Authors: Frank Nunez
Boy, was
I
embarrassed. What the hell was I going to say to him? I just shrugged my shoulders.
“Why didn’t you do anything?”
The kid was really getting on my nerves. “I don’t know,” I said. It was a stupid answer, but it’s all I could think of. I never saw that kid again. Maybe he got adopted. Who knows, I guess.
A week later I was sitting on my bed in my room looking through a nudie magazine. I hid them under my bed so my roommate wouldn’t steal them. My roommate was a real hornball, always talking about doing it and all and bragging about how many girls he’d been with. I wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth, considering the kid fell right underneath the ugly tree. The kid had these teeth he didn’t brush for weeks. All brown and stained. Just flat out disgusting.
“What are you reading there?” He stared at me and the magazines.
“None of your business,” I said.
“I’m not intruding on your business. I’m just attempting to satisfy my curiosity.”
“The only thing you’re trying to satisfy is your urge to masturbate with my magazines. These are mine, chief.” I clenched the magazine between my hands.
“Chief?”
“Yea, chief.”
“How am I a chief?”
“For Christ sake, it’s a figure of speech.” I tried to avoid eye contact with him, so he would go away and stop talking to me.
“Oh bollocks, you Americans speak so damn funny sometimes.”
“Who you calling funny?”
“I believe it’s my attempt at a figure of speech, so you say.” He chuckled underneath his breath.
“You’re getting to be a real bore William, you really are.”
“A bore. How am I a bore? I’m the best roommate a chum like yourself can ask for.”
“Oh brother.”
“Yes, we’re brothers now. Brothers in arms, one might say.”
“Sure Willy, sure, whatever you say.” The kid just wouldn’t shut up. He sat on the bunk next to me. He took off his shoes and tossed them across the room, nearly knocking over the baseball mitt that sat on top of the night table. “Hey! Watch where you’re throwing that thing.”
“Sorry,” he muttered
William had the tenacity to be awkward. He just lay there staring at me, like I was something fascinating. “Anything interesting?”
“In what?”
“In the magazine, you fool!”
People and their damn questions. I didn’t feel like giving Willy here a lesson on female anatomy. For someone who used to brag about being with some many girls, the kid sure acted like a novice. “Tell me Willy, how many girls have you been with?”
“My name is William,” he corrected.
“Sure,
William
. Come on, what was the number again?”
“I’m not the kind of gentleman to brag.”
“You were bragging a few days ago Willy.”
“My name is William!”
“Hey take it easy kid. Don’t get all sore.” I laughed.
“You’re just a regular jokester aren’t you.” He stared at me with eyes full of resentment.
“Jokester? Why would I joke about you?” I opened my magazine and pretended to ignore him.
“Well if you must know, I’ve been with five ladies.” His eyes darted around the room.
“Five! I thought it was six! Yea. Last week you said you were with six girls. As a matter of fact, the week before you said seven,” I said.
“I guess I can’t keep track of all of them.” He avoided looking me in the eyes.
“Perhaps. Or maybe you’re just full of it.” I closed the magazine and shoved it into the mattress.
“Full of it?”
“Yea, I think you’re lying. Call it one of those figures of speech we Americans have that you Brits cannot seem to understand.”
“First, you insult my name and now I’m a liar!” William stood up and walked over to my bed to stand over me.
“All that I’m saying is that you can be completely honest with me that’s all. No need to impress me.”
Willy plopped himself on his bed again, folding his arms like some sort of child. “The sooner you’re no longer my roommate, the better.”
“Look who’s insulting who now?” The loud knock on the door startled Willy, causing him to nearly fall off the bed.
“Hudson, the headmaster would like to see you,” the headmaster’s assistant said through the door.
“Me, why?” I walked over to the door and opened it.
“Come on, Hudson. You’ll find out soon enough.” She indicated for me to follow her, as she quickly walked down the hall.
“What’s the rush? I’m just having a fine conversation with my good friend Willy here.”
