Chapter 17 Chapter 15 Youth Rebellious Period

Fourteen is a tough age, even for a dummy like me.This is a year in which biology stands out from other subjects, and even though our protagonist is more interested in clinical biology than his Leon junior high school classmates, he still cannot escape the clutches of adolescence. One of the manifestations of puberty's pervasive role in sexual development, down to the little devil, is that I think that once you're over twenty, you're out of date.Since Harry was many years past twenty at the time, I entered into a brief period of rebellion against his unreasonable hold on me, which prevented me from letting my instincts tear my classmates to pieces.

Harry formulated a set of strict rules to manage me submissively. In his words, it is to do things or people neatly and in an orderly manner.But for the immature night walker who is trying to fly, there is nothing in order, such as stumbled learning, repeated mistakes, and the desire to be free and hunt and kill as he pleases. Harry was able to teach me many tricks to be the calm, low-key version of me, a dark avenger rather than a wild, glamorous devil.He taught me how to act like a normal person, learn to be cautious and careful, and learn to clean up the scene.He knew all this as a senior policeman.I understand his painstaking efforts, even at the time, but it seems so boring and cumbersome.

And, after all, Harry doesn't know everything.For example, he didn't understand Steve Gonzalez, the little cock who had just molted, who intrigued me. Steve was taller than me and a year or two older, and his upper lip had grown some soft hair he called a beard.He was in the same class as me in physical education class, and he always found fault with me and bullied me. He seemed to regard this as a sacred mission given to him by God.If that's the case, God will be happy to see that Steve's hard work will pay off. This was long before Dexter turned into a cold-blooded killer, and there was a slowly building sense of anger and resentment.This seemed to make Steve even happier, and he bullied the young and silent Dexter even harder and in a new way.We both understand that if you don't explode in silence, you die in silence.Fortunately, things didn't go the way Steve hoped.

So, one afternoon, an industrious but unlucky cleaner came upon Dexter and Steve in the biology lab at Ponce Lyon High School, trying to wrap up their personal feud.It's not your typical high school kids yelling at each other and shaking their fists, and I guess Steve thought so too, but he wasn't expecting to meet a young Nightcrawler.The cleaner sees Steve taped to the table, his mouth sealed with a length of gray sealing tape, and Dexter standing over his head, holding a scalpel, recalling what he learned while dissecting a frog in biology class . Harry came to pick me up in a police car and in his uniform.He listened to the furious vice-principal describe the situation, read out the school rules, and asked the parents to express their opinions.Harry kept looking at the Vice-Headmaster until he finally stopped talking and fell silent.He looked at the other person for a while longer for added effect, and then slowly turned his calm blue eyes to me.

"Dexter, did you do what he said?" he asked me. It was impossible to duck or lie under that gaze. "Yes." I said.Harry nodded. "Did you see that?" said the vice-principal.He was about to say something more when Harry turned to look at him, but he fell silent again. Harry turned back to look at me again. "Why?" he said. "He bullies me," which sounds weak, even to me, so I add, "He bullies me a lot, always." "So you taped him to the table," he said flatly. "Ah, um." "And then you took the scalpel."

"I want him to stop bullying me," I said. "Why don't you tell people?" Harry asked me. I shrugged, which was my most common body language at the time. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. "I can handle it myself," I said. "Looks like you're not doing very well," he said. I couldn't think of anything to say, I just looked down at my feet.But that obviously didn't help the conversation, so I looked up again.Harry was still looking at me without blinking.He didn't look angry, and I wasn't really that scared of him, but that made the atmosphere even more awkward.

"Sorry." I finally said.I'm also not so sure I mean it, especially for that one, I'm having a hard time feeling sorry for what I did.But under the circumstances, an apology was a fitting gesture, and I couldn't think of anything else to say, my young brain was filled with a bubbling, simmering pot of hormones as thick as oatmeal.Even though I knew Harry wouldn't believe the sincerity of my apology, he nodded anyway. "Let's go," he said. "Wait," said the vice-principal, "it's not over yet." "You mean, because the school's supervision is not good enough to let the big classmates bully the weak, and my child is forced to this point? Has the other child been disciplined?"

"That's not the point." The vice principal tried to say. "Or talk about how you put scalpels and other dangerous equipment around, the classroom is not locked and unsupervised, and students can easily obtain those dangerous equipment?" "But, officer..." "I tell you," said Harry, "I can spare you your extreme dereliction of duty in this matter, if you promise to improve." "But this kid..." he still wanted to say. "I'll take care of the kid," Harry said, "and you'll take care of the improvement measures so I don't have to call the school board."

This is where the matter came to an end.Against Harry, there was no suspenseful outcome, whether it was the murder suspect, the president of the Rotary club, or the young devil who had made a mistake.The vice-principal opened and closed his mouth several times, but couldn't say a word, only grunted a few times and cleared his throat.Harry watched him for a moment, then turned to me. "Let's go," he said again. Harry said nothing as he made his way to the police car, not in an intimate silence.Instead of going around the school and past Granada and Hardy’s on our way to our house, we headed north on the Dixie Highway.He still doesn't speak.I watched him as he turned the steering wheel and he continued to be silent, with an expression on his face that didn't look like he wanted to talk.He was looking straight ahead and driving, going fast, but not fast enough to have to turn on the siren.

