Finding Tom (16 page)

As I returned to Locklear, the reverend’s freshly planted body reminded me of my first funeral as a boy. I was swept back to that horrid day when the whole town gathered to gawk at my mother’s stiff body and bid their farewells. Someday, it would be my father buried beneath the earth, but in my heart, he was already dead. His soul lay buried beside my mother; we had only to put his body there to keep her company.

I determined in my soul that I would not become like my father and miss out on living.

I was not ready to be buried in the red clay. I was not ready to give up the fight. I resolved to keep fighting for life, to keep pushing forward. But, as always, the zeal of youth is forced to be patient, and those who diligently endure the tests of life are the ones who receive the prize. My time of testing was upon me.

There was a Secret Sevens meeting that evening. Leaning against the dusty stacks, I daydreamed of Julia while we discussed our final event of the year. There was to be one last act of mischief. When I looked at the seniors, I could tell they were beginning to realize that their term was up. This season of their life was rapidly coming to its conclusion, and now that it was upon them, they were not quite ready to go. They wanted to go out with a bang, go out with one final act of daring before the terrible world of adult boredom enveloped them in an endless embrace. Dr. Groves would be on the prowl, knowing we were bound to attempt one last rebellious act. After much discussion, the seniors hammered out the details of their grand farewell.

The prank preparations helped draw me out of my funk, along with the fact that Charles and Rachel were no longer seeing each other. Charles confessed to me that when Rachel mentioned her desire to “go steady,” he ran for the nearest exit at full speed. So the two of us were back in business as bachelors. I did not realize how much I had missed Charles during the few weeks when he was preoccupied with Rachel. In spite of our differences, Charles and I had become best friends. I knew I would miss him a great deal when we were apart over the long summer months at home.

We weathered the storm of finals. And all the while, I continued to ponder Dr. Emory’s challenging words to me: I am a prophet. I must find a way to speak out rather than harbor my own bitterness until it ruined me. I must face my fears. I must seize life.

CHAPTER 23

The Big Bang

AT LAST, GRADUATION WAS UPON
us, and we watched from our positions as families arrived. The university spared no expense preparing for the big day. Locklear had been pruned and swept and mulched, and fresh flowers had been planted. There in the thick of the masquerade was Dr. Groves, orchestrating the final touches. The rich and influential had set up large tents lined with tables of Tupperware filled with deviled eggs, chicken salad, and baked pies, all lovingly made by the house help. Sporting the summer’s finest attire, they sashayed about greeting old and new faces, all united under the historic towers of Locklear. The graduates bustled around hugging aunts, uncles, and grandparents before darting off in their caps and gowns. Charles and I watched all of this from high up in the bell tower, eagerly awaiting our moment.

The crowd settled down in folding chairs as Dr. Groves slid across the stage in his usual slimy way. The sight of him was enough to make me gag. I licked my lips, looking at the mountain of fireworks we had lined up waiting to be lit. I toyed with the matchbox in my pocket. “Patience,” I said to myself. “Just a few more moments.”

Dr. Groves cleared his throat—and that was our cue! I looked at Charles, and he grinned. “Let the fun begin.” We stuffed wads of cotton in our ears and hunkered down. Two floors below us, our compatriots began to ring the bells. The clanging sound drowned out Dr. Groves, who turned red as a beet. But there was nothing he could do; we had locked and bolted the chapel. After a full minute of ringing, the bells died down, and I could see the crowd snickering while Dr. Groves looked ready to explode. I cannot express the joy that sight brought to me. He continued his speech, completely unprepared for what was yet to come. Finished, he went slinking off the stage.

The president then took the stage to speak. That was our next cue. “Welcome, friends, family, and students.” The rest of his sentence was obliterated by our first round of fireworks, which exploded into the air like cannons. There was a round of nervous laughter, and then the president, obviously unnerved, continued. “We are grateful to have you here with us today to join us for this momentous occasion.” Charles lit the next round, smiling like a devious imp. There were more explosions and gales of laughter from the students. I looked down and saw security guards trying to get into the building, to no avail.