“Good friends! That is preposterous. Can you please take him out of here!” Willy pleaded with the headmaster’s assistant.
“You’re not in the position to give me orders, young man,” she said sternly from a distance.
“It’s not an order. Just a request,” William said.
“Take it easy, Willy. I’ll get out of your hair. Don’t touch my damn magazines.” I started to follow the headmaster’s assistant down the hall.
“Why would I want to touch your filthy magazines?” William said under his breath.
“I doubt it’s to read the intriguing commentary, Willy,” I yelled back from down the hall.
Sitting in the waiting room at the headmaster’s office was a welcome respite from William. His hidden eagerness to pleasure himself with my magazines was a raw reminder of the raging hormones that stirred in all us teenage boys. There weren’t any good magazines to read, which made my wait annoyingly dull. Just the secretary typing away at some busy work nobody cares about. She had this fluffy gray hair and these glasses that were as thick as a telephone pole. I decided to kick my feet back on the coffee table.
“Take your feet off the table,” the secretary said.
“What? I’m just trying to relax.” I begrudgingly moved my feet to the carpet.
“You’re being extremely rude and I don’t like your tone.”
“My tone? My tone is perfectly lovely.”
“Lovely? You have an awful tone. Perhaps the worst in the school.”
This was hardly the first time that I got underneath her skin. I could tell she hated my guts. Not just because I rested my feet on the coffee table. It was just some old people didn’t like the young. They think they know everything.
Maybe it was also because I had been to the headmaster’s office too many times to count. She probably thought we were all a bunch of delinquents who didn’t know any better. Maybe old people were all sore because death knocked around the corner.
I sat in the waiting room as the secretary kept watch of me underneath those huge rims of hers, while she filed her nails.
“So, what are you doing after work?” I was bored and needed to find a way to entertain myself.
“Excuse me?” She stopped filing her nails and stared at me.
“Yea, you know. What do you do when you’re not typing and filing your nails?” I snickered under my breath.
“I don’t think that is any of your business, Mr. Hudson.”
“What? I’m just starting a conversation.”
“Well… keep your conversations to yourself.”
“Rough crowd today.” I shifted in my seat.
“Rough crowd?”
“It’s a figure of speech.”
“You Americans need to learn how to speak proper English.”
“You know something lady? You’re probably right. I speak like a damn ignoramus, don’t I? A real dull blade.” I put my feet back on the table.
“Mr. Hudson, I think you would be doing us both a favor if you didn’t speak anymore.”
“That wouldn’t be any fun.”
“Mr. Hudson?”
I nodded.
“Get your feet off of the table.” The phone rang and she picked it up, before slamming the phone into the receiver. “Mr. Raywood will see you now.”
“Sounds swell. Are you going to miss me?”
“Now, Mr. Hudson!”
“Alright, alright. I’m going.” I walked toward the headmaster’s door. I turned back to stare at the secretary for a moment before opening the door.
I was welcomed into the office by cigarette smoke. Mr. Raywood smoked like a damn chimney. He must have smoked eight cartons a day. He puffed away while reviewing my charts. His bald head shined underneath the office light. I sat in that chair for what seemed like an eternity before he even looked at me. He just sat at his desk, filling out paper work. Talk about a boring job. I mean think about it. Sitting behind some desk all day filling out paperwork. I think I would throw myself off a bridge before I took some desk job. I mean I sort of felt sorry for the guy.
I got antsy just sitting there. I was twiddling my thumbs trying to find something to do…
“From what it sounds like you were giving Ms. Ratchet a hard time out there?” he said, as he looked up from his paperwork.
“Oh that wasn’t my intention sir. I was just starting a conversation, that’s all.”
“I’m always up for good conversation. You should see me at dinner parties. I can talk up a storm.”
“I’m sure you’re a regular party animal sir.”
“Mr. Hudson. Do you know how many boarding schools you’ve been thrown out of?”
“I sort of lost track to be honest.”
