asked, keeping her voice low enough so that only our small group heard the question. Thank God she had some kind of decency to do that.
"Nothing," I said.
"I thought you were on your way to ramping up the relationship," Manson continued. "It looks like it's gone the other way. Actually, it's almost like you're trying not to interact with each other."
"I'm not even paying attention to what he does, honestly," I replied. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm done thinking about that. I just want to get the hell out of this academy and get a real job."
"Amen to that," Mullers muttered. "I just can't wait to get done with this damn parade. It's gonna be weird walking down the street with nothing to do. No instruments or even candy."
"It'd probably be creepy if we had candy," Manson replied. She jerked at the sound of the bullhorn's static. "I'll bet pedophiles wear police uniforms when they try to pick up kids."
I shook my head in disbelief at Manson's dark thoughts. What an off-the-wall comment.
"You're a freak," Beaner suddenly blurted, having heard Manson's last comment. "Who thinks like that?"
"Well, it's true," Manson shot back, sticking out her tongue.
"Huh, so your family members dress like cops? Didn't know that," Beaner said. I saw that Bordeaux was also snickering now.
"Better not piss her off or she'll send out Charlie's Angels," Bordeaux added. "A whole lotta Helter Skelter."
I'd heard that Harris had made several cutting remarks about Manson's family on the first day of the academy, but I was surprised that Norris's two stooges were capable of doing something like that on their own. Manson looked devastated by the comment, and her already pale skin had become even paler against her short, dark hair, which made her look like some kind of vampire.
"Screw you both," Mullers said.
"Uh oh, they were right! It is the start of a race war," Beaner replied to Mullers, apparently alleging that she, as a black woman, was now at war with two white guys. As he commented, he made a face of mock fear.
"Not only that, but we're pigs!" Bordeaux exclaimed. "Get it—cops, pigs?"
"Actually, you guys are just assholes," I said to them. I grabbed Manson's arm and led her away from them. "Let's go."
When we had gotten a good distance away from them, I noticed Callahan glaring at Bordeaux, her little boy toy. I hope she laid into him later about that.
"Line it up," Callahan blared over the bullhorn. "The sooner we get started, the sooner we're done."
Many of the cadets continued to linger in their groups. Most of them were from other squadrons and didn't realize that Callahan was definitely tougher than she looked.
"You heard Captain Callahan," Harris said, grabbing the bullhorn from her. "We gotta line it up. Fatties, you all go on the float. Move it, move it, move it!"
"Where's Commandant Lassard?" a student yelled out. "He should be on the float."
I gave Harris a quick glance, only to realize that he wasn't so much as looking in my direction.
"He isn't feeling up to it today," Sergeant Jones replied sadly. I felt a wave of intense guilt. Was Lassard's health going to fail now that he was leaving the academy?
I looked at the float as it pulled up behind us, a giant glittery mess of a rendition of our academy seal in the center of it with cadets sitting in a circle around it, giant plastic buckets in their hands as they threw out candy. I saw Fenster on the float, more than once taking a piece of candy and tossing it in his own mouth. Probably wasn't smart to have the fat people throw the candies, I thought to myself. Damn. That was harsh. Was Harris's bad attitude rubbing off on me or what?
The loud, happy patriotic sounding march blasted behind us as we walked less-than-thrilled down the road. Let me correct that—most cadets were thrilled to be out of exercises for the day. I was still irritated by the lie that was being maintained by Lieutenant Harris and by the strange state of this pseudo-relationship. If anything, it was more of a one-night stand packaged in a week-long ignoring session. I touched the back of my neck; at least I was sweating today; I certainly didn't want to end up in the hospital with heatstroke again.
Thankfully, we cadets weren't expected to walk in step with the impossibly cheerful song playing behind us. Instead, we strolled down the street as the "fatties" on the floats tossed out candies to the people lining the streets. I wondered if Manson was creeped out by this, but we weren't supposed to talk to each other, just smile and wave to the bystanders.
While the cadets strolled along, the instructors walked out in front of us in a line across the front. Harris walked on the far side, Callahan walked on the other far side, with Hooks, Jones, Hightower, and Tackleberry more towards the center.
We continued up the street, noticing that people seemed genuinely excited to see the police academy walking in the parade. They cheered us on and yelled random cadets' names—obviously parents of those people. Mine were nowhere to be found, but that was typical. I was too old to have my "mommy" and "daddy" yelling for me from the sidelines, though I'd never given them a reason to do so when I was young enough for it.
During our parade line-up, I'd noticed a group of horses with little kids riding them—probably for 4-H or girl scouts or something. Fortunately, they'd put this group a good distance behind us so that we didn't have to step in horse shit for the whole parade. The kids looked happy enough to be on the horses, which seemed calm enough and had bright-colored saddles with plumes and sequins going down the sides. Once we'd begun, I hadn't thought about them much more.
"Hey honey!" I heard a man yell at the cadets. Gertrude, who was several cadets to the left of me, glanced over to see it was what I assumed to be her husband. She waved at him and blew him a kiss. So Gertrude had gotten a man who would acknowledge her in public. That must be nice. I wouldn't know.
