“Yes she was,” said Thomas. “Greg saw her down there before he left rehearsal. I saw her myself. She was limping away really badly.”
Damn it to hell, what was this all about? Warden did not like this at all. Cynthia had asked for secrecy over her hospitalization, and then she had sneaked out for a tryst with Farnham. But that was silly. She was an adult. She didn’t need to check in with Warden each time she left the house. He filed the irritation away to consider another time.
Thomas saw no need to continue this meeting. If they weren’t going to talk about the real issue, the honor issue, he did not want to stay. Besides, he was upsetting Mr. Warden in talking about his wife. “I hope she gets well,” said Thomas. “She’s one reason I would consider the play.”
“Go out for the play,” said Mr. Warden. “And let me know if Mr. Farnham’s temper does not improve.”
Mr. Warden was a good advisor. Thomas left the room grateful for a friendly adult. He ought to be thinking about Christmas presents for Warden, McPhee, Carella, and the other teachers he liked.
But then it hit him all over again that he might not be here at Christmas. And if he and Staines did get away with it and nobody found out, then Thomas would be here because of a lie. That hurt most of all.
Warden watched his advisee leave and noted that the boy did not appear to feel relieved. Did he know more about Cynthia and Farnham? Of course not. There was nothing to know.
The bell rang. It was time for class. Warden was supposed to be talking about Othello, and he did not have one damn thing to say. He could think only of his wife, sick in a hospital bed forty miles away, a beautiful young woman with a mind and a will and a life of her own.
Why had she struggled down to that theater without telling him?
SCENE 9
Thomas would do anything to avoid being in trouble. He could not understand why Richard Blackburn would seek trouble out.
Mr. Farnham nearly imploded in English class when he found out Richard had glued together all the pages of Landon Hopkins’s Shakespeare anthology.
Richard had done it yesterday afternoon during play practice, when Landon was working on setting some lights. There had been a big bucket of glue in the scene shop and a paintbrush, and there had been Landon’s book, and it had been too much to resist. Landon brought the remains to class today looking like some black-and-white patio brick, every page stuck together. Farnham was short, but he had no trouble hefting that book and sticking it up into Richard’s face.
“Do you have any idea of what such an act of vandalism signifies, Mr. Blackburn?” Richard said yes, he did.
“Please explain.”
Richard said he thought it signified Landon was becoming too sexually excited around Shakespeare.
Farnham went berserk, threw him out of class and sent him to Mr. Grayson and fired him from the play crew all in about three seconds of rage.
Grayson gave Richard twenty-five demerits—enough to keep him in Saturday night D-hall for the rest of the term—and told him to buy Landon another book. He also sent a letter home to Richard’s parents.
Later in the day Richard appeared in the gym at the end of basketball practice. It was around 5:30, and he said he wanted to talk to McPhee about being the manager for the JV team. Thomas was getting dressed in the locker room while Richard interviewed. At first it seemed to go well.
“I do need a manager,” McPhee said.
“Perfect,” Richard said.
“But why you?”
They stood just inside the glass door of the locker room.
“I’m the perfect man for the job,” Richard said.
“Are you dependable?” Coach McPhee looked sweaty but relaxed as he leaned on the doorjamb and grilled Richard, who looked bouncy and confident.
“Very dependable.”
“Then why are you here at 5:30 instead of at 3:30, when practice began?”
And with that McPhee put Richard through a verbal Veg-0-Matic. He accused Richard of trying to get himself a free afternoon. All the boys at Montpelier were required to participate in an afternoon activity. Richard had been fired from the play crew but hadn’t started looking for a replacement until the afternoon was over.
“Well,” Richard said, “I did have a lot of work to do.”
“Like gluing the pages of books together? I don’t need a manager who shows such little respect for other people’s property. Especially for a book. I am an English teacher, too, remember.”
“Yes sir.”
“So I think you’d better find yourself something better to do with your time this winter,” Coach McPhee said.
“Yes sir.” Richard’s head was hanging.
Coach McPhee excused himself and said he was going home, which for him was just down the hall through an inside door. Angus Farrier opened the door and told everyone to hurry up, that he wanted to lock up the building.
“Bunch of terrapins,” Angus said. He asked Richard to move on, then proceeded down the hall. Instead of obeying, Richard wandered over to Thomas in disgust.
“McPhee dies,” he said to Thomas. “And so does Farnham. I am going to get both of those guys so bad that they’ll never recover.” He threatened to blow up the whole gym and all the inhabitants with it.
Thomas didn’t know how to proceed. Richard was his friend, but the way he was acting was so childish.
“Why not just let it go?” Thomas said.
Richard stared at him. “You’re acting like somebody’s dad,” he said. He zipped up his ski jacket, elbowed the door open, and left.
Thomas was glad to see him go.
Last week Richard had been his best friend. Today he could not remember why.
SCENE 10
Somehow Thomas Boatwright had survived the past twenty-four hours; he was now worried that he would never make it through the next twenty-four minutes.
It was 5:45 P.M. on Wednesday afternoon. He
