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“I don’t know about this…” Reed whispered, the apprehension clear in his voice, “It feels wrong.”
“Sshh.” Spencer shushed him in response, pressing their bodies closer against the wall behind him, “Do you want to get caught?”
Even in the low moonlight, Spencer could still see the nervous way Reed’s eyes darted around them, checking every hidden corner for any movement in the shadows. He sighed and ducked his head down to Reed’s level, fixed him with a stern look. “Look, no one is going to find out. It’s just you and me here, no one is gonna see us. You remember why we’re doing this, right?”
After a moment of hesitation, Reed nodded determinedly and visibly squared his shoulders, already looking more confident in himself and their actions. Spencer smiled and pulled him in closer. “Good. Just you and me. Now come on, we don’t have much time.”
Careful to stick to the shadows, and with Reed’s guidance of the cameras Han had strategically placed around the Dalton grounds, Spencer led them both across campus.
Both boys knew that while they may have had the best intentions behind their actions, the consequences could be disastrous to both their lives if they were caught red handed. After weeks of planning – secret messages passed between them and rendezvous in the most discrete ways – they decided tonight would be the night. And so clad in a black beanie and matching turtleneck, Reed had packed his bag and waited, impatiently, for Charlie to complete his final checks of the night, and sneak out to meet Spencer in the shadows by Windsor house.
“Didn’t fancy climbing down the drainpipe, huh?” Spencer had teased when Reed was by his side, the adrenaline coursing through him bringing out his playful nature.
“Are you kidding?” Reed had said incredulously, struggling to keep his bag on his shoulder, “That’s a sure-fire way to get us caught, Spencer.”
“I know, I know. So I’m a hopeless romantic, sue me.”
Reed had simply shaken his head in response, too nervous to quip back in any way.
Darting across the grounds like this, Spencer’s long legs covering more ground than Reed could manage, the excitement between them was almost palpable. After all the hours of planning and thinking and hoping: their dreams were swiftly becoming a reality. The night air was cool on their skin, the perfect temperature really, with just enough light to see without leaving them exposed.
With their destination in sight, Reed let that excitement get the better of him and he lost his footing over a rock or a branch or maybe just his own feet, and landed face first on the grass, his bag clattering to his side. In the dead of night, the noise was deafening. Both boys froze to the spot, neither one so much as breathing in fear of drawing more attention to themselves. Spencer’s eyes methodically scanned their surroundings; checking for any changes or lights or movements. Only once he was satisfied there was nothing did he turn to Reed and help him up.
“You okay?” Spencer asked quietly, shouldering Reed’s bag for him and brushing him off.
“Yes, yes, sorry. I guess adrenaline doesn’t mix well with clumsiness.” Reed breathed a sigh of relief as he stood straight and pulled his hat down a little tighter over his curls. “Just nervous, I guess.”
“Don’t be nervous.” Spencer said with a smile, “We’re gonna have fun. Come on.”
Bathed in the glow of moonlight, the remains of the Art Hall looked even more intimidating than they did in daylight. There were highlights and lowlights to the ruins. The once spectacular structure almost looked supernatural now that it was reduced to its bare bones and exposed for its questionable design. Three full stories were diminished to posts and pillars, with only the north-facing wall remaining in full. Taking in its presence, the night seemed to become even quieter around both boys, as if the air around the building daren’t stir to life again after recent events. They took a moment to centre themselves; both silently paying respects to the rubble and ruin. With no plans to demolish, repair or do anything with the infrastructure really, it had become an eye-sore to the campus. A constant, painful reminder of what had once been, what was lost, and what remained. Something had to be done about it.
Spencer crouched and unzipped his backpack, then did the same with Reed’s. He slipped on a pair of plastic gloves and surveyed the contents carefully before picking up a can. Reed followed his movements, opting for a tub and a wide brush with a long, oak handle. Slowly, they simultaneously approached the wall and turned to face each other.
“Are you ready?” Reed asked, his voice taking on a breathy tone.
