by Kenneth Wise
Chapter 8
It was during the “free” time during the “garbage man” duty that Andrew and Steven went to their secret place. On the grounds was a large brick building that was used for nothing but a parking dock for the garbage truck. While exploring one day, the boys found what must have been a storage room connected to a main room. The smaller than normal entry door was hidden behind the door to the larger room. They claimed it for themselves and there they founded ‘The A&S School of Whatever A&S Wanted’. Here, Andrew and Steven explored worlds that they never dreamed existed. They learned more about science and physics in their private little basement classroom than they had or would ever learn in a regular classroom. They checked out books from the library and borrowed books from teachers. They read more books on more subjects during those few months of “trash duty” than their fellow students, or inmates, or whatever they were, would read in their lives. And they wrote. They would give each other writing assignments picked randomly from the many subjects they had discovered. They loved teaching and learning from each other.
“If people ever found out what we have been doing, what do you think they would say?” Steven said one day while they were studying.
Andrew thought for a few moments and finally answered, “I’m sure they would have nothing good to say. They would find everything about us and what we are doing to be bad, dirty, weird, and we would likely be returned to The Hill in a heartbeat.”
“Why?” asked Steven.
“Because,” Andrew said, slapping both of his hands on the table, “no one understands us, Brainy Boy, so they will hate us.”
Steven questioned, “They hate us because we are running our own private, members-only, school, Bird Brain? Is that it?”
“I’m afraid so. It makes no sense. We are actually doing what they say they want us to do, but doing it on our own, in secret, and that is a horrible thing. The world might end if they found out what we are doing. At least our world would.” They laughed at themselves.
“Imagine that, two teenagers learning without being told to,” Steven said. “Disgusting!”
The boys had given each other nicknames. Steven was Brainy Boy and Andrew was Bird Brain. They did not share those names with anyone else. It was another one of their many secrets. Once Andrew had quipped that, “We are becoming more secretive than the Masons or the Odd Fellows.”
“What does Mr. Philips talk to you about?” Steven asked Andrew.
“He always wants to know what I think about my family and what things I do in my spare time.” Andrew answered, “How about you?”
Steven paused a moment to think. Then continued, “The same kinds of things. I told him that I love my family but I don’t think they care much about me. I told him that it’s the only family I have but I don’t know if we have ever been a family. He keeps hinting that I may be sent to live with someone else when I leave here. I don’t much want to do that but at least he is using terms that mean I might leave here without going back to The Hill. I wonder if they would consider sending us out of here together and let us be a family.”
"I'm sure that idea is right on the top of their list of things they could do with us", Andrew laughed.
Breaking a short silence Andrew said, ”He has asked me at least twice about how I get along in my group, especially you and John.” “I told him I get along well with everyone. I explained that you and I were best friends and spend most of our time together and that even though the three of us got along because as leaders we had to set an example, we were not close to John.”
“Mr. Ledderman has asked me a few times about you and me and our friendship. I think they think we are more than friends. Of course, we are more than friends but I never said that to him. I'm afraid of what he might think.”
At some point, the assignments they gave to each other became like letters discussing different aspects of art, science, literature, history; and about each other. When they thought about what they were doing, Steven said, “We are getting like Marx and Engels. What do you think, Bird Brain? Will we ever be as famous?”
“Not until we are dead and our bodies rotted away,” Andrew answered without the need to think about it.
“Oh, you mean like next year.” Steven said, more as a statement than a question, then added "maybe we can create a new ism. Can't you just see it, ASism?
“If we make it that long.” said Andrew in a tone of both sadness and resolve, as if he had accepted his fate; their fate.
“Bird Brain, if I died tomorrow would you miss me for long?” Steven asked Andrew.
“If you died tomorrow, Brainy Boy, I would not miss you because we would be buried side by side", Andrew answered and then said softly to Steven, “I love you Brainy Boy.”
“I know,” said Steven in a voice barely audible, “but no more than I love you.”
The mid-autumn sunset was both early and beautiful on that Friday afternoon. Miss Clutter, having finished a particularly tough week in the classroom, had collected her things and was ready to go home to her German Shepherd, Verb, named for his never ending action. She was dreaming of a nice hot, bubble bath and some soft music. As she passed the window she noticed the beautiful sunset and stopped to take it all in. As she stood at the window she noticed two figures standing on a small hill, holding hands, watching the sunset. The scene caught her eye because it was so unusual in this environment. “Oh my God, I hope no one else is looking!” she suddenly said aloud and quickly looked around to be sure she was alone. Then she stood, transfixed on the scene of Andrew and Steven, looking for all the world like two young lovers watching the most beautiful sunset of their short lives.