More speeches meant more fireworks and bell ringing. We let the names of the students be called out without interruption, and as the final students crossed the stage, we set off our grand finale. All out of fireworks, we had one last trick to play. As the president took the stage for the last hoorah, we sent piles of paper confetti raining down on the stage, each marked with a small 7 to let the world know who was responsible. It was brilliant. The confetti caught a gust of wind and drifted out over the audience, and before the president could give his farewell address, people evacuated their seats and ran for cover. The graduates threw their caps high into the air under a shower of confetti. The bells started ringing again, and we darted down out of the tower, away from the deafening din.

We all congregated briefly in the creaky choir loft before Charles led the way down to the basement with a flashlight. Deep in the bowels of the church, we arrived at our escape: an ancient-looking, padlocked trapdoor sunk into the floor and covered with a thick layer of dust. Patrick had shown us to this spot earlier in the week, explaining there was an old dirt cellar dug beneath the cement foundations. There was a narrow tunnel leading to an exterior exit in the cathedral garden. Patrick had handed Charles a key to the lock and assured us that the Secret Sevens had been using this tunnel for decades.

We dropped into the cellar and closed the trap door behind us with a gentle thud. The earth was cool and damp. Moving slowly with only the bobbing light of Charles’ torch, we came to the tunnel. Forced to crawl on hands and knees in the cramped quarters, I felt suffocated. Charles kept pushing forward. I could feel my heart pounding, and I tried not to panic. What if the tunnel collapsed? What if we couldn’t get out into the garden? What if Dr. Groves knew about the tunnel and was waiting for us? There was no choice at this point but to keep moving forward. Finally, we stopped. I was drenched in sweat. My clothes were smeared with dirt. All I knew was that for some reason, we had stopped moving forward.

From my position at the back of the line, I could not see exactly what Charles was doing. I heard muffled voices falling back down the tunnel towards me but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Something was wrong. I could feel my pulse beginning to beat faster. I saw Charles’ flashlight moving around, and I heard him cursing up a storm. I couldn’t see what he was doing. I envisioned the tunnel collapsing in on us, burying us alive. We would never be found.

All of a sudden, light filtered into the tunnel, and one by one we escaped from the darkness. We had emerged in the rear of the garden. There were a number of people in the garden, but none were near the ivy-covered wall where we suddenly appeared. Having done our best to brush off dust and dirt and straighten ourselves out, we calmly strolled back to the dorm. Our deed was done, and it was time to go home for the summer.

Charles punched me playfully. “Looks like you were sweating back there. Were you nervous or something?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have been if you hadn’t taken your good old time getting the hatch open.”

“The lock was rusty. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Sure.” I rolled my eyes at him. “I wonder if Dr. Groves is still trying to break into the chapel.”

“I don’t know, but we look like you’ve been in a mud fight, and for some reason, I think Groves might be a little suspicious.”

“Are you afraid we might get in trouble?”

“No, sir, I thrive on trouble, but I don’t want you to get your keister kicked out of school. Then I’d have to room with somebody else, and I wouldn’t be able to spread my stuff out all across the room.”

“Yeah, well I might not room with you again unless you promise to keep your junk on your side of the room.”

“Fat chance. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

“Well, I guess that’ll just have to do.”

Just then, Julia Stine appeared. Of course, Charles smiled and waved at her while I tried not to blush. She smiled and began walking towards us. Oh boy! Charles nudged me. “Here’s your big chance,” he whispered.

“Chance for what, you dimwit? We’re both covered in dirt. I’m sure she finds that attractive.”

There she was, right in front of us. “Hello, boys.”

“Hi, Julia,” I stammered. Why did she have to be so incredibly attractive?

“You two look like you’ve been rolling in the dirt.”

Charles piped in. “Maybe we have been.”

“Well, that wouldn’t in any way be connected with the mischief that has old Dr. Groves throwing a temper tantrum, does it?”

Charles responded before I could. “Why, of course not. Two upstanding gentlemen like ourselves wouldn’t be involved with such a troublesome group as the Secret Sevens.” I saw him wink at her.

