Just a dumb fuck

Reflections

On Monday morning I was one of the first to the washroom but it began to fill up pretty quickly. Kyle had come back late from his weekend away and so Monday morning was the first time most of us saw him. He was shaving on the opposite side of the row of sinks to me, so I was a little puzzled at first when, as he slipped off his pyjama top, Will smirked and said “Meeeeow” just like a cat. Kyle blushed a little but said nothing, until Travis, who was also standing round that side, said, “If Lee has claws, we have some cutters back at the farm I could lend you…”

“Okay, cool it guys,” said Kyle as he turned around to head for the showers, revealing to those of us on my side of the row of sinks the multiple scratch marks on his back.

“Meeeow.” I think the whole room joined in.

* * *

At breakfast there was quite a bit of activity on the top couple of tables. After talking with the Commandant, Jackson went over to the Cadet Officers’ table and spent some time with Kyle, who then signalled to Nathan to join them. After a minute or two Jackson and Nathan went back to their original positions, and Nathan kept looking over in my direction as he finished his breakfast. The moment I stood up ready to leave the dining room, Nathan was on his feet too and intercepted me before I could get to the door.

“Boots, you have an appointment to see Jackson at quarter to five in the Orderly Room, and then the Commandant at five. Both are informal interviews, so dress in smarts, not uniform. Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay, Nathan.”

“And Boots, it’s still not too late to talk to me and Kyle, any time before then.”

* * *

At tea I sat with Will for a while, drinking tea and eating a Danish pastry, slowly watching the fingers on the wall clock inch their way around the dial. Will was telling me about some new updates to his iPad that he had just downloaded, including one to take audio notes in classes and convert them to text. Not to be outdone, I told him about my new digital information acquisition and storage system, one that could store an infinite amount of data in any language and never needed a battery re-charge. When he bit, I took my fountain pen out of my pocket, held it in my digits and wrote a few words on the back of the napkin I was using to clean my fingers after eating the pastry. Will got the joke and laughed, then said, “I gotta confess Boots, you do have neat writing. I can’t remember the last time I actually used a pen or pencil to write something down. I’m not sure I still know how…”

I finished my tea, told Will I’d catch up with him later and headed over to the Orderly Office where I arrived just as Jackson was entering it himself. He guided me in and I sat down in the arm chair that he indicated to me. Clearly this was going to be a very informal meeting. Jackson sat down to face me and seemed to be in quite a good mood.

“So, Boots, the Commandant will see you shortly. To be honest, there doesn’t seem to be as much to this as might have first appeared. I’ve spoken to Jayden and a few others and asked them what they have heard, and much of it seems pretty flimsy hearsay, not much more than rumours and mischief-making. I don’t know what the Commandant has been told by Coach or the pool supervisor, and I suspect I won’t be told. You’ll presumably find that out for yourself in a short time. The facts I do know are that you came here under a cloud, and that your father was concerned by the fact that he found quite a few search histories on your web browser looking for information on the effects and use of Rohypnol. It doesn’t take much of a leap from that to begin to understand how a fourteen-year-old might suddenly become successful at getting several girls into bed does it?” Jackson clearly expected me to answer.

“No, Sir.”

“So, how do I square that behaviour with the generally good conduct you have shown here? You strike me as a fundamentally honest kid, Boots. Despite the insinuations, I don’t get the feeling that you are playing the system, trying to use your age and guile to cover up for what you did. Quite the contrary: you seem prepared to let people think the worst of you and just meekly accept it. Which makes me ask again, ‘what are you hiding’, Boots?”

Jackson let the question hang in the air. Just sat looking at me, like Nathan does. Making me feel as if I have to answer. I don’t want to lie to Jackson, won’t lie to him, but there are some things I can’t tell him. I just need to tough this out. It’s easier with Jackson. If it were Kyle asking the question, it would be harder. Kyle has the ability to make me feel guilty, or make me feel he’s disappointed in me to the extent that I want to say something to, well, make amends, to say ‘sorry’ I suppose, to try and get back in his good books. With Jackson it’s more straightforward. I don’t feel that same urge for approval. I can live with Jackson not liking me. I don’t want him to not like me, but I can accept it.

“Boots?”

