figure Finney and Silks probably threatened to bust your lights out after that thing with the collie. So no hard feelings, okay? We’ve talked about it and we understand. Sometimes these things happen. We won’t bother you again.”
“If I give you my class notes?” I asked.
“Yeah. That’s all, buddy, then everything’s gonna be real sane.”
I was tempted to do it, but some spring inside me quivered and gave out. To help them cheat again would be to throw dust in the eyes of some unseen god. That god would surely trip me up. To help them cheat would do other boys out of the best grades. Not to mention the fact that if I were caught, I’d be thrown out and never see east of the Mississippi River again. “I can’t,” I said.
“Why?” they both asked at once, sitting down on the end of my bed like two huge doctors.
“If you get caught, guys, that’s it. I’m in it as deep as you. I’m on probation. You get caught and Silks’ll yank my toenails out.”
“Come on, Barney,” said Danny. “Greeves is proctoring. He wouldn’t know it if the whole class showed up naked.”
“Besides,” Rudy put in, “you don’t use the notes. It’s only us. We’ll take our chances. No skin off you, you’re clean.”
“If I do it,” I said, “and you guys get hauled in, I’m a part of it, and it’ll get out somehow. You’ll tell Silks. You’ll drag me in, and I’ll deserve it. If I do it, I will be part of it. And I’ll get thrown out of here without a hope in hell of any other school even looking at me. Come on, guys. The same goes for you. Three swimming pools won’t get you off the hook if you get caught, Damascus. Your old man’ll set all ten of his Doberman pinschers on you if you don’t get into Choate. Forget it.”
Danny’s eyes began to burn, but he let Rudy talk.
“My butt is my problem,” said Rudy. “I’m taking the chance. I’ve gotta get at least a B plus to keep my scholarship and get into Lawrenceville.”
“I swear to God, Barney,” said Danny, “you give us the notes, we get caught, we don’t tell. Swear.”
I laughed. “You think I’d believe that? You think I’d take Swoboda’s word for it after he nearly put me in the hospital with his elbow? You really think I’d believe you?” I stood up. “Sorry, guys. I can’t do it. I gotta watch out for my own butt.”
“You’re gonna watch more than your butt if you don’t, Barney,” said Danny, kneading his big hands.
“Go to hell,” I answered him.
“What did you say?” barked Rudy.
“You heard me.”
“Oh, boy, did we hear you,” Danny whispered.
Mellor crept back into the room a half hour later. He didn’t say boo.
I tried to sleep. I kept reasoning with myself that without a decent night’s rest I could easily fail Latin and English. I fell asleep sometime before dawn. When I dragged myself out of bed, I glanced, bleary-eyed, at my Latin notes. Hadn’t I put them under the English book the night before? I was sure I had because English was the last thing I’d studied. Had someone messed with my notes?
The Latin exam was at eight. I could think about nothing but the warm heaven of bed. Breakfast with three cups of strong tea hadn’t woken me up. Every little hair on my body screamed at me that it had been yanked. I waded through a few easy declensions and a Caesar translation as if they were in Bulgarian.
That afternoon English was worse. Lids drooping, I picked over my essay on Macbeth, certain I had confused large parts of it with Arrowsmith and Gulliver’s Travels.
Mr. Greeves was everybody’s favorite proctor. Stone deaf when he turned his hearing aid off, he was pushing ninety. For half an hour he’d been daydreaming out the window, gazing at one of the big old elms, and looking with love at his collection of bonsai trees along the windowsill.
Greeves was the art teacher. He owned a master’s degree in Japanese painting and was fond of telling us about his years spent painting
“If I give you my class notes?” I asked.
“Yeah. That’s all, buddy, then everything’s gonna be real sane.”
I was tempted to do it, but some spring inside me quivered and gave out. To help them cheat again would be to throw dust in the eyes of some unseen god. That god would surely trip me up. To help them cheat would do other boys out of the best grades. Not to mention the fact that if I were caught, I’d be thrown out and never see east of the Mississippi River again. “I can’t,” I said.
“Why?” they both asked at once, sitting down on the end of my bed like two huge doctors.
“If you get caught, guys, that’s it. I’m in it as deep as you. I’m on probation. You get caught and Silks’ll yank my toenails out.”
“Come on, Barney,” said Danny. “Greeves is proctoring. He wouldn’t know it if the whole class showed up naked.”
“Besides,” Rudy put in, “you don’t use the notes. It’s only us. We’ll take our chances. No skin off you, you’re clean.”
“If I do it,” I said, “and you guys get hauled in, I’m a part of it, and it’ll get out somehow. You’ll tell Silks. You’ll drag me in, and I’ll deserve it. If I do it, I will be part of it. And I’ll get thrown out of here without a hope in hell of any other school even looking at me. Come on, guys. The same goes for you. Three swimming pools won’t get you off the hook if you get caught, Damascus. Your old man’ll set all ten of his Doberman pinschers on you if you don’t get into Choate. Forget it.”
Danny’s eyes began to burn, but he let Rudy talk.
“My butt is my problem,” said Rudy. “I’m taking the chance. I’ve gotta get at least a B plus to keep my scholarship and get into Lawrenceville.”
“I swear to God, Barney,” said Danny, “you give us the notes, we get caught, we don’t tell. Swear.”
I laughed. “You think I’d believe that? You think I’d take Swoboda’s word for it after he nearly put me in the hospital with his elbow? You really think I’d believe you?” I stood up. “Sorry, guys. I can’t do it. I gotta watch out for my own butt.”
“You’re gonna watch more than your butt if you don’t, Barney,” said Danny, kneading his big hands.
“Go to hell,” I answered him.
“What did you say?” barked Rudy.
“You heard me.”
“Oh, boy, did we hear you,” Danny whispered.
Mellor crept back into the room a half hour later. He didn’t say boo.
I tried to sleep. I kept reasoning with myself that without a decent night’s rest I could easily fail Latin and English. I fell asleep sometime before dawn. When I dragged myself out of bed, I glanced, bleary-eyed, at my Latin notes. Hadn’t I put them under the English book the night before? I was sure I had because English was the last thing I’d studied. Had someone messed with my notes?
The Latin exam was at eight. I could think about nothing but the warm heaven of bed. Breakfast with three cups of strong tea hadn’t woken me up. Every little hair on my body screamed at me that it had been yanked. I waded through a few easy declensions and a Caesar translation as if they were in Bulgarian.
That afternoon English was worse. Lids drooping, I picked over my essay on Macbeth, certain I had confused large parts of it with Arrowsmith and Gulliver’s Travels.
Mr. Greeves was everybody’s favorite proctor. Stone deaf when he turned his hearing aid off, he was pushing ninety. For half an hour he’d been daydreaming out the window, gazing at one of the big old elms, and looking with love at his collection of bonsai trees along the windowsill.
Greeves was the art teacher. He owned a master’s degree in Japanese painting and was fond of telling us about his years spent painting
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