“Dr. Emory, when do students usually get picked—if they are so lucky, that is?”
“Usually it is late freshman or sophomore year. If you don’t get picked in your first two years, then your have missed your chance.”
“Is there any way I can increase my chances of making it into one of the societies?”
“Well, not too much, I’m afraid. You do have to be likeable and all, but more than anything, it’s about knowing the right people. You are walking into a world of connections, many of which go back multiple generations. I would say don’t worry too much about the societies. If you are the right fit, they will come and find you.”
The next few days of freshman orientation slipped by, and before I knew it, the first day of class was upon us. I visited the bookstore and realized immediately that I could not afford any of the books. In fact, I could barely afford to buy a few binders and pens. Thankfully, Charles and I had a nearly identical class schedule, so I fully intended to borrow his books. Most likely, he would not be opening them on his own. With each passing day, I realized more and more just how little Charles was interested in his studies. He was here on the sheer merit of his family name and their large financial contributions to the school.
CHAPTER 9
A Working Man
I HAD TAKEN IT UPON
myself to seek a job on campus and managed to secure a part-time position at the library. The work was minimal, allowing me plenty of quiet time to study between my dull tasks of checking out and re-shelving books. The library was perhaps the most remarkable building on campus. It was four stories overflowing with books of all shapes, sizes, and colors. The words of authors from across centuries and continents were carefully bound and catalogued for all to read. I had never seen so many books in all my life, row upon row of books, many of which were so old and dusty that it was obvious nobody had checked them out in years. The top floor had large windows looking out over the campus and featured busts and carvings of famous people. Old, cracked leather couches sat against the walls with long tables alongside for studying. There was a giant globe of the world surrounded by atlases and other collections of maps. Down one floor, there were more private study rooms and, of course, more books. The first floor had a grand central room boasting marble columns and a black and white checkered floor that made you think you were walking across a giant chessboard. The checkout desk was tucked away in a far corner, obviously to avoid detracting from the overall look of the room. To get to the bottom floor, one had to walk down a spiraling black steel staircase as if descending into a submarine. There in the dim lighting, shelves were spread out in all directions. The basement was larger than a football field. With its heavy green carpet under foot, one could tread silently through the labyrinth of shelves as if in another world. I loved the feeling of the room. The air was cooler than up above and had a faint, musty odor. There was a deep stillness and silence that felt almost unnatural; the books and carpet seemed to soak up all the sound. I soon found out that students came down to this level only when they wanted to partake in private activities. The rest I will leave to your imagination.
Locklear started out as an all boys’ school, and it wasn’t until after the World Wars that women were invited to attend, but on a limited basis. Not wanting to become a “heathen” school like so many others around the country, Locklear built a separate set of dorms and school buildings for the women, where they spent the majority of their time. Women were allowed to attend men’s classes with special permission from the dean, and they were entitled to use public facilities such as the library, but they were most definitely not allowed in the men’s dorms. It really should go without saying that male students were not allowed in the women’s dorms under penalty of expulsion. Locklear was to be a place of the utmost moral character. Men and women were not to hold hands, and there was certainly to be no kissing or other promiscuous behavior. Of course, these strict rules only encouraged both male and female students to break the rules, and the library became the primary destination for acts of indiscretion. Dean Groves saw it as his personal calling in life to uphold decency and help students focus on the discipline of academics rather than romance. He always seemed to be lurking with his gaunt features and yellow eyes.
I spent most of my evenings at the library, while Charles was off gallivanting around with his rich cronies, trying to win the favor of the Locklear damsels. Knowing that I was but one misstep from being given the boot, I buckled down and worked harder than I ever had before in my life, but I could not help noticing the female students coming into the library in small giggling groups, sporting elegant patterns and polka dots in their always-matching outfits. Even their shoes seemed to shimmer and shine as they walked. With their hair piled in curls and lips rubbed red with lipstick, they were visions of beauty. They frolicked and flaunted their God-given curves with every step, knowing they had the full attention of every man around. They would giggle, laugh, and point, making an absolute scene and leaving chaos in their wake. Men weakened in the knees as they floated by and blew kisses. They were indeed the forbidden fruit. Sweet and supple, they dangled before us, seemingly untouchable. How we longed for them!
