Authors: Danielle
“Alright, check everybody’s hands and pockets.” The crowd erupted into whispers once more as the matrons spread out. Cries of “This isn’t right!” and “Unlawful searching!” rose
angrily from the crowd.
A short brown haired matron that Oliver had never seen before stopped in front of him. “Please put your hands out.” She said, shortly. Oliver withdrew his hands from his pockets and watched as she rubbed her fingers over his and then ran a pocket flashlight over his palm. With a strange look of disappointment, she barked “Clean!” and moved on to Robert, who was quivering.
Ten minutes later, the matrons retreated from the cafeteria, leaving confusion and anger in their wake. “This is no different than when I was back home.” Malachi said. “No matter what I said, they didn’t believe me that I was clean.” A boy that Oliver knew to be in his year, though he looked surprisingly young, looked at his hands and balled them up in anger. Oliver lifted his
eyes to the balcony above the cafeteria, and as he expected, Dean Tenbrook stood there, surveying. As he continued to look, he realized that her arms were crossed but she was smiling.
~
The following week, Oliver stepped into Ms. Latham’s class at exactly the time the bell rang, and was taken aback by how eerily quiet the room was. Everyone was already in their seats and their hands were folded over their desks properly. Ms. Latham turned from the board as he stepped in. “Oliver, you’re late today.” She said, and she pointed to the whiteboard where the words “No excuses accepted” were scribbled in black marker.
“I’m exactly on time.” Oliver protested, and he turned back to point at the clock that was always hanging over the doorframe, but to his surprise, it was gone.
Ms. Latham smiled, curtly. “Oliver, it has come to our attention recently that we’ll need to enforce the rules a bit more. Would you mind reciting our class motto? The rest of the boys, who were on time, already participated. I wouldn’t want to give you special treatment, of course.” She said, sweetly. After reciting the motto to his classmates who were all trying to look politely bored, Oliver sank down into his seat. His face was flushed, but his mind, it was more focused than ever.
The remainder of the week saw Oliver avoiding conversation with the boys. At dinner time on Thursday, Oliver neared the center
table that had since been cleared of its graffiti. Malachi, Alex, Owen, Gabriel and Robert were huddled together. When Oliver approached, they quickly stopped talking.
“Hey Oliver!” Robert said, a little too cheerily. “We were just talking about how great the mac and cheese is today. Did you get any?” Oliver stared at the table in disbelief, and took an immediate right.
To his own surprise, he found himself walking toward Paul’s table. He set his tray down. “Can I sit?” Oliver asked.
Paul looked up from his math textbook and nodded slowly.
Oliver sat down, acutely aware of the heated stares coming from the center table.
“I guess the rumors were true
.” Paul said, and looked back down at his textbook. Oliver froze, his fork containing mashed potatoes hanging awkwardly in mid-air.
“What’s true?” He asked nervously.
“That they ki
cked you out of their little group.” Paul looked up, and his face contained a faint trace of smugness.
Oliver narrowed his eyes. “They did not kick me out of anything.” He said, and he shoved mashed potatoes into his mouth.
Paul looked at him skeptically. “Oh, don’t worry. I think it’s for the best, really. It might be easier to focus on your studies without all those….distractions.”
“What?”
“Everyone knows what the basement smells like. I can’t imagine that it’s a good study space. I’m glad you decided to join me.” Paul smiled. “Would you like to study tonight? Last test before Thanksgiving Break, so semester grades will be due. There’s still time.”
~
The weeks leading up to Thanksgiving Break passed by in a blur. Oliver studied with Paul every single night, except for quick breaks. He ignored the heated stares that followed him at breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
“Don’t you think we should take a break
, now?” Oliver groaned and he closed his history textbook because the words had started blurring on the page. Paul looked up at him and adjusted his reading glasses. “If you want, you can.” He put his glasses back on and looked back down at his book.
As Thanksgiving Break got closer
, Oliver felt slightly relieved even though he knew that the break would be just like any other week. He maintained his seat next to Paul, almost impervious to the stares directed at him from the center table. When he walked by, the whispers had grown louder, and Malachi had gestured him over, but he’d continued walking. As it happened, the center table began attracting less and less people. When history class rolled around Oliver turned in his history test---for once, with actual answers---and left the room feeling strangely light and free.
~
Still sweating from gym, Oliver flopped down onto Dr. Heinz’s couch. Dr. Heinz’s blinked at him through his glasses, but he did not say anything. The white noise machine on his desk blew out the mind numbing sounds of nothingness, filling the silence.
“Is there anything you want to talk about today?” Dr. Heinz pulled back a fresh sheet of paper on his notepad and looked at Oliver, pen poised at the ready.
Oliver shrugged. “Well, how are things?” Oliver shrugged again. “Are you enjoying school now? I remember you weren’t enjoying Delafontaine much. You had heavy feelings of shame and regret, in many of our sessions up until now. Are you saying you no longer feel that?”
Oliver nodded
his head. “I feel something different now.”
“And what is that?” Dr. Heinz began scribbling in his notepad.
“Fear.”
Dr. Heinz raised his eyebrow. “Ah, fear. That’s
reasonable. You are in new surroundings. It is natural to feel afraid.” Oliver opened his mouth but closed it again quickly. “What was that thought?” Dr. Heinz asked.
“I’m not afraid of my surroundings.”
Oliver started.
“From where does your fear stem from, then?”
“It comes from me. I am afraid of myself.” Dr. Heinz stared at him through his glasses, the magnifying effect making his eyes seems unusually large. “Fear of yourself.” He muttered, and scribbled a few things on his notepad. “You know, Oliver. Fear itself is not useful. Fear of self, even less so. Tell me, Oliver. What is your fear accomplishing?”
Oliver squinted. “Well, I’ve been getting better grades.”
