Just a dumb fuck

Kiss and make up...

On Monday morning I was awake bright and early, well before reveille, and feeling good all things considered. Yes, my ribs and stomach were still tender but not actually hurting unless I touched them. Obviously I’m going to have to be careful for a few days, make sure I don’t throw myself into chairs too vigorously, but Kyle’s work with the heat packs rather than ice really does seem to have done the trick, I’ve got no muscle stiffness worth speaking of. I’ll be strutting round college, walking tall, showing everybody I’m not bothered by Jackson. I might even ask after him. Act concerned. ‘Hope his nose is okay.’ ‘Wouldn’t want him to bleed to death,’ kind of thing.

I slipped, carefully, out of Shane’s bed and reached for my towel, then noticed the LED on my phone was flashing. My phone was over on the desk beneath the whiteboard, the extra desk in the room that Nathan uses for all the admin work. By rights it’s not his desk, it’s the admin desk for the dorm senior, but Kyle lets Nathan have it. It’s kind of his badge of office. We all leave our phones there, next to the charger spider with all its wires and connectors and adapters. They have strict rules here on phones. They don’t stop us having them, but we can’t carry them round with us. We’d be crucified on the spot by the Corporals if a phone beeped in our pocket or if we tried to use it during a class. Phones are for when we are stood down from duty. After classes, when we have done our personal study periods before dinner, then we can use them. Not at dinner of course. That’d be crucifixion too. No, when we get back to our dorms after dinner, then we can use them. Most guys use them to phone home or to phone friends outside college, then listen to music or play a few games before bed. I hardly use mine at all. Not now. I seem to be too busy a lot of the time of course, what with all the study we’re expected to do here, but also, well, because my phone just isn’t up to it. It’s an old Nokia my dad gave me, ‘for emergencies’ after he confiscated my iPhone. Stone Age. It just makes calls and sends texts. A ‘dumb phone for a Dumb Fuck’ Travis would probably say.

That was another of my punishments. Dad was seething when he found out about the tweets I’d sent from the party to a few mates back home, and my Instagram pics didn’t help either. Those two accounts were shut down instantly, then my phone was gone. Full factory re-set, everything deleted. An absolute ear bender about how the internet was world wide – yeah, as if I didn’t know that, dad – and how it was just plain stupid to post things like I had done. At my age. So, no more net for me. My lap top has been castrated too. No wi-fi, no ethernet, no data SIM. I did get Will to try and fix it for me, he’s Mr Technology, but no luck. Dad really knows what he’s doing with cyber-security and stuff. That’s part of why he’s on an exchange posting here with the US Army. I guess I should think myself lucky dad didn’t get my balls chopped off too.

The missed call was from my dad, at 21:30 last night. Dad’s always called me on Sunday nights when he could, no matter where he was in the world. Just a few minutes chat, finding out what I’d been doing, telling me how proud he was of me and reminding me to take care of my mom. There was another call from him listed in the log, a few minutes afterwards. That one had been answered.

Travis was looking up at me from his bed. I must have woken him when I went over to check my phone. “Your dad tried calling you a couple of times when you were asleep. Kyle answered it for you. He didn’t split on you, just said you were out in another dorm. Your dad said not to worry, he’ll call you another night. It’s cool.”

Travis rolled over onto his side and looked at where Shane was curled up next to him, still sleeping, smirked and thrust his hips forward a couple of times like he was fucking Shane. “I wore him out,” he laughed, “didn’t you hear him squealing all night? You’ve got his bed for good, Deefer, he’s my bitch now.”

I laughed with him and put my phone back on the desk, ready to go for my shower. As I did, I noticed a new addition to the Admin white board. In the box next to my name, where Nathan listed our weekly duties and stuff, he’d written ‘Hebrews 13, v7.’ Smart arse! I didn’t know that one, I’m no bible freak. I just knew the Mathew stuff because well, everybody in the services does. All parade commanders anyway. They are always quoting it. ”The last shall be first, and the first last: for many be called, but few chosen.” This is exactly why I need my net connection. So I can get online to Google. It’s for education. I need to try and talk my dad round again. If I don’t figure out Hebrews 13 and come up with some reply pretty fast Nathan is going to think he’s won our battle of wits. That’s not good, especially after I’ve already told them all that Yanks are only half prepared for a battle of wits...

