Crowam 281 (5 page)

“Just lost a bit of my breath, that’s all.”

“A little? I thought you were going to croak on me,” Owen said.

“Bloody hell. I feel sore all over.”

“That’s good,” I said. “You get to work off those pounds. Pain is good for you.”

“You played like a champ out there today, Charles,” Owen said.

“You think so?”

“Of course. Why,
you
should play in the Olympics, you’re so good.”

“The best damn player in Great Britain!” I yelled.

“The hell with you all.” Charles fell to the ground, grabbing his knee and still trying to catch his breath. I saw the soccer ball roll to the middle of the courtyard. A boy no older than eleven runs over to grab it, when that burly son of a bitch snatches it from him.

“Can I have the ball back?” the kid asked.

The guy shoved the kid down to the ground. “Get up.” The boys surrounded them like it was a prizefight. Some of the guard’s went in on the action. The boy tried to escape, but the guards threw him back in with the Bus Driver.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Owen said. Charles wasn’t paying attention because he was still catching his breath.

The driver put up his dukes. All the kid could do was run around the ring of boys that surrounded the two. He had speed to his advantage, but where was he going to go? The Bus Driver’s fists were massive, with hairy knuckles and bruised hands that looked like he’s done this plenty of times before.

The kid ran to the left. The Bus Driver grabbed him by the trousers. He raised his fist and punched him square in the face. The sound the fist made when it landed on his face was distinct and brutal. I have to admit, it took me aback. “Thomas, have you seen this before?”

“No, I haven’t.”

The boy struggled to get up, blood running down his noise. “Come on, get up. I’m not through with you yet.”

I would never forget the kid’s face. His eyes were filled with terror and hopelessness. All he could do was look up at this monster who seemed to lack any sort of remorse or kindness, taking pleasure in the beating of young boys.

“Shouldn’t we do something,” Owen said.

“What can we do?” I said.

The boy got up again. He rushed toward the driver, punching him in his beer gut, wailing away with everything he had. The driver laughed like he was a schoolboy himself. He shoved him away and threw another punch, this time in the kid’s stomach.

The boy landed on the ground and cried his eyes out. The boys around him weren’t screaming. They just watched, like they were hypnotized or horrified, I suppose. The boy eventually fainted. The guards carried him away.

“What
is
this place,” Owen asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” I said.

Recess was over. The guards escorted us back inside Crowam. There was a window that overlooked the courtyard. I looked up to find Mr. Hugo standing there like a damn ghost, watching us as we went back inside.

“Do you mind?” Thomas asked.

“Mind what?”

“What you’re doing.”

“Tossing the ball around?”

“Um hm.”

“I’m just bored, that’s all. Am I getting on your nerves?”

“I just like it quiet when I read. It helps me focus.”

“Well geez, Thomas, I didn’t mean to break your focus and all.” I kept egging him on by tossing the ball a bit. He let out this soft sigh, like I wasn’t going to hear it. “Say, you never told me what you’re reading there.”

“Why do you care? I thought you didn’t like books.”

“You got me curious.”

“Well, if you must know. It’s called
A Tale of Two Cities
.’’

“
Tale of Two Cities
? Never heard of it.”

“It’s by Dickens. You’ve heard of Charles Dickens, haven’t you?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“My lord, you are deprived. Why Charles Dickens happens to be one of the greatest writers in all of literature. This happens to be my favorite literary work. I’ve read it three times now, working on my fourth. It’s absolutely splendid, Jake!”

He spoke about Dickens as if he were some sort of God. His eyes lit up just talking about all sorts of books. He had a whole stack of books he’d probably read countless times. He just went on and on about Dickens and how great he was. And there I was, just sitting there listening to it all. I never saw someone so passionate about, well, anything. I never had that feeling. That passion or excitement about something. Perhaps baseball. “What’s it about?”

