Boarding School (22 page)

“All right,” Artist continued to speak as he began to chop up the powder again. “This is gonna give both you boys a nice sexy high.”

What the hell does he mean by that?
I wondered as I worked now to keep myself alert for any changes in my brain.

For the next ten minutes or so, things in our room continued to go along in pretty much the same way. Once again, nobody spoke until Artist had finished his chopping. Then, when he called for Matt, my roommate walked solemnly over to our dresser and took his turn at snorting the drug into his system. The other guy also took his turn after the rest of us had finished and before long, we were all feeling our highs from the cocaine.

“Man, this stuffs pretty good!” Matt volunteered once his high was in full swing.

“Yeah, no shit!” I agreed. We were both now enjoying the way the Artist’s white powder was making us feel to the extent that the slight discomfort we had endured to get this way no longer seemed important to us.

“So ya like this stuff, huh?” Artist asked us both.

“Man, do I ever!” Matt answered enthusiastically.

“Oh, yeah,” I concurred. But as splendidly as we were now feeling, the high from cocaine struck me as being overrated. What I mean is, it wasn’t as mood altering as pot sort of is, nor was it debilitating like alcohol. It was just… a simple high which, by the way, didn’t seem to last as long as the other substances we had become used to abusing. But like the other drugs, cocaine seemed to loosen our tongues so that in a short while, we were all sitting down and talking about things with these guys that we hadn’t dared to talk about until now.

“Wo, what’s in the sack on Clint’s desk?” Matt’s natural curiosity was on display again.

“Oh, you mean this grocery bag?” the other guy asked back. For some reason, people from the east used the word “bag” instead of “sack” in these instances. And there were lots of other habits of speech around here which Matt and I found bizarre. For example, instead of saying a “bar” of soap, people from this part of the country would refer to a “cake” of soap, and I don’t even want to get started on all the strange names they had for milk shakes.

“Yeah,” Matt confirmed. “It sounded like there’re bottles in there.”

“There are,” Artist then took over the conversation. We watched him as he stepped over to my desk. “We’re gonna have gin and tonics tonight also,” he announced.

“You’re kidding?” I couldn’t believe this.

“No, I ‘m not. Why do you think I am?” Artist began to pull out the bottles and paper cups that he and the other guy had brought to our room.

“Because there’s liable to be nothing left of us by morning if ya make us drink all that stuff too.” I still didn’t know how the cocaine was going to effect us long term and to introduce something similar in my mind to cherry vodka, struck me as downright dangerous.

“Don’t worry,” Artist tried to reassure me as he poured me my first gin and tonic. “The tonic will keep you from getting too drunk, and we’re only gonna have a few of them. It’s just to sort of put an accent on the evening.” Artist then handed me the drink.

“Ok,” I answered as I accepted the cup. I still wasn’t sure what to make of all of this, but like everything else, what choice did I have? And when I took my first sip, I decided that I liked the way my gin and tonic tasted. “Mmmm! It’s good.”

“I thought you’d like it.” Artist began to pour a drink for Matt. As he did, he began to talk about all sorts of subjects, and for the next fifteen minutes or so Matt and I mostly listened as our highs grew. The way we were feeling was of far greater interest to us than anything that Artist had to say, until he brought up a matter related to our first encounters with these guys in the gym shower which touched a nerve in Matt. “You know what else is good is the way you feel when you take a bone up your ass.” Artist then began to pour us both our second round.

“Are you nuts?” Matt reacted without thinking.

Fortunately Artist wasn’t put off by my roommate’s outburst. “No, really!” he said as he handed us our new drinks. “The nights we made you guys take “t in the ass, you were all upset because it was your first time and everything, and you didn’t know how to deal with it. But think about it for a minute.” Artist then looked directly at Matt. “Do ya know how it feels when you’ve got a really hard and long turd that won’t come out right away? And when ya finally get it moving, it slides out real long and slow and even, and it takes a pretty long while before you get it all the way out. Do you know how that feels?”

“Yeah,” Matt answered tentatively.

