We had settled closer toward the floor, still on our knees, the backs of our thighs now resting on our calf muscles. Maverick still clutched at me tightly with his teary face pressed against my neck — there was no possibility of either of us sitting, using the floor to support his bruised, agonized tush. Very gradually, Maverick's crying abated, and he spoke suddenly, as if I had asked a question.
"I was eight years old when I found out what I was meant to do." Maverick's voice was choked and hoarse, constantly interrupted by sniffles, and muffled by my shoulder, but I could understand him. "My Uncle Seymour was a Hanging Boy. He graduated from here. Did you know that? No, you couldn't. I never told anybody that. I never tell anybody anything." Maverick shook his head slightly, and paused for a prolonged bout of sniffling.
"Anyway, Daddy and Mom got invited to Uncle Seymour's hanging. They knew the guy that bought Seymour, and the man figured my dad would want to be there. They were brothers."
Just like my dad inviting Kevin Warren to see Marshall's hanging. I guess that must be kind of a standard thing. Only the idea that Maverick had had a life before the Academy took me by surprise.
Maverick's voice grew slowly stronger. "I didn't care one way or another about going, it just wasn't that big of a deal, but my parents always thought I should have a lot of experiences, and they didn't see any harm in taking me. Uncle Seymour had stayed with Mom and Daddy a couple of times when he got weekend furloughs from the Academy in his Third Year, and he was so sweet, and so happy, and so handsome, and I really loved him. Anyway, Daddy just explained to me we that were going to Uncle Seymour's going-away party, and there'd be a lot of guests and he'd put on kind of a show. He wanted me to understand that Uncle Seymour wasn't really an escaped slave, that was just part of the show, make-believe. I promised him I understood that.
"So we went, and I stood right in front of the stage because I was the smallest person there, and... and my whole life changed.
"I'd seen boys hanged before, of course, everybody has, but they weren't anything like this. I can't say I exactly understood about sex, just kind of a vague idea, but I understood about... attention. About people paying attention to you, really noticing you, being totally fascinated and enthralled by what you're doing. Every kid understands that and wants it. And standing there, I caught on about connecting with people, that you could be performing in front of a big crowd of people and somehow, some way, be able to make each individual person feel like you were performing for him or her alone."
I nodded, surprised. That's a lesson Maverick had definitely learned.
"Anyway, every minute, every second of watching Uncle Seymour hang is engraved in stone in my memory. I can call up any image, any sensory impression from watching the show and live it again. It was... well, obviously you can tell, it was the biggest thing that ever happened to me or ever will happen, until I do my own show.
"I don't even really remember the dinner after, not even the desserts, which will show you how much I was affected at 8. We must have stayed, and I'm sure I must have eaten something, but I was like in a daze. That night at home, I told my dad, "Daddy, I'm going to do that. How can I learn to do that?"
"Probably, just for a few seconds, my dad thought it was just a standard kid announcement, like 'I'm going to be a nurse' or 'I'm going to be the President of the World,' but I'm sure he saw something in the way I said it. I mean, you know how intense I can be."
"No kidding."
"Well, Daddy knew I was serious, so he went out and got some books. They were big-people books, not kiddy books, but I was always pretty smart. Books about hanging, I mean. You can't get most of the hanging books the Academy uses on the outside, but you can still get some pretty detailed and useful info. Plus stuff like anatomy, and chemistry, and physics, like we study here, those are available to anybody. If I didn't understand something in the books, if it was too complicated and grown-up for me... well, I'd just take what I could get, what I could understand, and promise myself to understand the rest later. I'd always find I understood more the second time through than I did the first time.
"I got so into it, spending so much time with it, that Daddy took me out of school. I was home-schooled. My mom did the teaching until I was fifteen, and then Daddy hired a tutor.
"If I'd fall behind in my standard school studies, Daddy would take away my hanging books until I got caught up. I didn't let that happen very often. So I learned a lot of stuff, besides hanging. I didn't have any high school grades when I applied to the Academy, so they used the scores on my college entrance exams. I kind of blew the top off those."
One thing you didn't learn, I thought, was socializing. There's a little more to school than books. I wondered whether Maverick understood that.
"And of course, I wanted to practice actual hanging, too. It took me until I was twelve to talk Daddy into letting me do that. Eventually I think he realized I'd start doing it on my own, all by myself — he could forbid me to do that, but he knew that wouldn't work forever. It was either let me do it in the open or I'd endanger my life in secret. So he hired a coach for that.
"Of course, by the time I was a teenager, I knew more about sex, and I recognized that was a big part of what Uncle Seymour's show was about. So I started working on getting that into my act. By that time my coach decided I was too much of a natural for him to interfere with anything I tried doing. After a couple of years he stopped finding much new he could tell me about hanging. I was doing it all.
