Thinking Straight (35 page)

She's right. We're both risk takers. The gulf between us is pretty small after all.

“I'm afraid we're almost out of time, Taylor. Do you have any more questions?”

“Just one. For now. The police last night said I might have to testify.”

“Would you rather not do that?”

I shrug. “I guess I'd be willing. I mean, wouldn't I be, like, a main witness?”

“Yes. But you're a minor, and your parents may not allow it.”

“Then he might go free!”

“Sean will be testifying to what he saw. And Charles may testify; he'll probably be over eighteen by the time the trial occurs.”

“I want to testify.”

“That's good. I'll keep that in mind as the case progresses, and in any event I'm sure you'll be contacted. It could take some time, though; these things move slowly. So. Any other questions?”

God, so many! But for now…“I guess not.”

“Then you'd better get out of here for your meeting with John. Which you're going to be late for if you don't leave now.” She smiles at me one more time.

At the door I turn toward her. I say, “Thank you.”

 

John, it seems, has taken up temporary residence in Dr. Strickland's office. He says, “There wasn't time to move Mrs. Harnett in here yet. We have to hold these meetings first.”

I nod and take a chair. “I've just come from Mrs. Harnett.” I'm not sure what he can tell me that she hasn't.

“Yes, I know. Did you decide whether you want to stay?”

“I'm thinking about it.” And, in truth, I haven't decided.

On the one hand, if I leave here I can go back to my life and be with Will again. A little piece of heaven as a reward for my persecution here. But if I leave here early, my folks may try to keep me on a tight leash. There shouldn't be any question about military school, since it isn't like I would have flunked out of here, but my dad can be very stubborn. Letter of the law, that kind of thing. I can just hear his voice: “It doesn't matter why you didn't finish. Fact is, you didn't finish. So off you go.”

And then there's the new kid. I tell John, “I understand Mrs. Harnett already has a new roommate picked out for me.”

He looks at me like he's trying to figure out how seriously to take my tone of voice. “That's right. Kent Finnigan. What did she tell you about him?”

“That he'll be a challenge.”

“She thinks you can handle it.”

“You don't?”

“Let's say I'd be willing to give you a chance. But let's be honest, Taylor. What you did, nearly sacrificing yourself on the altar of Satan like that, shows that maybe your powers of judgment need a few checks and balances. And it's also risking another soul.”

Okay, I don't like the implication I'm getting here. “And that means what, exactly?”

He smiles and shakes his head. “Don't take it as criticism, exactly. All I mean is that having a new roommate is a big responsibility. And the more challenging, the more room for mistakes. If you take this assignment, I'll need to work closely with you. I wouldn't expect you to tell me everything he does, but I would want to be sure he was getting the guidance he needs. Do you remember how Charles was with you at first?”

“I do. And I don't think I'd be quite the same.”

“No. I expect you wouldn't. I don't think Charles's style would be good for this boy. But it was good for you. It chafed you in all the right ways, just enough, and you found your own way into the residence. Your style would be better for this boy. But because you're still Step One, it would be my responsibility to monitor how things are going. Do you understand why that would be necessary? For the good of the boy and of the Program?”

“I guess so.”

“Are you going to call your folks tonight?”

“Yes. Probably after Charles leaves. I want to see him off.”

He nods. “Okay, then. Please let me know if you make a decision tonight, and what it is. Any other questions for me?”

I decide to give him a little bit of a test. “When Reverend Bartle had me tied up in his little cell last night, he said he didn't kill all eleven of the kids who've died in here. Just one or two. But is that the truth? And how many did he rape?”

I don't think I imagine the cringe John can't quite suppress. But he takes a breath and gives me at least something by way of an answer. “There will be a thorough investigation, Taylor. I can't tell you for sure whether he killed anyone at all. I realize it looks like he killed Ray, and maybe he did. And you say he threatened to kill you. If he told you something right before he expected you to die, then from a psychological point of view, it might be safe to believe it. As for how many he raped?” He shakes his head and looks away from me. “Who can say? All we can do is pray the truth comes out in the trial.” He looks back at me again.

I can tell he's about to bring the interview to a close, but I have one more question for him. “Do you agree with Dr. Strickland's view about gay kids?”

He blinks. I think he's hoping that I'm talking about something other than what I'm talking about. “What do you mean?”

“That we'd be better off dead?”

He's got a hold of himself; no sign of a cringe this time. “I don't agree with that, no. I don't like to disagree openly with him, even though he's not our director any longer. But I will tell you that it doesn't make much sense to me that God would want anyone to die before they understood the nature of any kind of sin. As long as someone's still alive, they can continue to examine their own actions and thoughts, and God can work through Jesus and through other people to help.”

Any kind of sin?
I'm just about to ask him if he thinks homosexuality is a sin when he holds up a hand. “Taylor, I know what's on your mind. And someday soon I hope you and I will have more time to talk about it, because I think we both have much to learn from each other. But I'm not prepared to do that now, and we don't have time for that discussion.” He half-smiles and sits back in the chair. “So. Do you have any other questions, or would you just as soon leave a few minutes early?”

I guess that will have to do for now. “I'll head out.” I stand and so does he. And he holds his hand out for me to shake.

“I hope you'll stay, Taylor.”

“Thanks.”

