Four Weeks Later - Friday
The heavily shaded windows had allowed Shaw and me to sleep in. Still half-awake, I felt Shaw stir slightly in my arms. I shifted my head a tiny bit to bring my lips in contact with Shaw's, and felt them curl into a smile. Sleepily, his eyes still closed, Shaw mumbled, "Thank you, Wynn."
I laughed, exasperated. " For the hundredth time, I've told you you don't have to keep doing that."
Shaw tightened his arms around me and kissed me again. "Yes, I do. I'm never going to stop thanking you. I'm only a graduate because of you."
I sighed. "Shaw, everything you needed was inside you."
Shaw scrunched down enough to snuggle his head against my chest. "And it never would have come out. I was going so crazy... Look, you know better than anybody what Maverick was like when he first came here. I was just never up to rooming with him. What you did, when you got me out of that situation, it's just... I don't have any words for it, except 'thank you.' So I'll keep using those. And then, getting us back together again..."
"Okay, that I'm not going to take credit for at all. That was totally his idea."
"Well, I know. But he's just changed so much from when we started here, and I'm not going to let you tell me you didn't have anything to do with that."
"Not as much as you'd think. When he decided he needed to change, he made himself over the way he thought he needed to be. He's like that."
Shaw wrinkled his nose and elbowed me playfully in the ribs. "Thank you again. See, you won't stop me."
I laughed and kissed him again, then turned to look over my shoulder as the door opened softly behind me. Maverick and Jack were there, Jack with his arm around Maverick's waist. Jack gave the two of us a small wave, and rubbed his head against Maverick's shoulder. I'd never seen Jack this visibly affectionate with Maverick outside of bed. Jack had just spent the night with Maverick — their last time together — and that probably had a lot to do with it. Maverick had only a few of the boys to say intimate goodbyes to. He would be spending Saturday night with Zuchter. Then he and Shaw would take advantage of Shaw's class-free day on Tuesday to spend all day and all night together. The last of Maverick's official teaching duties had ended yesterday; that would give him a week to prepare for his hanging.
Other than his dates with Zuchter and Shaw, the rest of Maverick's remaining time before his hanging next Saturday would be spent with me.
Maverick grinned and said, "Going to breakfast. Want to come?"
I nodded eagerly and pulled Shaw out of bed, toward the shower. "Just give us a few minutes, and we'll meet you down there."
Minutes later, I was putting on my uniform as Shaw was still toweling dry. Holden appeared at the door, looking apologetic. Maverick and Jack were still there. "Maverick? I didn't mean to interrupt."
Maverick smiled at Holden and shook his head. "We're just going to breakfast."
"I just wanted to ask... Not right this minute, but could you think about... if you've told me everything?"
Maverick looked puzzled. "About what?"
Holden bit his lip, obviously feeling he was being a little pushy, but unable to resist asking a crucial question. "I mean, do I know everything I need to know about hanging, before you go?" The concern that he could miss an opportunity in the last week of an important teacher's life was scaring him a little.
Maverick gave him a serious look. "Holden, you don't know how hard it's been lately to find things to tell you that you haven't already figured out." He laughed suddenly. "It's a good thing I'm getting out of here. In another week you'd be telling me stuff I don't know. But listen..." The serious look again. "Anything, anything at all I could be telling you, I know you'd be able to work it out before long."
Holden gave him a small smile. "I'm just..."
Maverick stopped him, smiling. "I know what you are. You're as obsessive as I am. That's all you need." Maverick gave a quick look around to the rest of his friends, then back to Holden. "Come with us to breakfast?"
Holden's eyes went wide, his mouth in an open-faced grin. I knew how much this meant to Holden, being included as an equal in a group of his idols. "Sure!"
