Just a dumb fuck

The wolfboy

I guess I was running on autopilot until Wednesday lunchtime and the start of sports. I hadn’t said anything about it but the guys quickly cottoned on that I wasn’t boxing. None of them asked why, but Will quickly pointed out that instead of doing extra swimming, which had been my plan, I ought to go with him and Noah and give lacrosse a try. There would still be plenty of time for me to go and do my water polo training with Nathan afterwards.

The field sports players have their own changing rooms out by the playing fields and so I went with Noah and Will after lunch. They have their own kit, which they keep in the dorm, but some spare kit is kept out in the sports pavilion and so the Will helped me sort through it and showed me what I needed whilst Noah went to talk to their trainer to arrange for me to play. I thought they’d put me in the training squad but somehow it was sorted I’d get a chance to play part of a practice match in the freshman’s team alongside Noah and Will, against the sophomore team. It’s a bit like my water polo in that they rotate a lot of players through the team to try and keep everybody fresh for the four, twelve-minute quarters they play. That’s another oddity about America. They tend to break up lots of their games into quarters rather than just having two halves. Apparently it's good for television and the sponsors.  It breaks up the flow though.

The first problem I encountered, after they had armour plated me, was I don’t know the rules. That didn’t seem to matter too much: according to Will there aren’t many and the main one is don’t get caught hitting anybody with your stick. Obviously, nobody is actually meant to hit anyone at all but ‘accidents’ happen all the time. And it turns out it really was invented by the Indians. At the start we all had to line up and pledge to respect the honour and courage of the Haudenosaunee People, who received the game from The Creator over a thousand years ago, but there was no actual mention of using heads as a ball back then. I went and sat on the side line bench with the other non-playing guys for the start, which basically had the two teams of ten people face each other with the two ball catchers squatting down on their hands and knees in the centre for the ball drop. Maybe that is paying respect to the werewolves or something.

Noah was starting the match as the guy for our team who is right at the centre to scoop up the ball in the face off. That’s when the referee blows the whistle and puts the ball into play between the two wolfboys. Noah definitely moved at supersonic speed. The sound of the whistle hadn’t reached me when Noah and the guy facing him both slammed their sticks down onto the ball and started to tussle for it, with the other guys all homing in on them like missiles. Noah just sort of twisted round, side-swiped his opponent out of the way, scooped up the ball and hurled it out towards another player on his team, then set off towards the opponents’ goal area. I think he was there before the starting whistle had finished its blast. It was hard to keep track of where the balls was: everybody was slinging it hard and fast, keeping the opponents busy trying to chase and intercept it, then suddenly it was screaming into the net for a goal. As soon as the goal was scored, the wolfboys went back to the centre and got ready for a face-off again. Less than a minute of play and already a goal!

The sophomore opposing Noah at the face off was ready for him this time. Expecting the side swipe. Noah disappointed him. I’m not quite sure what he did, nor exactly how he did it, but one second Noah and the guy were slamming their battlesticks down on the ball and the sophomore was moving in fast to unbalance Noah, the next second Noah was kind of zooming under him like a wild weasel, pushing him off his feet, lifting him over and dumping him aside. By that time I think the ball had long gone, hurled out to a player on the wing. Somewhere in the action Will got the ball, dummied it towards another player but actually kept it, hurled it right at the goalie and then scored off the ricochet. The guy sat next to me on the bench was jumping for joy and pointing to Will. “Good, isn’t he?”

The rules don’t allow you to hit people with the sticks, but they do allow for body checks. Very quickly anybody on the sophomore team who could get within range of Noah was slamming into him, knocking him to the ground. Noah was fast and evaded most of the checks, and even handed back a few himself when he could. He’s not the biggest player on the field but he’s fast and aggressive. So completely different from the mild-mannered quiet guy back in the dorm. Will played on his left most of the time and on one occasion I saw him slyly use his stick to pull the legs from under a guy who was intent on body slamming Noah. As the guy cartwheeled into the ground Noah just kept on with his run, leapt over the hapless attacker and passed the ball forward to an attacking player to score with.

