Harvey Porter Does Dallas by James Bennett

second and third floor dormitories on the way. He found D’artagnan’s office open, and the headmaster was free at the moment.
    He welcomed Harvey. “Welcome to SAS. Your paperwork is in order. Do you have the books on the reading list?”
    â€œGot ’em all,” said Harvey. “I’ve even started reading the one on Bonnie and Clyde.”
    â€œGood for you.”
    â€œCan I ask you about your name?” said Harvey.
    D’artagnan sighed wearily and rubbed his closed eyelids. “Sure. Go ahead. What would you like to know?”
    â€œWell, you used to be a cop, right?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œI’m just thinkin’—no offense—but that doesn’t sound like a cop’s name at all.”
    â€œOh. And you know all the cops?”
    â€œNo,” Harvey admitted.
    The headmaster waved his hand. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve been asked that question for 25 years. The way it happened was, my mother was really into the Three Musketeers books. But my father insisted on Devin . My mother wouldn’t budge on the D’artagnan thing, so they gave me that as my last name.”
    â€œYou mean you don’t even have the same last name as your parents?”
    â€œThat’s right. Weird, huh? Their names are Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher and they live in Corpus Christi.”
    â€œIt’s not so weird really,” said Harvey. “It’s kind of like you and I have something in common.”
    â€œHow’s that?”
    â€œIt’s a long story. You can read all the details in the letter Mrs. M. added to the application. Maybe we’ll talk about it some other time. But I’ve got another question.”
    â€œWhich is?”
    â€œWhy do you call yourself ‘headmaster’ instead of ‘principal?’”
    â€œWell, this is an alternative school, so I thought an alternative title might be appropriate. Kind of like in England.”
    â€œDoes the SAS have anything to do with England?”
    â€œNo. It doesn’t. Do you always ask so many questions?”
    â€œI gotta admit,” Harvey answered. “I’ve got a real curious streak in me.”
    â€œCurious streaks can get you into trouble.”
    â€œDon’t I know it!” said Harvey.
    â€œWell,” said D’artagnan. “Let’s drop all this chit-chat and get you settled. There are empty beds in 2A. That would be on the second floor. Each bed has a large hutch at the end for your clothes and personal items. I’m sure you’ll find them roomy enough to suit you.”
    â€œThanks,” said Harvey as he left the office. He went down to dorm 2A. 2B was just across the hall. Each dorm room had 20 beds, ten down each side. Harvey did the math in his head. If all the dorm rooms were like these two, then SAS couldn’t enroll more than 80 students. Small is good, he thought.
    Harvey didn’t like what he saw in 2A. He saw the three or four beds that were empty. There were several guys lying around reading comic books and Penthouse magazines.
    He went up to the third floor and figured out the landscape. Here were dorms 3A and 3B. 3B was for the girls. 3A was another dorm room for boys. I need to be on this floor , he thought. I need to be where the chicas are. There were two dormitories for the boys on the second floor, and a third on third floor. Only one for girls. “Not very good odds,” Harvey mumbled to himself.
    He went into 3A. There were several guys here too, lying around and reading comic books or Hustler magazine. It was quiet; there wasn’t much talking. Harvey could tell, by looking at the hutches at the end of the beds, that this dorm was filled. There were no beds available.
    On a bed near the door lay a long, skinny, pimply guy who looked about fifteen. He was reading an Incredible Hulk comic. Harvey sat on the empty bed next to him and said, “My name’s Harvey Porter.