Eventually, the marching band finished the march and continued down the street with a drum cadence for a couple of blocks. While this was going on, I heard lots of whinnying coming from behind us. Apparently the horses were acting up. I wondered whose stupid idea it was to put the horses anywhere near the obnoxious marching band.
Some of the cadets sitting on the float had turned around by this point and were looking back with concern at whatever was happening a distance behind us. I could only hear the horses, but I couldn't see them beyond our academy's float.
It was then that I heard the scream. Not just one, but others joined in, screaming and yelling unintelligibly. The sound of their voices together made it impossible to tell what they were saying, but they were yelling something.
Shortly following the series of screams was a loud rhythmic clip-clopping coming from behind us. I stopped in place and turned around to see two horses galloping through the marching band and straight towards us, still carrying children that were clearly in distress. The marching band had stopped playing and just stood in place with their instruments, staring at the horses. A pure white horse with weird blue-colored eyes was chasing a black and white horse, her teeth bared and ears flattened back as she attempted to snap at his tail. He was having none of it and continued to flee, occasionally turning his head to neigh at her. The children on the horses were red-faced as they clung to the horses for dear life, speeding past the marching band, the police academy float, and into the midst of the cadets.
Immediately the police academy float slammed on its brakes, the people on it flailing their arms out and grabbing the emblem to avoid rolling off the float. The horses had now slowed down somewhat, held up by the sheer amount of cadets in front of them. I could see that the female horse in particular was going to lose its rider, a little girl who wasn't wearing a helmet. If she hit her head on the asphalt at the speed the horse was going, she might die.
The instructors had now all turned toward the horses while the cadets scattered towards the sides to get out of the way of the horses' kicking feet. It was pure chaos. The two animals were basically stuck in the midst of a ton of people, with nowhere to go. The female horse was still apparently angry at the male horse, and attempted to nip at his heels as he ran small circles around her. Many people in the audience were now yelling and screaming for someone to stop the horses. No shit.
I stood directly in front of the onlookers to the side of the road as I watched several cadets fall over after they'd been mowed down by the horses. Both of the girls that were riding the horses were crying and begging for help. I didn't know the first thing about slowing down a horse. If that 500 pound thing ran into me, I'd be worse off than the kids on top. Guess I wasn't much of a public servant, making excuses to do nothing.
I looked at the various instructors to see if there was one who'd take the "reins," as it were. Hightower wasn't fast enough to grab a horse, but he was attempting to reach for them when they'd come near him. Tackleberry in particular had caught my eye, because he was holding the biggest revolver I'd ever seen.
"Don't you dare shoot!" Callahan instructed him, putting her hand on the weapon as he aimed it towards the horses.
"It's the only way!" he murmured back, teeth clenched as he concentrated. No way would the police academy be smiled upon if they let a man kill two horses in front of a captive audience. Callahan tore off her sunglasses, her hair all askew as she got up in Tackleberry's face as well as she could at her height.
"Put the gun down, Eugene! That is an order!"
I watched him gape at her as he began to lower the weapon. Eugene? I would have guessed his first name to be Rambo. Speaking of officers shooting weapons….
Lieutenant Harris was—where was he? I looked around for him and found him on the float, eyes wide, squatting down behind a makeshift shield—the police academy emblem. How had he even managed to climb up there with his arm in a sling? I was embarrassed for him. He looked like a total coward.
Suddenly, I heard a loud neigh. Where in the world had that come from? It hadn't come from behind the police academy but instead seemed to come from an instructor. Right. Jones.
One horse jolted to a stop at the noise. It reared up, nearly causing the girl to fly off of it face-first. Hightower took this opportunity to lunge at the animal, grabbing it around its flanks with his strong arms and gigantic hands as he tackled it like a football player to its knees. The girl quickly and safely dismounted the horse without incident by climbing down Hightower's back. Wow. While Lieutenant Hightower continued to hold the horse in place, Sergeant Jones scooped the girl up in his arms and carried her away from the crazed animal.
The other horse wasn't paying any attention to the neigh sound. I saw Sergeant Hooks approaching the horse slowly and timidly, almost as if she was embarrassed to do so. I could see her mouth moving as she kept her eyes on the horse and girl but I couldn't hear anything.
Harris continued to stare from a distance, frozen with fear.
I watched from a distance as Hooks gently lifted the child off of the horse's back without even touching the animal. Some handlers from the horse section of the parade shoved through the cadets and gathered up the horse that Hightower had tackled as well as the horse that Hooks had rescued the other girl from.
Once the horses had been led away, I watched Jones and Hooks carry the kids to their parents, who had since made their way through the crowd lining the streets. The mothers cried loudly, hugging each of them as their children were handed safely back.
Harris, in the meantime, quietly stepped off of the float, face paler than usual. His behavior around the horses was totally opposite that of his behavior at the pawn shop. So he was more afraid of horses than he was of dangerous men carrying guns? Damn. He'd said he was from Texas, but he was no cowboy.