For the second quarter we made some changes. Noah was one of the players brought off to rest and I was put on as a defending player. That means I had to stay back in our half of the field and protect our goal “anyway you can, but mainly with your size and muscle, Boots” as Will advised. He’s a middy, a midfield player, which means he can attack or defend, go anywhere on the field. He does too, he never seemed to stop moving. I’m as big as the sophomores and stronger than most of them, so I just made up for my comparative lack of skill and experience at catching and hurling the ball by bodychecking any opponent that came into our half of the field with the ball. Nobody on our side seemed to mind.

I got to play in the final quarter as well, defending again, which was okay for me. I’m good at that. The sophomore team actually won the match but only by a single goal, and mainly because they are bigger and stronger on average than the freshmen. However, the trainer did say that both Will and Noah had played well and Noah in particular might get a chance to be a reserve for the sophomore team for some future matches as well as playing for the freshman team. Him and Will seem to have a well-coordinated double act going on, with Noah being good at the face offs and attack plays and Will watching his back and also taking the ball from him and feeding it forward to the attack players. They just seem to always know were each other is and what they’ll do next.

* * *

Once the lacrosse was finished, I headed over to the pool for my water polo training. We have a swim session this week, to build strength, and then a practice match with the A team playing against the B team again. I went all the way round the building to get to the changing rooms rather than taking my short cut through the gym and past the boxers’ changing rooms. The longer route only takes a few minutes and is less likely to cause trouble. I can do without bumping into Coach or the likes of Jayden and Connor at the moment.

When I got to the changing room it was already emptying out with the guys heading into the pool so I had to change at warp speed and joined them in the pool just in time for the sprints. Nathan is probably one of the best swimmers and I shared a lane with him, using him as my target and ensuring I was always just off his shoulder at every turn to avoid clashing, then drawing level with him on each sprint. He kept trying to accelerate away from me but I stayed with him, forcing him to go faster all the time. It’s exactly what the trainer likes to see: rivalry between the swimmers pushing everyone to try that bit harder. The practice match was good, and I actually managed to score a goal. My reward for that was getting dunked by the guys on my own team! Who needs enemies, huh?

In the changing rooms afterwards Riley and Nathan were quick to start winding me up as usual. They think they are comedians. Riley was pointing out that I was still bruised even though I hadn’t done any boxing before the swim. Clearly he doesn’t realise that lacrosse seems mainly to be about hurling a hard leather ball at people – it hurts even through the armour plate – and then steamrollering anyone that gets in the way. Not to mention that the moment the referee isn’t watching some little squirt always feels brave enough to hack at you with his battlestick then run away before you can respond. Riley did actually ask why I wasn’t boxing today but Nathan interrupted and changed the subject.

“Don’t forget, Boots, you’re coming with me to the gallery this weekend for that exhibition that my mom is opening.”

I was hoping he’d forgotten about that. I’m not sure if Nathan actually wants me there, I think he’s been bounced into inviting me by his mom, and if his sister is there too that could be awkward. Plus, if the rumours about me get more widely known too, it could be a bad thing for the Bauers if they are seen associating with me at some big posh public event. Then, of course, there’s the fact that I’m not even remotely interested in pre-Raphaelite paintings. I thought Raphael was one of the ninja turtles, not a painter.

On the way from the changing rooms back to the dorm, I raised the gallery trip with Nathan, suggesting that maybe Will might go instead. After all, he seems to get on with Elizabeth and if Nathan just wants somebody from college to go with him to keep his parents happy and distracted then Will would do just as well as me. Anyway, I might not even get a pass out, especially at the moment. Unfortunately, Nathan had already taken care of that, and had received approval from Jackson for me to go. Whether I liked it or not, I was to accompany Nathan to the Carnegie in Pittsburgh on Saturday evening.

