Wednesday
I sat on the bed in between Larry and Leo,. A lot of students had wanted to join me to watch Maverick's Fifteen, but I only wanted to be with Larry and Leo.
Fifteens were always scheduled so that roommates had consecutive times on the same day. That way no boy had to spend a night fretting over his test with a roommate who had already passed it. In another hour it would be my turn, but at the moment I just couldn't think about that.
I started to look away when Lester, a hippo supervising the Fifteens for Wednesday afternoon, slipped the noose down over Maverick's head and pulled it tight around his neck. But looking at Maverick's face helped calm me — Maverick was calm, his only reaction was the small smile he always had in anticipation of hanging.
The platform began sinking, and I was only dimly aware of Leo's, " Ow - ow - ow! Wynn, you're crushing my hand!" I opened my hand and tried to relax, but the rope now lifted Maverick off the platform and I convulsively tightened my grip again.
I felt better again as I watched Maverick relaxing into a no-frills dance in mid-air. Maverick's face now looked a little bored. I wished I had the knack for spotting problems the way Maverick did. but no one did as far as I knew. Probably no one ever had.
Maverick's unvarying kicking and swaying as he hung by his neck became a little hypnotic, and it was hard for me to tell how much time was passing by. I suddenly felt as if I'd been asleep, returning to consciousness with a strong sense that Maverick had been up way too long. Almost panicked, I said tensely, "Larry, how long?"
"How much time left? About two minutes. Wynn, everything's okay, it's okay. He's doing great."
I concentrated on watching Maverick's legs. Maverick's kicking seemed no less energetic than it had at the beginning.
Then I shifted my attention upward to watch Maverick's head movements. They should show this video in all of the beginning Hanging classes, so students can watch to see exactly how it's supposed to be done.
I started to ask Larry for another time check, but barely had opened my mouth when I saw the platform lever had sprung upwards. Maverick, with a casual kick, pushed it forward, and moments later stood on a firm surface once more.
I gave a cry of joy, pulled my hands away from my friends and threw my arms around both of them, pulling them toward me to hold them tightly, tears running from my eyes.
Maverick was now standing still, his eyes closed, taking slow, deep breaths, as Lester untied his wrists. It occurred to me that, after watching half of my own class' Fifteens now, and most of the Fifteens of the classes from the previous two years, this was the first time I had ever seen a student not gasping for breath at the end. I shook my head slightly, my mouth open. Leo spoke the question I was thinking: "Wynn, how long can he stay up there? Have you ever found out?"
I shook my head more firmly. "No idea. I've never seen him go strictly for time. He's always trying to work on some move, and he decides when he's done it enough. And there's no way I'm going to mess with his practice routine."
Larry was shaking his head as well. "Well, if you get any idea, let us know. I wish we could see him do his show, but we'll be dead by then."
"Oh, I was going to ask, have you seen any offers that sound good?"
Both boys shook their heads. The beaver said, "I've looked at a couple of offers that came in, but I kind of want the Assassin, and the one that wanted that scene was looking for a blond."
I turned and looked at Larry pointedly. "Well?"
Larry laughed. "I'm not big on the Assassin. I'm not sure what I want, really. I might write my own."
"Cool. So have you started on that?"
Larry looked away, sheepishly. "Well, no. But I'm throwing some ideas around in my head."
I started, "I'll try to think of..." I stopped as the door opened. Maverick looked in, saw me, and gave me an open-mouthed grin.
I bounced off the bed as if it were a pilot's ejector seat, ran to Maverick and threw my arms around him. Maverick's arms encircled me at the same time. I held Maverick's head against mine, closed my eyes, and stood there for a long time.
Maverick said, "Oh yeah — The rope is the one they've been using since Monday, so it's getting just a little frayed. It'll feel scratchy. They'll probably change it for tomorrow, but this is the last session for today so they'd probably just leave it. And Lester is a stickler for starting exactly on time. He'll get you ready early, and then make you stand there until the clock hits the hour. Don't let the long wait throw your concentration off."
I nodded seriously, then said, "Okay, stop, stop, you're making me nervous. I'll be fine once I get started." I looked at Larry's clock and grimaced. "Ten minutes. I better go." I quickly peeled off my shoes and uniform and handed them to Maverick, who was dressed now — I had brought his clothes down to the room with me. "Bring these to our room when you're done..." I turned to our friends. "You guys understand, right? We just want to be alone for awhile after it's done."
Larry waved me on and said quickly, "Of course we understand, now go! You need to get there in time to settle your breathing down before it starts."
