Crowam 281 (3 page)

“Hey, I thought we were allies. Regular chums, Willy. Don’t you remember the war.”

“The war’s been over for sometime.”

“Listen. I’m sorry.” I grabbed the nudie magazines from my bed and tossed them on his lap. “Better?”

“What’s this?”

“The constitution. What do you think they are? They’re my girlie magazines.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to even see them, let alone have them.”

“Consider them a parting gift from me to you.”

He started going through the pages. You should have seen his eyes. They lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh my.”

“What. You’re acting like you’ve never seen a pair of tits before.”

“Not like these.”

“I knew you would like ’em. Just don’t show them off to the other guys. They find out you have them and you’ll never see them again.”

“Oh, I won’t.” Willy examined each page like he was an accountant analyzing a balance sheet. He just stared at the pages. He was breathing all heavy and weird.

“Hey, what’s with the breathing? You’re weirding me out.”

“It’s my lungs.”

“Oh yea, sure.”

“Jake?”

“Yea?”

“Why do they have so much hair?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know, down
there
.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I don’t mind of course.”

“I thought you said you’ve been with eight girls, Willy.” He started crying again. . Here was this seventeen year old kid crying like child. I really felt sorry for him. I never thought nudie mags could do that to a person.

“What the hell is your problem now?”

“Jake, can I be honest?”

“I don’t know. Give it a shot.”

“I’m a liar, Jake. A bloody liar.”

“No shit.”

“Yes. I lied. Some horrible lies. I hope you don’t think any less of me.”

“Nah. We all lie sometimes. We can’t help it. It’s human nature.”

“I feel like a fool.”

“Hey. Relax. We’re among friends here.”

“Are we?”

“What?”

“Friends?”

“Sure. The best kind.”

“Really?”

“Yea, why not.”

As soon as our friendship was confirmed, Willy ran off with my nudie mags and started jacking off in the bathroom. I know because I heard one of the hall monitors scream bloody murder when he went into the boys bathroom. The fruitcake couldn’t even wait to jack off in the stalls. He just did it right in the middle of the bathroom. I couldn’t get a wink of shuteye because Willy was being yelled at by one of the school proctors.

So I was tired as all hell on the bus ride to who knows where because my roommate had to jack off in the bathroom. I got a bit of sleep once the bus made it on to the highway. I woke up to find lush English countryside outside the window. It was an unusually sunny day in England, making the countryside vibrant and colorful with green grass and trees that decorated the landscape. The chubby boy next to me finished eating his chocolate bar. I managed to sneak some biscuits from the cafeteria in my pocket. The biscuit was mushed and dull, but was still better than nothing during a long trip. I wanted to fall back asleep again. The countryside looked so tame and tranquil.

“Psst,” the chubby boy whispered to me.

I pretended to not hear him. I just wanted to be by myself and not be bothered by anybody.

“Psst,” he whispered again. “Do you have any snacks?”

“What?”

“Snacks. I’m hungry.”

“I just saw you wolf down a candy bar.”

“I only had toast and jam for breakfast.”

“That didn’t fill you up?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Let me guess. Because you have a condition?” I said.

“Condition. Why no. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Forget it.”

“Well?”

“What?”

“You didn’t answer my question?”

I didn’t recognize him from school. He was already on the bus when I got on. He had this blond hair with khaki shorts and these knee high socks. He wore these God-awful suspenders and a blazer, which looked hideous. “No. I don’t have snacks.”

“Bloody hell. I’m starving.”

“Crying about it won’t do you any good.”

“Quit your bantering back there,” the Bus Driver yelled.

I was sort of happy the bus driver told him to quit running his mouth. I just wanted to enjoy watching the countryside. I had nothing against the kid or anything. But he just got under my skin. I guess I understand how I got under the skin of people, too. Maybe it’s what I’m good at.

“What’s your name?”

“My name?”

“You have a name don’t you?”

“Jake, Jake Hudson. You?”

“Charles. Charles Montgomery. Pleasure to meet you. Say, do you know anything about where we’re going?”

“Not really. All I know it’s for us kids nobody else wants.”

“And why does nobody want you?”

“I don’t know. I get under people’s skin, I suppose.”

“The teachers say I eat too bloody much. That’s why I’m being transferred.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re being transferred because you’re fat?”

“Excuse me. I’m not fat. I’m husky. There is a difference.”

“Oh sorry. You’re being transferred because you’re plump?”

“I once ate an entire box of macaroons during Christmas dinner. They were absolutely delightful. The teachers only let me eat toast for breakfast and boiled eggs with ham for dinner for about a month.”

“I said quiet back there,” the bus driver yelled again.

“There’s no crime against talking,” I said. Sometimes I just can’t help myself. Me and my big mouth. The Bus Driver pulled the bus over. He was this big burly son of a bitch. He walked to the back of the bus where we were sitting. “What did you say?”

“I said there’s no crime against talking.”

“What do you know about what’s right and ain’t right?”

“We promise not to talk again,” Charles said. That burly son of a bitch had these huge hands he could just strangle you with. He raised his right hand and slapped Charles right in the face. Damn startled me to tell you the truth. Charles’s left cheek was all red and purple.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” I thought the guy was going hit me next. There wasn’t much I could have done about it. He was as big as a house. One of the biggest sons of bitches I’d ever seen. “I don’t want to hear a peep out neither one of
you
. You understand?”

I saw Charles cry a bit, his red cheeks glowing. The Bus Driver grinned at his tears. The driver reeved up the bus’s engine and continued our journey. Charles wiped away his tears. I grabbed the biscuit I had left in my pocket. “Psst,” I whispered. I tossed him a piece. Both of us ate biscuits while we went to destination unknown.

