Stronger Than Lions - 34. Ensnared

I'd just walked out of class for first break down the main corridor when I heard the giggles starting almost imperceptibly, like the first pebbles of an avalanche. They soon swelled into a wave of jeers and taunts. Everybody was staring and laughing at me. Girls tittered and boys booed. One of them shoved a phone in my face. There it was—a video of Chris embracing me in the changing rooms, and the obvious bulge in my trousers. A frenzy of other phone screens confirmed that it had gone viral.

'Faggot!' someone yelled.

‘Does it hurt when he fucks you?’

‘It’s unnatural.’

‘You two going to get married?’

‘You’re going to go to hell!’

The words swarmed into a whirlpool of voices. I shut my eyes tight, storming my way through the crowd, trying very hard not to implode. I managed to duck into a stairwell as I heard one of the teachers break up the commotion.

I winced as a hand grabbed my shoulder.

‘Hey mean, easy there.' I turned around and met Rob, his eyebrows arched.

‘Robbie. I...’

‘Buddy. Someone caught you guys with his phone.'

Was it Frank? He'd been at the pool taking pictures for the school magazine.

‘Shit. Chris... I gotta get to Chris...’

‘I don’t think that’s going to be such a good idea,’ Rob said evenly. ‘Things will just get worse if they see you two together now. I have an idea. Follow me.’

He jogged across to the foyer and out of the school’s main entrance as I followed him like a mindless sheep. There was a small wood set on a slope next to the school’s south wing and Rob disappeared into the bushes. I passed some kids who yelled a few taunts at me, but I ignored them.

‘Here, Cal!’

I followed his voice and I found him standing in a small clearing, the not-so-secret smoking haunt known as Little Mordor. There were even a few makeshift benches fashioned out of planks and bricks.

‘Sit down,’ said Rob. ‘Give me your bag and don’t ask questions.’

I handed it over. He rummaged in it and found a wrinkled packet of Camels I’d almost forgotten I had.

‘I know you keep a stash. I never thought I’d say this but I think you’d better have one.’

He practically shoved the cigarette in my mouth.

‘Now stay here. I’m going to find Chris.’

Ten minutes passed. I heard a rustle, and Rob appeared, worry creasing his face.

‘Where’s Chris?’ I asked. He looked down and shook his head.

‘He can’t come,’ he said. ‘And, um, they’re looking for you. I mean, they want you in the Headmaster’s office.’

Cold washed down my spine for the third time today.

I heard the bell ring to signal the end of break.

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Rob.

‘No,’ I managed. ‘You go back to class. They’re going to give you detention if you’re late.’

‘You sure, buddy?’

‘Yeah. Go. The sooner I sort this out, the better.’

‘I’m here, Cal. I’ll keep my phone on silent. Just call and I’ll fake a sickie and find you.’

*

Major O’Reilly’s suite was like stepping through a time-warp back into the Victorian era—all bay windows, wood-panelling and pressed ceilings. As I sat on the bench outside his office, Mrs van der Heever clacked away at her computer. The door to the actual office was closed and I could hear muffled voices inside. There were some old National Geographic magazines on a table next to me and I tried as much as I could to distract myself by paging through them.

The door opened, its ancient lock grinding heavily. Chris stepped out. His face was flushed and his eyes were downcast. I got up, but he looked away and walked out in a hurry. I shivered and sat down.

‘Mr Craig will see you now,’ said Mrs van der Heever.

‘Mr Craig?’ I said, confused.

‘Major O’Reilly is away today, so the Deputy Headmaster is in charge.’

I was nauseous as I shuffled into the office. I’d never liked Mr Craig. He had a temper—word was that he was a bit of a sadist. More than one pupil had been sent home or given detention for something as minor as a badly-tied school tie or a scuff on a shoe.

‘Sit down, Mr MacLeod,’ he said coolly. He was sitting glowering in the Major’s leather chair and in his black academic gown he looked like something out of Dickens. On the wall behind him was a papyrus depicting the Amun-Ra, a souvenir from O’Reilly’s travels in Egypt. Mr Craig’s expression was the exact opposite of the sun god.

‘I am very disappointed in you, Mr MacLeod,’ Mr Craig intoned in a velvety drone. ‘You certainly have landed yourself in very grave circumstances.’

‘I’m sorry, Sir,’ I said in reflex. ‘I—I didn’t mean…’

‘The School will not tolerate indecency on its grounds. Especially when a student corrupts another with certain… how shall I put it… tendencies.’

‘Corrupts?’

‘Don’t play coy with me,’ said Mr Craig. ‘Until now, I have tolerated way too much laxity among the students. St Francis prides itself on producing well-rounded men and women, and I cannot allow the ethos of this school to be compromised.’