I hadn’t heard Kyle enter the room. Jackson must have left the door slightly ajar when we entered, allowing Kyle to slip in unnoticed. Had Jackson deliberately directed me to the seat so my back was to the door, or was it just a coincidence? Dad drives mum mad when we go anywhere, say like a restaurant, because he’ll never sit with his back to a door or window. I should have been as smart.

Kyle closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

“Has someone threatened you, Boots?” asked Kyle quietly. “Is someone making you cover up for them?”

Both Kyle and Jackson were looking at me intently: Jackson impassively but Kyle had real concern on his face.

“What was really behind that fight at Oakdale, Boots?” asked Jackson. “I’m not sure I buy into that ‘angry boyfriend’ narrative. There was more than one guy involved in beating you up. It seems more organised than just a spur of the moment assault, yet you won’t talk to anyone about it, or what actually happened at the party. You just shrug your shoulders and go along with what people say. Why?”

It was almost five o’clock. I took a deep breath and looked directly at Jackson.

“Captain Davis, may I leave now, please? I have barely enough time to get to the Commandant’s office and it wouldn’t be right for me to keep him waiting.”

Jackson and Kyle exchanged glances and then Jackson nodded.

“Okay, Boots, if that’s how you want it to be. You’re free to leave.”

* * *

I arrived at the Commandant’s office a minute or so early. Mrs Woodleigh was just finishing work for the day and putting on her coat ready to leave the office. It’s definitely getting a little cooler now in the evenings.

“Hello, Craig, how are things with you? I don’t see you over here in the admin building very often. I hear you are doing very well in sports and military training, even been out in the Humvee haven’t you?”

“Yes, Mrs Woodleigh, it’s a pretty impressive vehicle. I’m glad I’m not paying its fuel bill though…”

She smiled and nodded towards the door to the inner office. “It looks like the Commandant is ready for you now. Have a nice evening, Craig.”

“You too, Mrs Woodleigh.”

The Commandant was standing in the doorway to his office.

“Come on in, Craig.”

I followed him through into his office and sat down facing him across his desk. It always seems to be better in here when I am in uniform. Informal interviews, in smarts, can go anywhere.

“Well,” said the Commandant, “let’s not skirt around the issue. I’m told by Captain Davis that you went to see him and made him aware of certain accusations that are being made against you, and that you felt he, and I, ought to know about them because it could reflect upon the college. That’s certainly true, Craig, and I thank you for your consideration, but there is something more important to discuss here. That, of course, is how the accusations reflect upon you.”

I nodded. It was easier than saying anything. I don’t want to say anything until I know what the Commandant has to say.

“Now, when you came here, just a few short weeks ago, your father made it very clear why you had left Oakdale. The under-age sex, at least on your part, and fighting are not in dispute, are they?”

“No, Sir.”

“Your father also made us aware that he found evidence in your browser history that you had been seeking information about the use of Rohypnol. That too is not in dispute, is it?”

“No, Sir.”

“Ordinarily, Craig, there would be no place at this college for anyone exhibiting that kind of behaviour. Yet, in your case, we made an exception. Your father told us you didn’t deny the sex, the fighting or the browser history. Your honesty in that regard at least is creditable. It also seems that many of those present at the fighting stated it was very much in self-defence: you didn’t start it and you were outnumbered. I’ve seen you box, and Captain Davis assures me that when in the boxing ring, you are always in control of your temper. Under the circumstances, I feel we were correct in overlooking the fighting. That leaves us with the sex and the browser history. Of itself, the quest for knowledge is no sin. It’s how you use that knowledge that is the issue. Do you understand what I am saying, Craig?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“According to your father, you have simply refused to explain why you were researching Rohypnol. You won’t confirm or deny if you did anything more than do an internet search on the subject. That, though, seems to be where facts end in this matter. Is there anything you want to dispute about what has been said so far? Or anything you want to add?”

“No, Sir.”

“Very well, let us now consider the rumours and accusations. According to rumour, a small bottle containing what is said to be traces of Rohypnol was found at the party. No one has come forward to admit to owning or using it. The girls involved in the incident, have all denied it belonged to them. None of them has directly accused you of using it on them. However, others are saying that you did, though no one witnessed it. The point has also been made that, as alcoholic drinks were being served at the party, and the girls admit to drinking alcohol, it’s quite possible that they would have been unable to tell if Rohypnol was used against them. Do you follow the logic so far, Craig?”