That evening before we were to be let out for the weekend, there was an announcement over the PA during dinner for us to assemble on the grounds in our squadron formations. Odd. Had the commandant made a decision about the new commandant?
D squad arrived outside slightly after A and B squads were perfectly assembled. Being that Harris and Callahan weren't there yet, we stood around, talking about the incident in the parade earlier. The understated, quiet way that Hooks, Hightower, and Jones had saved the children was an inspiration. They needed no guns or fanfare, and did not show off. In fact, after they'd returned the children to their parents, they simply returned to their places in the police academy instructor line and walked down the street with everyone else. No pomp, no bragging, nothing.
It was then that I saw Commandant Lassard walking down the front steps of the academy, pausing before stepping down onto the cul-de-sac. Harris was glued to the commandant's side and was babying him down the steps as if he were an invalid.
Callahan trotted out from behind them and headed for our squadron, clapping sharply several times to get us into formation. We straightened up quickly at her command, but I still rolled my eyes at Harris. How dare he coddle Commandant Lassard when he knew damn well what he'd done!
"I have some very, very exciting news about a couple of instructors. I was informed that Lieutenant Hightower, Sergeant Hooks, and Sergeant Jones rescued two young children at the parade today."
Without him even asking for it, everyone started to clap for the instructors that had made such brave rescues. I even watched Harris clapping as he stood beside Lassard, attempting to look as happy as anyone about this development.
"Now, normally, we would celebrate these heroes at the end of the academy, but in light of my retirement, I would like to honor them today," he said, the students falling silent again as he began to speak. The man certainly had everyone's respect—well, almost everyone's.
Harris was smiling as he stood beside Lassard, appearing to lap up every word. I could tell by the look in his eyes that the upturned curl of his lips was all for show. This would not be a good event while being in the running for a coveted position.
"Lieutenant Hightower," Lassard begin, pulling something out of his pocket. "Please come forward."
The large man had the hint of a smile on his face as he approached. Lassard definitely had something small in his hands, but I couldn't tell what it was.
"For your selfless deeds and sound judgment over the course of your career, you are hereby promoted to the rank of captain," Lassard said, reaching up to affix a pin to Captain Hightower's breast pocket as the larger man bent down. He saluted his new captain with a big smile. "Congratulations, Captain Hightower."
With that, Lassard began clapping as Hightower stood up straight once more. He smiled rather shyly in spite of his massive size, the cadets roaring with applause. The promotion made sense and everyone except for a certain lieutenant seemed to agree.
Harris's face had gone white as a sheet, and his earlier grin had disappeared, replaced by a look best described as utter dread.
Sergeant Hooks and Sergeant Jones were also promoted, both of them to Lieutenant. I could tell this irked Harris to no end, because he now had many former students at his level and above. After the presentation of awards, Lassard fidgeted awkwardly, not sure of what to say. Several students begin to murmur among themselves and I could see that the instructors were going to be losing the attention of the students soon.
I saw Harris lean over and murmur something in Lassard's ear. For several seconds, Lassard looked confused and taken aback, but then he cleared his throat and continued speaking.
"Yes, I… plan to announce my successor next Tuesday. You are all dismissed."
I walked toward Mullers, hoping she'd give me a ride home. I had no ride whatsoever now, being that I'd given back Tony the car I'd taken from him. I didn't see Lieutenant Harris anywhere, either. I figured he'd probably try to avoid me until the time that the successor was chosen, a time that was almost upon us. Honestly, I was surprised that he even considered himself in the running, being as Captains Callahan and Tackleberry outranked him.
"Yeah, I'll give you a ride home," she replied to my request. "I'm not sure if we're doing anything this weekend. I have to get caught up on bills and housekeeping stuff."
"That's fine," I said. "I just need to get away from here."
We headed back to our dorms, somehow making it to our rooms ahead of most other squadrons, to collect our purses and keys for our trip home.
"I'll meet you in the parking lot," she said. "I'm just gonna carry everything out there first so I don't block up the hallway with my junk."
I headed towards the parking lot from the dorm and was tapped on the back by Lieutenant Harris, who was suddenly walking beside me. He was wearing his police uniform and had his baton and car keys in his hand.
"Uh, hello?" I muttered quietly, amazed that he'd speak to me in view of students—not so many, but it was still something.
"Where you headed?" he asked.
"Home," I said.
"Gotta ride?"
"Yeah," I muttered.
"Good. Uh, here," he said, handing me a piece of paper. On it was his phone number. "Now, don't you show that to anyone. You hear me? Not a soul," he cautioned, his voice laced with impatience. "Gimme a call later."
"You want me to call you?" I stammered, confused at his sudden forwardness. He'd been avoiding me all week, but now that it was the weekend, he wanted to pretend as if nothing was different.
"No, I want you to blackmail me," he said sarcastically. He gave me one last pat. "Talk to you later." With that, he headed off in a different direction. I was floored.
What the hell was that? Harris had made me think that he was giving up on our relationship and had done some really shady and cowardly things this week—the fish lie, kissing Lassard's ass, hiding from the horses—and none of it made my heart go pitter-patter.
