A Troublesome Boy (17 page)

Right after study hall I headed downtown. Rozey was parked on the side street in front of the school.

“Hey,” he said, leaning across and opening the passenger door.

“Hey, Rozey.” I got in, rubbed my hands in front of the heater vent. “Man, it's freezing out there.”

“It's January,” said Rozey.

“Yeah. I know. I can tell by all the snow.”

He laughed.

“You know that road back of town, the one that we can see from the school? Goes up the hill?”

“The highway?”

“Yeah. Can we go up there? To the top of that hill?”

“Sure.”

Ten minutes later we pulled to the side of the highway at the top of the hill overlooking the town.

“Mind if I just walk up the road a bit by myself?”

Rozey shut the engine. “Go ahead.”

I got out and walked up the shoulder of the road, bare gravel where the snowplows had scraped by. From the crest of the hill I expected to be able to see forever, but all I could see was more hills humping up into the distance, hill after hill after hill.

I turned and looked back the other way, toward the school. I could see the building and the playing fields, the back door where we came out after breakfast, the area around the corner where Cooper and I always sat looking up at the place where I was now standing.

I imagined Cooper and me standing right at this spot, our thumbs out, waiting for a long-haul trucker to come and haul us all the way to the west coast.

So much for that.

I headed back to Rozey's truck.

“See what you wanted?”

“Yeah.”

Rozey pulled a U-turn in the middle of the highway and we headed back into town.

“How about a few hands of cribbage?”

“Yeah,” I said. We drove through town and out to his place, trudged through the snow to the house.

Rozey tossed a couple more logs into the woodstove and we sat there playing cards and drinking pop. We'd been there maybe fifteen, twenty minutes when I looked across the table at Rozey. He was looking down at his cards, waiting for me to make a move. Then he looked up.

Wouldn't you know it, as soon as he did that I started crying.

“I still can't believe it,” I said. “That poor little bastard.” Wiped my nose on my sleeve.

“I miss him, too,” said Rozey. “You and him were my pals.”

“You know what bothers me the most?” I said. “I should have known he would do something like that. When I look back now it's so obvious I can't believe it.” I looked up at Rozey. “You know what Cooper said once? He told me nobody ever loved him.”

“He was wrong,” said Rozey. “You were his best friend.”

I looked at him.

“I'm so pissed that he would do this.” I jammed my cigarette butt into the ashtray. “I'm just so pissed.”

All of a sudden I was crying again. Rozey just sat there and let me go at it. After a while I stopped crying, sat there sniffling like a little kid.

“Feel like some cookies?”

“Would you mind taking me back, Rozey? I think I just feel like being by myself.”

“Cookies for the road?” He held up the jar.

“Sure. Sounds great.”

Rozey didn't say anything until he pulled into the drive at St. Iggy's, drove right up to the front door.

I looked over at him, a little surprised.

“They said I should never be with the boys,” he said. “But you're my pal. I'm drivin' you to the door is all.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Rozey.”

I got out and went up to the front doors, turned and waved at Rozey, then went in and up the stairs.

“Teddy?”

Jeezus. “Dr. Harrison? What are you doing here?”

“Waiting to see you, actually. Would you mind?” He motioned toward the door of the waiting room right across from Stewart's office.

I stopped just inside the door.

Dr. Harrison looked at my nose. “Just as I predicted, now you do look like a prize fighter.” Did, too. There was a lump in the middle of my nose, and it was a little crooked.

“The girls are going to love it,” he said. “Everything else all right?”

“Yeah.”

A big guy was sitting on the sofa. A really big guy. He stood up, took a couple of steps toward me. Must have been six-five anyway. Two-sixty, two-seventy.

“I'm Dan Evans.” He stuck out a hand. It was the size of both of mine.

I shook his hand, turned to look at Dr. Harrison.

“Mr. Evans is investigating matters here at St. Iggy's,” Dr. Harrison said.

“What matters?”