“The story takes place during the French Revolution. It’s about redemption and resurrection. Sydney Carlton, a drunk and indifferent attorney sacrifices himself to save Charles Darnay, a man condemned to die in revolutionary France. The irony is that the man Sydney saves is married to Lucie, the love of his life. Of, course there is so much more to the story. Say, I have a brilliant idea. Why don’t you read it?”

“Me? Thanks but...”

“Jake, you should read it. I think you’ll really enjoy it.”

“I wouldn’t want to disrupt your focus.”

“Don’t be silly. Why, I’ve read this book at least three times already. Besides, I have other books to spare.”

“Ah, I don’t know.”

Thomas tossed the book on my lap. “Doesn’t hurt to try new things. Open your mind. Goodnight, Jake.”

He rolled over and went to sleep. I flipped through the pages of the book, analyzing the black print of the words and sentences that danced through the pages. The book looked old as hell, the spine of the book loose. The pages seemed like they were going to fall off the spine. I tossed the book, causing it to land at my feet on the edge of the bed. I stared at the ceiling, wishing I was somewhere else.

Thomas was sound asleep. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I felt uneasy. My stomach felt sick from the sour meat we had for dinner. I sat up and wrapped my arms around myself. It was a bit cold inside the dormitory. My stomach felt like it turned inside out. I wanted to wake Thomas up. Maybe talking some more would help me get some sleep.
Knock knock
. I heard a knock on the door. The wooden floors were cold and unforgiving to my bare feet. I slowly opened the door, leaving a crack to see who it was. “Charles, what on earth are you doing?”

“Did I wake you?”

“No, but do you know what time it is?”

“No.”

“This is an ungodly time to be awake.”

“I’m sorry to wake you. Some of the boys decided to throw a little get together down in the basement.”

“What about the guards?”

“There is one down the hall but he’s asleep. Come on, wake up Thomas.”

I put on whatever clothes I could find. I tapped Thomas on the shoulder. He moaned and groaned till he awakened. “Jake, what are you doing?”

“Come on. We’re going to have a little fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yes, fun. You’ve heard of it before, haven’t you?”

“You go have fun. I would like to sleep.”

“Come on, Thomas. Off your ass. Get dressed.”

Thomas begrudgingly changed. We followed Charles down the dim hallway with Charles’s lantern shedding light in the darkness around us. Thomas knocked over a stool next to one of the dormitory doors, making a clanging sound that echoed through the hallway.

“Damn it, Thomas. Make a racket why don’t you,” I whispered.

“Sorry.” There was a doorway leading to the basement downstairs. The wood was chipped and dull. We could see the guard behind the metal doorway window, sleeping, his head leaning against his right shoulder, with a bit of drool dribbling down his mouth. Sorry bastard. Probably was bored out of his mind. Who would want to guard a bunch of kids?

Charles opened the door. “Watch your step. The stairway is steep.”

We diligently made our way down the flight of stairs. We could hear the drone of talk and laughter. A light shined at the end of the stairwell. Charles blew out the candle. It was a storage room for bed frames and chairs for the dormitories that was turned into a makeshift clubhouse for the boys. In the middle of the room was a large, round table where some boys were playing card games. From poker and blackjack to goldfish, they played it all. They didn’t seem very good at it. I saw one of the boys look at another boy’s cards without either one flinching. I guess there was no need for a poker face.

A boy with dirty blond hair and hazel eyes approached me with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a glass in the other. “Would you like vodka?”

“Vodka, how did you get your hands on that?” I asked.

“The guards sometimes leave an open bottle in the kitchen when they’re drunk. They never even notice it’s gone. Dumb bastards.” He poured some vodka in the glass.

I took a sip. I had never tasted vodka before. I’d had beer plenty of times. “Great, isn’t it?” I could smell the vodka right from his breath.

“May I have a glass?” Thomas asked.

“Of course!” He grabbed another glass, pouring the vodka in the dirty glass and handed it to Thomas. He sniffed it at first, swirling the vodka around as if we some sort of aristocrat deciphering his palette for strong alcohol. Some of it spilled on his shirt.

“Come on, drink it already,” I said.