Tuesday Morning
Shaw had arrived early in the morning for his twenty-four hour goodbye to Maverick. He had spent the night with Jack, then gone to the cafeteria as soon as it opened up, filling a cooler with a full day's food and drinks for two, including the breakfast Shaw, giggling, insisted on sharing with Maverick in bed. It had been Maverick's idea to spend the entire time alone with Shaw in the room, even eating their meals there, with a sign on the door to turn away visitors, directing them to me. I had kissed both of them, and gone over to Jack's room to shower.
From there, I went to the Dean's office. Tina, the Dean's secretary, was a little surprised at my request. But she relayed it to the Dean anyway, and the Dean gave his approval. Tina then ushered me into the Dean's conference room, and simplified things by lending me her own personal cell phone.
I was in the room now; I had Paul Sadler's phone number. Still, I hesitated, my heart suddenly fluttering in a late attack of nerves. I'd maintained a constant inner attitude of optimism that had prevented Maverick from discerning my worry — one of the very few times I'd ever managed to hide anything from Maverick. But the optimism was dissolving quickly now that the moment had come. Kelly was twelve... no, I reminded myself, thirteen now. I knew how flighty kids that age can be.
Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I punched the number into the phone.
Maverick's father himself answered the phone. Probably rings into his office. I cleared my throat. "Mr. Sadler? This is Wynn, Maverick's roommate. From the Academy."
Paul Sadler made no effort to hide his astonishment. If he'd had a list of people he might expect to call him, my name was probably near the bottom, if it was present at all. "Wynn! Hi!" Suddenly he sounded worried. "Is Maverick okay?"
I responded quickly, "Oh, yes, sir! He's really excited about his hanging. You're still going to be there, right?"
"Oh, absolutely! I wouldn't miss that for anything." Sounding puzzled now, he said, "He does know I'm coming, right? This isn't... sort of a surprise party, or something like that?"
"No, sir. That is, yes, he knows you're coming. You and..." I hesitated, then plunged in. "Kelly? Is he coming too?" I held my breath.
There was a long pause, and my heart began sinking even before he spoke. "No, he and some of his friends are planning to go to a concert..."
There was more to the sentence after that, but I couldn't hear it over the pounding in my ears. I doubled over in my chair suddenly, feeling as if a massive hand were trying to rip my stomach apart. I fought back a wave of nausea; it would never do to vomit here. I should have called earlier!! I screamed at myself. But no, this was the right time. Calling any earlier would have given Kelly time to change his mind again later.
I took several slow, deep breaths, fighting for calm. In a voice only slightly shaky, I managed, "Sir, Maverick is really hoping for Kelly to be there. And you too, of course, but you're already coming. This is really important to him."
In a sympathetic voice, he said, "I'm sure it is, Wynn. I'll try to give him enough support for both of us."
No, I said to myself, wishing I could scream it at him. That's not it at all! My right hand gripped the arm of the chair so hard I thought the wood might splinter. Kelly has to be there. He has to be there.
I had never seen any emotional concern interfere with Maverick's ability to hang. But if Maverick's show started and he saw Kelly wasn't there...
I realized there was nothing I could say. Paul Sadler was a good father, an excellent one by many standards. He cared about his sons, he listened to them, he set rules and boundaries for them. No sleepovers on a school night. No going anywhere if he didn't know where they were going, whom they would be with, when they would be home. No going anywhere if it would interfere with schoolwork.
But while he was perfectly capable of telling them what they couldn't do, he was constitutionally unable to do the converse — ordering them to do something they didn't want to do. It wasn't in his nature. At least, it wasn't now. I had wondered if he had tried that, early on, with Maverick. Maverick would surely break any parent of that habit.
To try speaking directly to Kelly would be pointless, even if Kelly were home now rather than in school. Kelly surely had seen, when Maverick had been home a few months ago, how much Maverick wanted him to be at the hanging. It hadn't mattered then, and wouldn't matter now. It had been clear that Maverick had very little influence on his brother. Maverick's absence of several years was no doubt a major factor in that. He couldn't just breeze back into Kelly's life and start telling him to do things. And I was even further removed than that, a total stranger.
If only Maverick's Other Dad were still around. Maybe he could do it. He may have had the kind of relationship with his sons that...
