“Dismissed,” said Carella. “Except Staines.”
Everybody gathered his books to leave. Robert Staines tugged on Thomas’s sweater. “Wait up,” he said. “I’ve got to talk to you about the mixer this weekend.”
It suited Thomas to wait. He and Greg always cleaned their room before breakfast.
Within fifteen seconds the only people remaining in the classroom were Staines, Thomas, and Mr. Carella. Thomas sat on top of a student table while in the front of the room Carella dissected Staines without a knife.
“You are the most irresponsible, arrogant, flippant, disruptive student I have ever seen,” said Carella.
“And you love it,” said Staines. The guy was incredibly brazen. And the thing was, Carella did love it. He laughed.
“Where’s your lab report?” he asked. Staines said he hadn’t done it.
“None of it?”
“I put my name on it.”
Carella shook his head as though Staines were his mischievous little brother and told him to get the report done by tomorrow. It made Thomas a little mad. Everybody else had to get his work in on time. But that was typical of Robert Staines. Somehow he charmed people into letting him get away with felonies.
“I got to have some coffee,” said Mr. Carella. “You boys keep the place clean.” He took the stack of lab reports and left the classroom.
Staines swaggered back to where Thomas sat.
“I’ve got that guy completely figured out,” he said. “If you’re a good athlete in his class, you’ve got it made.”
Thomas asked him what he wanted.
“Your sister’s at Mason, right?” Staines asked.
“Right,” said Thomas. Hell, Staines had only been his roommate for a whole nine months last year. They’d only talked about fifty million times about how Barbara was a student at Mason School.
“She knows Katrina Olson?”
“I don’t know,” said Thomas. “Probably.” Barbara knew Katrina Olson. Everybody at Mason knew Katrina Olson. Even Hesta, who was new at the school this year, knew her. Katrina Olson was nicknamed the Bay Bridge Tunnel because of all the traffic that entered her.
“I’m trying to get the Kat-woman to come down for the mixer Saturday,” said Staines. “You know how it is when you get the urge.”
“Yeah,” said Thomas.
“You know, passion,” said Staines. “Like what Carella was talking about.”
“Yeah.” It was a tribute to Mr. Carella that even Staines listened in his class.
“You think your sister could set it up for me?”
Thomas did not want to get into the pimping business. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know if she knows her that well.”
“I could probably just call old Katrina myself,” said Staines.
“Yeah.”
“What about you? I hear you’ve got a girlfriend up there now,” said Staines.
Hell. “Sort of,” said Thomas.
“Just get her to ask if Katrina’s got a date already,” said Staines. “If she doesn’t, then I’ll call her.”
This was his chance to tell Staines no for once. “Yeah, okay,” said Thomas. “If I can ever get Hesta on the phone myself.”
He started to leave. Staines drifted back to the front of the room and walked around to the teacher’s side of the large lab table.
“You coming to the dorm?” Thomas asked.
“Yeah,” said Staines. He started opening drawers under the lab table. Thomas was appalled. Teachers’ desks, closets, and drawers were strictly off limits.
“A teacher’s desk is Red Flag,” said Thomas. “Are you crazy?”
“He doesn’t care.”
Staines continued to open and close drawers. He asked if the lab report had been difficult.
“Not really.” Not if you knew that the carotid artery was in the neck.
Staines asked where Carella kept the sample lab reports. He said that over the holidays he had forgotten the format they were supposed to use to write them. It was a ridiculous excuse, since the class had been writing lab reports with the same format every week since September. But Staines was just stupid enough for it possibly to be true. He moved to the teacher’s desk beside the lab table.
Thomas was getting uneasy. Breaking a Red Flag was a very serious offense. He wanted both of them to leave.
“You aren’t going to find the answers,” said Thomas.
“I’m not looking for answers,” said Staines. “That would be cheating. Just some examples to get me started.”
He opened the middle drawer of Carella’s desk and froze.
Thomas asked him why he did not bring up the sample reports when Carella was still in the room.
Staines did not answer. He reached into the open desk drawer and pulled out something metallic.
“Now what do you suppose Carella would be doing with these?” he said. He held up a pair of shiny handcuffs.
Somehow it was funny as hell.
SCENE 3
At 11:30 the whole school assembled in the chapel. Dr. Lane, the headmaster, sat beside Mr. Heilman behind the lectern. Heilman was in his vestments; Lane was in civvies. Thomas and Richard sat together toward the back. It was very quiet, and Thomas felt himself getting sad. He hadn’t even known the boy Russell Phillips, and yet, now that he was here in the chapel, with its familiar white walls and clear windowpanes and huge marble altar with a dark blue rug running up the aisle to it, Thomas felt himself ready to cry. Somebody who was alive yesterday was no longer alive today. What if Thomas’s parents died suddenly? Or Barbara? Or Jeff? What if Hesta died?
He looked around for Greg but didn’t see him. Nathan Somerville was dressed in a black robe at the altar and lighting the candles with a long brass taper. When he finished, he went down to the front pew and sat with his grandfather. There was no choir, but Mr. Carson, the music teacher, was playing some improvisation quietly on the organ. He saw a couple of boys with tears on their cheeks. Thomas felt his own throat start to tickle and felt embarrassed. This was stupid, a conditioned response. He glanced to his left. Richard was dry-eyed but looked very solemn.
Mr. Heilman stood up, called the assembly to order, as if it needed to be, and told them what they already knew: that