“Yes, Sir. I can see how things look.”

“And that, Craig, is the crux of the matter. How things look. That is what you will be judged on if you don’t speak out and tell us a different version of events. Different and truthful. If you keep silent, everyone will assume you are guilty of using the Rohypnol on those girls, and that then means it will be assumed you raped them. Is that completely clear to you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“The general consensus amongst those spreading rumours seems to be that you are dangerous and devious: that you have managed to play your age off against those girls, making it difficult for their families and lawyers to demand action against you because the girls too are, at least technically, also guilty of rape. If true, that is despicable and totally dishonorable behaviour. Do you agree?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’m sure you can understand where that leaves me and the college. For you to remain here would suggest we are condoning such behaviour. That cannot happen. I’ve spoken to your father this afternoon, and he was going to come straight here and withdraw you from school and send you back to England. He would have been here on Wednesday.”

Would have? What does he mean, ‘would have’? Can he get here sooner? Maybe he’s getting an overnight flight back from Virginia. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t get through to him by phone today. The calls were dropping because he’s already in the air. Perhaps I can be gone from here tomorrow.

The Commandant continued. “You have been given a great opportunity by being accepted here, and have shown great potential. Academically you are very smart, you show great sporting prowess, and you are also impressing with your military skills. Even more importantly than any of those, I have heard from your dorm seniors, and seen at first hand, that you are also kind, considerate and thoughtful in your behaviour to others. You help your colleagues with their studies. You offer assistance and advice where you can. I’ve seen you give up your pass out to town to someone you felt needed it more. Those are the qualities above all else that we try to engender in our students. Each year, when the new freshmen start their first semester, it is easy to look at them and from those sixty or seventy boys, select just the half dozen or so whose names I know I will see again in four years’ time on the nomination list for Cadet Captain. If you had been staying here beyond this year, I would have expected your name to appear on that list.”

The Commandant paused, let the words sink in.

“So, Craig, there we have the problem. Your conduct here is beyond reproach, yet you have a shadow hanging over you. The rumours will always be there, hounding you for the rest of your life unless you do something about them. If you’re innocent, tell us the whole truth and we can help you. It’s been suggested that you may be covering up for someone else. If so, it’s understandable but your sense of duty to them is misplaced. You must never condone such behaviour in others. Your duty should be to the truth and to the innocent. Perhaps you are being threatened, coerced into remaining silent. Such silence is also complicity. If you speak out, you can be protected. Only you know the truth, Craig. You’re the master of your own destiny. Do I need to spell things out any more clearly?”

“No, Sir.

“I have persuaded your father to wait one more week. I think you deserve time to think things over and decide whether you are going to tell us the truth, and the whole truth. You have until he arrives a week on Wednesday to make your mind up what your future is going to be. Choose wisely. We both expect you to do the right thing. Your father and I are agreed. You aren’t going back to England with this unresolved. Either you speak up and demonstrate your innocence, or you leave here in disgrace, headed for the nearest police station. There can be no more ambiguity. Until then, you are to carry on as normal. If you want time away from classes at any stage to talk to me, or just to think things through, that can be arranged. Captain Davis and Lieutenant Masters are also more than willing to help you. You have this one opportunity to throw off this shadow hanging over you. Don’t waste it.”

* * *

After leaving the Commandant’s office I didn’t feel like going back to the dorm. I slipped out of the admin block by the back door, which allowed me to avoid going past the Orderly Office. Jackson and Kyle would probably still be there, might see me going by. I wandered over towards the pond and sat on my favourite bench, watching the sky begin to turn pale pink in the distance. It’s quiet here, and out of the way. There was still some warmth to the evening sun, though it was fast sinking towards the horizon. I felt I was sinking too.

I’m not sure what I was thinking of when I asked to see Jackson and the Commandant. Well the truth is I wasn’t really thinking at all, at least not far enough ahead. Yes, I know I wanted to warn them of what was being said about me, and how it might affect the college, and I don’t regret that, I had to do it. But the real problem is I haven’t got a plan for what happens now. I kind of thought that it would be different to this. That my dad would just come and get me, take me home. Put all this behind me. That’s not going to happen.

