didn’t go to one. How is it?”
“Rumor Central.”
“Well, any closed community is that way.”
“Was it like that at Princeton?”
“Are you trying to change the subject?”
“What subject?”
“You know, Alex, I have a theory.”
“Shoot.”
“My theory is that you boys plaster your walls with pinups because you feel the need to present yourselves as heterosexual.”
“Go on.”
“And, statistically, there has to be a small percentage of gay students at Birch.”
“Look, Miss Dovecott. Here’s the thing. If you go to a boys’ boarding school, people who don’t know the culture think you’re either gay or a troublemaker. I get tired of explaining that I don’t go to a military academy and that I’m not being punished for anything. Like this mother at thepool where I worked last summer, when she found out I went to Birch, she said, ‘Well, you don’t seem like a bad kid.’ ”
“I know you’re not a bad kid.”
“But maybe I am. Maybe I ought to be at a military academy.”
“Why do you say that, Alex?”
“Because. Because I think I might feel better if somebody kicked my ass.”
“You feel guilty about Thomas,” she says.
“You’re damn right I do,” I say, and I sling
The Old Man and the Sea
to the darkest corner of the bleachers. “But I don’t want to talk about it, not with you, not with anybody.”
“I think I know why.”
I look at her sideways.
“Because the whole story hasn’t come to light yet.”
I am about to shit my pants, but I hear Glenn’s voice calming me down. Cool it, Stromm, cool it. “I’m not sure I follow you,” I say.
“I think we should wait and talk about this at school with Mr. Parkes, don’t you?” Miss Dovecott rises, looking in the direction of where I threw the book. “Before you get back on the bus,” she says, “make sure you pick up after yourself.”
Green Fields
My freshman year, the only thing I ever did at the river was wade into it and fish. The fact that it could be used for jumping into, for drinking alongside of, did not occur to me. Vodka? I barely knew it existed; my dad drank beer, and not even very much of it. I knew Michelangelo and Andy Warholexisted, Monet and Manet, and I was tested on the difference between them, but if you had asked me the difference between Jack Daniel’s and Jim Beam, I would have said one played baseball and the other basketball.
Glenn and I were paired together about a month into school by our art appreciation teacher to do a presentation on Jan Vermeer (an artist we should appreciate). I owe my friendship with Glenn to Vermeer because it was after that that Glenn took me in. He thought I was smarter than anyone else in the class. He couldn’t believe the stuff I noticed in the paintings, like how Vermeer painted a story behind the scene by inserting a single suggestion of movement in the stillness. I actually appreciated Vermeer, but I was not a fan of Monet or the impressionists—all that haze and suggestion. Glenn agreed wholeheartedly. He invited me swimming one night when there was Open Swim at the indoor pool, and we played water tag and Marco Polo with some other guys, and we all took turns doing silly jumps and dives off the board. Glenn was nicer back then, when he wasn’t suspicious of everybody and everything.
At the time, I didn’t know about all the bad things that water could hide. I considered water as something that made me feel otherworldly, like a dolphin or a sea turtle on a very long journey. Back when I had never even heard of this school, it was easy to pretend that the deep end of the public swimming pool was the Pacific Ocean.
The old man and the sea. The boy and the river. I can pretend all I want, but the fact is, I will never finish this book.
There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes .
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 22, 4:30 P.M .
Who the hell are the Manhattoes,
Her
-man? Did you make them up? Are they a tribe of crazies who live on some island? I
“Rumor Central.”
“Well, any closed community is that way.”
“Was it like that at Princeton?”
“Are you trying to change the subject?”
“What subject?”
“You know, Alex, I have a theory.”
“Shoot.”
“My theory is that you boys plaster your walls with pinups because you feel the need to present yourselves as heterosexual.”
“Go on.”
“And, statistically, there has to be a small percentage of gay students at Birch.”
“Look, Miss Dovecott. Here’s the thing. If you go to a boys’ boarding school, people who don’t know the culture think you’re either gay or a troublemaker. I get tired of explaining that I don’t go to a military academy and that I’m not being punished for anything. Like this mother at thepool where I worked last summer, when she found out I went to Birch, she said, ‘Well, you don’t seem like a bad kid.’ ”
“I know you’re not a bad kid.”
“But maybe I am. Maybe I ought to be at a military academy.”
“Why do you say that, Alex?”
“Because. Because I think I might feel better if somebody kicked my ass.”
“You feel guilty about Thomas,” she says.
“You’re damn right I do,” I say, and I sling
The Old Man and the Sea
to the darkest corner of the bleachers. “But I don’t want to talk about it, not with you, not with anybody.”
“I think I know why.”
I look at her sideways.
“Because the whole story hasn’t come to light yet.”
I am about to shit my pants, but I hear Glenn’s voice calming me down. Cool it, Stromm, cool it. “I’m not sure I follow you,” I say.
“I think we should wait and talk about this at school with Mr. Parkes, don’t you?” Miss Dovecott rises, looking in the direction of where I threw the book. “Before you get back on the bus,” she says, “make sure you pick up after yourself.”
Green Fields
My freshman year, the only thing I ever did at the river was wade into it and fish. The fact that it could be used for jumping into, for drinking alongside of, did not occur to me. Vodka? I barely knew it existed; my dad drank beer, and not even very much of it. I knew Michelangelo and Andy Warholexisted, Monet and Manet, and I was tested on the difference between them, but if you had asked me the difference between Jack Daniel’s and Jim Beam, I would have said one played baseball and the other basketball.
Glenn and I were paired together about a month into school by our art appreciation teacher to do a presentation on Jan Vermeer (an artist we should appreciate). I owe my friendship with Glenn to Vermeer because it was after that that Glenn took me in. He thought I was smarter than anyone else in the class. He couldn’t believe the stuff I noticed in the paintings, like how Vermeer painted a story behind the scene by inserting a single suggestion of movement in the stillness. I actually appreciated Vermeer, but I was not a fan of Monet or the impressionists—all that haze and suggestion. Glenn agreed wholeheartedly. He invited me swimming one night when there was Open Swim at the indoor pool, and we played water tag and Marco Polo with some other guys, and we all took turns doing silly jumps and dives off the board. Glenn was nicer back then, when he wasn’t suspicious of everybody and everything.
At the time, I didn’t know about all the bad things that water could hide. I considered water as something that made me feel otherworldly, like a dolphin or a sea turtle on a very long journey. Back when I had never even heard of this school, it was easy to pretend that the deep end of the public swimming pool was the Pacific Ocean.
The old man and the sea. The boy and the river. I can pretend all I want, but the fact is, I will never finish this book.
There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes .
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 22, 4:30 P.M .
Who the hell are the Manhattoes,
Her
-man? Did you make them up? Are they a tribe of crazies who live on some island? I
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