Authors: Danielle
Dean Tenbrook
slipped the phone into her own jacket pocket. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Here at Delafontaine, we like for our students to focus on their work and on each other. Technology can cause so much interference, don’t you think?” Oliver nodded numbly, even though his disagreement could not have been stronger.
"
Now, this is the main entrance. This, is Cathy." Dean Tenbrook pointed to a smiling receptionist who waved on cue. They took a left down a smaller hallway off of the grand hall. It boasted warm colors---the carpet was a fine, red shag and the walls were decorated with scenes from the American Revolution.
"That painting is one of De
lafontaine's most prized possessions, you know." Dean Tenbrook mused. “Delafontaine is actually home to many pieces of priceless art. I’ve been advocating for an official art gallery for years!” She said, pointing to another painting on the wall. Oliver attempted to formulate a response, but it just got stuck in his throat along with years of other things he neglected to say.
Oliver fell into step besides
Dean Tenbrook, as a rumble from outside shook the walls. “Summer storms. The best kind, I think. Sometimes, we all need a good cleansing.” Oliver walked for what felt like miles, the length perhaps exaggerated due to Dean Tenbrook’s mind numbing recollection of Delafontaine facts.
“
Did you know that the Delafontaine School has been accepting students for 45 years?” Dean Tenbrook looked sideways at Oliver, who found himself nodding, if only to assure her that he was in fact listening. The effort was enough, and Dean Tenbrook continued to shower Oliver with facts and tidbits about Delafontaine.
They stepped outside, following a path along the
well-manicured front lawn. The brisk New England air caressed Oliver’s face like a cold hand. “I would be lying if I said it doesn’t get much worse than this.” Oliver glanced sideways at Dean Tenbrook, holding his breath for the pitch he knew was coming. “Here at Delafontaine, we provide our students with top of the line winter jackets.” He exhaled softly, somewhat pleased at his own prediction abilities, though soured at being right in the first place. Oliver looked at the Delafontaine lawn, as pristine as could be. He couldn’t imagine that anyone had ever touched, let alone walked on it.
“….We also hold a number of activities out on the quad, mainly at the beginning and the end of the year.”
Dean Tenbrook was saying, as Oliver tuned back in.
“For parents and students?” Oliver found himself desperately wanting his mother to see him, here.
“Are there events for new students and parents to see the school, together?” He pressed, eyes locked on the dean.
Her smile faltered, though only briefly---a small cloud on an otherwise sunny day---and she pressed her lips together. “Many students here are independent, and prefer to stay that way. We like to say that our young men are resilient.
Ah, here we are. You’re just in time for the annual Delafontaine Welcome Back Carnival. I hope we don’t get rained out!” Dean Tenbrook quickened her pace and rounded on the main quad.
Oliver stepped onto the quad behind the library and he felt his mouth drop open in surprise.
Before him, there was a mini carnival. Everywhere he looked, Oliver saw carnival games. Dean Tenbrook moved through the crowd, and Oliver struggled to keep up. To his left, a boy wearing his Delafontaine jacket slung around his neck took a step back and then slammed his hammer down at Test Your Strength. The bell went up about mid-way before tumbling back down, and the carnival attendant shook his head before barking “Next!” The player walked away with his head down, disappointed.
“Every year, Delafontaine throws a Welcome Back Carnival for our students. It is important to us that our students have fun within proper settings.”
Dean Tenbrook said, leading Oliver through the crowd. A group of boys huddled around the ring throwing station, leaning in as a boy wearing the Delafontaine jacket and a crisp pair of khakis leaned forward and threw the ring. The ring sailed past the bottle and the crowd erupted in a mixed chorus of “Aww man.” And “It was right there!”
Dean Tenbrook
led Oliver past a funnel cake and cotton candy stand, to which his stomach growled audibly and angrily. “Go on, help yourself.” She said, smiling. Oliver didn’t need to hear that twice. He raced towards the stand and returned with a funnel cake in one hand and a cone of cotton candy in the other, uncertain of which one he should try first. He rejoined Dean Tenbrook on the other side of the floating ducks tent.