I kissed Maverick, harder and longer than usual, then turned and walked down the hallway. I wasn't surprised to see no students at all on my way to the demo room — everybody who wasn't in class had his eyes glued to the television. I kept my eyes closed for most of my walk, opening them at intervals just long enough to avoid obstructions and find turns. I was proud to find that my breathing remained calm.
I opened the door to the demo hall and walked in. Seeing Lester waiting patiently by the platform, I thought, This is it, and worked to force my mind blank. Just going to hang for awhile, I told myself. Just going to practice a little.
I returned Lester's smile and greeting, and stepped up onto the platform. There, I don't need to do anymore. I don't need to think anymore.
As Lester tied my hands, I concentrated on my breathing, eyes closed. I felt the tension begin washing away from me with the familiar feeling of the rope closing around my neck. Remembering what Maverick had said, I looked up at the clock now, not wanting to be startled when, after a long wait, the platform suddenly started downward.
The minute hand edged up to the top — there. The platform was descending. I took a last, deep breath, and felt the rope holding my weight now as my toes lost contact with the surface.
The familiar feeling of bliss washed over me. Doing the Fifteen made it so simple, so basic. I didn't have to perform any fancy stuff, didn't have to think ahead through a sequence of moves. It was just me and the rope holding me aloft.
The clock, I thought. Leo bet me I'd look at the clock.
I swung my right leg out wide, moving my hips in a circular motion designed to turn me gradually to my left. The rope would slowing untwist and bring me back to face the front, so I'd have to work a little to keep facing left. It was worth it.
Memories of that first time I had felt this excitement, this exultation, came back to me. The day of Marshall's hanging, when Marshall himself had put his hands on my neck, their soft squeezing gently choking me. The floating feeling of hypoxia, which had been part of my life ever since that day.
More memories returned from that critical day, when my life had turned, had taken... not a new direction. A first direction. I had never had one before.
Marshall standing nude in front of me as I spread the powder all over his fur. The sun gleaming on Marshall's body as he stood on the platform, waiting to be hanged, every eye watching him, everyone aroused by him, thrilled by him, wanting him.
I was startled back into the present by a "sproing" sound. I frowned as I saw the platform's lever standing upright where my left foot was swinging past it. I kicked at it and waited as the platform rose. Soon it touched my toes, then supported my feet. I closed my eyes and gasped in a long, deep breath.
I looked down at Lester, just as he was stepping up onto the platform beside me. "What's wrong? Why did you stop the test?"
Lester blinked, returning my puzzled frown with his own. "Because it's over, Wynn." He stepped behind me and started untying my hands.
I felt disoriented. I had to look both directions before I spotted the clock, its hands saying it was just past 3:15. My jaw dropped.
As soon as my hands were free, I quickly reached up to loosen the noose and remove it, leapt down from the platform and took off for the door at a dead run, jerking to a stop to turn and stammer, "I... uhhh... thank you, Lester." Then I spun around again to run out.
Moments later I threw open the door of our room and shouted, "Maverick, I..." I whipped around in a full circle, muttering, "Shit, where is he?" before realizing that he hadn't had time to get there from Larry's and Leo's room. Seconds later I heard feet pounding down the hallway, and turned to the door just as Maverick burst through it and ran full-speed into me, his momentum carrying me backwards until the edge of the bed caught me behind my knees, and I fell on my back onto it with Maverick on top of me. Maverick started kissing my lips, my chin, my cheeks, my forehead, y ears...
I was just able to say, "Ummm, so I guess you know..." before Maverick's lips found my mouth again and stayed there, locked with it.
Thursday
My fist pounded my thigh unconsciously, my eyes wide with excitement. "He's going to make it, isn't he?"
On the screen, Wallace, obviously tired but still kicking well, dangled from the noose.
Maverick nodded. "I'm pretty sure. He's only got, what, about a minute left? I think he could go another three or four."
Marcus looked at me. "You guys were worried about him?"
"Oh, right, you didn't know. Wallace came and got some help a few days ago. He wasn't making the time."
On the other side of Marcus, at the end of the bed, Zuchter's eyes grew wide. "You added three or four minutes to his time in one session?"
I grinned. "I couldn't do something like that. Maverick's the only one who can." I took Maverick's hand automatically.
Maverick smiled and shrugged. "Only if there's something wrong. It's not like I could just make everybody swing longer. If there's a flaw in a boy's form, I can help with that."
Larry said, "He's helped some of the graduates. We're all getting antsy about our shows, and trying to find any way we can stretch our kicking out just a couple more minutes."
Marcus was still looking at me, despite my attempts to deflect his hero-worship. "You're going to help us, right?"
I nodded. "We'll start doing some classes for you guys in a couple of weeks, after you've got the basics down — oh!" I pointed to the screen. "He's done!"