“Well, while it’s sliding out of you it feels really good, doesn’t it?”

“I guess.” The look on his face told me that Matt was now trying to imagine the experience.

“Ok, well, if you relax, it can feel just as good in your ass while someone is slidin’ his cock in and out of you.” Artist then sat back with his gin and tonic and seemed pleased that he had just been able to impart this bit of wisdom to us both.

“Really?“Now Matt was actually sounding a little intrigued by what Artist was saying.

Man, he sure lost his anger in a hurry,
I thought to myself. And then I remembered, finally, that cocaine was also supposed to intensify one’s sexual appetite.
Oh, that makes sense. I guess that’s maybe why Matt seems interested now in the positive things that Artist is saying about being
raped.

An hour or so after the bigger kids had first appeared in our room, Matt and I had each consumed three gin and tonics and two more lines of cocaine. The upperclassmen had gotten us thoroughly plastered and high, but we were not so far gone yet that we were completely out of control. Our conversations had stayed pretty much on the sex theme, and I remember a point in our discussions where we both admitted that we looked forward every night to receiving our blowjobs.

“Well tonight you’re gonna get blowjobs too, but they’re gonna be a little different from what you’re used to,” Artist revealed.

“What do ya mean?” I asked with an inebriated-sounding voice.

At that moment, we were interrupted by a knock on our door. “Come in!” Artist called out.

“When did this become your room?” Matt suddenly felt indignant.

When the door was opened slightly, we could all see that it was the leader who had come by. “Hey.” He was sticking just his head through the opening so he could speak to Artist. “Are these guys ready to go?” Our leader seemed in a hurry, as if he had someplace where he was supposed to be.

“Yeah, I think we’re all set here.” I hadn’t been paying attention to how many gin and tonics the Artist or the other guy had been having, but it didn’t seem to me as if either of them were particularly interested in standing up and moving along at this moment.

“Ok,” Leader continued in a rush. “We’re all heading now to the lower campus. We’ll meet you guys in a few minutes in the parking lot in front of the Annex.” The leader then closed our door and left the dorm through the east door.

“Ok, we’ll see ya there,” Artist replied a little too late. “So what’s up now?” I asked.

“Do we have to go outside at night again?” Matt whined with his speech sounding slurred now as well.

“Yes,” Artist admitted. “We’ve got a special night planned for both of you.”

“You’re not gonna hit us again are ya?” I was worried about this. We hadn’t been made to do anything outside by this bunch since the pine field.

“No… no. There’s no need for beatings anymore. You guys are broken in. You’ve been behaving just fine.”

“So why do we have to go out now?” Matt asked. It was his turn.

Artist then sat up straight in his chair. “Look, this isn’t going to last very long and you both are gonna love it. So stand up and let’s get ready.”

Matt and I looked at each other first, and then we both put our cups down, placed our feet on the floor and stood up.

“Fine,” Artist was pleased. “Now, take your shirts off and put on just a plain old undershirt. Oh, and take off your socks and put your flip-flops on, and then we’ll be ready to go.”

Silently, Matt and I obeyed. Even in our altered conditions, we still knew that we had to do as we were told to keep from being punished. So a few moments later, we were attired as ordered and ready to receive our next set of instructions.

When they saw that we were ready to go, the bigger kids then stood up and prepared themselves to leave. “If you’ve got anything in your pockets, you’ll probably want to leave them here,” the other guy offered.

Matt and I accepted the advice and removed whatever we had in our pockets.

Artist then walked over to the front of our room and opened our door. “Ok, guys. Let’s all go to the lower campus.”

And with that, Matt and I followed the Artist into the hallway and out through the large wooden door on the east side of the building. Once we were outside, we were surprised to find how warm the temperature still was. We were also surprised to discover that lights out had occurred a half hour earlier. Apparently we hadn’t noticed the bell while we were imbibing in our room, and for some reason the AOD that night—who if I remember correctly was supposed to be Mr. Foot, our Spanish teacher who lived in Ulster Hall—never came through our hallway to check on us.