Thomas took a hefty swig, devouring half the glass. The kid’s face turned red. He coughed up the rest of the vodka, regurgitating it on the floor as if he was going to cough up a lung.

“What in bloody hell are you doing? That’s damn good vodka your wasting there,” our bartender said.

I had to pat him on the back like an infant several times, until he regained his bearings. “You alright, Thomas?”

“That’s a mighty strong drink.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to drink it all at once like that.”

“I think you’re right. Can I have another glass?”

“Why so you could waste it again?” I said.

“I’m glad you gentlemen could finally make it. Charles, I was worried you led them astray,” Owen said.

“I told you I could find it,” Charles said.

“You did splendid, Charles. Absolutely splendid.”

“Looks like a hell of a party. Who put this together?” I asked.

“That would be me,” the hazel-eyed boy said.

“You throw quite a party,” I said.

“The venue isn’t much, but considering the circumstances it will do. We usually do this every Wednesday when there is only one guard on shift. Most of the time they just walk up and down the hallways, just making sure everything is in order. A bunch of buffoons, if you ask me.”

“How long have you been here, Felix?” Owen asked the hazel-eyed boy.

“Me? Over a year now. A year I’ve been in this marvelous institution called Crowam 281.” Felix raised his glass. “Gentleman, a toast. To Crowam No. 281. The finest boys’ school in all of Great Britain.”

“Here, here!” several boys yelled in sarcastic jubilation.

“And of course, let us not forget about our beloved headmaster, Mr. Hugo.” A chorus of boos from the boys brought a smile to my face. The vodka was flowing throughout the makeshift club for boys. “Now, gentlemen, since we’re all here, let me just give you some advice. This here fine institution of ours doesn’t take too kindly to us boys. The little incident that occurred out in the courtyard is a perfect example. My suggestion is to keep your head down and be as invisible as possible.”

“Felix, I noticed there was a separate courtyard on the other side of the building. I saw some boys there. You know anything about that?” I asked.

“I’m afraid not. They don’t let us move around too much. We’re isolated to certain parts of the building. It’s odd, there’s a whole other wing of the building that nobody knows about.”

“You’re not the least bit curious?”

“Jake, is it?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not here to inquire about the inner workings of Crowam. It won’t be long before I age out and I’m free, free from this God forsaken place so I may do as I wish. To be honest, there’s been a number of occasions I have thought about breaking out of here.”

“Really?”

“Of course. The thought has run through my mind on a number of occasions. I have it all planned it, too. Actually I wouldn’t call it much of a plan. I heard of it from one of the few boys who was closest to actually escaping this place.”

“What’s stopped you?”

“Nerves, I guess. To be honest I don’t bloody hell know if it would even work.”

“What’s the plan?”

Playing cards and glasses of vodka flew through the air. The table that played host to the boys’ poker game tumbled halfway across the room by Tom, a brute of a boy with an awful temperament. He was larger than the rest of us. Tom had short, flattened black hair with these squinty eyes that created a permanent scowl on his face. He grabbed one of the boys by the shirt collar literally lifting him off the floor. “You bloody cheated!”

“No I didn’t, I swear it.”

“You’re a damn liar that’s what you are,” Tom said.

“No, I’m not. Honest,” the boy said.

“Easy there. What’s wrong?” Felix asked.

“He cheated,” Tom said. “I saw him looking over my cards!”

“Oh, come on. Were you looking at his card?”

“No. I wasn’t, honest,” the boy said.

“You see there. He’s as clean as a whistle. Say, why don’t you leave him alone and have another glass of vodka?” Tom wet his lips at the glass of vodka Felix held in front of his face. He grabbed the glass and drank it in one shot. “Who are they? Newbies?”

“Why, yes. This here is Charles.”

“Hello,” Charles said.

“Owen.” Owen drank from his glass.

“And this is Jake,” Felix said.

“Not much of a card player sport?” I asked.

“What did you bloody say to me?” Tom put his glass down.

“Now easy there,” Felix said. “These boys are new here. Let’s not spoil their welcome.”