Chapter 8: Growing Pains

Friday and the end of the school week finally arrived. Charlie and I walked together to our waiting rides. He must have pointed me out to his mother because she waved to me as I was getting into the Volvo and Charlie hopped into the passenger's side of a Volkswagen Rabbit Convertible. It looked new, but out of place among the larger American and Foreign built automobiles.

It took Ned a few minutes to get me to talk but once I opened up I told him everything that had happened over the past two weeks, everything except my scrap with Russell and my having to go before the Company C Council.

We spent most of the time talking about the football game. He laughed at Mr. Benson's term, simulated touch, like he understood the meaning. I also confessed to being hungry all the time and he said he knew the remedy for that.

He also seemed to understand my description of the 'lockdown search of the sleeping quarters, ' that happened on Tuesday night just after lights out was announced. Dale had seemed to know the procedure. With fifteen instructors searching twenty-four rooms we had to wait our turn. He ordered that we stand at attention next to our bunk and not even think about opening our lockers. We stood silently for fifteen minutes waiting for Mr. Krown to enter the room. Two senior cadets accompanied him, one with a clipboard. I didn't know them and decided they must be from another floor.

Having the top bunk on the left side of the door, they searched me first. The cadet with the clipboard turned my mattress over with his free hand and the other one told me to unlock my lockers. The two cadets took everything out of my lockers and spread it out on my mattress while Mr. Krown looked on. I was facing Dale who was mouthing to me, "Don't move." From the way he was glaring at me I understood it was important that I not turn my head to see what they were doing with my stuff.

I didn't know what they were looking for, but it made me nervous for them to go through my things. The only thing I could think of that I didn't want to see was the twenty dollars I had hidden at the bottom of my footlocker. There was no place around to spend money, unless I broke out and that had been the reason for my having the money. But that plan had evaporated now; I was no longer planning an escape. There was a short discussion when they discovered the money, and I saw the cadet with the clipboard make a note.

It probably didn't take more than fifteen minutes for them to search the entire room, but it seemed like hours to me. We stood at attention the whole time, waiting for them to finish.

"Find anything Paul?" I recognized Colonel Travers' voice from the hallway.

"No sir. We're finished here. You can reassemble your lockers and your bunks now," Mr. Krown said as he left the room, followed closely by the two senior cadets.

There was a lot of grumbling in the room until Dale told us to pipe down and get to work. But that didn't stop Jarvis from talking. "We got us a rat in this school."

"I think you're right," Dale said. "Let's get some sleep. We'll talk about how to flush him out tomorrow night." I saw Dale and Jarvis talking between them selves at mealtime, but there was no meeting the following night. I wondered if they suspected that I was the rat.

"Did the search turn up anything?" Ned asked.

"I heard that someone on the third floor had some weed and they found a five inch switchblade in Company A. My friend in the band said one of the buglers had the switchblade. They confiscated several Playboy and Hustler magazines too but I don't know how anyone would find the time to read them."

"A bugler had the switchblade? And now you're using words like confiscated," Ned laughed.

A big meal awaited me at the Oldham house. Ned sat with me so I wouldn't have to eat by myself. He said he had to go to the airport to pick up Mr. Oldham. He invited for me to ride along, which I naturally accepted although I really didn't want to go. I had other things to attend to, plans to make. And then Suzanne called to say she would go after Mr. Oldham. I think Ned detected my relief. He said he would see me the next day. We had shopping to do. I don't know what came over me. I stood up and offered my hand to the tall man. He smiled and we shook, me embarrassed about initiating such an intimate gesture.

The Robert Louis Stephenson book was still on my desk. Under it, but partially exposed, were two letters from Colleen. I started to rip one open and then noticed the postmarks. One was dated September 2nd and the other September 10th, 1985. I opened the one dated the second.

Dear Sammy,

I couldn't wait until I got there. We're in the air, someplace over Pennsylvania I think. I already miss you so much. Do you miss me? Don't say it unless you really do. Don't string me along like one of your little schoolgirls. I'm older than you, remember? No, don't remember. Don't think of us that way. I don't want to be the older woman, robbing the cradle. We're the same age. Okay?

Please write to me. Tell me what you are thinking, my sweet, sweet boy.

Your friend,

XXX Colleen XXX

I picked up a tennis ball from the desk and squeezed it while I reread the letter, wondering what she was really saying? What had I expected her to write? I didn't know what to make of what I just read. I got up and paced around the room, wondering what was happening. Why was I so agitated? There was a pop and I looked down at the ball, flattened in my left hand.

For some unknown reason I opened the desk drawer where the money was kept. On top was a box of Trojans. On the box was a glossy picture of a smiling female. She looked happy to be alive. I don't know if it was Colleen's letter, the smiling Trojan girl, the tennis ball bursting in my hand, but I was suddenly giddy.

Mr. Oldham and Suzanne found me that way, holding the box of condoms and grinning to myself, the damaged tennis ball and the letter both laying open on the desk.

"Welcome home Sammy," Mr. Oldham said. Suzanne was standing behind him and if I was not mistaken I believe her hand was affixed to his rump.

I stood up. "Thank you, sir. It's good to be home."

I ruined two of the rubbers that night, practicing putting them on and taking them off without spilling my seed. The next morning I counted how many were remaining in the package. There were ten. That's good, I thought.

"Where's Molly?" I asked when Betsy delivered my orange juice.

"She's off this weekend. Is everything all right with you, Mr. Sammy?" She looked around the room and probably spotted the open letter on my desk.

"Everything is fine with me Betsy. Don't you get any time off."

"Don't worry about me. I get plenty of time off. Any more and I'd just get into more trouble," she said laughing. She was at the door, ready to leave.

I took a sip of orange juice, trying to think of something that would steer the conversation the way I wanted it to go.

"Wouldn't another day off please you? Maybe you could have Ellen sub for you tomorrow. Is that possible?"

Betsy frowned. "I don't like that girl messing with my kitchen. I can't find nothin after she's been here."

She waited while I took another sip of juice. I wondered if that was the real reason she didn't want Ellen to work in her place or was it something else? I was desperate.

"Would it be too much if I ask for you to do it as a favor to me?" There, I had laid it out for her. If her disapproval of Ellen ran deeper than a few kitchen utensils being put away wrong then this was her opportunity to make it known to me.

Betsy shifted her weight from one foot to the other, pursing her lips like she was mulling over my request. "We'll see. When you put it that way Mr. Sammy you make it hard for an old lady to say no. You must really want me to get into trouble." There was a knowing smile on her face when she turned the doorknob. "We'll see," she said as she left my room.

I put the letter back in its envelope before going down stairs to have breakfast with Mr. Oldham and Suzanne.

They were glad to see me. Mr. Oldham said he was going to start calling me Demerit until I boosted that I had not received a single one the past five days of school. I confessed that being confined to quarters over the past weekend had its benefits. I gave them a blow-by-blow description of the 'touch' football game but omitted the 'meeting' with Russell Bertram III in my room or the changes that both events brought about in my confidence.