Son of a gun, he was going to blow our cover. Julia raised her eyebrows. “I see, well, I did not mean to insult you gentlemen, and you should know that I am a big fan of the Sevens.”

Having regained my nerve, I jumped in before Charles said anything else revealing. “As are we, Julia. I hope that we’ll have the joy of being in class together again next year.”

I could feel Charles holding his breath. There was what felt like a never-ending pause of silence before she spoke. “I would like that very much.”

As soon as Julia was out of range, I kicked Charles in the shins. “That’s for pretty much telling Julia that we are in the Secret Sevens.”

He yelped. “I never officially admitted anything. Oh, and you’re welcome.”

“For what?”

“For putting you back in the game, my friend. She thinks you’re a Seven, and in her book, that’s attractive. Looks like you’re back in the game, you little dirt ball.”

“We both know I don’t have a chance with her, so just drop it.”

“We’ll just have to see about that.” Charles grinned at me, and I knew in his mind this was far from over. There was still hope.

* * *

Back in the room, our things were already packed except for a spare change of clothes. Charles’ butler would be by soon to pick him up. I, on the other hand, would have to hurry to catch the next train. It was hard to believe a whole year had gone by. I could tell Charles was thinking the same thing.

He broke the silence. “Well, Tom, we’ve certainly had a heck of a year. I don’t know what I would have done without you, you old codger. Who would have thought you and me would be Secret Sevens? Somehow, that makes this place seem not quite so bad, even with the likes of Groves and Remus.”

“I agree, Charles,” I said. “It’s been quite an adventure thus far. It’s difficult to imagine what mischief we’ll get ourselves into next year. Be sure to write me a letter or two over the summer. I’ll do the same.”

“Of course, and if you ever get too bored in Greenwood, you should come and spend a week with me while my father is away. That would be a splendid break from the misery I’m sure awaits at home.”

“Yes, that would be fun. Okay, well, the train isn’t going to wait for me.”

Before I could dart out, Charles grabbed me in a big hug. “You didn’t think you’d get off that easily, did you? You and me, we’re brothers now.”

He let me go, and I walked out the door. “Brothers.” I liked the sound of that word.

CHAPTER 24

Summer Days

I WAS A MAN AT
war with myself on the train ride home. Memories of Julia Stine and her alluring lips faded away as the old sense of depression threatened to overwhelm me at the thought of a summer back in Greenwood with the ghosts of my past lurking at every corner. For the first time, I decided to look my ghosts square in the face. There would be no meek surrender. In the assured silence and awkwardness with my father, there was still hope for redemption. There was hope for renewal, but it would not come if I brooded and waited for him to awake from his stupor. I would have to fight the past for the both of us.

I felt almost as if I were on a sacred pilgrimage as I walked toward home, down the winding, unchanged streets I knew so well. My mind was filled with zealous thoughts of how things would be different. I wanted so desperately to believe them.

Father was home, sitting in his study and sipping whiskey. The room was illuminated by a single lamp that cast shadows across his bearded face. “Hello, Father,” I ventured as I drew near to him.

“Hello, Tom. It seems you finally made it.”

“Yes, Father. I had responsibilities to attend to this morning before I could catch the train.” He stared at me blankly, and I felt the old cold wall begin to rise. He didn’t care.

“Very good. Carry on and put your things away. We will leave for the store at 6:00 a.m. tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Father. I will do that.” I turned to go but refused to give in so easily. Turning back around, I said, “Would you care to have a smoke once I’m unpacked? I need to break in the pipe you got me for Christmas.” This was an unexpected move, and I waited anxiously for his response.

A look of surprise flickered across his face and was gone before you could blink. “Not tonight, Tom. I’m rather tired. Perhaps another time.”

I walked away with a smile. He had left the door cracked, and I would continue to pester him until it opened.

I looked inside the fridge and immediately missed the lavish dining hall at Locklear. Here an old cold ham stared at me along with some abominable-looking egg salad. I sliced a few strips of ham and stepped outside for some fresh air. It was a clear sky, and I watched between bites of salty ham as the stars began to appear. I went to smoke my pipe but decided against it. I wasn’t in the mood.