“More than ready. Just like we planned, remember?” Spencer responded, taking the cap from his can and tossing it aside. The contents of the spray can rattled as Spencer shook it thoroughly.
Reed removed the lid from his tub and carefully dipped the brush inside, experimentally swirling the paint around and watching the way it changed in the moonlight. He lifted his arms and, hesitating for only a moment, made a wide arc as high as him for as long as the paint allowed.
“Just like we planned.”
Hours passed, and neither Spencer nor Reed stopped for a break. Their movements were so practiced there was little need for communication – they let their art do all the talking. With every stroke of a brush, every burst of spray paint, the black burnt-out shell of what once was the Art Hall quickly transformed into something beautiful. Around them the empty, discarded cans and tubs effortlessly multiplied, with each one being used until only air remained. As planned, toward the end of their escapades Reed awkwardly clambered onto Spencer’s shoulders and added the finishing touches to the hard to reach places. Every inch of brick was given the same amount of love and attention from both boys, each pouring all their efforts into the smallest of additions.
Just as Spencer applied the final flick of his wrist and dropped the spray can to the grass below him, so too did Reed watch the sun begin to peek over the horizon, glinting brightly against the metallic can. Slowly backing away from their workspace, for the first time since they arrived the previous night both boys took in the entire wall. For what felt like forever, neither of them said a word.
“Woah.”
“Yeah…woah.”
With the sun just beginning to rise, the wall seemed to come alive. Vibrant colours and shapes danced across Reed’s vision as he critically analysed his work. He frowned when the lines before him seemed blurred and colours merged together, sure he had been clean with every stroke and lick of paint.
Only when he felt Spencer’s arm slip around his shoulders did Reed realise, he was crying.
“It’s beautiful.” Spencer said, giving Reed a small squeeze, “You did a wonderful job.”
“No.” Reed said, wiping at his face with his paint covered sleeve, “We did. This was all your idea Spencer, it wouldn’t have happened without you.”
“I’m sure someone would have done something eventually. I just…everyone looked so sadwhenever they were around here and Danny still takes the long way to class every morning, so he doesn’t have to walk past. This place shouldn’t take anything else from our lives. It doesn’t have the right.” Spencer said without hesitation.
In that exact moment, he knew they had done the right thing.
“It really is beautiful, Spencer. You have a real talent.” Reed said carefully. If the past weeks with Spencer had taught Reed anything, it was that Hanover’s really were the best at keeping secrets.
“You know, I think I’m beginning to see that.” Spencer said quietly, still taking in their work. Seeming to shake himself free of thought, he smiled softly at Reed, “Maybe I should have graffitied a wall before now.”
“You know Spencer, if you need me to, my Mom has plenty contacts in art schools all over the country. I’m sure-”
Spencer cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Not now. We should get out of here before anyone sees us.”
Reed watched curiously as Spencer packed up their supplies and avoided eye contact for a few moments, before deciding to tackle the subject later, and helped him clear up instead. It was important to both of them to leave no trace behind. With their bags repacked, Reed and Spencer took one last look at their mural just as the first lights began flickering on in windows across campus. The only things left behind were the quiet tinkling of empty paint cans, and the renewed sense of life in place of heartbreak.
At the same time, a familiar (but noticeably skinnier) body began making its way over the grounds – headed in the specific direction of Stuart house. The strange tinkling noise reached the air around him, causing a slight automatic flinch, which dissipated after only a moment and curiosity took hold instead. With the sunrise growing, Dalton Academy grounds were cast into a warm, welcome glow; filling every dark, shadowy corner with life and safety in favour of the dark unknown.
Finally, a bright band of sunlight engulfed the air around the boy and flooded the space where the Art Hall once stood. Even though he tried desperately to ignore it, his tired eyes were drawn to the area on impulse. Unable to look the other way as the ruins came to life before him, he found himself staring at a phrase painted in bold cursive letters.
“From the ashes…we rise.”
Julian Larson was home.
*