Outside of classes and work, I had a weekly visit with Dr. Emory to chat about Charles and other students I met, to talk about school, and, most importantly, to discuss my writings. In spite of my busyness, I made it a priority to keep writing. With all my new experiences, it wasn’t difficult to find topics to explore.
Much of my writing focused on my contempt for the utter frivolity and wastefulness of my fellow students. There were a few exceptions here and there, but overall the men were pompous bores, having been bred to believe they were the cream of the crop simply because of their wealth. I could not stand this attitude and mocked them at every possible turn, though not to their faces for fear they would gang up on me. Most of the time, I was silent while they jostled with one another, vying for attention in their never-ending game of king of the hill. I was a peasant, so I had no incentive to dream about being king. I contented myself with a resolve to find other ways to make my mark.
Two weeks into the first term, I was shocked to find a note in my box, summoning me to the dean’s office. I groaned when I read it. What had I done? Was the old coot going to kick me out already?
That afternoon, I made my way up to his office and was shown in by his personal secretary. Dr. Groves sat behind a mahogany desk large enough to seat a family of fifteen people for dinner. He looked at me disparagingly and motioned for me to sit in a small wooden chair by the desk. I sat and waited quietly, looking at the floor. After saying and doing nothing for an awkwardly long time, Dr. Groves broke the silence, ready to proceed.
“Tom. It is good that you came promptly to see me. I have been rather busy, but of course you cannot be expected to understand my line of work.” He cracked his milky knuckles one by one with great precision, all the while staring directly at me. “You are probably wondering why I summoned you today. Word has reached me that you are rooming with young master Montgomery. I suspect that arrangement has been up to your standards thus far?”
He had a way of dragging out his words to make every sentence drip with condescension and belittlement, as if somehow my very presence here was beneath him and he could call at any second to have me carted out and thrown into the trash. Each word was like the grating of fingers on a chalkboard.
I blocked out his tone and attempted to grovel appropriately. “Yes, Dr. Groves, everything has been very satisfactory. I am exceedingly grateful for my chance to receive an education here at Locklear.”
“As you should be. Locklear is a sacred place, and its reputation is not to be sullied. And that, my lad, is exactly why I have called you here today. I heard from a close friend of mine who made your acquaintance recently, and whose name will remain anonymous, that you came across as cheeky and obstinate. That sort of behavior will not be tolerated, and so I have taken it upon myself to keep a special eye on you should you choose to step out of line. You would do well to remember that your presence at Locklear is a privilege, not a right. You are here because others thought you to be a pleasant project, but I am not one of them. I do not believe in charity. It only encourages laziness, which I believe to be the most horrific of vices. Discipline. Now that is the building block of greatness. Should you fail to meet all of my expectations, it will bring me no sadness to have you shipped off. In the future, I expect that you will be on your best behavior to avoid any further missteps. You may leave now.” He stared at me with those horrible, unblinking yellow eyes.
I left without saying a word. Infuriated by Groves’ condescending manner, I had no doubt that Charles’ father had ratted me out. I would find a way to repay the rich buzzard.
I told Dr. Emory about my run-in with Groves, and he just nodded his head. “Oh yes, there he goes, playing his little power games. He just wants you to know that your fate is in his hands. He is intoxicated with his own power, I’m afraid. He is a bully, a scrawny, self-indulgent bully who preys upon young men like you. What a miserable existence he has. Just mind your business, Tom, and hopefully he will forget about you.”