* * *

After tea on Friday I completed my coursework assignments way before the end of private study and, with well over an hour to go before dinner, asked Shane if he needed any help with his maths coursework. He didn’t, he’s getting quite good at calculus now, but Will asked if I would double check some calculations he’d been doing.

Tomorrow morning in military training we’re going to be learning how to set up a radio and so Will has appointed himself as the radio operator. We’ll get the radio from stores tomorrow, but we have to learn how to make an antenna for it from a reel of wire and so Will has been checking out the internet for information on what length of wire he’ll need, what angle to position it at and stuff like that. Yes, we’ll get instructions with the radio but nothing’s real for Will unless he’s googled it too. The basic concept is that we’ll go out into the woods and set up the radio, make an antenna and then try to make contact with somebody back here at college manning a base station. No doubt there will be another ‘combat barbeque’ too.

“There’s an easier way to do this, you know, Will. You don’t need all these calculations for wire length and angle. Just use a spudtenna instead.”

Will just looked at me blankly. “A what?!

“A spudtenna. It’s a completely adjustable, multi-wavelength , rapidly-deployable antenna. We used them all the time back home in the cadets there.”

Will’s now definitely looking interested. I’ve just used all the correct buzz-words.

“Have you heard of Software Defined Radio – SDR – Will? It’s a synthetic radio that runs on your iPad or computer. You can download an app, connect it to a spudtenna and you’ll have far more capability than the old army radio we’ll get tomorrow. Google it and see. If you get the software tonight, it’s usually a free download, we can try it tomorrow. I’ll make us a spudtenna after dinner.”

“Okay,” said Will, now very interested indeed, “but what is a spudtenna? Why is it so good?”

“It’s just a length of wire and a spud, Will. Simplicity itself.”

“A spud? As in a potato?”

“Yes.”

“How the fuck does that work?”

“You tie one end of the wire to a spud, then throw it up over a tree branch. The wire connected to the spud hangs down vertically to give you a vertical radiating element, and the other end you attach to the radio and position so it’s at an angle of about forty-five degrees. You can increase of decrease the height of the antenna by walking closer or further away, or throwing it into a higher branch. Or you can grab hold of the spud end and pull it outwards so it’s at an angle too, so like an inverted ‘v’ antenna. Don’t hold it while you transmit though. Put the spud on the ground or you’ll get a radiation burn.”

“And it really works?” asked Will?

“Of course it does. It’s a wire, pure and simple.”

“But why a spud?”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be a spud, but they are cheap and easy to get hold of. You could use an apple if you prefer, but then you might get sued by a certain company and anyway, they’d probably charge you a hundred dollars for a new connecter on the end of it every year.”

Even Will thought that was funny.

“Some people use sticks or stones, but they can get stuck in trees or on the roof of a house if you use that instead of a tree. If you use a spud, when you want to dismantle the antenna you can just give it a good tug and the wire will pull out of the spud or cut through it and come free. Doesn’t leave a trace that way you see. Super-ninja tactical. Let’s get a spud from the kitchens at dinner and I’ll show you.”

“You’re not going to dinner, Boots, said Nathan as he looked up from his desk. “You and me are off as soon as Kyle gets back here to take over from me for the weekend.”

That’s news to me. I thought we were going to the gallery and Nathan’s house tomorrow afternoon, straight after military training. I don’t recall anyone saying anything about tonight. If we go now, not only will we miss dinner but I’ll miss the field training. I won’t be able to show Will how to use a radio and make a spudtenna.

“I looked over towards Nathan and began to speak. I just about got two words out. “But Nathan…”

“Boots, don’t you ever listen to a word I tell you? Have you even packed your bag yet? What planet have you been living on for the last couple of hours?”

“Sorry, Sergeant.” I jumped up and went back to my bedspace, started to put some fresh clothes into my travel bag. I’m bloody sure he hasn’t told me we’re going to his house tonight.