Leaving John's temporary digs, I make an executive decision. Or maybe it's a test. I decide I'm not going back to kitchen detail. Dorothy has everything under control, she doesn't need me very badly, and I want to go and talk with Charles. Plus, as I haven't tired of pointing out, I'm tired. When I get to the room, Charles is kneeling on the floor beside his bed, head on his hands. His bags are already packed and waiting. I stand in the doorway, not sure whether to let him know I'm here or not, but either he's finished his prayer or he senses someone there. He looks up.

“You're leaving,” I say, stating the obvious.

He sits on the side of his bed. “I'm going to miss you.”

“I'm going to miss you, too.” I sit on the side of my own bed, facing him. “Still have that article?”

“Do you want it back?”

“No. There's more where that came from.”

He takes this in and then asks, “And where is that?”

“Promise you won't tell?”

He nods, smiles, and says, “I promise.”

“My boyfriend brought it. He's brought a couple of things to me. He sneaked the first one in through someone else, but he brought that article to me himself. We had just a few seconds, so we made the most of them, and he left that with me.”

He's shaking his head. “Taylor, you are so amazing. I can't tell whether you're brave or crazy or both, but you're just about the best guy I've ever known.”

We give that statement a bit of space, and then I say, “They want me to take on a new challenge. A new roommate.”

“Are you going to do it?”

“Not sure. I kind of want to go home to Will, y'know?”

“Is Will your boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” I can't help but grin just thinking about him. “He's there, waiting for me. He's made that clear. And what's there to stay for?”

“God. You could stay for God. And for everyone else here.”

There is that. It's not all about me, is it? I shrug. “But I want to be with Will.”

“He'll be there. He said so, right? Maybe you could get a letter out to him.”

I blink. Is this Charles? My Charles, suggesting insubordination? “I'm not even sure how I'd do that.”

He laughs. It's the first time I've heard it. “Silly. You could give the letter to me. I can mail it once I'm out of here.”

I nearly fall off the bed. “Are you shittin' me? I mean—Jesus!—I mean…Charles, are you sure?”

He's still grinning at me. “I'm going to have to report that language, you know.”

“Like hell you are. Would you really take my letter out?”

“Yes. It's the least I can do after what you did for me. Why don't you write it now so I can stow it away as safely as possible?”

I don't need any urging. But first I pull Charles to his feet and give him a fierce hug. And then—horror of horrors!—I kiss him. And he kisses me back. It's so sweet, and so loving, and it's the only time we'll ever do it. But it's great.

 

My folks are both on the line while I talk to them. Mom's in the kitchen, of course, and Dad's in the living room. His voice booms over the line.

“Your mother wants to fetch you home, son. Now, I know this has been a horrible experience for you, but I want to know what you think. How tough is it for you?”

Now, I've gotten pretty good at reading between the lines with my dad. What he's not saying, but he's really saying, is that if I can prove to him that I have the guts to stay, then I'm man enough that I won't need to be sent to military school to learn how to be a man. But—shit, I really want to see Will! And I'd love to have a home-cooked meal, and sit and chat with Mom over iced tea in the kitchen, and I'd even like to see my dad. So I tread carefully and don't commit myself too deeply.

“I'm made of pretty tough stuff, Dad. I risked my life, remember? And I'd do it again. The thing is, it's kind of weird here. My roommate, the one who was being hurt? He left after dinner tonight. He's a really great kid, which is one reason I did what I did. And they're talking about giving me a new roommate. I don't know what he's in for, so it could be drugs or something.” I hear a tiny “Oh!” escape Mom. “So, how about this? He's getting here Friday afternoon. Why don't we give it the weekend, and if you call and insist on speaking to me Sunday night, they'll let you. I mean, given everything that's happened.”

I can see my dad nodding. “Taylor, I like that plan. Give it a chance. See how things go.”

There's half a minute or so when no one knows what to say and we can hear each other breathing over the line. Then Dad says, “They, uh, they tell me you're doing really well there, son. Said you're proving yourself to be a real leader.”

Wow. “They said that?”

“I just want you to know, I'm, uh…I'm proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.” More breathing. “So, should I expect to hear from you Sunday evening?”

“Yes. Say seven thirty. I'll call the after-hours number they gave me and ask for you. If we decide it's time for you to come home, your mom can drive out on Monday. How does that sound?”

“Like a plan, Dad. Sounds great. So, I'll talk to you then.”

Mom chimes in finally. “Oh, Taylor! I miss you so much. I want you to come home, but I know it might not be best.”

“I'm okay, Mom. Honest. I miss you, too.”

Dad can't quite bring himself to say that. But he's already shocked me enough with the “proud of you” line. So I just say, “So long, then.” And I hang up.

 

Things seem really weird, just like I'd told Dad. Several kids I knew are gone now; their parents came and fetched them away as soon as they could get out here. I miss Leland a lot. Sheldon is gone, and Hank, too, though his time was almost up. Monica Moon is gone, but I don't think she was doing very well, anyway. Rye is still here. I notice him more, now that there are fewer kids, and now that I know who he is. You feel a certain kinship with someone you've named. Reva's gone, so I won't get to take her to the luau. They're gonna hold it anyway, though I'll probably miss at least some of it with my new roomie's arrival.

I don't get a lot of face time with Nate; he's obviously still in the thick of things. But we do steal a few minutes during Fellowship one night. We sneak into a corner, and I tell him about my conversation with John, that official meeting where I'd questioned him about Strickland's position.