The Best Week of My Life Chapter 3 Back to School
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Room four in company C looked to be the same size as I remembered room three being during my freshman year. But room four felt smaller. There was something different about it. At first I thought it was the peeling paint or the fact that we had eight cadets in place of the seven that had occupied room three. In addition to our bunk, we each had a locker for hanging clothes, a footlocker for our folded clothes, a desk and chair. I couldn't put my finger on it but something about room four seemed strange.
Perhaps it was the occupants. None of them went out of their way to be friendly but as I recalled, that was how it had been in room three, at first.
After evening formation Orlando Laredo tried his best to be authoritative. He made a short speech to reiterate what he expected of us. From the way he delivered the speech it didn't sound like he expected very much. He emphasized the things we were not to do, giving me the impression that he had been placed in the room to keep order and that was all. While he didn't exactly refer to us as 'misfits, ' it was clear that it was on the tip of his tongue.
"Room four C is already ahead in the demerit race. If you continue at the same pace I assure you that we will win. Was that what you were trying to achieve when you were the room leader, Oldham?"
There was nothing I could say. I knew he wasn't looking for excuses. He didn't want to hear about Colonel Travis' grudge against me. He wouldn't be interested in my theory that the Colonel viewed cadets whose tuition was paid by a non-relative were misfits. "I have no excuse, Sir," I responded. Apparently it was the correct answer because he changed the subject.
"Freeman will act as Maize's tutor. Foster will be responsible for keeping him out of demerit trouble. Oldham, you will tutor Buford. Sherman will teach him military bearing. Is that clear?"
We all responded that we had heard the orders. Desperation appeared on Edward Maize's face.
"Sir, I had all of Maize's instructors my freshman year. We could use that as an advantage if I took him," I appealed to Room Leader Laredo's appreciation of an edge. I didn't know which instructors Eddie Maize had drawn but from the way he had looked at me it was clear that he wanted me to intercede.
"Is that all right with you, Freeman? You take Buford and Oldham will take Maize."
Freeman looked at the two freshmen like he was sizing them up and then at me, like he was trying to see why I was in favor of a trade. "I'll take Buford if Oldham makes a bet about which one will be ahead in class ranking after the first quarter?"
I took another look at Buford. Aside from being overweight, he looked bright enough to score high on tests if he were trained properly. Then I looked at Eddie Maize. He reminded me of a puppy in the front window of a pet store, wagging his tail and saying, 'pick me.'
"What do I win if Maize scores higher?" I asked. I already knew that I was going to accept the bet but I wanted Maize to appreciate what I was doing for him.
"It's not what you win. It's what you don't have to do. The loser has to dance with Marcy Cochran," Freeman proposed. I didn't remember Marcy Cochran but how bad could it be? I was inclined to accept the bet until something told me to act with caution.
"Who's Marcy Cochran?"
Everyone spoke up at once, saying she was the ugliest girl that had ever attended Speedwell. She was described as a stout sophomore who had never been asked to dance all of last year, except twice to settle bets.
Room Leader Laredo interjected his verdict. "Forget it. I can't let that bet stand. There's a new rule. I believe it's unofficially called the Marcy Cochran rule. Anyway, betting that involves dancing with the Cochran girl is punishable by demerits for all involved."
"Looks like you're stuck with Buford, Oldham," Freeman said, telling me that if there was no bet he wasn't interested in switching tutorial responsibility.
Looks like you're stuck with Maize, Freeman," I said in retort.
We dropped the subject for the time being, both of us knowing it wasn't finished. I don't know if it was the plea for help that I saw in Maize's eyes or that Freeman was not willing to make the exchange without receiving something in return but I wasn't ready to let him have the final say. Orlando Laredo must have seen our reluctance to let the matter drop.
"Oldham, I'll be watching you. You've already gotten enough demerits for one quarter. I don't care if you have to spend every weekend here but your demerits count against the room's record. Your demerits are our demerits so knock it off," Laredo lectured me.
"Yes, Sir," I said, attempting to convince Laredo that as far as I was concerned the matter was closed. No tutoring would begin until the next evening anyway although I would have liked to be able to put Maize's mind at ease. I remembered how comforting it had made me feel to have Smitty at my side when I was a freshman.
The next morning I saw Charlie Evans while shaving. The meeting was brief because Room three was leaving just as we were taking over the bathroom. I managed to find out that Sims Carter was the leader of room three and Craig was interfering with Carter's authority as much as possible. Charlie had grown in height since the last time I saw him, several inches taller than Carter and Craig but his chest and arms looked about the same as when we were freshmen together.
At morning formation the Colonel told us that we were going to have the best year in the history of Cromwell Military Academy. "Many of you will excel in the tradition expected of C.M.A. cadets. Sadly, some of you will fail." He then introduced Mr. Fledge, a new science instructor and freshman football coach.
The usual confusion of finding classrooms on the first day of school, especially among the freshmen, delayed the beginning of class for at least ten minutes. I was surprised to see Russell in my first class of the day, trigonometry. Of course we didn't get a chance to do more than nod hello but I saw that he was taller than I remembered and had thinned his waistline.