My tongue turned to lead.

‘Tell me, Mr MacLeod,’ he said with a sneer, ‘do you get sexually aroused by thinking of other boys?’

I didn’t answer, but looked down at the floor.

‘You do, don’t you,’ he said, and a sickly smile spread across his sallow face. ‘Do expound. Do you like dressing up in girls’ clothes?’

‘Sir?’

‘Do you think of men when you touch yourself? Or do you think of… little boys maybe?’

‘NO!’

‘Be careful, Mr MacLeod,’ said Mr Craig, rapping his fingers lazily over Major O’Reilly’s open diary. His hand paused over a folder with a two-headed eagle design on it which he picked up and thumbed lazily. ‘Your reaction shows you’re obviously being defensive. What shocks me most is that you come from a good Christian family.’

‘Please, sir.’

‘You should know that what you are is an abomination before the Lord. What will your poor father say when he finds out about this?

‘He already knows,’ I managed. ‘And he supports me.’

Mr Craig puckered his mouth. ‘How disappointing,’ he said, sighing. ‘Anyway, it seems there is little I can do to help you, Mr MacLeod, for I fear you are already hopelessly ensnared by you proclivities. It saddens me that someone of your potential risks seriously damaging the reputation of the school. Mr Hathaway, as you know, is one of our star sportsmen. You wouldn’t want anything to hamper his future career now, would you?’

‘What... what do you mean?’ I stammered.

‘I’m sure you know what to do,’ he said, looking out of the window.

‘You mean…’

‘From this moment on, you will cease to have anything to do with Mr Hathaway. We are prepared to overlook this incident, and I’m certain that around the right sort of peer group Mr Hathaway’s reputation will remain unscathed, especially since all this was due to the unsavoury influence of another student.’

I bit my lip and tried to fight back the rage.

‘I am arranging that the two of you be separated from the classes you share,’ he went on. ‘Crying will not help, Mr MacLeod, you are not a schoolgirl. Well, perhaps you are. What I do know is that you are weak, young man. You should toughen up. Although I’m not sure if that’s possible, among… your types.’

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you,’ I said in a slow and brittle voice.

‘And one more thing. I think it is best that your involvement with the swimming team be terminated. I cannot allow the rest of the team to be… polluted, as it were.’

‘Sir. The inter-provincial gala is this week.’

‘I’m well aware of that. We have enough talent to dispense with you. I shall inform Mr Mazibuko that you are ill. Which reminds me, you are suspended until the end of next week, and I suggest you use the time to focus on your academics. Should you remain in the top group of students in the preliminary exams your school testimonial may well remain unblemished.’

A migraine was heralding itself with an aura in front of my eyes.

‘Naturally, I trust that you shall keep this confidential. For Mr Hathaway’s sake.’

I couldn’t see properly anymore. I wanted to dissolve, disappear, not be.

‘You’re dismissed, Mr MacLeod. You may go home, and you may have the responsibility of informing your father of this suspension.’

‘Sir,’ I said dumbly, and slumped out of the office.

I skulked out of the front gates feeling like a criminal. It was freezing, and I realised I didn’t have my bike as I’d come to school with Chris. I didn’t want to go home, so decided to walk down to the local mall.

After an hour of mindless milling about, I found myself buying a movie ticket. I chose a forgettable thriller. My mind was split into two parallel planes: one trying to desperately escape into the movie’s storyline, the other obsessing frantically about what had happened. It was all I could do not to get hold of Chris.

The film finished, and I wandered the Italian restaurant across the multiplex, I tried to navigate my way through a pizza, but I only managed two slices

It was three o’clock when the bus dropped me a few blocks from my house, crouching as I walked in the wind and drizzle. Looking at the dead branches of the trees overhead hurt my eyes as I walked past. A sickly disk of the winter sun appeared momentarily as some clouds thinned. The world seemed evil, eldritch.

The Thing was parked in our driveway. Its lights were on. My heart lightened a bit.

Chris walked out the front door and winced as he saw me. He was holding his tog-bag, and I could see it had been hastily stuffed to the brim.

‘Hey,’ I said, confused. ‘What’s up?’

‘Hi.’ His voice was monochrome and he walked to the Jeep and dumped his bag in the front seat.

‘What’s going on?’

He looked away. ‘I have to go.’

‘Go? We need to talk.’

‘It’s—it’s better I leave. Besides, my mom’s coming home this weekend.’

‘No… please don’t…’

‘Cal. Please.’

I walked up to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He pushed me away.

‘Goddamnit, just leave me, Cal,’ he growled, and got into the car. I was rooted to the spot as I watched him spinning the wheels as he reversed and then drove off.

I didn’t realise how tightly I’d clenched my jaw until I tasted the iron in my mouth.