I blinked. There was another person in the Sadler household. One whom Kelly loved and listened to. Hardly believing what I was about to ask any more than Paul Sadler was going to, I said, "Mr. Sadler... Is Maxwell there?"
Mr. Sadler was astonished — even more than when I'd introduced myself at the start of the call. I could hear it in his voice. "Ummm... Well, yes, of course."
"Could I... speak to him? You could listen, of course." I was feeling my way along in a situation for which there was no standard protocol. A slave didn't just phone up and ask to talk to another man's slave.
"Oh... I... Well, that wouldn't be necessary. He's doing some dusting right now. Let me go get him."
I breathed a little easier, as hope, completely buried moments earlier, began to sprout anew. I heard a noise as the phone was picked up again, and then Maxwell's voice, no less amazed than his owner's. "Mr. Wynn? You wanted to talk to me?"
"Yes, thank you, Maxwell. It's about Maverick..."
Maxwell interrupted, alarmed. "Is Mr. Maverick okay?"
The reaction was certainly promising. Even though he barely knew Maverick, Maxwell obviously cared very much about him as a member of the family. "He's fine, Maxwell. But he needs you to do something... I'm not sure how to explain this." I thought a moment. "Maxwell, if you could do something that would really help Maverick, and also would really help Kelly too, even if Kelly might not realize it — you'd try to do that, wouldn't you?"
Maxwell's answer came quickly. He didn't need to think about it. "Of course, Mr. Wynn. If it's something I can do."
I paused again, seeking a direction to go. Yes, that's a place to start. "Maxwell, you've seen that picture on the wall in Maverick's workout room, right? The one of Maverick with his Uncle Seymour?"
"Whenever I dust in there, sure."
"That picture... it's really important to Maverick. Well, not the picture itself, I mean, but it... kind of lets him touch Seymour. See..." I hesitated again, then took another direction. "We Hanging Boys... the way we look at it, we're kind of born with something inside us, something that makes us what we are. We need to do this. There's nothing else we can imagine ever wanting to be, other than a Hanging Boy. I think you know something like that yourself. I remember you said... I don't remember exactly how you said it. But that once you decided to be a slave, it was somehow just the right thing for you. Right?"
"Kind of like that, yes."
"Well, we Hanging Boys have that inside, like a voice, but for us it's really strong. We're doing something that takes a lot of commitment, but... we're so driven from inside. We often say we were meant to be Hanging Boys from the day we were born. But sometimes it takes a long time to find out. We don't hear the voice, for years. Maybe some anthros never do hear it calling to them, and they never find out what they were meant to do. For some of us, it takes another person, showing us what a Hanging Boy is, before we can hear that inside voice. For me, it was a boy named Marshall. I met him, and meeting him somehow turned my ear inside and I heard the voice. And my whole life changed." A tear ran down my cheek.
I went on, "For Maverick, it was Seymour. Seymour changed Maverick's life, he released the inner voice, and the voice could finally tell Maverick what direction to go. And it's just... such a fulfillment. Such a... completion, when you can be what you're made to be.
"That's why that picture is special — why Seymour himself is special, to Maverick. And Maverick does feel... almost complete. Almost, but not quite. Because there's one more thing he wants to do. This... gift that Seymour gave him, revealed to him... Maverick wants to pass that on, if he can. To Kelly. If that voice is in Kelly and Kelly never hears it, never finds out what his life could be... That would be a loss Maverick can't bear thinking about.
"Maverick doesn't know whether Kelly has the voice, buried somewhere inside him. But he does know how to release the voice, if it's there. If Kelly could just see Maverick hang, see firsthand what a Hanging Boy is, what a Hanging Boy does... that's what it would take."
Maxwell sounded a little doubtful. "Mr. Kelly's seen Mr. Maverick practice hanging, right here in the house."