CHAPTER 10
A Twist of Fate
AFTER A FEW MORE WEEKS
into my eminently forgettable existence at Locklear, the unexpected struck. I was doing my final round of the library all the way at the far end of the basement, when I heard some muffled voices. Normally upon hearing voices, I would turn around, not wanting to interrupt any rendezvous taking place. But this time I distinctly heard multiple male voices. Slowly creeping forward on the padded carpet, I leaned up against a bookcase and listened in.
“I now pronounce this meeting of the Secret Sevens to be in order.” I gasped when I heard this. The Secret Sevens Society was the oldest and most legendary of the secret societies. They were a perennial burr in the side of Dr. Groves and his staff. Already in the first few weeks, I had seen signs of them at work around campus. They were always rearranging furniture in the buildings, painting 7s on windows, and doing other odd tricks.
A second voice spoke up. “I think we need to do something big. No more puny antics like those we’ve engaged in thus far. We need to remind Groves that we are still here and that we mean business. I have heard that he plans to cancel the Fall Ball for who knows what reason. He’s been trying to get rid of the ball for years and surely would have succeeded if it were not such an established tradition, supposed to prepare us for social life in high society. That man is misery incarnate. We cannot allow him to spoil all the fun at Locklear! ”
Another voice chimed in. “Well, William, what do you suggest we do about it?”
“Well,” said William, “I suggest we throw an undercover party for the whole campus, including the women. Of course, Groves must not catch a whiff of this. He would be scandalized to know that there was uncivilized and unchaperoned dancing on his watch. He has his little spies all over the place. Thankfully, from the sound of it, Charles Montgomery won’t be a snitch like his other brothers. He comes from a different mold.”
Just then, I heard footsteps heading toward me. I leaned up against the bookcase, hoping not to be seen in the dim light, but as I slowly looked up, I saw a large boy staring at me with an angry scowl on his face. He grabbed me by my collar and dragged me around to the other side of the bookcase.
“Well, boys, sorry to be late, but look what I’ve found.” I saw six students look up at me, each with the same angry expression on their face. “It seems we’ve got a bit of an eavesdropper.”
One of the boys, with short black hair, stood up slowly and spoke. “Well now, tell us your name and what you’ve heard before I have the boys rough you up. Nobody will hear you down here if you yell. Get on with it.”
I looked around nervously and began to speak as rapidly as possible. “My name is Tom, and I’m a freshman. I’m sorry for listening in on your conversation. I work in the library, so it’s my job to walk the floors. I heard someone mention Secret Sevens, and that perked my interest. I didn’t know who you were. I swear.” At this, the group began to murmur.
The boy standing spoke up again. “Well it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that we are indeed the Secret Sevens. The problem is, what are we going to do with you now? Obviously, we can’t just let you go. If you told on us, Groves would have our heads.”
Suddenly, I realized this was my chance. I summoned up all my courage. “Dean Groves is a pathetic old buzzard, pardon my French, and he would be the last person on earth I would tell.” I had their attention now. “I have an idea for your secret ball, but before I tell you, I have one stipulation.”
“Well, will you listen at this. Now you are making stipulations. How about I promise not to beat the living snot out of you and we consider that a deal? You don’t make requests. Now tell me your idea, or I’ll give you a bloody nose.”
“No. I want to join the Secret Sevens. That’s my stipulation.”
They all laughed at me. “If you haven’t done the math yet, there are already seven of us, which means no room for you. You can’t just demand to be in the Secret Sevens. It is an honor that you have to earn.”
“Then there is no promising that I will keep your identities a secret, I’m afraid. Either you let me join you and help out in making Grove’s life miserable, or I’ll be a constant liability to you.”
“You little toad.” The standing boy stepped forward and made as if he was going to punch me. I stared at him silently, though my flight instinct screamed for me to make a break for it. Yet I stood my ground. This was my only chance.
“Go ahead, hit me, you girl.”
Oh, and did he ever. I thought he broke my nose. I felt my whole head snap back, and blood began to flow like water from a tap, but I continued to stand my ground.