On the screen, the lever arm had just sprung upright. Wallace, as was most often the case, needed a couple of tries to kick it ahead with his foot. Moments later, he stood on the platform. He had the standard relieved, exhausted grin as Parker, the grad on duty, untied his hands.
From the floor where he was curled up with Eric, Jack asked, "Are you guys doing some actual hanging yet? I was just thinking it's about time your class got to that point."
Marcus nodded excitedly. "Yesterday! It felt so neat, but I can only do it a little over a minute. And I can't do anything like what Wynn was showing."
I gave him a friendly eye-roll. "Marcus, I told you, I learned all that! There's only one person who came here already knowing how to do that." I leaned over and kissed Maverick, to make it clear who the One Person was.
The sound of running bare feet came down the hallway, ending with a rapid-fire knock at the door. I called out, "Come..."
The door burst open, and Wallace ran into the room, still naked, his face alight. I goggled at him — it couldn't have been twenty seconds since he had run off the tv screen. Wallace made straight for the bed, jumped over Larry's and Leo's outstretched legs, and awkwardly leaned over the edge of the bed to put his arms around Maverick, chanting "Thank you thank you thank you..."
Wallace suddenly fell to one side, sprawling across my lap on his back. "Sorry, dizzy," he gasped out.
Marcus and Zuchter scooted quickly off the bed and helped me stretch Wallace out along the length of the bed. I leaned over Wallace to give him mouth-to-mouth, but he didn't seem to need it: he was already panting like a steam engine. I just moved Wallace's head to ease his breathing.
Maverick knelt over him, saying, "Wallace, don't talk, just breathe... you can breathe a little more deeply now. Can you hear me? Just blink, don't talk, don't nod. Keep breathing."
After a minute, Wallace's desperate gasping finally slowed, and he opened his eyes — looking straight up into Maverick's.
Maverick asked softly, "Wallace, you okay?"
Wallace gave him an ear-to-ear grin. "Never better."
Maverick gave him a stern look. "Promise me you'll never go running out of hanging session like that again."
Wallace made a tiny nod. "I promise, coach."
Friday Night
I had thought parties in the caf for boys who'd been sold were loud, but I'd never heard anything like this. Most of the Third Year boys were already there for the post-Fifteen party. They were grouped in small knots around the room, most of them holding slices of pizza and laughing uproariously.
I had barely had time to see where the pizza boxes were, when Jack held up his arm and whistled for attention, then shouted, "Hey, why's this party so goddamn loud??" That was the cue for Eric, Shaw, and Garrett to scream together, "Cuz we all passed the fifteen!!" The volume of laughter, interspersed with cheers, picked up another notch for a moment, and gradually subsided.
To the side, I heard, "...two...three," followed by another knot of boys shouting in unison, "What's wrong, Wynn? Why'd they stop the test??" I giggled and covered my face with my hands. I wished I hadn't said anything so stupid at the end of my Fifteen.
By the time Maverick and I had secured slices of pizza for ourselves, Francis was calling for attention with more arm-waving, and the room quieted somewhat. He called out, "How many of you had your heart start racing during the Fifteen?" Several boys raised their hands, grinning. Francis then waved his arm toward Maverick. "We're alive because of Maverick!," which I thought might be stretching it a little, though probably true in a couple of cases.
Then Tighe spoke up. "And how many expected to have your heart racing, but didn't because the stakes no longer seemed so high?" A few hands, with big grins. The lynx then pointed at me and said, "So we're alive because of Wynn."
Well, I hadn't meant to take away from Maverick's contribution. I felt my face getting hot, and was glad for the fur that concealed my blush. I turned to Maverick, but he just clasped my shoulder and kissed me. "As long as they're alive, I don't care who gets the credit?" he whispered. Before I could answer, Maverick turned to the rest of the class and shouted loud enough to be heard, "It was Paul! He knew how to save himself. I just passed it on. You can all do that. We're HANGING BOYS!"
I laughed and gave Maverick a one-armed hug, pressing my head against Maverick's, and noticed the surrounding boys seemed to be pressing in closer. Over the next few minutes, several of the boys each gave Maverick a tight hug and a thank you. I came in for my share, too.
Jack nudged my elbow, and half-shouted to be heard over the noise. "You know no class ever had every student pass the Fifteen before?"
I grinned. "That's what I hear. I guess we're doing something right."
Jack gestured with his head toward the still-surrounded Maverick and said to me, "You un-created a monster."
I shook my head seriously. "It's all him. Really."
Jack smiled and leaned closer to say in my ear, "Okay, fine, he's amazing. We all know that. But take some credit, okay?"
I smiled non-commitally. "Where did you get that drink?"