“Alright, let’s move you out,” the Bus Driver said.

Once we got out of the bus, the driver told us to stand behind the last row of boys to the right of the school. The sky wasn’t sunny anymore. It was grey and depressing. The boys’ demeanor was laconic at best.

“You think they have good food here?” Charles asked.

“Would you shut up! Do you want to get slapped again?” I couldn’t believe that he would talk about food here, after what happened on the bus.

“I’m just hungry.”

“I gave you a piece of my biscuit on the bus. Is that all you think about?”

“Oh bloody hell. Perhaps you’re right.”

The kid in front of me was skinny as a rail. So skinny, the wind could have blown him away. He wore these old beat up trousers and a brown shirt that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. “Say, you know anything about this place?” I asked.

“No. Nobody does.”

“Nobody? Why are you here?”

“I punched a teacher.”

“You punched a teacher! No shit. Why?”

“He called me a no good Catholic bum.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“I gave him a good wallop. Hit his head right on the floor.”

“Why did he call you a Catholic bum?”

“Don’t know, suppose it’s because I’m half Irish. The bastard. So I suppose you’re a yank, huh?”

“I make it pretty obvious, huh?”

“Pretty damn obvious if you ask me. What is a Yank like you doing here in England?”

“My dad was a pilot for the RAF during the war. He flew B-17s. He was shot down over Germany.”

“Sorry to hear that. I really am. Damn bloody shame.”

“Thanks, what’s your name?”

“Owen. Yours?”

“Jake Hudson.”

A loud whistle blew in the distance. Several guards came out from the entrance of Crowam. The Bus Driver, along with two guards who were patrolling the courtyard, conjured in front of the building. “Alright, everybody inside. Single file!”

The guards wore light blue shirts with blacks pants. Each one carried what looked like billy clubs or batons. Once we got inside, we were escorted into an auditorium. “No talking!” one of the guards yelled. It was a tightly run ship.. The guards went through the numbers like this was routine. The operation ran more like a prison than anything else. It wasn’t like any school I’ve been to. It didn’t even feel like a school.

I sat between Charles and Owen. “What do you think this is all about? Maybe it’s a show.” Charles looked at us for answers.

“I doubt the guards are going to be singing show tunes to us, Charley,” I said.

“Charley?” Charley said.

“Yea, that’s what I’m calling you from now on. Charley,” I said.

“But it’s Charles.”

“Well to me, it’s Charley. Get used to it.”

“I suppose I have no choice?”

“What are you going to call me, Jake?” Owen asked me.

“Just Owen,” I said, not wanting to get involved.

“That’s all?”

“You’re name just isn’t catchy.”

“I said no talking!” a nearby guard said.

I thought the guard was going to give me a good one right across the face like the Bus Driver did to poor Charley. You could tell they were itching for trouble, clinging to their billy clubs, just looking for a good excuse to use them.

The lights in the auditorium were dimmed. A stage light pointed directly to the podium with just a single microphone. From the corner of the stage came the devil himself. He wore these wire-rimmed glassed with slick black hair. He had these blue eyes hiding behind his glasses and a razor sharp jawbone, looking like he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. He stood in front of the microphone, examining us like we were a lab experiment, surveying the room, looking for anything odd or peculiar. It seemed like an eternity before he said anything.

The boys looked at him with more curiosity than fear. Boys tended to stay a bit naïve to the human condition. We were foolish to the despicable things men are capable of.

The man stared directly to the back of the auditorium. “My name is Mr. Hugo. You will only address me as such. Most of you are here because the state no longer feels you are worthy of staying in any of the orphanages England has to offer. You have abused the privilege of staying in such institutions through misbehavior and mischievous actions. Make no mistake, gentlemen. That sort of behavior will not be tolerated here. You will abide by the rules of this institution.

“The rules are simple yet firm. You shall do as you’re told. Stay within the confines of the perimeter gate and treat yourself and those around you with courtesy and care. If you follow those few guidelines, I assure you your stay here will be tolerable.

“If, however, you choose to break the rules, you will be punished. You are permitted three reprimands during your stay here, each one with its own consequences. Believe me when I say, you do not want to break the third reprimand, gentlemen. The consequences can be severe. Finally, I want to say what a privilege it is having you all here. Good day.” Mr. Hugo left as quickly as he arrived.

“He doesn’t pull any punches does he,” I said to Owen.

“He looks like a miserable prick,” Owen said.

“You said it.”

Life would be pretty boring if we knew what was coming around every corner. But I often wondered why all us boys were destined to be held in that God forsaken place. How is it possible that life was so spontaneous that I coincidentally crossed paths with Charley, Owen, Mr. Hugo, and the other boys in this place? Anyway, after the meeting “adjourned,” the boys were put in their dormitories, two boys to each room. My room was at the end of the hallway on the third floor. I came into the room to find this kid with his feet plopped up on the wooden edge of the bed reading some book by a guy named Dickens. I couldn’t see his face at first because he held the book so close to his face. I decided to make myself comfortable before I would introduce myself.

I tossed my baseball mitt on the night table behind the bed and my luggage beneath the mattress. I was tired from the long trip, especially because of Willy’s stupidity the night before. I practically threw myself on the bed, even though it wouldn’t give one inch. I thought I broke my back into a thousand pieces. The bed was hard as a rock, even for an orphanage. I think I would have been better off just sleeping on the tile floor.

“What are you reading there?” I asked the kid. He didn’t even bother to say a word. Not one peep. I might be a pain in the ass, but I sure wouldn’t be rude during a formal introduction. I guess not every Brit can be proper and all. “My name is Jake Hudson…..?” I stuck my hand out trying to make the introduction more formal.