“Six. Six times Mr. Hudson. Three in the past year. You seem to have worn out your welcome in a number of other institutions. And do you know why you are not welcome?”
I hated questions. He was just dragging on and on about my record. What a bore. He really was. What in God’s name would he talk about at all those dinner parties? Watching two snails screw would be more exciting than listening to this guy. “No sir.”
“Well let me enlighten you. You were cited for insubordination twelve times, Mr. Hudson. Some of your most compelling achievements included throwing a textbook at one of our finest professors, professor Hubert, giving the man a near heart attack. Of course, we can’t forget the number of physical altercations you have gotten into, and least I forget the Dem de la crème, sticking a cherry bomb in the men’s stall, which is the equivalent to half a stick of dynamite.”
“It was just a little firecracker.”
“A little firecracker that set a fire to the men’s bathroom, Mr. Hudson, which cost one thousand pounds to repair.”
“That’s a lot of dough.”
“A lot of dough it is indeed, Mr. Hudson. Now I have tried and tried to understand why you do these things. When you actually apply yourself, your grades are extraordinary. That’s of course if you apply yourself, which I’m sad to say is not very often. What would your parents have thought your behavior Mr. Hudson?”
“It doesn’t matter. They’re dead.”
Mr. Raywood let out one of these long sighs. The poor guy rubbed his bald head like he was going to peel the skin right off. “Mr. Hudson. I know deep down you have marvelous potential. But I cannot continue to tolerate your behavior any longer. I must set an example for the younger boys in this school. I’m afraid you’re being transferred.”
“Which one of your fine institutions am I being sent to next?”
“This isn’t just any institution, I’m afraid. It’s a special school for troubled boys. I wish I didn’t have to do this, Mr. Hudson. I really wanted to help you. But I have no choice in the matter.”
“Sure, Mr. Raywood. I understand.”
“The bus will pick you up first thing in the morning. Good day, Mr. Hudson.”
“I guess that’s my cue,” I said as I stood up from the chair and walked toward the door.
When I exited Mr. Raywood’s office, Ms. Ratchet was still filing her damn nails. Christ, you’d think filing her nails was part of her job description. “See ya around, Ms. Ratchet. You gonna miss me?” She just kept filing her nails like I wasn’t even in the room. “Guess not.”
I sat in this pale blue school bus. It was just me and another chubby boy who sat across from me, eating a candy bar and getting the chocolate all over his shirt. I became nauseous when the bus started moving. The stopping and going made me so queasy, I damn near puked all over myself. That would have been something. Arriving at school with bits of toast and vomit all over. I’m sure that would have impressed the other boys.
Once we got out of London, we hit the main highway where the drive was smooth, without all that stopping and going because of the traffic in the city. I tried to get a little bit of shuteye. I couldn’t sleep much the night before. Willy kept snoring like a bastard. I swear he could have woken up the whole damn school with his snoring. I tried putting my pillow over my ears to drown out the noise. I threw one of my shoes at him to get him to pipe him down. He wasn’t too happy about it.
“Why would you do something like that?” Willy said, before he tossed my shoe to the floor.
“Because you snore like a damn animal, that’s why. Keep it down.”
“I can’t. It’s a condition I have.”
“A condition. What condition?”
“The doctors say I have bad lungs.”
“Bad lungs? They seem fine to me.”
“Oh, why bother explaining it to an ignorant fool like yourself.”
As a parting gift, I gave Willy the best gift a roommate could ask for: a bruise right in the face from my other shoe. Poor kid. He started bawling all over himself. I kind of felt bad afterward. I mean I had nothing against the kid. I guess he meant well in his own way. He just got on my nerves sometimes. “Would you stop crying? I didn’t throw it that hard.”
“Yes you did. It hurts, I tell you.”
“What do you want me to do? Kiss it for you?”
“No, you bastard.”
“Hey, I at least had parents. You’re the bastard.”
“You’re awful. God awful. The worst sort of boy. You Americans. You think you can say and do whatever you want and get away with it.”