Down the hall a few doors Mr. Boggle, the Science teacher, was also looking at the sunset. He noticed the two people and wondered if that was two of his students. “Strange,” he thought to himself and picked up his coat and his custom made walking stick and headed for the door and never thought about the strange sight again, that is until the day circumstance brought back the image in brilliant clarity.
Andrew and Steven stood, holding hands, looking like the world consisted of only the sunset and them. They watched in awe. By the time the sun sank below the horizon their hands were tightly locked into each other’s. They were shaking; partially from the chill in the air and partially from the beautiful experience. “As long as I live, I don't think I will ever see a sunset as beautiful as this,” Steven whispered. In their young lives, there had been so few beautiful moments.
As the sun set, the sky opened up to a clear, cloudless panorama of stars that encircled the earth and seemed like a kaleidoscope of ever changing shapes and colors. The boys sat on the small rise they called a hill, hands locked, and just stared at the heavens, each full of wonder at how big the universe must be and how small they must be. And yet, they were part of it. They looked at each other and suddenly their mouths were together; their arms around each other, and they held that position for what seemed like eternity. When they finally came up for air, Andrew was the first to speak, “Well, now that’s out of the way.” he said.
Steven answered, “I wish that moment and that feeling could last forever.”
Suddenly Andrew jumped up and said, “We gotta haul ass back to the pod before someone thinks we ran away.” Time had slipped away as they were enjoying the show in the sky. They ran to the pod and rang the doorbell. When the door opened, their hearts fell. Filling the doorway was Mrs. Ferguson, looking like she was starving and suddenly found two pork chops standing in front of her. “We must be late,” said Steven, looking for all the world like he was going to pee his pants.
“This better be good,” she said, in a voice that projected that she was not in the mood for humor, or BS. The boys could have made up a story, which would have been ripped to shreds as Mrs. Ferguson questioned them, so they just told the truth. “We got caught up in watching the sunset and then the stars and lost track of time”, Steven said, and hoped for the best.
Mrs. Ferguson,
having caught a few glimpses of the sunset, decided that their story was probably true and gave them the benefit of doubt. But, since they did violate a rule, they would have to be reminded of how important that was. They had to spend the weekend rearranging the craft room furniture and supplies. They would have to give up their weekend time in the gym.
They knew Mrs. Ferguson had given them a break and thanked her and promised to never let this happen again.
Their lead pod parent, Mrs. Ferguson, who had been working with troubled kids for over thirty years and had developed some understanding of the way their young minds worked, told them; “Don’t make promises you may not be able to keep; just do the best you can not to screw up.” It was her experience that teenagers would make promises and when they were unable to keep their promise, they would resort to lying. She did not want them to promise never to sin again, just that they would try to walk the straight and narrow. She felt like she knew when to administer discipline and when to administer trust, and she definitely thought Andrew and Steven both had earned her trust.
The boys in the private rooms had a few more privileges than those in the dorm rooms. One of the privileges they enjoyed was two extra hours of lights-on at night. After they had assured that their charges had done their homework, showered, and put their dirty clothes in the basket, they had time to themselves. The pod parents rarely bothered them after the dorm rooms had been attended to. On the rare occasions they did check on them, they found all three working on their studies or writing letters. Usually Andrew and Steven were together and John was in his room reading Hot Rod or Motor Trend magazines, hidden inside a textbook.
Andrew had suggested that he and Steven write an essay about each other every night. Steven agreed but thought they should only exchange them once a week, that way they would not get into the habit of just responding to what might have been said in the latest “letter.” “It might be interesting to see if we can do this without ever using each other’s name and to write in relationship to what we have been studying in our little ‘school’.” They both agreed that they would be able to write more freely about their feelings and their impressions about each other if they used this system. Never once did they think of themselves as anything but best friends who looked at the world differently than most of their peers.
Each night they would write about each other then exchange them on Monday. During the week, they kept their essays mixed in with their other homework because no one ever checked their written work. After a while they started keeping them in their secret place, which was becoming quite comfortable. They had found some old folding chairs and a folding table that they moved into their room along with some shelves and two good reading lamps. They were always finding things that most likely ended up in the trash by accident. They found a 3-hole punch, a brand new pack of safety razor blades, a few binders and enough ballpoint pens and pencils that they could have opened a stationery store. Their favorites were the quill pens and bottles of ink, and the new type pen with the cartridges.
Their room itself had been some sort of storage space or used for some special function. To get to it, one had to go into the building, pick the correct door out of about fifteen or so, go completely into that room and close the entry door to finally expose the hidden smaller door that nearly blended into the wall itself. One would not see the secret door by just opening the entry door and glancing in. The room was about twelve by twelve and had no other entranceway but had two four foot high windows starting about four feet up from the floor. The boys had wired up some cardboard sheets to serve as deflectors so if anyone was to look in the window, they could not see down to the floor, they could only see the ceiling. It was perfect.