* * *

Classes were pretty good today, mainly maths first thing in the morning and physics before lunch. I’m in with the sophomores for both of those, they’re subjects I’m ahead on. Well, it’s all just numbers. Easy-peasy.  Being pushed up a year for some classes is okay by me, but it does have a few issues, though they aren’t related to the workload. I can cope with that easily enough.

The way the system here works is that us freshmen are all Cadet Privates, sophomores get promoted to Cadet Corporal, juniors make Cadet Sergeant and then finally seniors get made Cadet officers, usually LOOtenant. Yes, like I said, I’m going to need to write that Anglo-American phrase book, teach them it’s LEFFtenant. Well, I suppose in a way, the numbers actually are the problem. Like as in for my physics set, there are 14 Cadet Corporals and one Cadet Private. That’s not good is it? You don’t need to have the brains of an Archbishop to see who’s the gopher. Believe me, I learned what a gopher is pretty quick when I started here.

Actually, they have been decent to me today. None of them were at the gym yesterday but they all know about my sparring with Jackson. Like as soon as I entered the classroom a couple of them started whistling the theme tune from “Superman”. And then later, at break time when I had brought them all their coffees, a few of them backed off in pretend fright when I got near them, holding up their hands and saying, “Not the face Boots, not the face…”

* * *

I left the dining room as soon as lunch was over and headed back to the dorm. Usually there’s a half hour after lunch when people socialise in the ante-room by the dining hall but I had things to do. I’m always seated next to Will at lunch and so I made my excuses to him and left, making sure everyone nearby knew I was going to the library to get a book on Tecumseh. I’ve still got that assignment to do, remember? I actually went straight back to the dorm so I could grab my blankets and take them down to the drier in the laundry room in the basement. I couldn’t do that first thing this morning because there are too many people around in the corridors and washrooms en route, getting washed and some even shaved before breakfast. Being seen by guys from other dorms taking wet blankets down to the drier two days in a row would be the end of me. It’s one thing that I’ve got a reputation as a dumb fuck who got kicked out of Oakdale for nailing the cheerleaders and fighting, I can live with that, but being known as the kid who wets the bed is another thing entirely.

Noah was in the dorm when I got back to sort my berth out, just sat on his bed as usual, drawing away in his sketchbook. He looked up and smiled when I entered but didn’t say anything. He’s good at drawing, really good. Usually it’s fantasy stuff, wizards and dragons and that kind of thing, but he does people too. Sometimes just simple line sketches of somebody, but other times really detailed drawings. Whichever style he does, he’s got a talent for capturing the real character of whatever he draws. The pictures almost come to life. 

“Hi Noah. What’re you drawing?”

“A picture.”

Here we go again. Twenty fucking questions. I mean, he’s cute and always happy in his little world, never any trouble to anybody, well apart from the ice, but really? Can’t he just cooperate for once? Make conversation easy? I grabbed the blankets from my bed and started to head toward the door with them, which of course means passing right by Noah again too. His bed is right next to mine, just the other side of the door. We’re the flak magnets. As I pass, he holds up the sketchbook for me to see.

“It’s you, Boots”

It’s just a pencil drawing but so amazingly good I stop dead in my tracks. He’s drawn me, boxing. A full-page picture, from the waist up, gloves out, jabbing at the viewer. Real determination on my face. It’s brilliant ! It’s better than a photograph. It’s just kind of captured me in a way a photo never does. I even look good. Kind of rugged rather than pretty like Shane or Will, the broken nose really adds that extra something. I prefer rugged. It’s way better than pretty. I could use that as my avatar on my accounts. Oh yes, those accounts I no longer have. I really have to speak to dad about those. See if I can negotiate some kind of online parole.

“Wow, Noah,” is all I can think to say. ”That’s really good. Maybe just a bit too much shading on the muscles though?”

Noah smiled his smile, like he thinks I’m stupid or something. Yes, I know, him thinking I’m a penny short of a shilling.

“No Boots. You really do look like that.”