Dr. Heinz smiled. “I would venture to say that that isn’t fear,
but rather better study habits. I wonder if you could accomplish that without fear. If you could remove fear from the equation.” “But, fear keeps me safe.” Oliver replied.
“No.” Dr. Heinz said, looking at him over the top of his glasses. “Fear keeps you contained. Fear keeps you from asking for and getting what you deserve.
Fear has its purpose, certainly. That would be why it has, historically, been such an effective weapon in the hands of many rulers.”
“But, what’s the cure?”
Oliver asked.
“The cure, for fear?” Dr. Heinz smiled. “That would simply be recognizing what it is doing to you, and not for you. The answer to your question, I’m afraid, isn’t terribly mystifying. But
it is difficult to do, because the nature of fear is such that its shadow is much bigger than the monster itself.”
~
Oliver stepped into his room, and to his surprise, Robert was there, waiting for him. He averted his eyes, made a beeline for his bed and collapsed onto it. Oliver felt Robert watching him from the other side of the room.
“We’re having a meeting tonight at Owen’s, if you care.” Robert said quietly. He had been fiddling with his watch for the past ten minutes, so Oliver just knew that he had something to say.
“That’s fine. I’m not interested.” Robert looked up exasperatedly. “We all want you to just come back.”
“Why, so you can accuse me of being crazy?” Oliver asked.
Robert opened his mouth and then shut it. “You haven’t been spray painting those circles?”
“Those?”
“Another one showed up today on Ms. Latham’s door.”
Oliver jumped to his feet. “You’re still accusing me!”
“I’m not, I’m just asking
” Robert sputtered. Oliver ran from the room, fuming. His feet carried him all the way to the upper floor. He knocked on Paul’s door, and his stomach knotted up. Paul opened the door, looking slightly confused but he stepped aside and let Oliver through.
Oliver sat on Paul’s bed, swinging his legs. “My roommate is practically never here. I think he lives in the gym.” Paul offered.
“What’s up? Ramen?” He held up a cup of steaming ramen noodles. Oliver smiled in spite of himself, but shook his head.
“I wish things could just be normal, you know?” Oliver shrugged his shoulders.
Paul studied him for a moment before responding. “I hear you. That’s what I want. I just want to do well here, and impress my mom. She always wanted a kid to brag to other parents about. She can do that now, as long as she leaves off the “reform school” part in her conversations.” Paul chuckled.
“You like it here?” Oliver asked.
Paul furrowed his brow. “I like what I can do here. I like that I can be somebody. Doesn’t everybody?” Oliver nodded, more out of politeness than agreement. “They don’t appreciate it, you know.” Oliver looked up, curiously. “The senior boys, and Malachi.” Paul made a face like he’d just tasted something nasty. “They drink and smoke and come late to class. Don’t they realize they’ve been given a second chance to be somebody, to do something? They give us everything we need here, and they squander it.” Paul’s eyes had a fervent glint in them, and Oliver suddenly felt uncomfortable. “Didn’t feeling prepared for the history test feel good?”
“It did.” Oliver said, honestly.
“Consider it the start of a brave new future, then.” Paul smiled and tucked into his ramen.
~
Oliver closed the door to his room, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he found all of his friends waiting there for him.
“We need to talk.” Owen said, stone-faced. Oliver looked over to Robert who shrugged helplessly. He contemplating running back out the door, but before he could finish the thought, Malachi stood up and
steered him further into the room. He sat down at his desk chair and looked around the room. It was as if everybody was holding their breath.
“We’re sorry for accusing you of sabotaging us.” Malachi finally said, and some of the tension weaseled its way from the room.
Oliver looked around the room, his bottom lip unsteady. “Why would I sabotage you?” He asked.
Robert leaned forward slowly. “I didn’t believe that you did. But you seemed so not well.”
Oliver laughed. “Is anybody well here?”
“Fair point.” Alex piped up.
“We didn’t know if you wanted to go on with our plan or not. We didn’t know if you had turned on us.” Owen pressed.
“Especially since you’ve been hanging out with Paul.” Malachi added.
“I was scared.” Oliver stopped short. “I still am, honestly. But that doesn’t change anything about this school, and running from it doesn’t change anything for us.”
The first day of Thanksgiving Break, Oliver stepped into the cafeteria and smiled. The cafeteria was decorated with pictures of turkeys
. The cheery new fat cook stood in front of the turkey serving line, offering up “Happy Thanksgiving!” in four languages, one of which Oliver suspected was actually just drunk babbling. Oliver looked over to the center table and smiled when his friends waved him over. It was almost enough to make him forget, to make anyone forget. Oliver grabbed his turkey and headed over to the center table. When he passed by Paul’s table, he felt Paul’s eyes on his back and he paused for a moment, unnerved, but then continued on.
“Welcome back.” Owen slapped Oliver on the back as he sat down.
The rest of his friends nodded and smiled.
“So” Oliver said, leaning forward. “Where were we?” Malachi smiled from ear to ear for a just a moment before reverting back to his usual serious face. “
People are wondering what’s going on. They’re complaining that---he lowered his voice---The Disciples have been quiet. That you lost it.”
“We think that’s where the circles are coming from.” Owen added. “But, it’s gotten out of hand. Last night, our matron did random room checks at midnight.
”
“I got asked about my extracurricular activities by Dr. Heinz.”
Alex added.
“So, what do we do?” Malachi pressed. Oliver looked around the table at his friends. With Dr. Heinz’s words echoing his mind, he leaned forward. “We get a plan.”
The week of Thanksgiving Break provided ample time for planning,
as classes were not in session. To his relief, Oliver found himself easily getting back into the swing of things, and no one asked him what he did with Paul. Oliver rested his feet on the table in Owen’s room and peered between his legs at Alex.