“Delafontaine prides itself on
providing our students with the very best. We have a festival at the beginning and the end of each year to reward our students for their hard work in both academics and personal achievements. What do you think?” Oliver looked out on the quad and smiled. It wasn’t bad at all. In fact, he could get used to it.
“I like it.” Oliver said slowly.
Dean Tenbrook broke into a wide grin. “Excellent!” Now, I’m sure you’re hungry for some real food. Cotton candy is delicious, but it can’t take the place of a nice home cooked meal, now can it? Sadly, the dining hall is closed right now as it prepares for dinner. But let’s head in that direction, so you’ll have no trouble finding it this evening.” Dean Tenbrook set off at a brisk pace back across the main quad. When Oliver had caught up, Dean Tenbrook was still talking, as if she had not noticed that he had not been besides her the entire time.
“Now this, is the Dining Hall. You’
ll spend many a meal here, eating with your peers. We believe in community dining here at Delafontaine. A supportive community is a great asset for struggling young men.” Dean Tenbrook remarked, cheerily, though her voice was an octave lower than usual.
“And what about that?” Oliver pointed to a small, plain building sitting square between the Dining Hall and the Main Building.
Dean Tenbrook abruptly began walking again.
“As I was saying, the Dining Hall is the beginning of many long lasting friendships for our young men.
”
“But, the building, over
there.”
“Would you like to see if maybe the staff h
ave some left overs? You must be famished. How long did it take you to get here?” Dean Tenbrook marched forward towards the wooden doors of the dining hall. Oliver followed, taking one last look at the nondescript building before stepping into the dining hall.
As he stepped inside, the arresting smells of bread, meat and pastries wafted towards him.
The dining hall was large, with high ceilings, like the rest of the buildings. A small balcony ran around the top, where a few guards milled about. His stomach growled in response again, so loud and so definitively that Oliver felt it had developed a mind of its own. Dean Tenbrook disappeared behind the serving station and reemerged with a plate of steaming green beans and sliced turkey.
“
Seems like they’ve got a few leftover. I hope you don’t mind?” Her smile was plastered across her face like that of a jack-o-lantern. As Oliver took the plate, he wondered if her smile was in fact carved onto her face. When he was finished eating, he bussed his tray and followed Dean Tenbrook from the dining hall.
"The gym is up next. I'm sure you've
been wondering where. I bet you really like to get your exercise." Dean Tenbrook looked back at him, as he trailed listlessly behind her. The food had been his cherished oasis, but a strong, unpleasant feeling had risen in the place of his hunger, and Oliver wasn’t sure what could cure it. His lack of response elicited a frown, but she did not skip a beat.
"Ah, the gym!"
From inside, basketballs thudded against the court, each thud reminding Oliver of his rapidly increasing heart rate. The hallway opened up wide to reveal a set of double doors. Dean Tenbrook threw the doors open in dramatic fashion. The gym was at least the size of a football field. Basketball goals framed each side, while polished black bleachers rose up on either side of the court. The group of boys within the gym turned to stare, their sudden lack of dribbling casting the gym into an eerie silence.
"Hi boys! We don't mean to interrupt.
I'm just showing our new student around, Oliver Donovan. He'll be joining everyone later for dinner, once he's all cleaned up." The boys stared hollowly, not a single one attempting a wave or otherwise. Oliver's cheeks burned and he put his hand to his head for a quick salute. The boys nodded slowly in response, before promptly turning back to themselves.
"They like you already!"
Dean Tenbrook piped up. Oliver felt the heat from his cheeks spread to his neck and beyond. He watched the boys play Horse, each lining up to shoot into the net. One boy shot and the ball flew clear over the basketball goal, then he languidly chased down the ball, which had rolled into a far corner of the gym.