Things are probably going to get worse. If I just say nothing, I think my dad really will do as the Commandant said, that he will tell the police what he found on my computer if I don’t come up with a good explanation. Even if he doesn’t, even if I manage to go home, this is always going to be hanging over me. No matter how much I hide it, one day it’s going to jump out of its box and bite me. I’m going to be living in fear of it for the rest of my life. Unless I just go straight back to the Commandant’s office. Tell him I did it. Get it all over with. He’d have to call the police right there and then. At least then I would know where I stood. No more waiting. Things would start to be on their way to an end. That’s got to be better than just waiting. Waiting until dad gets here and does the same.

Waiting.

That’s the problem. The waiting.

I know where this is going to end. I’ve always known, ever since I made my decision. I didn’t foresee coming here to the Allegheny Military College. That wasn’t in the plan. I just thought I’d either get sent home, or handed over to the police. Dad really bowled me a googly when he sent me here. And, for a while at least, it looked as though it might work out okay. Stuck out in the middle of nowhere. Forgotten about. I even like it here. But I’ve not been forgotten. The rumours and pointing fingers have followed. No escape. More snakes than ladders. Back to square one. So, the best thing is to make sure the college doesn’t catch the flak and for me to return to my original plan, such as it was. It’s the best I can come up with. I just need to try and figure out a way to get back in control. To really become the master of my destiny, just like the Commandant said.

The setting sun was reflected, blood red, in the pond. A few ripples spread across it from where a duck was dipping for fish over by the reeds. My Nokia is down there somewhere. Vanished from sight, forgotten by just about everybody. It just skipped over the surface a few times, splashed and then went under. Sank from view. Gone forever. No more shame lined up alongside the iPhones in the dorm.

“Hi, Boots.”

I turned round, surprised that someone else was here. No-one else comes here.

“Hi, Shane. You out golfing?” It’s a stupid question. He’s carrying his golf club, the one my dad gave him. Of course he’s out golfing.

“Yes, Boots. I finished all my private study early, so Nathan said I could have a break before dinner, while there is still some light. I was playing on the field, then I saw you here and came over. What are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m just thinking about some things, Shane.”

Shane didn’t say anything right away, just looked at me quizzically. It doesn’t help that he is part of my problem. I’m not sure if its my imagination, but he seems to be changing, certainly since I first saw him a few weeks ago. A little taller. Filling out more, getting a few muscles. The smile is still the same though, and those eyes. Still beautiful. If you can call a guy beautiful. I know people generally say guys are handsome rather than beautiful, but Shane is beautiful. Masculine rather than girlish, but beautiful just the same. Amelia would be stupid not to call him. She must have sensed how nice he is, how good he is, as well as just looking good.

“The field training was good, wasn’t it Boots?” Shane asked, gently swinging his club at a pine cone, tapping it along the ground towards me. “It’s the first time I’ve been in charge. That was scary at first.”

I smiled at him. “Yes, it is, but you’ll get used to it. When you graduate from here you’ll walk out like a king, be able to take command and do anything.”

Shane smiled. “I’m not sure about that. Sometimes I feel out of place here. It’s not the kind of school I would be at if it weren’t for Kyle’s parents. I doubt I’m going to be an ambassador or a general or something like that. Maybe a teacher perhaps, or running a shop or garage or something like Mr Miller. That’s good enough for me. Somebody else can be the president.”

In a way I knew what he meant. I wouldn’t ordinarily have been at a school like this. I can understand what Jackson and the Commandant meant when they said it was an amazing opportunity, one that I shouldn’t screw up. I’m not making a good job of that.

“You’d make a good president, Shane, if the world was a nice place. It ought to be.”

“You’d be better, Boots.”

I smiled. “They don’t let people from Oregon be president, Shane.” Lee’s joke about aliens seems to have stuck. Everybody knows it.

“Doesn’t it bother you that they never put you in charge, Boots? You’d be just as good at it as Travis, but you never get a go.”

“No, Shane, I’m okay about it. I like it when they let me do lectures and teach stuff about fieldcraft, but it’s okay when they put other people in charge. I can still do what I’m good at. Even Noah gave me orders to do what I’m good at. Running.”

Shane glanced down at his watch. “It’ll soon be dinner time, Boots. Let’s head back to the dorm so I can get my jacket and put my club away.”

“You go on ahead, Shane. I’ll catch up with you at the dining room.”