This is where we begin our next scene, with Jack and Peter sitting with their group at 8:28 am waiting for the breakfast bell to ring and for the refectory doors to be closed. The twins had subtly walked past the serving area and spied a hearty collection of breakfast foods. Their stomachs were rumbling after a particularly stressful relay race earlier that morning, and as usual, Peter was impatiently “watch watching”—that annoying habit your brain has of making you repeatedly look at a clock every couple of seconds without even acknowledging the time. Peter perpetually felt a sense of urgency over the passage of time, feeling uncomfortable if he felt he wasn’t spending his time wisely, but then often not doing anything to ease that discomfort. The bell rang on the dot of 8:30 am and the whole group was there, all except for Tom. After a short discussion, the general consensus was that Tom hardly ever missed breakfast and that Peter should go and ask Tom’s roommate where he might be.
“Hello, my name’s Peter. You’re Thomas Steerforth’s roommate, yes?” he asked the average-looking boy at table fourteen.
“Yes, James Copperfield’s the name,” the boy answered with a lilting Irish accent.
“He isn’t at breakfast, have you seen him this morning?”
“Yeah, don’t worry. He’s not dead at the bottom of the pool or in a ditch or anything. He slept in. Even missed morning exercise. He stayed up late last night, drawing.”
“Drawing?”
“Oh, yeah, he spends hours drawing. Lots of sketches.”
“What does he draw?”
“I’m not sure really. I don’t pay much attention to it. I don’t see what he’s drawing, I just see that he is drawing.”
Peter thought this an interesting distinction that young James had made and so decided to probe further.
“You’ve never asked him? Aren’t you curious?”
“Well, yes, I guess. But I try not to associate with him—you know, he’s not very popular. I don’t dislike him though, we get along alright. Just not in public, you know.”
Peter had stumbled upon a great human curiosity: popularity. A potentially poisonous notion that has led many people to ruin. I’m sure if interviewed more fully, James would admit that he found Tom a more likeable person than Lorenz, and much more likeable than Cole. It’s often you’ll find the most popular people are not only not the most liked of people, but the most disliked of them. That is the funny thing about popularity—the multitude come to see an illusion created by those more powerful to suppress people that are much more likeable than themselves. If Cole didn’t have popularity, what did he have going for him, apart from a beautiful girlfriend?
Peter returned to his table and told the group that Tom had slept in, deciding against divulging the information of Tom’s drawing to the group. He had enough going against him, Lorenz and his cronies didn’t need any more material. They ate breakfast while talking about the usual topics of schoolboys: what they thought of the teachers, which girls they thought were “hot,” and which boys were sneaking over the wall at night. Jack had begun to grow an affection towards Charmaine, as he had figured out that he could look at the stash of photographs any time that Cole wasn’t in the room and had taken full advantage of this. But this was not appropriate breakfast conversation, especially with Lorenz at the table. Rather, the conversation moved to Lorenz and his “female interest,” and this is where we meet another of our major players in the strategic game of the schools.
You see, Cole had a younger sister, Ebony Black. She was a pale girl with long, black, wavy hair and square glasses. She was neither overly attractive nor overly unattractive. She was the same age as Lorenz, fourteen, and was madly in love with him. He was always polite to her because, of course, he saw her as a future sister-in-law, but was otherwise blind (or, at least, pretending to be blind) to her affections. In other words, he fit into that large swath of humanity that gets trapped in an awkward situation. He was not interested in her at all, but neither did he show any animosity towards her. She was a soft-spoken and delicate girl who would never say anything to hurt anyone—the type of girl who wears floral dresses and has an interest in photography. Everybody was nice to her, partly out of fear of Charmaine, but also partly because there was nothing to be mean to her about. One could say that she had similar characteristics to Tom, but that the way boys treat an outsider is much different to the way that girls treat one. She was able to get away with just being generally ignored and left in peace to smell the flowers and walk through the forest alone, dismissed simply as “quirky.”
Everybody who knew both Cole and Ebony wondered how two parents could produce two such different children, but in truth they were not actually all that different. She was the image of what Cole had been in his younger years. Ebony still had fond memories of going butterfly catching with him (releasing them unharmed afterwards, of course), and taking long walks through the forest, piggy-backing on him when her frail legs became tired. On Christmas mornings, they had always woken each other up and raced down to watch the other’s face when opening their present. Every summer, they would go on a roadtrip with the family: Cole, Ebony, their parents, and their younger brother Jet who was a full nine years younger than Cole. Many fond memories swirled around Ebony’s mind of yesteryear. Somewhere they also swirled around in the back of Cole’s mind, but they were becoming more and more trapped and surrounded by other thoughts. At about the age of twelve, Cole had stopped wanting to spend time with his sister. He grew up and found what he thought better ways to occupy his time: video games, girls, and other things of dubious productivity. So Ebony fell by the wayside, and you can trust me when I say butterfly hunts aren’t half as fun on your own.