* * *

Kyle turned up not long after I’d packed a bag and so Nathan and I were soon heading out to the car lot. When we got to Lemon Steroids we dropped our travel bags in the boot, well, the trunk as Nathan calls it, and that pretty much filled it up. Mustangs are big cars but all the space seems to be up front in the engine bay. The trunk is tiny and the back seats aren’t exactly spacious either. Nathan said he usually puts his golf bag there. When we went into town it was possible to get Shane and Will in the back seats but that was only for a short journey. On a long journey they wouldn’t like being squashed up back there. Before climbing into the passenger seat I glanced at my watch and then at the dining room. Nathan spotted me doing so and smiled.

“You’re nearly as bad as Travis,” he laughed. “Believe it or not, we do have food at my house. In fact, I was thinking we could stop on the way if you like and get something to eat.”

About thirty minutes after leaving college we rumbled past the retail area on the edge of the township that we usually go to when we have a pass out. It’s really just an outlying suburb of Pittsburgh I suppose. I expected us to turn in to the plaza and go to the diner there for some food but Nathan just kept on going, heading all the way through the township and onto the main road skirting round this side of Pittsburgh, out towards the airport according to the signs. The route was vaguely familiar as the one to the country club dad had taken me and Shane to. I recalled Nathan had said that he lived out that way. The rich end of town.

I was correct. About twenty minutes later we approached the main entrance to the Allegheny Heights Country Club and I was surprised when Nathan just turned in and headed straight up the long curving drive to the main building. He piloted Lemon Steroids into the turning circle right outside the front entrance and pulled up outside the main door. Nathan climbed out and grabbed his jacket from the coat hook, so I assumed we were stopping for a while and grabbed my jacket too. Before we had even closed the doors a young guy, probably not much older than us and wearing smart chinos and a shirt with the club crest on it, stepped over to Nathan.

“Do you have any luggage or a golf bag you need this evening, Sir?” he asked.

“No thanks,” Nathan said, “We’re only staying for dinner.” Nathan gave him the car keys, and what looked like a twenty-dollar bill, then led me inside the club. He just breezed straight through reception, smiling and saying “Good evening, ladies” to the two staff at the desk, and walked right over to a set of double doors that led into the dining room. The ‘Members’ only’ dining room.

“C’mon, Boots, keep up.”

I hurried after him, following him through the doors then nearly smashing right into the back of him as he stopped dead at the podium where the maitre d’ was stationed.

“Good evening, Master Bauer, so nice to see you again. Will you be joining your father in the private dining room tonight, or would you prefer a table in here? We’re busy, as you can see, but I can always find a space for you and your guest. Perhaps over in the alcove there, by the fire and the window?”

Nathan smiled. “Yes, that will be fine.”

We followed the maitre d’ over to the table, which was in a small alcove off to one side of a blazing log fire set in a stone fireplace. Several animal heads – deer and a bear – were mounted on wooden escutcheons over the fire. Travis would approve of a dining room like this. As the maitre d’ drew out a chair for me to sit down on, Nathan remained standing and said, primarily to the maitre d’, “I didn’t know my father was here tonight. I’ll just go and say hello to him. Craig, Benson here will look after you, I’ll only be gone a minute or two.”

Benson – I wasn’t sure if that was his Christian name or surname, but guessed at Christian name as Americans seem to be far less formal, - nodded and then looked at me as Nathan wandered away towards a side door marked “Private”.

“Perhaps you’d care for a drink as you wait, Sir? Master Bauer generally has a blueberry or apple juice as an aperitif, but we have a wide range of juices and water, still or sparkling.”

I thought for a second, then asked, “Could I have a glass of ginger ale, please?”. It’s what my dad would normally have before a meal, except of course that he might have whisky in it if he wasn’t driving anywhere afterwards. Mum usually gets to drive home when we go out for a family meal.

“Of course, Sir. I take it you’re from England? Perhaps at college with Master Bauer?”

I nodded. Maybe I should try a Scottish accent or something to try fooling people.