"I know, but that's really not the same. In practice, you're not giving your life to thrill people, to amaze people, to excite people, to show them what years of training have taught you to do. If you haven't seen a Hanging Boy show yourself, I'm not sure I can explain it any better than that. But... well, in my case, for example, I'd seen males hang on TV. They weren't trained for it, and they didn't have any skill at it, and of course, mostly they didn't even want to be doing it. And it really didn't do anything for me. I mean, we've all seen that, and you have to trust me when I tell you it's not the same. Amateur hangings, practice hangings... none of that is like what a Hanging Boy is doing when he's performing in his big show. I didn't hear the voice until I saw Marshall do his show. And I was already eighteen then, Maxwell! It was almost too late for me! I heard the voice barely in time."
Tears were streaming down my face now, and I struggled to speak as my throat kept trying to close. "Maxwell, Maxwell, please. For Maverick and for Kelly. Kelly will listen to you. If he doesn't have the voice inside, then nothing will happen at the show, but he won't be any worse off. He'll still enjoy the show. He'll remember years later that he sacrificed going to a concert for his brother, but a grown-up Kelly will know that was the right thing to do. But if he doesn't go, and if this is in him, if he's meant to be a Hanging Boy, and he never finds out... Maxwell, Maverick can't die knowing Kelly might never hear the voice. Please, whatever it takes, somehow convince Kelly that he needs to go. That you expect that from him, because Maverick is his brother. That he told Maverick he would be there, and that that was a promise. And if Kelly does have the voice, you'll see it in his eyes when he comes home from the hanging. You said he wants to be a different thing every week. But if he has that voice, if he can start hearing it, he'll know what he is. And he'll always, always, always be grateful to you for helping him know."
I stopped speaking; my body would no longer let me. My hands were shaking, my stomach churning, my throat choking the words away; I could only listen. Seconds seemed to turn into hours as I waited.
At last Maxwell said, "I'll do whatever I can, Mr. Wynn. I promise. Where can Mr. Sadler reach you, after I talk to Mr. Kelly?"
I closed my eyes, taking several deep breaths through a wide-open mouth, my nose clogged from crying. My stomach began unknotting. My voice still slightly choked, I gave Maxwell the phone number to Tina's desk.
Tuesday Afternoon
I sat on the bed with Jack, pretending to watch a movie. I could tell that Jack knew something was wrong, but most likely he simply thought it was because Maverick was away — alone with Shaw — for a whole day.
When the speaker in the room crackled, my body convulsed, I nearly jumped off the bed in one move. Tina's voice came through. "Wynn, I just got a message from someone named Maxwell, at Paul Sadler's house."
I bounded toward the speaker and pushed the button for return-voice. "Yes?"
Tina sounded puzzled. "The message was just, 'Everything is okay.' It sounded like you would know what that means. Do you?"
I dropped to my knees, pumping my fist, yes, yes, YES! Sniffling as the tears started again, I said, "I do, Tina. Thank you. Thank you so much."
I looked up at Jack, now standing over me, looking worried. Jack said, cautiously, "'Everything is okay.' Does that mean... everything is okay?"
I stood, palming the tears out of my eyes, smiling shakily. I threw my arms around Jack.
Wednesday Afternoon
I had had no idea seventeen boys could make this much noise. The seventeen, the remaining members of our graduate class, were talking and laughing in groups in the cafeteria for Maverick's party, mostly gathered in small knots around the pizza boxes and soft drink table. Several were still grouped around the table where Zuchter was once again tied in the butt-up position, again blindfolded and gagged. Zuchter had never before been helplessly exposed to so many boys at once, all of them two years older than he was. He was more aroused than I'd ever seen him. There was no vibrator this time, simply a sign taped to the edge of the table that read "Lick Me Everywhere". At present, Riley was doing so, his tongue running up Zuchter's left side just west of his nipple. Zuchter was breathing rapidly in grunts, wriggling spastically. I had seen Zuchter come three times so far, and clearly more were on the horizon.
