Saturday, November 23rd, 1974

At 7 PM, I nervously waited for Christopher in one of the office chairs as he, his Mother, and the Headmaster himself were debating in the main office rooms. Today, I was my good friend’s main support, as he had been anticipating this “interview of resignation” for about a week. 

As much as I wished Christopher had told James about this, the kid from Saskatchewan had every right to hold back. After all, as much as the three of us pretend everything is okay now, Chris is still deeply hurt by James’s actions from October.  Our Québécois friend continues to study with us or play cards when we’re bored, but never goes further into why he treated us so coldly before. There’s only that same air of guilt that follows him wherever he goes. 

I closed my weary eyes for just a moment, and then it happened: Christopher and his Mother, dressed in beige, walked out the door with expressions of relief. 

“How’d the meeting go, Chris?” I stood up from my seat and patted my friend on the back. 

“I’ll tell you when we get back to our dorm, but…” Chris then turned to his Mom, a young, beautiful woman with long, brunette hair and fair skin, which reminded me of my Mother’s. He gave her a big hug and warmly smiled. “Thank you, Mom, for understanding.”

“Aw, anything for my sweet baby boy.” She calmly patted Christopher’s head and then looked at me with a bright smile. “And you… Basil, was it? I would like to thank you for being here with my precious son. He told me over the phone that you were the only good friend he’s ever had.” 

“M-Mom!” Christopher gasped and turned away in embarrassment. 

“No worries, Ma’am. Christopher’s always been kind and smart, so as much as I’ll miss him, I’ll make sure to keep in touch with him over the phone when he leaves.” 

Christopher’s mother’s honey-brown eyes lit with joy as she gently patted me on the head. “Why aren’t you a sweet young man? I’m sure when you grow old, some lucky woman’s going to find you delightful!”

Sure! Yeah, when I grow old, I’ll somehow marry a woman.

“T-thank you, Ma’am.” I stuttered with a slightly mischievous grin as the three of us entered the hallway. 

Christopher and I waved goodbye to his sweet, adoring mother and rushed to our cozy dorm. It was the two of us, and the boy from Saskatchewan clearly had a lot to tell me. We sat down at our shared desk, pushed away the textbooks and anticipated a long talk.

“So tell me what happened, Chris!”

The first thing Christopher told me was that his mother actually forged his father’s signature to get him out of the academy as soon as she could. That sweet-faced woman broke a law, and I found that fact both cool and hilarious. I vowed not to tell a soul about that detail and continued to listen to my good friend. 

Next, Chris mentioned he was now relieved that his parents were divorcing. I already got the feeling he didn’t like his old man, given how little he talked about him, but my friend painted him as an ill-tempered, stubborn, drunken loser. 

Christopher got into this academy in the first place because of his Dad, Shepherd Adams’ reputation. His old man aided the WW2 effort in Canada by producing posters for the federal government as a teenager. Chris’s Dad was then rewarded for his recruitment of other Canadian artists and his work. Then Mr. Adams stepped into politics and became a famous Premier who famously bounced back Saskatchewan’s economy in the 1960s. He was a hero to the Canadians living in the Prairies! 

But it turns out that Shepherd Adams had Christopher with a young woman whom he barely knew. Christopher’s Dad then quickly married his young Mother and had Christopher.

For a lot of his childhood, Christopher lived as an embarrassment, not only because he was born out of wedlock but because his Mother was Metis while his Father was white Canadian. He was a “halfie” like me, and that old man was too ashamed to admit his kid was such. Chris even told me that he and his Mom already lived in a separate house, just so the media wouldn’t report on Mr. Adam’s family life.

“... Never knew a guy who was framed as a Canadian hero was such a damn monster.” I bitterly remarked, shaking my head at how horrible his Father sounded. 

“I-it’s a lot… But my Mom said we’re going to be living with her sisters and cousins from Montreal once I leave.” Christopher wiped his tears and proceeded to tell me one more important detail. He told me the names of the boys who gave him the bruises. “... Branko Russo, Luis Diaz, and Issak Kouris.” 

That Greek kid Isaak came across as pretty chill during the secret screening of that Halloween movie, but my judgment of him couldn’t have been more wrong. From here, I vowed to treat that loser like shit. Branko was a major show-off and often kept to himself, so him beating up Christopher didn’t come as a surprise. The one that shocked me the least was Luis, who seemed like a very easygoing final-year student, but everyone else knew he was secretly a major prick who often bullied freshmen. He just so happens to get away with being a douche because all the teachers genuinely like him for being a damn teacher’s pet.

Then, Chris told me about his experience reporting those three to the main office. Apparently, the Headmaster only gave those losers a punishment of 100 extra squats for their detention, which isn’t even close to enough repayment for Christopher’s bruises. I angrily stood up and glared at the door.

“H-hey! Please don’t pick a fight with them for me, Basil! They’ll only get their friends to beat you up.” Christopher grabbed my leg and pleaded with watery eyes.

“... Since you asked nicely, I won’t. But you’d best believe I’ll get my revenge on them one way or another.” I slowly nodded as our dorm suddenly slammed open. 

Christopher and I sharpened our gazes towards Canadian dormmate number three.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?!” James expressed his frustration as he stared down at Christopher with his dark brown eyes. 

Instead of cowering or quietly turning away, the Prairie kid instantly stood up from his chair and glared back at the Québécois. “N-now you suddenly care?” 

“What do you mean by that? Of course I care that you’re leaving!” James closed the door behind him and towered over Christopher, who was infuriated. 

Like water crashing down like Niagara Falls, Chris’ temper let loose.