“I imagine in England you’d have a drop of whisky in your ginger ale before a meal. A tradition there I understand. Sharpens up the appetite.”

I grinned. “Yes, and a glass of wine with my meal too.” Waiters here are definitely a lot less formal than back home. Bloody nosey though.

Benson smiled as he placed a menu in front of me and left to get my drink, though not before saying, “We haven’t quite recovered from Prohibition, Sir, though shoot-outs with Tommy guns aren’t so common as they used to be.” I like him. Nice sarky humour.

Barely a minute later Benson returned with a small silver tray with a glass of ginger ale balanced on it. He placed the glass on the table in front of me and winked conspiratorially. “I believe the glass may not have been entirely clean when the ginger ale was added, Sir. I trust you don’t mind our terrible hygiene faux pas.” Before I could say anything he slipped away again, leaving me alone in the secluded alcove. There were two other tables in the alcove, between my table and the main area of the dining room, but I noticed Benson had casually tipped the chairs at those forward, effectively shutting them down unless he chose to re-instate them. Baby big cheese must have some serious clout round here if he can effectively get a section of the dining room set aside for him. Well, his dad does anyway.

I picked up the tumbler of ginger ale and cautiously sniffed it before taking a small sip. Whisky, and a good one too. Not that I am an expert at whisky, but it was very smooth and a hint peaty. There was probably only a tiny drop of whisky in the ginger ale, but it was enough to give it a nice warming flavour. There was also another flavour too, kind of like a hint of mint. It definitely went with the ambience. I could get used to a place like this. Nice leather chairs, a roaring fire. Just a shame it’s a bloody golf course.

“Right,” said Nathan as he re-appeared from out of nowhere and dropped into the chair opposite, “All filial duties discharged – pop sends you his best regards by the way – and so now we can eat. Seen anything on the menu you like? If not, the chefs can do anything you request. I’d definitely recommend the seafood though – the lobster and crab salad with rice and fries. I’ve grown up on it.”

“He has indeed.” Benson’s back, ghosting in from nowhere. He must have seen Nathan return.  “Will that be two lobster salads?” He’s taken my menu card and vanished before I could say a word. Looks like I’m having lobster salad then.

Benson returned a moment later and placed a glass of what looked like blueberry juice by Nathan’s cutlery and a basket of bread rolls on the table between us. I caught his eye and smirked as I raised my glass. “My regards to Mister Dillinger.”

“So, this is your second visit here, Boots,” said Nathan as Benson left us. “Last time, if I recall, you were here with your dad and Shane.”

“Yes, we came here on Parents’ Weekend and stayed overnight. We played golf too. Well, dad and Shane did. I’m not much good at golf. I was their caddy after I almost hit a car with my ball. It just flew off sideways from the tee. Shane was good though; he actually won a couple of holes and my dad definitely wasn’t letting him win. He doesn’t go easy on people.”

Nathan smiled. “So, there is one sport you aren’t good at then.”

I laughed. “Well, I haven’t tried American football yet. That looks interesting, kind of like rugby, but way too much hanging around. And do they need all that armour?”

“It’s all pose, Boots. Everybody thinks footballers are muscled super heroes but under the padding and armour they are just scrawny weaklings.” Now Nathan is just taking the mickey.

“Remind me to tell Kyle that. He looks like they spray those trousers on him, they’re so tight.” Bloody hell, I can’t believe I’ve just said that to Nat. It’s not even like this whisky and ginger is strong.

Nathan was smiling. “Yes, they are a little tighter than they need to be, but he likes to look good and, to be fair, in his case it is muscle rather than padding. It definitely gets him lots of attention from the girls at matches. Some of the guys too.” Nathan smiled, then added, “Rather like you in those see-through jammers. Sorry about that, it was a prank I couldn’t resist…”

Before I could say anything, Benson and a server – that’s what they call waiters in lots of places here – arrived at the table with our lobster salads. We could have managed with just one plate to share between us, the portions are so huge. Like a standard American portion, which is twice the size of anywhere else in the world, then doubled again because it’s baby big cheese they are serving. I’m not even sure it’s lobster, it could be one of those giant trilobites they had back in the dinosaur days. Travis would struggle to finish one of these plates.

