Do Not Resuscitate. Charley Brindley

only got one knee under himself. Ember reached to take his arm, but he shook her off.

      “Get away from me,” he told her, then stood. “I’ll get you for this, Brindley.”

      “Okay. How’re you going to do that?”

      “You’ll find out.”

      “How about push-ups, right now?”

      “What?”

      “The one of us who does the most in five minutes, wins.”

      Someone behind him laughed.

      Yeah, I know, he’s the strongest player on the football team.

      Crammer grinned, dropped to the floor, and positioned himself on his hands.

      I handed my books to Ember and fell beside him.

      We began together.

      At ten, I started counting aloud.

      When we hit fifteen, he slowed a little.

      The other kids cheered him on.

      At thirty, I said, “One-hand.”

      “What?”

      I put my left hand behind my back and kept going.

      Crammer did the same.

      He got to thirty-five, then fell on his chest, breathing hard.

      I continued, pushing easily with my right arm.

      “Forty,” I said, then stood and held out my hand.

      He knocked it away. “This ain’t over.”

      “Oh, now what?”

      “You just better watch out.”

      I glanced at Ember and lifted a shoulder. She did the same.

      “Watch out.” She mouthed the words, then handed over my books, with a smile.

      The bell rang.

      Crammer stomped away, followed by Ember and his pals.

* * * * *

      In history class, I took my usual seat in the back. Strange visions filled my mind, like dreaming while awake.

      A war in the jungle…a wide river flowing through the rainforest…an oasis in the desert…skiing…

      It was like a long movie set to super fast motion.

      A smoky bar room…guitar music…me singing…

      “Brindley?”

      I looked up to see Mrs. Adams standing at the front of the classroom and all the students watching me, some smiling, probably expecting me to sink down in my chair and not say a word, like I always did.

      “Yes, ma’am?” I said.

      “I asked, who crossed the Alps to attack the Romans in two-sixteen BC?”

      That’s a dumb question. Is she serious?

      I just stared at her.

      “That’s what I thought,” Mrs. Adams said. “Anyone?”

      Several hands went up.

      “Hannibal,” I said, then folded my arms.

      “What?” the teacher asked.

      “He took thirty-nine elephants and twenty-six thousand soldiers,” I said. “The army was divided into ten thousand cavalry and sixteen thousand foot soldiers. Probably a few hundred camp followers as well.”

      “Huh?”

      “Most of the elephants died in the cold in the higher elevations.” I glanced around at the other students. Ember’s mouth fell open, and the ones with their hands up, dropped them. “He also lost almost ten thousand troops.” I picked up my yellow pencil and twirled it in my fingers.

      Mrs. Adams cleared her throat. “That’s the most you’ve said all semester.”

      “Probably.” I opened my textbook and flipped pages, using the eraser on my pencil.

      What was the name of that lake where Hannibal fought his third battle in Italy? I should know this.

      I came across a picture of the Alps.

      Zugspitze! The highest mountain in Bavaria.

      I glanced out the window and watched an elm tree shudder in the wind.

      There’s a gold-plated cross on the peak. Kabilis and I climbed up there. When? Who’s Kabilis?

      “That’s not in the textbook.” Mrs. Adams came toward me, with the history textbook held against her ample breasts.

      “What?”

      “About the elephants dying in the cold.”

      “But they did.”

      “I know, but it’s not in the book.”

      “Oh.”

      “How did you know that?”

      “I-I think I read it in the library.”

      “Since when do you go to the library?”

      “Um…during my lunch hour. Maybe it was in Levy or Herodotus.”

      “Hmm…so you’ve read Herodotus’s Histories?”

      I nodded.

      “Where was Hannibal’s first battle after he crossed the Alps?”

      “On the River Trebbia.”

      “The second one?”

      “Ticino.”

      She opened her history book to where a slip of paper marked a page, then scanned down the sentences. “What was the biggest battle he fought in Italy?”

      “Cannae. Fifty thousand Romans died in a single day.”

      “Yes.” She looked from her book to me. “Yes, that’s true.” She turned to go back to the front of the class, but everyone still stared at me.

      Bavaria. When was I in Bavaria? With Kabilis. We learned to ski that winter. He was a Tech Sergeant, U.S. Air Force. What the hell? He was fluent in German and Russian. I was a Master Sergeant. When…

      The bell rang for lunchtime.

      The others shuffled out. I didn’t move; couldn’t move. My head hurt from the intense pressure. So full of stuff. Jumbled. Swirling like the inside of a tornado.

      “Charley.”

      I jerked up my head. Mrs. Adams stood, watching me.

      “Yes, ma’am?”

      “Class is over.”

      “Oh, okay.”

      I collected my books and stood, walking in a dream. My mind was mesmerized, dazed.

      What’s going on?

      In the hallway, I ignored the kids, but I knew they were watching me. I went mechanically to my locker, took my lunch, and went outside, then headed to the bleachers.

      There, I saw Patsy and the disabled girl. I went to their side of the stadium.

      “Do you mind if I sit with you?” I asked.

      They looked up at me, wide-eyed.

      “Um…sure,” Patsy said.

      I sat and took out my sandwich.

      The two girls continued to stare, not eating or speaking.

      “What kind of sandwich do you have?” I asked.

      The girls looked at each other.

      “Peanut butter and jelly,” Patsy said.

      “Me, too,” the other one said.

      “I’ve got fried egg. My mom always cuts my sandwich into two triangles. Isosceles, I think.” This was the most I’d ever said to a girl, or any kid at school.

      Both