"My parents were always so totally supportive. Dad loved that I'd been so inspired by his brother, and Mom always told me I was born to be the best ever. They never pushed me, it wasn't like that. You know, like those big tennis stars who never even liked the game, but their parents never let them think of anything else but being the best tennis player ever. My parents just knew... they saw what it meant to me. They saw they couldn't stop me even if they wanted to."
Maverick stopped talking, long enough for me to think his story was over. I had just opened my mouth to respond when Maverick spoke again. "Wynn..." The quaver had come back into Maverick's voice, so I knew that the tears were starting again. "This is the most important place in the world to me. You don't really think I'm going to wreck it, do you? My Uncle Seymour was here. He must have been in this very room sometimes. And I've got a little brother. He's only nine. Maybe he'll want to come here. He's not into hanging, but maybe he'll get excited about it after he sees my show. Wynn, please tell me I didn't mess everything up." His shoulders heaved, and his body shook with sobs again.
I felt a strong need to have Marshall's head with me. I hadn't known why I saved Maverick, but I knew now that Marshall had known why I needed to do it. I tried, as the next best thing, to fix the image of Marshall in my mind, to make him so real I could almost reach out and touch him.
I shifted and pushed Maverick gently away from my shoulder, and turned his head so he could look at me. Maverick's eyes, reddened and still seeping tears, didn't want to meet mine. I said softly, "Maverick... look at me."
I waited patiently for Maverick to comply, and went on. "Maverick, you're probably the smartest person I've ever met. And you've done so much with it, you've learned so much. But you missed some things. It's not your fault. You didn't have a chance to learn them. You understand?"
Maverick, looking as if he feared I might slap him, whispered, "What things?"
"I guess the biggest thing is that you didn't go to school for so many important years. You didn't learn how to... be with people. I mean, I'm sure you went places, like probably parties, clubs, the mall..." I looked questioningly at Maverick. After a pause, he nodded.
I continued, "But you could pick and choose when and where you wanted to go, and who you wanted to be with. You missed having to deal with people who were around you all day, whether you wanted them to be or not. People competing for things you wanted, or people who had something they were willing to share with you, or... all those situations. You just know you want to be the best Hanging Boy ever, and now suddenly you're surrounded all the time with a lot of other boys who want the same thing, and you never learned how to handle that kind of thing. You're just now dealing for the first time with situations you were supposed to be learning about when you were nine or ten, and the only method you've got right now is to bull your way through the enemy, shouldering them all out of the way so you can get where you want to go before they get there.
"I really meant it when I said you can't be the best Hanging Boy by being that way. By not wanting to share with other boys, teach them stuff and learn from them. You need them! You really do!
"Look, I know this will be hard. I think I've gotten to know you a little, especially tonight. Most of the boys here would say Maverick is just Maverick, he's the way he is, he can't change. But they don't know how determined you are, and that you'll do anything you have to do if it means being a better Hanging Boy. You just never knew before that this needed to be on your list of Things To Do: You have to share. You have to get to know the other boys, and let them get to know you. And you have to believe that they want to be the best too, and you have to understand that's not a threat to you. You have to stop trying to beat them down.
"I'm not even going to ask if you think you can do all that. I know you can, because you believe me when I tell you you can't be the best without it. Right?"
Maverick hesitated only an instant, and nodded.
He was still meeting my eyes only for brief periods. I said again, "Maverick, look at me. Keep looking at me."
Maverick fixed his eyes on mine and nodded.
I said, "There's one more thing. Maverick... You have to tell me if I can trust you."
No hesitation this time, Maverick nodded. "Yes."
I sighed and closed my eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. I winced. "My knees are killing me, and I can't sit down. Do you want to go back to our room?"
Maverick gave me a tiny smile, and brushed a tear away. "So you want to still be my roommate?"
I couldn't hold down the corners of my mouth. I stood and reached down for Maverick's hand to help him up.
As we passed the first aisle of heads, Maverick suddenly said, "Wait."
I looked at him.
Maverick was looking around him. He put his hand on my arm. "Why don't you spend the rest of the night with your friends, Larry and..."
"Leo."
Maverick nodded. "Yeah. Okay? I'm going to stay here."
I sighed in exasperation. "You're going to spend the night here, by yourself? Maverick, I thought we figured out you need to stop trying to do stuff alone..."
"Not alone." Maverick twirled his hand to indicate the heads surrounding us. "I'm going to be with them. I have some things I need to tell them, some... promises I need to make. It's just between me and them." He gave a shy smile that was far from his usual smirk. "Tomorrow, live people."
I laughed, and slowly nodded. I gave Maverick's hand a squeeze. "See you in the morning."
Maverick returned the squeeze. "And Wynn? Thank you. I can't ever thank you enough for saving my life, but I can try. And... it wasn't a mistake. I'll show you."