He shut the door, motioned for me to take a chair. “I talked to Mr. Evans right after your encounter with Father Sullivan. He's been looking into that and now, of course, he's been investigating Timothy Cooper's death.”

“I'm sorry about your friend,” said Evans. “About Timothy.”

“Thanks.”

“You were the one who found him?”

I nodded.

Evans sat up on the edge of the sofa, opened a little notebook, put it on his knee.

“Can you tell me about that? About finding him?”

I told them the whole story. How I went into the washroom, saw the blood on the floor.

Evans was writing it all down. Then he looked up.

“Did he say anything to you, once you got into the stall?”

“I told him I wanted to go get help. He said he would hate me forever if I did.”

“Anything else?”

My eyes were welling up. I shook my head. Shook it again.

“What did you do then?”

“I went and told Prince.”

“Why Prince?”

“Because I wanted that sonofabitch to see what he'd done.”

There was silence in the room. Evans looked at Dr. Harrison. Dr. Harrison looked at me.

“What he'd done?” he said.

“To Cooper. What happened to Cooper because of what he'd done.”

“Tell me about that,” said Evans.

I laid it all out. I went right back to the start of school, told them how Prince showed up to supervise showers, how he was always looking at us, how he started calling out boys after he shut the lights.

“Which boys?”

“I heard he called out a couple of guys in the senior dorm. But then he came over to our dorm and started on Cooper and it was pretty much Cooper all the time after that.”

“Pretty much?” said Evans.

“And me. A couple of times.”

He wanted the lowdown on that. I told him about the candles, the pictures in the drawer, the drink he gave me that made me feel so sick. He wanted to know what Prince had talked about and I told him.

“Did he molest you?” said Evans.

I looked at Dr. Harrison, then back at Evans.

“Put his . . . he put his hand on my . . . crotch.”

“Did Timothy ever tell you what Prince was doing to him?”

“Sort of,” I said.

“Sort of?”

I told him about the talk Cooper and I had. About him hating what Prince was doing to him, how it was all he could think about, how he thought maybe he did like it, like Prince was saying, that maybe he was turning into a homo because of it.

“Nothing more specific?”

I shook my head.

Evans finished writing, then looked up. “Did Cooper leave a note? Explaining things?”

“No,” I said.

“Brother Joseph tells me you've got a book of Cooper's with some very telling remarks written in the margins. A book of poems by Wordsworth. I'd like to see it.”

Holy shit. I couldn't believe it. Who would have guessed it would be Joe who'd go to the cops?

“Could you bring it down?”

Ten minutes later he was flipping through Wordsworth, turning it this way and that to read what Cooper had written in the margins. He spent quite a while doing that. Then he looked at me.

“You've read this?”

I nodded.

“Who else has read it?”

“Brother Joe. I showed it to him.”

“Anyone else?”

I shook my head.

“I'm going to have to take this with me.”

“Will I get it back?”

“I don't know. If you do, it won't be for a while.” He stood up. “Thank you, Teddy. You've been a great help.” Evans stopped by the door. “That night, in the bathroom, did you find a knife?”

I shook my head. There was no way he was getting the knife.

“No,” I said.

He nodded. “Thanks. You've been very helpful.”

“What are you going to do about Prince?”

“We're looking into it,” he said.

I watched them leave.

Way to go, Joe.
I still couldn't believe he'd actually gone to the cops. And I couldn't wait to see what was going to happen next.

—

I WAS LATE
for mail call. Docherty was just finishing up with the letters. Then he started tossing the parcels.

“Oh, this one is heavy. Bet there are cookies in this one. Mr. Clemson.” I raised my hand. He tossed it toward me. No one put up their hands to deflect it. I caught it with both hands. “Nice catch, Mr. Clemson. You ought to try out for the football team.” Ha-ha.

I took my parcel up to the locker room, sat on the wooden bench in front of my locker and ripped off the paper. Mom had sent me a tin of my favorite peanut butter cookies, a carton of Export plains, some mints and gum, a couple of hot rod magazines and some new socks.

I opened her letter.