Somewhere there was a little child inside Cole that wanted to go and grab Ebony’s hand and take her for a long walk through the gardens of the schools. But his pride was too great, and it would be an embarrassment for him to speak more than a few sentences to Ebony each time they met. That isn’t to say he didn’t love her or that she wasn’t important to him. More so that he intended to be a good brother, but without even realising it, continually failed miserably at that endeavour. His intentions were there, but his actions were not. Ebony understood it all quite well, knowing that he had a group of friends that would give him flak for spending time with his sister. “He’s not a bad brother,” she would say to herself, “just a good brother that makes bad decisions because of other people.”
Funnily enough, these were the exact words that Jack often thought about Peter and that Peter often thought about Jack, especially when Jack did stupid things like deciding to change the subject from Ebony and Lorenz to another couple of people.
“So Lorenz, what is Charmaine and Cole’s relationship like? Like honestly? I can’t imagine they’re doing too good. They just seem like such different people.”
There was a long silence where you could almost be forgiven for thinking we were viewing a silent movie. Everybody at the table just stared at Jack in disbelief that he would ask such a question.
“I mean, maybe that came out the wrong way. I mean…are they happy with each other? She’s such a lovely person and he’s…”
“They’re fine.” Lorenz retorted, looking personally offended that his sister’s judgement might not be perfect. “They say the opposites attract, don’t they?”
“Yes, sometimes they do, I guess…for some time.”
Peter gave Jack the most belligerent look he could muster, and then politely excused himself and Jack to go get some more breakfast.
“Do you have a death wish?” Peter asked. “You know he’s going to go straight up to Cole or Charmaine and regurgitate exactly what you just said? And then, well, you’re the one sharing a room with Cole. Good luck with not being murdered in your sleep. Have fun with that…idiot.”
“She deserves better.” Jack shook his head, piling up some more muesli into his bowl. “He’s an animal, she’s beautiful and elegant and sweet and…”
Peter’s eyes widened as he rea
lised what was happening. “You’ve met her once, you moron. You can’t tell me you’re in love with her.”
“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying from what I’ve seen, he doesn’t deserve her.”
“And you’d be a better match for her I guess?”
“I didn’t say that. Stop putting words in my…” At this point, Jack realised just how much breakfast Peter was piling on for seconds. “You’re going to eat all that?”
“No, I’m going to smuggle it out and take it up to Tom. It’s the least we can do. He might be feeling upset about the basketball incident yesterday. Anyway, my point is to just go easy on the Charmaine-Cole relationship. They’re together. Just calm your pants and focus on your school work.”
“Geez, yes, Dad. With all this mollycoddling of Tom you’d think you’re the one that’s in love.”
“Don’t start with me or I’ll call up Dad straight away and tell him what a pain you’re being, Jack.”
At this point, Jack showed his greatest theatrical skill. Although, perhaps it’s not really a skill when you’re imitating an identical twin. It can’t be that difficult really, can it?
“Don’t start with me or I’ll call up Dad straight away and tell him what a pain you’re being, Jack,” Jack mimicked, using the brattiest voice possible while pretending his hand was a telephone.
“I will, I’m serious.”
“Whatever.” Jack dismissed him as he walked back to the table.
Meanwhile, Peter looked around and then stealthily ducked through a backdoor with the plate stacked high with breakfast for Tom, climbing the stairs still paranoid that a teacher might’ve seen what he was doing.
“Peter!” A voice echoed out from behind him. It was Father Culpa who happened to have been walking past the foot of the stairs. He was caught red-handed.
“It’s for Tom. He didn’t make it to breakfast on time.”
“I know. But you forgot a spoon for his cereal,” the priest held out a spoon for Peter. “You think I would stop someone from feeding the hungry? Go and be careful not to let anyone see you.” He gave Peter an understanding nod to which Peter returned a nod of admiration, then continued on his way to the dining hall while Peter continued up the stairs.
“Oh, and Peter.” The boy turned around. “Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam. Don’t forget to have a good day.”
And that was all they said that morning.
CHAPTER VI
“Let no one who loves be called altogether unhappy.
Even love unreturned has its rainbow.”
— J.M. Barrie, The Little Minister
On arrival at the dorm, Peter knocked on the door and called out Tom’s name, which was answered with a weak and nervous “who is it?”
“It’s Peter. I brought you breakfast. Can I come in?”
“Hold on a second.” Then a rustle of papers from inside and a drawer being slammed, after which Peter was allowed to enter. He passed the plate to Tom and then sat on the edge of the bed awkwardly while Tom began to sheepishly eat.
“Nice day today, shame you slept through most of it,” Peter said jokingly, trying to break the awkward silence that was punctuated only by Tom’s chewing.
No answer from Tom, so Peter continued, knowing full well what the rustling papers and slammed drawer would have been.
“Someone told me you like drawing?”
Tom stopped eating, his spoon half way between the bowl and his mouth. He uttered the first truly audible words that Peter had heard from him. “Who told you that?”
“James did. I asked him where you were. We got talking and he said you like drawing.”
“Oh, he did? Did he say what I draw.”
“No, he didn’t know.” Peter said, at which point Tom began eating his porridge again. After a few more awkward moments he continued. “What do you draw?”
“Nothing,” Tom answered, dismissing it as a silly question.