Harry turned left on 17th Street, and for a split second I wondered if he was going to take me to the Orange Bowl.But we passed the stadium entrance and kept going, passed the Miami River, turned right onto North River Drive, and now I knew where we were going, but I didn't know why.Harry remained silent, not looking at me.It was a gloomy afternoon, and as dark clouds began to gather on the horizon, I felt a sense of oppression creeping in. Harry parked the police car and finally spoke. "Come on," he said, "come in." I looked at him, and he was out of the car, so I got out too, and obediently followed him into the detention center.

Harry was a celebrity here, and he was a proven good cop everywhere.From the registration desk to the booth at the end of the corridor, someone kept calling "Harry" or "Hey, officer", and I followed him step by step, feeling more and more bad.Why did Harry bring me to jail?Why didn't he just scold me, tell me how disappointed he was, or figure out some other harsh but just way to punish me? He didn't do anything, he didn't say anything, and it left me clueless.I just follow him.Finally, we stopped in front of a room guarded by the police.Harry stepped aside and said something to the guard; the guard looked at me, nodded, and let us go to one of the innermost cells. "Here it is," said the guard. "Have a nice day." He nodded to those in the room, glanced at me again, and walked away, leaving Harry and me to continue our uncomfortable silence . Harry made no attempt to break the silence first.He turned his head to look at the prison cell, the pale-faced object inside moved, stood up, and came to the iron fence. "Oh, it's Officer Harry!" said the man cheerfully. "How are you, Harry? I'm glad you stopped by to see me." "Hi, Carl," said Harry, and finally he turned to me. "This is Carl, Dexter." "What a spirited boy, Dexter," Carl said. "It's a pleasure to meet you." Carl's eyes were bright and hollow, but I seemed to see a huge black shadow through them, and my heart twitched suddenly, wanting to escape from the huge and fierce thing hidden behind the iron fence.He wasn't big or menacing himself, he even looked amiable, his blond hair was neatly combed, and he was of medium height, but there was something about him that made me very uneasy. "They brought Carl in yesterday," said Harry. "He killed eleven." "Well, well," Carl said modestly, "almost." Outside the prison, lightning was tearing the sky, and it was raining.I watched Carl with interest, and now I knew what unsettled my Nightcrawler.We're just starting out, and this guy's already on the other side and back.Eleven, almost.For the first time, I experienced what it was like for my Pons Middle School classmates to face the NFL quarterbacks. "Karl enjoys killing people," Harry said flatly. "Right, Karl?" "It fills my life," Carl said cheerfully. "Until we get caught," said Harry stiffly. "Ah, well, so. But," he shrugged, and gave Harriet a false smile, "it'd be fun otherwise." "You're being careless," said Harry. "Yeah," Carl said, "how do I know the police are so careful?" "How did you do it?" I blurted out. "It's not difficult," Carl said. "No, I mean, um, how exactly?" Carl looked at me inquiringly, and I seemed to hear the dark shadows flashing in his eyes making noises.For a moment our eyes made contact and gazed at each other, and the world was filled with the dark sound of two hunters meeting next to a helpless and weak prey. "Okay, okay," Carl finally said, "Is this true?" I flinched, and he turned to Harry: "That means, use me as a teaching aid, eh, officer? Scaring your kids The right and narrow way to be a good man?" Harry looked at him, revealing nothing, saying nothing. "Well, I have to tell you this is a road that never returns, poor dear Harry. When you take this road, you'll die forever, even longer than death, you or me or this There's nothing cute kids can do." "Except for a little bit," said Harry. "Really?" Carl said, and now it seemed like a dark cloud was rising around him, covering his teeth with a grin, and moving toward Harry and me again. "What's that? Prayer?" "Don't get caught," said Harry. For a moment, the dark cloud freezes, then slowly recedes until it dissipates. "Oh my God," Carl said, "I wish I remembered how to laugh." He shook his head slowly. "You mean it, don't you? Dad, Sergeant Harry," and he gave us a grin that seemed almost genuine. Harry turned his head and looked at me with cold blue eyes. "He got caught," Harry said. "Because he doesn't know his own way. Now he's in the electric chair because he doesn't know the police way either. Because," said Harry, his voice steady and his eyes unblinking, "he wasn't trained." I looked at Carl, who was looking at us through the thick bars with his bright, dead eyes.caught.I look at Harry again. "I see." I said. I do get it. This is the end of my youthful rebellious period. Now, many years later, many glory days of cutting fun and getting away with it, I fully understand how brilliant Harry's move to bring me to Carl was.I never expected to match him—after all, Harry does things out of emotion, and I don't, but I could follow his example and raise Cody and Astor in the same way.I'd bet on it too, like Harry did. Are they following?