He had to admit that it
---the gym that is---was impressive. But the stare of the other boys made him uncomfortable, and he wasn’t sure why. He felt Dean Tenbrook studying his face, the corners of her lips turned up in a slight smile.
"And this is just the basketball gym. We have a number of other facilities for our boys to utilize.
Tennis courts, running trails. We’re looking into putting in a swimming pool. This is just the beginning for you, Oliver. You’ll never want for another thing again, I can assure you that."
"Now, let me show you to the dormitories. You'll be rooming with the other new students. I bet you all will have a lot in common."
Dean Tenbrook swept past the open doors of the basketball gym and out into the bright day. The storm clouds from earlier had disappeared, and the sky was as clear as ocean water. The wind, however, whipped at Oliver's face as the door opened and he cringed. "New England days. They take a while to get used to. But the seasons are beautiful." Oliver and Dean Tenbrook marched across the sidewalk towards a tall, brownstone building labeled
Branson Hall
.
"This was always my favorite dorm. A lot of our seniors wish they still lived here."
Dean Tenbrook laughed a tinkling laugh, having evidently regained her composure, and she pushed open the doors of Branson Hall. Oliver’s heart climbed to his throat.
Oliver was at first struck by the grand staircase right in front of him. The staircase was wood finished with glass paneling. Lights adorned the side, all the way up. After a flight, the staircase split in two directions. He looked over at
Dean Tenbrook, who was looking expectantly at him. "You can't expect me to go up there. It's an all-boys dormitory, you know. You're in room 209, on the left. Charlie, your dorm mother, will meet you upstairs. Dinner's at five, you know. Try and look your best. You’ve already got everything you need." And with that, Dean Tenbrook turned on her heels and clacked back through the front door. Oliver looked up at the grand staircase before him for a long moment before he began slowly climbing the stairs. The words of the police officer echoed in his head:
You were given up willingly
, and his stomach began the familiar cramping.
He pushed open the door
of room 209, and he was immediately hit with the faint, musty smell of iron. Suddenly, a crash came from the direction of the closet, and a head popped out from behind the closet curtain. Out stepped a tall, willowy boy. He had dark hair and dark eyes, and his skin was paler than a diamond dove’s stomach.
"Sorry, I was trying to hang these hooks in the closet. It's not going well. I'm Robert." He stuck out his hand, and as Oliver shook it, he found himself staring at skin so translucent that he coul
d see the blue veins seizing beneath it. Oliver felt a momentary flash of fear as he remembered his trouble, but before he could pull it away, Robert had already grasped it. Oliver felt his stomach and he sent up a silent, desperate prayer. But before the usual signs began emerging, Robert let go of his hand and turned back to examine the hooks in the closet, apparently unfazed. Oliver stared after him in confusion.
"I suppose the Matron will be visiting us shortly.
You may want to prepare yourself for that. Your side's over there." Oliver scanned the room for the first time since he'd walked in. The room was small and white-walled. The same wooden flooring that he'd seen elsewhere decorated the floors, and the smell of iron lingered in the air as it had when he first entered. His bed was plain, wooden and atop the frame sat a garish green mattress.
“It’s…nice.” Oliver pressed his hand on the mattress, unable to hide his shock when the mattress did not decompress at all. Robert laughed, turned towards the closet and threw a large foam sheet at Oliver.
“Got an extra. Didn’t know I was going to have a roommate.”
“I didn’t know I was going to be here.” Oliver muttered and he placed his bag on the bed.
Robert looked at him. “Does anyone? She'll want you to make your bed before dinner, you know." Robert continued, though his back was turned as he studied the wall hooks in the closet.
"I just got here."
Oliver said.
"Hey, they're not my rules. I'm just trying to prepare you for the storm that's coming your way, sailor."
Oliver dropped his bags and flopped down on the bare mattress, relieved that there was at least a bed here at his disposal.
He laid back on the bed in silence
, his mind a veritable mess of questions and feelings he couldn't yet put a name to.