* * *

For afternoon classes I was back with the other freshmen, Biology first then Languages. We should get to choose what language we learn but I was late here and so they just slotted me into the set that had a place empty. Spanish. What good is Spanish to me? I mean, Spanish. Why not just go the whole way and make me do French like a proper cheese eating surrender monkey? Latin and Greek weren’t even on the list. What happened to civilisation? Well, I suppose I’ll be able to order tacos like a native at the end of semester.

Weekday classes finish at 16:00, so we then have time to get back to the dorms and change out of Working Dress and into casuals ready for afternoon tea at 16:30. After that, Private Study back in the dorms or the library study areas begins at 17:00 and goes on until around 18:30. That’s when the dorm seniors can stand us down, at their discretion, so we can get ready for dinner at 19:00. As we’re not formally dismissed from duties until dinner is over at 20:00 and reveille is at 06:00 on weekdays you can see we don’t get much time to ourselves. The Cunning Plan presumably is that we don’t have time to get up to too much mischief.

Afternoon tea is actually coffee, or milk, and ‘cookies’, which are intended to keep us alive until dinner. They do have tea, but it’s not proper tea. They keep it in the fridge! Cold, “iced tea”. Maybe they think that’s how it should be ever since they threw it in Boston Harbour. I asked for proper hot tea and they gave me a teabag and directed me to the hot water jug. Bloody heathens. Next time I get a pass out to town I’m going to see if I can find a shop that sells teapots and tea leaves. And a pukka kettle. Make my own and try and civilise this place. Maybe I can get some food parcels flown over from home with real biscuits in too instead of cookies. I haven’t had a proper custard cream or Jammy Dodger for months.

I changed pretty fast and, along with Will and Shane, was over at the ante-room to the dining hall where afternoon tea is served just as the doors were opened up. Travis usually skips afternoon tea and goes to the gym for a while before private study and Noah tags along with him. So, we were at the front of the queue and had helped ourselves to coffee and cookies, and the best seats, by the windows overlooking the garden, when everybody else started toddling in. Shane usually stuffs some extra cookies in his pockets too and takes them back for Travis and Noah to scoff during study.

We’d been there about ten minutes when a group of seniors came in and sat down near us with their coffees. Jackson was amongst them and, as there were too many of them for the seats available in the area of the room they took up, him and a few others remained standing to drink their coffee. He didn’t see me at first but when he did, he blanked me. I was on my feet right away. Not that I was going to cause any trouble, which is clearly what Shane thought from the look on his face. Exactly the opposite. I was just going to go over to him and offer him a handshake, show there were no hard feelings. Make the first move to calm things down. I don’t want to cause trouble here. I’m actually beginning to like this place. Yes, it could do with a little straightening up round the edges to make it Bristol, but I’m making some good friends and there’s not much chance of me being accepted back at Oakdale High is there?

Jackson spotted me approaching and nodded to his friends to point me out as I walked over. I was aware that the room was getting quieter as I neared him. He really does have a kind of aura about him. People notice him. Navy blue blazer. Sand coloured chinos. Neither of them off-the-peg. Some twat started whistling the “Superman” theme but dropped it after the first few bars.

I got to him and stood until he finished his sip of coffee. He was drawing it out, making me wait. “Just play nice, Jackson, don’t be an arsehole,” I’m thinking to myself. I offered him my hand, looked him in the eye as he ever-so-casually passed his cup and saucer to the smirking tosser stood at his side and said, mocking my accent, “Do hold this for me for a moment, old chap”. His eyes can cut through people. Shane is looking like he’s about to witness a murder. Will is looking like he’s hoping to see a murder. I’m stood there with my hand outstretched, starting to feel like a real lemon. Just play nice, Jackson, this is hard enough without you being a twat.

There’s that something about his face I still can’t figure out. He extends his hand, takes hold of mine, then, without any time for me to grasp what he’s doing, he’s dragged me right up to him, grabs the back of my head with his left hand, leans forward and gives me a big snog right on the lips, then pushes me away into a table so I fall flat on my arse.  Like in half a second flat!

What the fuck???  