I said huskily, "I know you will." I thought about hugging Maverick, but knew he wasn't quite the hugging type. I squeezed his hand again and backed away, smiling, turned and went back out.
I softly opened the door to Larry's and Leo's room. In the dim light filtering through the window from the courtyard, I could see my friends in bed, apparently asleep, their arms and legs tangled together, the sheet only half covering them. I crept to the bed and tried as quietly as I could to pull out the rollaway bed underneath.
Leo, on the far side of the bed, opened his eyes halfway, and said sleepily, "Wynn? What's up?"
I held a finger over my lips, whispering, "Shhh. It's okay. Just go back to sleep and don't wake Larry." I eased the rollaway bed out, wincing at the creaking sound it made. I muttered "Shit" when I saw Larry start to stir.
Larry wriggled onto his back in Leo's arms and squinted upward, croaking, "Wynn? Get tired of Maverick or something?"
I shook my head. "Nothing like that. Tell you in the morning. Go back to sleep."
As I continued pulling the rollaway bed out, Leo wriggled slightly away from Larry. "Forget that thing. Just get in here with us."
I usually slept between them when I spent the night. I shuddered, knowing one of them would be pressed against my raw butt. I quickly said, "Just give me some room on this side, okay? I'll be asleep in five minutes anyway. Too tired to play."
Both boys wriggled toward the wall, and I slipped gratefully into the bed, pressing against Larry's back. As I draped my arm over Larry, snuggling against him to get comfortable, Leo mumbled, "Tried to see you tonight, but the First Year dorm was all locked up. Somebody get paddled?"
"Morning. Tell you everything in the morning. Promise." That was my last memory of the night until the alarm clock woke me.
Awake and alert, I backed carefully out of the bed, facing toward the stretching Larry and Leo, wishing I'd taken the time to stop by my room to put on some shorts, then realizing the boys would have been suspicious anyway if I'd worn anything to bed. I sighed, knowing I couldn't hide my condition now. In the sunlight streaming in through the window, the bruises on my rump would be clearly visible. I'd have to tell them what had happened. The true version. There was no way the official version would work.
Larry climbed out of bed next and in seconds was behind me on his way to the bathroom. I rolled my eyes and gave up. There was nowhere I could turn without one of them seeing.
I groaned as I heard Larry gasp, and turned in time to see his hands fly to his cheeks. "Wynn!!! It was you?!"
Leo was sitting up in bed, as I turned, my backside now visible in that direction. Leo said, "Wha..." and then echoed Larry's gasp.
I sighed. "Okay. I can explain..."
Over the next few minutes the expressions on both my friends' faces darkened. Their brows drew closer together, their jaws thrust outward, the breath whistled through their noses, and their hands closed into fists. At last Larry said in a low voice through his clenched teeth, "I'm going to kill him."
I held my hands up, palms out toward Larry. "No, wait. I had a long talk with him last night and..."
"A talk?! What'd he say, 'I'm sorry I screwed around with your life'? What else would he say?"
Leo shouted, "Why in the world did you save him? Was it worth it? I'm not even talking about that..." He gestured at my butt. "Was it worth it that he's still alive now, after what he did?"
Larry interrupted my response. "At least you're not going to room with him anymore. You'll stay with us for now, right?"
I bit my lip. "Well, you see..."
Leo gasped. "You're still going to room with him?!"
I waved my arms in a closing-in gesture. "Would you guys get next to each other? I don't need you hitting me from both sides."
Larry reluctantly returned to the bed and sat on the edge. "You do need your head examined, though. Would you..." He stopped abruptly as I pounded my fist on my knee.
I glared at them. "You're the best friends I'll ever have. Just for a minute, I need you to listen. Friends do that for friends."
Leo opened his mouth and closed it. Larry looked at Leo, then nodded briefly at me.
I sighed deeply. "Okay. I spent a long time last night with Maverick, and we talked. He knows there are things he hadn't understood about... well, life. He knows he did wrong. He knows what effect he's been having on the other boys. I... learned a lot about him last night. I know things about him he never told anybody. I know why he's been the way he is. And I know he can change. I know it. There are reasons why I know it. You had to be there. I was there. I know it will be awhile, maybe a long time, before you trust him. But trust me. I'm asking you, please, just believe in me. Okay?"
The two boys on the bed looked at each other again. They both looked back at me and nodded.
I sighed again, with relief this time. "Okay. Now let's just talk."
Larry raised his hand. I blinked at the classroom-like formality and asked, "What?"
"Can I pee?"
I bent over and covered my face, tears rolling from my eyes as I laughed. I gestured toward the bathroom. "Be my guest."
Larry came back from the bathroom with a salve, and smeared it on my sore butt. We added a couple of gauze pads to keep it from staining my uniform shorts, talked a while, then got dressed.