The other guy brought up the rear as we began to descend along the set of cement steps past a pole with a single dim lamp hanging from it, until we had made our way on down to the lower campus, and then he left us to join the others when we finally caught up with the remaining six upperclassmen in the Annex parking lot. It was strange, but everyone there was dressed the same in gym shorts, undershirts, and flip-flops. Were we going to a late-night beach party at the lake?

“Welcome, boys.” As it had been for us in the coach’s locker room, the leader again sounded pleased to have us there. This time, though, he didn’t wait for us to respond. “Ok, listen up. We are going off campus again tonight, but we’re not going far. We’ve got a little hidden spot picked out just over the second hill heading that way.” The leader then pointed his arm along the road which ran past the south side of the Academy below our dorm window and wrapped around the lake to the east toward our friend Jamie’s house. “You don’t have to worry about any of this because we’re not planning any punishment for you little guys tonight. As long as you keep doing as we say, you should have a pretty good time tonight. All right?”

Again Matt and I chose to say nothing in response. We would go along with these guys, but we saw no reason to cheer about it.

“Fine.” The leader acted as if we had responded in the affirmative, anyway. “Ok, there is one thing, though. We are going to require you two tonight to keep eye shades on for the whole time until we’re done.”

“Oh, man!” Matt then reacted verbally.

“Yes, well, I’m sorry, but it is necessary.” Then to a couple of the upperclassmen who had apparently been selected ahead of time, “Ok, you guys go ahead and put them on the kids now.”

I then watched as two of the upperclassmen placed the elastic string from a black pair of eye shades around the back of Matt’s head and then they pulled the blinds down over his eyes. Once Matt could no longer see, I watched further as the two bigger kids then lifted thick handfuls of Matt’s fine black hair out from under the elastic string all around his head and smoothed his hair down again with their hands so that the shades would fit him more snugly. Then, a moment later they repeated this procedure on me. And when the two sets of hands had finished fussing with my hair, I could hear the leader begin to speak again.

“Ok, we’re ready. Let’s go.”

And with that I felt a hand wrap itself around my upper arm and give me a tug so that together one of the eight and I began to walk. Because it ran right up to the beach, there was sand all over the surface of the parking lot which crunched under the rubber soles of my flip-flops every time I took a step. When I stopped hearing this sound I knew, as we progressed, that we had left the campus and were walking, finally, along the asphalt road.

Matt and I stayed silent as we were led in blackness to wherever these perverts were taking us. I really hated being treated this way. As we walked, I recalled that first night two and a half weeks earlier when I had been led at night in this same manner to the gym. And then I remembered my meeting the next morning with Mr. Stuart and I found myself wondering what possible reason the man could have for taking so long to catch these guys.
How hard can it be?
I asked myself.
Here, a big noisy group of us have just walked freely off of the Academy grounds a half hour after lights out, and nobody has noticed us?
All I could figure was that our headmaster’s love for the bottle was the thing that was causing him to move so slowly. And considering how looped I was feeling at this moment, a deep appreciation for why a person would want to stay drunk all the time was beginning to develop in me.

“Everybody stay on the side of the road in case a car happens by,” the leader called out.

“At this time of night?” the head waiter responded. We were in a semi-residential area and a lot of the houses we were passing were summer cottages which had already been closed down for the winter.

“Yeah well, let’s play it safe anyway. Remember, we’ve already got a lot invested in these kids,” the leader reminded.

What the hell does he mean by that?
I wondered further.

“What is he talking about?” Matt asked his guide.

“Shshsh!” was the response from my roommate’s upperclassman.

We walked for about five or six minutes before I felt another yank on my arm, this time to pull me away from the lake to my right. With zombie-like compliance, I then changed my course so I could follow in the direction I was being led. Right after that, I was able to feel a change through my flip-flops as they moved from asphalt to high grass and weeds. Quickly I adjusted my stride so I could handle this change in the terrain and then we walked down a short embankment and out onto a level area toward the south. A moment later, we came to a halt at a spot which I perceived to be the center of this field we were all now standing in.