“Apparently, you didn’t give a fuck when I tried talking to you like a friend before! Not to mention you ignored me whenever I tried being nice to you last month! I even got my ass beat because you weren’t there to protect me when I needed you the most!” Christopher swiftly grabbed his Math textbook, and he slammed it to the ground. A dreadful swirl of guilt was in the pit of my stomach. “You’re a horrible fucking friend, James!” 

“W-what the hell?-”

Before James could get a word in, Christopher immediately stormed off to the library. Some of the freshmen poked their heads out of their dorms, wondering what the hell was going on between the three of us. James could only stand still, run his hands through his medium-brown locks, and grumble in disappointment. 

“... Hurry up and get back in here; I have something to tell you.” I yanked the Québécois by his hairy arm and closed the door behind us before the other freshmen could ask what was going on. “Okay, I don’t think keeping quiet on this is doing us any favours. I want to know right here and now what the fuck was going through your head last month, Rioux!” 

James clearly wasn’t happy with the question, but he sank beside the door and shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand -”

“You fucking space cadet! I won’t understand if you don’t tell me, dick-all!” I boomed and deepened my tone. “Seriously, last month you were always wandering around the hallways, ignoring Christopher and staying quiet with me during classes! What the fuck was up with that?!”

The Québécois kid clicked his teeth and refused to speak. With a heavy sigh and fists no longer curled, I plopped onto my bed in defeat. “James, when I die and go to heaven, I’m gonna ask God if you consider Chris and me your friends, because every time I think you do, you treat us like we’re damn strangers.”

I stared angrily at the ceiling fan for what felt like minutes, trying my damn best to cool down. Who knew the person I least trusted, besides Vincenzo and those bullies, would be James of all people? 

Turning my head towards the stormy window outside, I let out another annoyed sigh. But just as I tried to look James in the eyes again, he was already at the edge of my bed, my face soughed into an angered expression.

“Hey. Basil?” 

“What? Are you gonna ignore me-”

“Shut it… No, no. Look, just, please listen.” James shook his head and gritted his teeth. “Promise not to tell anyone what I’m about to say?” 

“... Go on.” 

James paused for a moment and then spared me a frightened look in his deep brown eyes. “Vincenzo threatened me not to talk to you and Christopher last month. I-I’m sorry.” 

And just like that, a tidal wave of anger washed over my body. Now that prickly, slimy piece of shit was messing with my friendships, and I was livid. This prison was beginning to feel like an actual hell, and Vincenzo decided now was the perfect time to make everything about my life here even worse!

Without hesitation, I rose from my bed and angrily stormed to the door.

“H-hey! I said don’t tell him!” James grabbed my arm, but I quickly threw him off me.

“I’m not gonna,” I uttered under my breath and marched to the courtyard, even though it was already late and we were forbidden to go out at this time. I didn’t care. I needed out now, and I was going to get a proper breath of fresh Welsh air by sneaking out of one of the side hallways’ windows.

The entire time outside, I spent lying low in the bushes, and I was angrily cursing to myself in any language that I picked up during the last three-ish months.

Puta madre! Shit-head! Bastardi! Putain! 

… 

While I was outside, silently cursing my head off, Chris filled me in on the details while I was absent outside. Apparently, he went back to our dorm five minutes after I left in a foul mood, and Chris spoke with James; this time, both of them were a lot more honest than before. The boy from Saskatchewan told James everything he told me. 

Their new conversation was filled with anger and tears from both sides, as the two had very different opinions on how this situation should have been handled. But in the end, their half-conversation, half-argument ended in a supposed “draw”. Both boys ended up agreeing that Vincenzo messing with us was a warning that the three of us had to stick together, even if we didn’t see eye-to-eye. Sticking together was the better option than being alone and vulnerable to bullying.

After an hour of non-stop cursing, I knocked on the window of my dorm. James and Christopher helped drag me back inside together and silently glanced at each other. 

“... Sorry about going missing,” I mumbled, pricking leaves out of my dark-brown hair.

“We were about to go find you because of the lights-out protocol,” Christopher explained as James nodded in agreement. I blinked and slowly realized the two were calm in each other’s presence.

“... You two made up?” 

James and Christopher seemed unsure and could only shrug. 

“It’s gonna take a while, huh?” I shook my head, knowing it was too good to be true. 

“He did tell me what happened to him,” Christopher whispered. “Who knew Vincenzo could threaten someone tough, even though he’s just as skinny as me?” 

“It’s not about strength.” I heavily sighed as I thought back to that incident with that weasel in the Chapel. “It’s all about what you know and how you’ll use information against other people.”

“... That’s dark, coming from you.” James raised a brow. 

“You can thank Vincenzo for teaching me that one…”

“Speaking of that fucking loser, Basil, I gotta say. Next time you know something’s wrong with Chris, let me know.” 

I sighed in annoyance and plopped onto my bed. He still doesn’t get it! Why the hell would we be open and friendly to someone who went radio silent on us? But instead of arguing, I just waved off the question. James was the first to fall asleep, while Chris stayed awake to tell me the details of their argument. As soon as he fell asleep around 9 PM, I remained awake to watch the final-year students march outside the silver gates. 

Normally, the 8 PM sleep protocol applies to all students, but I guess that tonight, the final-year students earned special treatment. Though the final-year students were clearly exhausted, the instructor assigned to the final-year students barked at them to stay awake for their “extra training”.

Something wasn’t right, but all I could do was watch the exhausted 18-year-olds train and fall asleep to the sounds of the instructors shouting from a distance and stomping boots.