Dear Teddy,

Things are fine here at home. How are things there? I hope you're doing well with your studies. It seems so strange not to have you here. I wake up some mornings and find myself heading to your room to get you up for school and then remember that you're not here. I do miss having you around – even when you were being grumpy and unreasonable. I'm sure when you're back here with us, things will be much better for all of us.

Please don't think too badly of Henry. He really does have your best interests at heart. He can seem a bit tough, but he's really a very thoughtful and gentle man. I know you two didn't get off to a very good start but, honestly, I think a lot of that had to do with you being so angry at your father and at me. Breaking up is so hard on everyone. I'm sure you don't understand why this had to happen. But there was no way we could carry on. It really was for the best that he left. Have you heard from him? I'm enclosing his address if you haven't heard from him and want to write. I know he'd like to hear from you.

I'll sign off for now. I'm enclosing some spending money to get you through the next month or so.

Love,

Mom

She'd shoved some fives and tens into an envelope along with a slip of paper with my father's address. I put the money and her letter in the envelope and put it in my locker beneath my pile of underwear. I crumpled up the piece of paper with my father's address and tossed it in the garbage. I shoved the box into the bottom of my locker, closed the door and snapped the lock.

I know he'd like to hear from you.

Yeah. Right.

I headed for the door. But then, for some reason, I went back and got the ball of paper out of the garbage. Smoothed it out. Folded it up. Put it in my pocket.

—

SUPPER TIME, SMOKE
time, shower time.

Brother Wilbur stood in the shower doorway.

“Where's Prince?” said Klemski.

“Father Prince is no longer with us,” said Wilbur. “Let's go, gentlemen. Showers and bed.”

Holy shit.

Lying in bed I couldn't get to sleep. My mind was buzzing. I pictured Dan Evans showing up at Prince's door, showing him Cooper's book. I could see the look on his face, totally stunned. I could see Evans handcuffing him and taking him down the stairs, shoving him in the back of the cop car.

I wondered what would happen next. If there was going to be a big trial. If I would have to testify. I started to think about exactly what I'd tell the judge.

Cooper would be so happy if he knew.

And if he hadn't made all those notes in the margin, there would have been no proof.

It was too good.

10

I WOKE UP
in a panic, all sweaty, heart racing, and it took me a few seconds to realize I'd been dreaming.

I'd been in Prince's room, all the candles going. We were on the couch, Prince at one end, me at the other.

He moved down and put his hand on my crotch. I wanted to move his hand, but I couldn't get my arms to work. It was like they were paralyzed.

He started rubbing me.

I jumped up from the couch. He grabbed my pajama top and tried to pull me toward him. I pulled back so hard the buttons popped off. He pulled the top off me. Left fingernail tracks right across my chest.

I was backing toward the door.

Then I reached down to get Cooper's switchblade out of my sock.

All of a sudden Prince had me by the wrist, twisted one arm behind my back, pulled my bottoms down around my knees and put his other hand around my cock.

Somehow I got Cooper's knife out, flipped the blade.

Then somehow Rozey was right behind me. He had a big Jeezus wrench in his hand. But when I turned, Prince grabbed the knife, pulled me toward him, put his arm around my neck.

Rozey went for Prince's wrist and twisted, hard. Prince yelled in pain and let me go. I scrambled away and then Rozey had a clear shot at him. He swung his wrench and caught Prince on the left shoulder. But just as Prince was reeling away, he lunged out with the knife, and suddenly Rozey was down on his knees, both hands holding his belly.

I started screaming.

And that's when I woke up.

—

BUT THAT'S NOT
the way things ended.

The morning after Prince left, we got up, made our beds, got dressed, went to chapel, went to breakfast. The cafeteria was buzzing. Everyone knew Prince was gone. No one knew where. In geography class it was all Dunlop could do to get the whispering to stop. He was rattling on about the Canadian Shield, had to keep interrupting himself to tell us to pay attention, when there was a knock at the door. He went over and opened it, stepped out in the hall, came back in.