recent bizarre events I had witnessed, and my own little solo adventure in the dark. When I heard nothing further, I decided it must have been a squirrel or a bird. I headed back to the barracks, full of curiosity about what I had witnessed.
* * *
The next afternoon, Amelia and I were eating lunch in the dining hall. We were just about finished when Sam Brady joined us at the table. Setting down his tray, he nodded toward us, silently asking permission to join us. Amelia smiled, nodding her assent. I stared at this fresh-faced boy, his glasses slightly askew. Could he possibly be the same guy I had seen strung up and naked the night before? I looked down, hoping the heat I felt in my face wasn’t translating itself into a bright-red blush. But Sam seemed perfectly at ease, smiling as he sat down next to us at the table. I couldn’t help but sneak glances at him as we ate. He seemed oblivious of my scrutiny, as he stuffed fried chicken and corn bread into his mouth like a man with a mission.
‘Well,’ Amelia whispered, defying the no-talking rule in the dining room, ‘I have Special Calisthenics at 1300 hours. I’d better not be late. See ya’ll later.’
We both watched her walk away. Sam seemed to stare at her with a special intensity. He looked back at me, as if he were about to speak, to ask something, but he reconsidered and looked down thoughtfully at his plate. I picked at the last of my apple pie while Sam finished off his meal with slurping gulps of milk from his carton. I was wondering what Special Calisthenics were, anyway. I realised that I never did see Amelia in any of my gym classes. Maybe she got to be in a special class because she wasn’t as physically fit as the rest of us. I made a mental note to ask her, albeit delicately, so as not to offend.
Just then an upperclassman strolled by our table. We both sat up straighter, ready to stand and salute if he came any closer. He didn’t, but he looked over at us and, as he did, Brady laid his hands on the table. Slowly, he crossed his wrists in that peculiar fashion, one bony wrist resting on the other, just as I had seen him do once before. I looked at him but he was looking down, head bowed, back very straight. Once the guy was out of sight, Brady relaxed and resumed the last of his meal.
When he stood to put away his tray and leave, I stood with him. I hadn’t decided yet whether to confront him about what I had seen. I had, after all, been out without permission when I spied him. And how did one bring it up? Oh, by the way, why were you naked and tied between two trees while some guys whipped you and then sucked you off? As I followed him out of the mess hall, I decided on a safer tactic.
‘Sam,’ I ventured, ‘I just have to ask. What the hell is that wrist thing you keep doing?’ He didn’t answer but he looked uncomfortable. ‘Come on, Brady, is it some secret hand signal for some Mickey-Mouse secret club you’re in, or what?’
Sam flushed suddenly.
‘I’m too obvious,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how to be subtle. There are ways of doing it without drawing attention, but I’m too theatrical.’ He turned from me, still not answering my question.
‘Are you going to tell me? Or speak in riddles all day? Because I have a class to get to, too, you know. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s none of my business.’ I started to walk away, pretending to give up on mysterious Mr Brady.
‘I have to go, Remy. Maybe later.’ Maybe never, from the sound of his voice. Some devil got into me as I watched him walk away, and I said, quietly, ‘And it’s none of my business if you like to hang around the bell tower after hours with mysterious upperclassmen in black.’
Sam stopped dead in his tracks. For a long moment he stood perfectly still. He turned slowly toward me then, and his face was ashen. He reached out suddenly and grabbed my arm. His grip was tight; he was hurting me, his fingers digging into
* * *
The next afternoon, Amelia and I were eating lunch in the dining hall. We were just about finished when Sam Brady joined us at the table. Setting down his tray, he nodded toward us, silently asking permission to join us. Amelia smiled, nodding her assent. I stared at this fresh-faced boy, his glasses slightly askew. Could he possibly be the same guy I had seen strung up and naked the night before? I looked down, hoping the heat I felt in my face wasn’t translating itself into a bright-red blush. But Sam seemed perfectly at ease, smiling as he sat down next to us at the table. I couldn’t help but sneak glances at him as we ate. He seemed oblivious of my scrutiny, as he stuffed fried chicken and corn bread into his mouth like a man with a mission.
‘Well,’ Amelia whispered, defying the no-talking rule in the dining room, ‘I have Special Calisthenics at 1300 hours. I’d better not be late. See ya’ll later.’
We both watched her walk away. Sam seemed to stare at her with a special intensity. He looked back at me, as if he were about to speak, to ask something, but he reconsidered and looked down thoughtfully at his plate. I picked at the last of my apple pie while Sam finished off his meal with slurping gulps of milk from his carton. I was wondering what Special Calisthenics were, anyway. I realised that I never did see Amelia in any of my gym classes. Maybe she got to be in a special class because she wasn’t as physically fit as the rest of us. I made a mental note to ask her, albeit delicately, so as not to offend.
Just then an upperclassman strolled by our table. We both sat up straighter, ready to stand and salute if he came any closer. He didn’t, but he looked over at us and, as he did, Brady laid his hands on the table. Slowly, he crossed his wrists in that peculiar fashion, one bony wrist resting on the other, just as I had seen him do once before. I looked at him but he was looking down, head bowed, back very straight. Once the guy was out of sight, Brady relaxed and resumed the last of his meal.
When he stood to put away his tray and leave, I stood with him. I hadn’t decided yet whether to confront him about what I had seen. I had, after all, been out without permission when I spied him. And how did one bring it up? Oh, by the way, why were you naked and tied between two trees while some guys whipped you and then sucked you off? As I followed him out of the mess hall, I decided on a safer tactic.
‘Sam,’ I ventured, ‘I just have to ask. What the hell is that wrist thing you keep doing?’ He didn’t answer but he looked uncomfortable. ‘Come on, Brady, is it some secret hand signal for some Mickey-Mouse secret club you’re in, or what?’
Sam flushed suddenly.
‘I’m too obvious,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how to be subtle. There are ways of doing it without drawing attention, but I’m too theatrical.’ He turned from me, still not answering my question.
‘Are you going to tell me? Or speak in riddles all day? Because I have a class to get to, too, you know. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s none of my business.’ I started to walk away, pretending to give up on mysterious Mr Brady.
‘I have to go, Remy. Maybe later.’ Maybe never, from the sound of his voice. Some devil got into me as I watched him walk away, and I said, quietly, ‘And it’s none of my business if you like to hang around the bell tower after hours with mysterious upperclassmen in black.’
Sam stopped dead in his tracks. For a long moment he stood perfectly still. He turned slowly toward me then, and his face was ashen. He reached out suddenly and grabbed my arm. His grip was tight; he was hurting me, his fingers digging into
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