As we ate, Nathan kept up a steady stream of questions about how I was doing at college and the sort of things I like, especially on the military side of stuff. He actually seems genuinely interested. I’ve been a Royal Marines Cadet ever since I can remember, in fact dad often jokes I was born wearing a green beret, but Nathan had no military experience before he started at college. He’s learned fast though. He’s definitely intent on our dorm winning the fieldcraft cup this year. It’s hard to figure Nat out at times. Sometimes he can be the perfect, stereotypical ‘Evil Corporal’ yet at others he can be really nice. He seems to be like a combination of Kyle and Jackson. Both of them often give him some stick though whenever we have done anything wrong, reminding him that it’s his job to make sure we don’t do anything wrong in the first place. Like I said before, all armies are the same, shit rolls downhill. He also seems to be one of the few people Noah talks to without being prompted. There’s definitely more to Nathan than I can make out. He’s quite hot too. That coppery hair and hazel eyes really are something.

I’d finished all my lobster and crab, most of the salad – the roasted tomatoes were nice, I’ll tell mum about that when I get home - and about half the rice and fries. That was as much as I could manage before I put my plate to one side. Nathan had done a little better but clearly wasn’t going to clear his plate either. We need Travis.

“Right, Boots, decision time,” said Nathan as he too put his plate aside. “We can either stick to my original plan, which is to head to my house, or, if you prefer, we can stay here tonight and have a game of golf in the morning before going to my home. I know you say you’re no good at golf but I can teach you. Your call.”

For a second, I was caught off guard. I was still getting to grips with being here at all instead of being back at college. I’m sure we weren’t originally going to the gallery until Saturday night. Anyway, what are the chances of staying here? The place is always fully booked. Dad had to call in immense favours to get a room here. The upside though is that if we do stay here, it will put off for a little longer the meeting with Nathan’s sister, assuming she isn’t away at college. And his mum. That could be awkward. Last time we met I was wearing those see-through jammers.

“Boots?”

“Sorry, Sergeant.“ Bloody hell, why did I call him Sergeant? That’s my guilty complex I guess. Whenever he catches me out I automatically revert to calling him Sergeant. I do the same with dad sometimes. Except I call him “Sir”. He thinks it’s amusing: everybody else thinks I’m being super polite and compliments my dad on it.

“I don’t mind. It’s nice here but I’m not good on golf. Anyway, the rooms are probably fully booked. When me and dad stayed here we had to get a cabin for me and Shane down by the lake, all the rooms were full. The cabin was nice though.”

Nathan leaned back in his chair. “I’ve stayed in a cabin here, years ago. I was about five I think, shared it with my sister. It was our big adventure. She had the bed and I had the convertible sofa. It was like a mousetrap. All springs and levers and hardly big enough for me even at that age.”

I laughed. “Yes, they haven’t changed. Me and Shane took one look at the sofa and decided to share the bed.” Fuck! I need to get my mouth under control! What the fuck is Nathan going to think?

Nathan was laughing. “Careful Boots, given the number of times you’ve ended up in Shane’s bed people might start thinking you two have joined Kyle’s tribe.”

“Shane is straight ! He has a girlfriend,” I spluttered, ”She’s called Amelia. He takes her to the diner when he gets a pass out. She’s nice. You were there the last time…”

Nathan said nothing, just looked at me for a long while. I hate it when he does that.

“So, Boots? Your call.”

I thought, long and hard, but tried not to show it. “Okay, how about we stay here? If we can? They’re probably full. And I really am crap at golf.”

Nathan looked up and within seconds Benson was at his side.

“My compliments to the chef, Benson, the food was excellent, as usual. Could you arrange a room for us tonight and have our bags brought from my car? We’ll wait in the Members’ Bar.”