“Show’s over folks,” I’m hearing him say, “Pup here just wanted to kiss and make up…”

Everybody’s laughing. I’m back on my feet, seething, but Jackson has turned his back, totally dismissed me from the scene as he takes his cup back and carries on laughing with his friends. I nearly hit him. I was so tempted to grab his shoulder, spin him round and deck him. Shane is looking at me, imploring me with his eyes not to do it. I bit my tongue and turned about. Walked out with as much dignity as I could muster. I’d smashed my coccyx on the table when I went down and my ribs were hurting. It’s a long way to the doors when everybody in the room is laughing at you. I hate this place.

The moment I was out of the room I just ran.

* * *

I skipped dinner. No way was I going to just walk into the dining room and see all those sneering faces again, hear the comments that were bound to be made. It was just so unfair. I’d tried to do the right thing, tried to defuse the situation between me and Jackson. I’d made the first move even though it wasn’t me that was in the wrong. And he’d just made me look stupid and tossed me aside like I was a nobody. Turned his back on me and gone back to his chatting as if I’d just been some minor inconvenience to him about on a par with a dropped tea spoon. Just why is he being like that? It’s not as if anybody seriously believes I could have won the sparring against him. And as for him fucking that guy, I’m not telling anyone about that. My lips are sealed. Where he sticks his dick is no concern of mine. He’s old enough to do what he wants. And as if anybody would believe me anyway. It’s just all so wrong.

I was only vaguely aware of what time it was. I’d run across the playing fields to the other side of college, down by the pond, far out of sight of the school itself. Now I was just sat on a bench there in the gathering gloom as night drew in, tossing a handful of pebbles, one at a time, into the pond and watching the ripples spread. I’d have to go back to the dorm eventually of course. Face up to everybody. Live down the embarrassment. It probably wouldn’t be too bad in my own dorm, but everybody else, in the corridors, in the washrooms, in the classes, they’d all be laughing and joking about it for days.

“Plop.” Another pebble dropped into the pond. Not one of my pebbles.

I turned around. Kyle was a few yards behind me, leaning against a tree. Just leaning there, looking at me. “Space on that bench for another, Boots?”

I shuffled over and made space, noticing as he sat down that he wasn’t wearing a jacket and tie, just a button-down collar shirt and his chinos. He said nothing, just sat by my side, looking into the pond and occasionally throwing another small pebble in.

“How did you know I was here?” I said at last.

He half turned towards me and smiled, “I have my spies. I figured you’d just avoid dinner and then come back to the dorm.  When you didn’t, I got a call to let me know you were here.”

“I wasn’t trying to cause trouble, Kyle. I was trying to make things right with Jackson, not start another fight.”

“I know, Shane told me what happened. Don’t get uptight about it, Craig, you did a good thing. It’s not your fault it turned out the way it did. Sure, people will laugh and poke fun for a day or two, and nothing will help you feel good about that, but then they’ll come to realise who the asshole really was.”

I threw another pebble, stared out into the pond for a while, threw another pebble. Kyle just sat there by my side, saying nothing, occasionally throwing a pebble himself. I’m not sure how long we sat there. The moon came up and still we sat there, just throwing pebbles until eventually we ran out of all the pebbles within reach of the bench.

“Come on, Boots,” Kyle said at last, ”if you plan to fill this pond up we’ll have to come back tomorrow with more pebbles.”

That made me laugh and so we got up and walked silently back towards the dorm. As we went in through the front door of the accommodation block Kyle just waved the duty senior aside before he could even begin to reach for the Reports book: it was way after eleven and we freshmen were all meant to be in our rooms by ten on a week day unless we had a good reason otherwise. There was somebody else hanging around in the little office just off to the side of the foyer, keeping out of my sight but visible to Kyle. Kyle just nodded to acknowledge whoever it was and continued steering me towards the stairs. 

When we entered the dorm we kept the light off so we didn’t disturb the guys, all of whom were in bed, even though I suspected none of them were actually asleep. As I quickly undressed and put on my pyjamas by the light from the curtains that had been left open, I noticed that there were several cookies and a glass of milk on my desk. Okay, the cookies had seen better days, they were clearly the ones Shane had stuffed in his pocket and brought from tea for Travis and Noah, but it’s the thought that matters. I drank the milk, put the glass down noisily on the desk and said, “Thanks guys,” before climbing into bed.