It was a tribute to Maverick that so many boys remained at this point in the year. Jack had been lucky enough to find a buyer willing to postpone his hanging a few weeks. A couple of the other boys had managed something similar. It was hard for any Hanging Boy to put off his own show. But as Maverick's show came closer, most of the boys wanted to stay for it. That was a lucky thing for me. I would have found it impossible to maintain my resolve to remain on the Academy grounds until after Maverick's hanging, if one of my special friends like Jack had a hanging scheduled.
Wallace was now sharing his dorm parent duties with Riley following Lucas's hanging. He turned from watching his roommate pleasuring Zuchter, and faced Maverick, grinning. "I just had a mental image of your hanging. About two hours in, the staff will be standing there with their hands on their hips, waiting for you to finally stop kicking so they can wheel you off to the furrier."
Maverick and I both laughed along with the rest of the boys. I sensed they were all having the same thought I was. None of us had a clue how long Maverick was capable of going. Maybe Wallace's joking exaggeration would turn out not to be one after all.
I decided to embellish on the joke. "After they cut his head off and and are wheeling his body off to the truck, he'll give another kick, and they'll say, 'Oopsy!' "
Maverick laughed harder, and covered his face. "You guys. Promise you won't end up disappointed."
Surprised looks all around, and quick denials. "No way!" I laughed again, knowing Maverick wasn't really worried. Maverick's well of belief in his hanging abilities was bottomless.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Tristan had joined Riley in playing with Zuchter. Tristan's tongue was slowly licking its way up the back of Zuchter's thigh, riding Zuchter's frantic muscular contractions. I grinned; Maverick and I would probably have to carry an exhausted Zuchter back to his room this time.
I turned back to Wallace. "How about your hanging? Is that set?"
Wallace nodded excitedly. "Well, almost. We're having a final meeting Monday, for them to sign the contract. It's this family of six brothers. They're all really successful — doctors, lawyers, that kind of thing. They get together once a year for a reunion, and this year they're inviting a lot of friends, and they wanted a Hanging Boy. It's the last time they'll spend a whole reunion together. Next year they're going to skin the oldest brother — he thinks his fur is starting to thin. Anyway, I'll be really busy with them in bed the day before they hang me — four of them are married, three with males and one with a femme, so I'll be doing some threesomes. It's really going to be fun." He beamed happily at everyone, accepting their congratulations.
I sighed. I was glad of Wallace's happiness, but couldn't help wishing I could have my own hanging as near in the future as Wallace's was. I kept telling myself, it will come, it will get here.
I pushed the thoughts of myself out of my mind. Wallace had tears in his eyes, which I wasn't expecting. Wallace suddenly threw his arms around Maverick. In a shaking voice, he said, "I'm here because of you. I passed the Fifteen because of you. Thank you, thank you, thank you."
He backed away far enough to give Maverick a kiss, then farther as he felt Shea tap at his shoulder. Shea moved around Wallace to give Maverick a hug of his own, kissing Maverick's neck and murmuring in his ear, "We're all so much better Hanging Boys because of you." He kissed Maverick on the lips, and then realized that the rest of the boys had started forming a line behind him. Riley and Tristan, seeing what was happening, each gave Zuchter a pat and came over to join the line to hug Maverick.
I've been to a lot of goodbye parties over the last three years. I never before saw the type of spontaneous, heartfelt display of gratitude that the boys gave Maverick. Maverick himself was sniffling, tears running from his eyes. He had just never imagined that his classmates felt this way. Jack and Shaw gave him especially long hugs, receiving teary kisses in return.
At last the boys stood in a single knot around Maverick, looking as though they expected a speech. Maverick, as was his need when socially pressed, gave me a long look, took a deep breath, palmed some of his tears away, and looked around the group in front of him. "I'd tell you I'll never forget you, any of you, but 'never' will only last me three more days..." He paused as the boys all laughed, and he chuckled in return. "But for the next three days, I'll keep thinking about you, and how much all of you mean to me. I..." His improvisational abilities failed him. "Thank you. So much." His tears started again as the boys applauded.