“You draw nothing? Well, I don’t know why you had a late night then. Doesn’t take long to draw nothing. In fact, I’m drawing nothing right now aren’t I?” Peter quipped, not taking into account that “great artisans” like John Cage have done much more ridiculous things than drawing nothing.
“Well, I draw something. Why do you want to know?”
“Why wouldn’t I want to know, and why wouldn’t you want to tell me?”
“Because it’s weird.”
“What’s wrong with weird? Just look at my brother.” Peter’s attempt at humour once again fell on deaf ears.
“It’s just too hard to explain, it would take too long. And you don’t want to know about me. I’m not your problem.”
“I sure do want to know about you, Tom. I’m really interested in what you’re drawing.” Peter assured him, very sincerely.
“If people find out, I’ll be bullied even more.”
“I promise I won’t tell a single soul. You can trust me. I can help you. I want to stop Lorenz and all the others from bullying you. I’m on your side, you know that.”
At this, Tom had to think for a while, and then reluctantly opened his top drawer, pulling out a stash of papers and handing them to Peter who then slowly flipped through them.
“Are all of these…” Peter paused, choosing his words carefully. “Are all of these Charmaine?”
He continued to flick through almost a hundred sheets of paper. “So, you really like her, huh?”
“Yes, she’s perfect . . . well, at least I think she is,” Tom shrugged.
At this revelation, a sequence of possible outcomes flashed through Peter’s mind. None of them a good outcome. What if Cole found out? What if Lorenz found out? What if Charmaine found out?
“You know, Tom. I think you should hide these somewhere. You don’t need to be thinking about this sort of thing.”
“Why not? We might end up together. She’ll realise that she’s too good for Cole, and then I’ll have a chance. I can already tell she likes me.”
Peter didn’t know where to start explaining all the things wrong with these assertions. The fact that Tom thought he had any chance in the entire history of the cosmos of ending up with Charmaine was baffling to Peter, but he couldn’t bring himself to break the young boy’s heart. “Well, I guess anything is possible,” he reluctantly answered.
“You think it’s crazy, don’t you?” Tom sighed. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you. I knew nobody would think I have a shot with her.”
Peter thought for a little while, knowing that he would have to choose his words carefully.
“Tom. There’s nothing crazy about having feelings for someone. No matter who it is, you can’t help who you become attracted to so don’t be embarrassed about it. It’s part of life.”
“That’s not all. That’s just the start of it.” Tom stopped for a moment while he mustered up the courage to ask his next question. “You know how you said you used to write down people’s secrets? Will you write down mine? I want you to understand.”
Peter weighed it up in his head and made a quick decision. With Tom’s permission, he went to stealthily grab his laptop from his room and returned, poised on James’ bed and ready to type. Many years after the events in this book took place, and after a diligent search of all the evidence presented, I was able to find the exact transcript of what Peter wrote. This is it, word for word and unedited.
“SECRET OF THOMAS STEERFORTH –
COLLECTED ON WEDNESDAY 08/05/2019
@ ST. BENEDICT’S COLLEGE.
I was put into foster care when I was three years old and it’s all I’ve ever known. I got a nice family who had wanted to foster a child because they were unable to have children of their own. My new parents’ names were Bill and Nancy and they looked after me very well, loved me like I was actually their son. We lived happily in the city for almost six years.
Then one night a few weeks after my sixth birthday, Nancy sat me down and told me that they would be putting me back into the fostering system again. She told me of h
ow she had fallen in love with another man, much younger than Bill, who she loved very much, and that she was going to leave Bill. She told me that it would be impossible for me to stay with them once they divorced and went their separate ways. I cried all night when I found out, unsure of what would happen to me or what my future would be like.
So I was given over to another couple, this time a couple that lived on a farm just a few blocks from here. Their names were Micah and Alice. They never did any farming though, just let their fields become overgrown with neglect and grass while they drove into the city each day for work. Such a waste of fertile land. They were obsessed with money, and although they’d never admit it, I think they adopted me only for the fostering allowance they could get.
I learnt to organise myself. They often left early in the morning and returned late in the evening, leaving me a list of chores to complete once I got home from school. I hardly even saw them. I would trudge along the highway each morning for over an hour to get to school. Each day on the way to Stapleton Community College I would walk past the towering monoliths of St. Benedict’s and St. Scholastica’s, wondering what went on in two such grandiose buildings.
Then one day on my way to school, I heard a noise as I walked past the fence of St. Scholastica’s. It was a girl ushering me over, a girl with the most beautiful sandy blonde hair and green eyes. Her delicate French accent to accompany her smooth and caressing voice. It was love at first sight. She asked me what my name was and whether I could help her. Well, of course I agreed. She had been walking along the fence line when she saw a sunbed mattress on the side of the highway.
She explained to me that her brother was very sick and that she needed to get him medicine, but the school wouldn’t let her leave, so she was planning a way to escape. She couldn’t get over the spiked top of the fence without putting something on it first. So I picked up the mattress and slipped it through the fence, and she threw it on top. I tried to create a stirrup with my hands for her to step up onto—I was still only nine and so small that I couldn’t support her anyway, but she managed to scramble over.
Walking Among Birds Page 5