Warren Sterling was a no nonsense instructor and kept us on our toes. After that I went to Chemistry class, taught by Mr. Fledge. Charlie was in that class and also United States History.
Cadet Laredo spoke to Lester, Freeman and I as soon as we took our seats at the lunch table. "As upper classmen, you will each be responsible for the conduct of the lower classmen." He assigned one meal per day to each of us and I got breakfast. He then made seating assignments and told the freshmen that they were not to speak unless spoken to. I found myself sitting across the table from Freeman with a freshman and sophomore on either side of us. I could tell that Freeman had something on his mind but we didn't get a chance to talk privately.
I saw Russell again in English class but neither he nor Charlie was in my Spanish class. The last class of the day was football. Russell and I managed to get lockers in the same vicinity. We ran together and talked. He told me that he expected to be the starting nose tackle and hoped that I would be playing behind him. That was the last I saw of him until practice was over and I was clearing out my locker.
It became apparent that Mr. Krown was the head coach when he called for us to gather around him. He stood on a lower bleacher seat to address us. Colonel Travis was sitting higher up, the whistle lanyard loose around his skinny neck.
"Seniors, join Mr. Sterling on practice field number one," Mr. Krown said and I counted nineteen seniors run to the other field, Lester among them. That meant that twenty-one seniors had elected to become members of the film crew, join the school newspaper staff or were members of the band. Mr. Krown then directed freshmen to join Mr. Fledge at one end of field number two.
"This sucks," Freeman whispered to me as we ran in place and heard the names of twenty-two of our fellow juniors and four sophomores being called out by Mr. Krown. Naturally, Russell was the first one told to go to practice field number one but when I heard Charlie's name I turned to Freeman and nodded my head, indicating that I agreed with him. We were equally as stunned when we heard Jeremy Foster's name. I didn't know the other sophomores but assumed they had done well the previous spring.
The rest of us were left to toil with Mr. Benson and his assistant, Mr. Borden, who had been my freshman coach.
"You'll have to prove yourself," Mr. Borden said to me when he saw how discouraged I was to be practicing with the junior varsity instead of where we both knew I belonged. "Show us what you can do. Mr. Krown and Mr. Sterling are fair men."
"He isn't," I said, thinking that he would know I was referring to the Colonel, who had chosen to watch the junior varsity practice. Mr. Borden didn't respond.
Freeman and I ran together. "I have an idea," I said when we were out of hearing range of the other runners. "We can still have our bet but no one will suspect anything." He heard me out and although it was not safe to shake hands, we took each others word that we had a deal. At the end of the day when we cleaned out our lockers to make room for the sophomores who had made the varsity, we found lockers next to each other in the J.V. locker room.
Russell and I met later in the bathroom. "Want me to knock one of those pussy seniors out of his gourd?" He asked.
"Don't get into trouble on my account," I said, without telling him to make a slot for me on the varsity by injuring one of the seniors. "Mr. Borden said that all I have to do is prove my self."
"How long is that going to take? I can make a spot for you tomorrow if you say the word," Russell said, acting impatient with me.
"It won't take long," I assured him. There was a good possibility that his way wouldn't work. What if he broke one of the senior's arms and I wasn't chosen to take the injured senior's place? I cautioned Russell not to take any action on his own. "Give me some time to make an impression," I said.
Orlando Laredo was skeptical when Freeman told him that he had changed his mind about tutoring Buford and giving Maize to me. I stayed out of it until the room leader asked me point blank if I objected to the swap. Ten minutes later Eddie Maize was sitting next to me, showing me his homework assignments.
"Do I have to dance with that ugly girl if I lose, Sir?" He asked when I dismissed him for the night.
"You're not going to lose," I said, evading a direct answer to his question.
By lunchtime on Tuesday we all had a copy of the football schedule. It was very similar to the schedule from my freshman year, same schools and near the same order. The first game was at the end of the third week of school. Like my freshman year we would be traveling to Dearborn Military Academy. The schedule didn't interest me very much. It was a reminder that I would not be participating with the varsity. I dreaded seeing Debbie Simmons again, especially since I would not be playing. What did interest me was the announcement that there would be a warm-up game between the varsity and junior varsity, which would be held at the end of our second week of school.
I was already looking forward to that game with the varsity. It gave us something meaningful to practice for. The coaches used the prospect of playing in the game to their advantage, urging us to work for a starting role as if it were the most important game of the season. In a way they were right. It was an opportunity to be noticed by the varsity coaches. Anyway, that's how I saw it.
By Thursday evening there was all out hostility in the room. Study was interrupted three times by Lester making assertions that the varsity was going to outscore the J.V. team by thirty points. Laredo, who was one of the seniors who didn't play football, had to warn Lester to stop provoking us with his taunting remarks. Freeman was just as bad. By this time we were on a first name basis and I had shortened Spencer to Spence.
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