Chapter Text
Todd shifted ever so slightly in the pew. His fingers itched to loosen his tie and shed his tweed suit jacket, but his parents sat so close on either side that their shoulders practically pinned his arms to his body. Around them the chapel was packed with other proud-faced parents and their sons; already sporting Welton blazers.
The air was stuffy, made overwarm by the presence of so many esteemed dinner guests: lawyers, doctors, engineers, businessmen. Everyone sat perfectly still, waiting. Todd’s hands were sweating where they rested on his slacks, and he prayed that something, anything, would happen.
Todd let in a breath of relief as the tinny sounds of the bagpipes signalled the end of this peculiar form of torture. The chapel doors opened and a procession trailed down the stairs, led by the bagpipe player and an old man holding a lit candle. Four Welton-uniformed boys followed him stiffly down the aisle, each holding up a banner embroidered with one of the school values.
Tradition: A pasty boy with a perpetual scowl, square ginger hair, and his chin stuck out. Honor: A round-faced boy with close-cropped fringe and a blank expression. Discipline: A boy with an aquiline nose and the shadow of a smirk playing at his lips. Excellence: A dark-haired boy with a slightly upturned mouth and tousled bangs.
Todd accidentally met the eye of the last boy from behind his Excellence banner and looked down quickly.
After what seemed like an hour, the procession reached the head of the room and dispersed. Tradition and honor took their places in front of the left pew, discipline and excellence on the right. Mr. Nolan, the headmaster, stood at a pulpit between them, decked out in a long black robe.
He was a fairly old man, with a crown of white hair and a perpetually pink complexion. Todd studied his face as the candle bearer from the procession passed “the light of knowledge” to the first row of young boys, who clutched candles of their own. Something about Nolan made Todd think of a snapping turtle. Perhaps it was the pointed nose or the weak chin.
“100 years ago, in 1859,” Mr. Nolan began after the organ and applause died out, “forty-one boys sat in this room, and were asked the same question that now greets you at the start of each semester.
“Gentlemen,” Every boy in the room seemed to stiffen in their seats. “What are the four pillars?”
There was a clambering as the students rose. Todd looked desperately at his father. Was he supposed to say it with them?
Mr. Anderson gave his son an insistent nod and Todd stood up, acutely aware of how his tan suit stood out against the sea of dark Welton blazers.
“Tradition. Honor. Discipline. Excellence,” the boys recited in one voice, returning to their seats. Mr. Nolan nodded approvingly and continued.
“In her first year, Welton Academy graduated five students. Last year, we graduated fifty-one. And more than seventy-five percent of those were down for the Ivy Leagues.” There was another chorus of applause as Nolan pushed forward.
“This kind of accomplishment is the result of fervent dedication to the principles taught here. This is why you parents have been sending us your sons. This is why we are the best preparatory school in the United States.”
More applause. Todd’s mother patted his arm, smiling. Todd wondered how anxious his parents had been to hear the Welton welcoming speech again.
He allowed his eyes to glaze over as Mr. Nolan introduced a new teacher, although the tension in Todd’s shoulders proved he was far from relaxed.
Finally it was over, and the students and parents filed out of the chapel. Todd was so anxious to get a breath of real air that he almost cried when his father stopped just before the exit to shake hands with the headmaster.
“Thrilling ceremony as usual, Dr. Nolan,” his father lauded, clearly pleased to be one of the Welton parents again.
“Hello Dr. Nolan,” Mrs. Anderson said, beaming, “This is our youngest, Todd.”
“Mr. Anderson,” Nolan looked up at Todd with watery eyes, “You have some big shoes to fill, young man. Your brother was one of our finest.”
“Thank you,” was all he could get out, and finally stumbled into the early-afternoon sun.
After a brief handshake and peck on the cheek, Todd’s parents climbed into their car without so much as a second glance, and he was left to wade through the common around other families’ goodbyes.
The junior class was herded into the Academy Honor Room and called up in groups of five to finalize their extracurriculars with Mr. Nolan. Todd stammered his way through this, with Nolan insisting he do soccer instead of rowing. (“Rowing? It says here you played soccer at Balincrest?”) All in all, Todd was glad when they were released and left to their own devices.
As relieved as he was to get out of the chapel and Mr. Nolan’s office, Todd still couldn’t relax. He was finding it hard to breathe surrounded by all the students and alumni, and his shoulders were beginning to cramp from being tensed so long. He desperately needed to be alone.
Todd found his way to the stone courtyard, staunchly avoiding eye contact with anyone he passed. He stood to the side under a stone archway and forced himself to breathe and relax his shoulders.
After a minute, Todd managed to calm down. As soon as he could think clearly again, however, his mind filled with new reasons to panic. What was he supposed to do now? Where was his dorm? All the other juniors were well used to the start-of-year routine, so no one had bothered to give them any instructions.
“Hey,” Todd turned to find the boy who had carried the Excellence banner stepping out of the building. “I hear we’re going to be roommates. I’m Neil Perry.”
“Todd Anderson,” Todd said, very conscious of how hoarse his voice sounded, and shook the hand Neil offered him. Neil’s grip was warm, but not uncomfortable in the way the stuffy chapel had been.
Not knowing what else to do and relieved to find someone who knew what was going on, Todd followed Neil’s lead and strode across the courtyard.
“Why’d you leave Balincrest?” Neil asked.
“My brother went here.”
“Oh, so you’re that Anderson.” Todd’s heart sank. He’d expected the teachers to know Jeff, but he hadn’t been prepared for the other students to talk about him.
“My parents wanted me to go here all along but my grades weren’t good enough. I had to go to Balincrest to pull them up.” Todd said, shrugging. He hoped he sounded nonchalant instead of terrified. Why did talking to people have to be so goddamn hard?
They reached the dorm building and, after stopping to collect their luggage, fought their way down a noisy, crowded hallway. Todd had to stop to adjust his bag, and when he reached their room the doorway was blocked by the redhead who had carried the tradition banner.
“Hey, I heard you got the new kid,” the boy was saying to Neil, “Looks like a stiff.” He caught sight of Todd trying to get through the doorway. “Oops,” he said, and disappeared.
Todd hurried to dump his suitcase on the bed on the left side of the room, as Neil had claimed the one on the right. Neil seemed to be suppressing a smile.
“Listen, don’t mind Cameron,” he said, whacking Todd good-naturedly on the shoulder with his folded welcome program. “He’s born with his foot in his mouth, you know what I mean?”
Todd was suddenly very uncomfortable again, and busied himself unpacking in lieu of a response. They were almost immediately joined by three more boys standing in the doorway.
“Rumor has it, you did summer school,” one of them said, pointing at Neil and smirking.
“Yep, chemistry,” Neil said walking over and shaking the boy’s hand. “My father wanted me to get ahead. How’s your summer, slick?”
“Keen,” the boy responded, raising an eyebrow suggestively. Neil gave him an easy grin, and the boys filed into the already too-small dorm room.
“Meeks: door. Closed,” ‘slick’ said to a boy with wavy red hair and horn-rimmed glasses.
“Yes sir ,” Meeks replied, closing the door.
“Gentlemen, what are the four pillars?” Neil asked as the other boys sat down in various spots around the room.
“Travesty. Horror. Decadence. Excrement,” they half-chanted, half-whispered. Neil laughed.
“‘Okay. Study group,” ‘slick’ said from his seat on Neil’s bed, taking out a cigarette. “Meeks aced Latin, I didn’t quite flunk English, so, if you want we got our study group.”
“Sure,” Neil said, using the radiator between the beds as a window seat. “Cameron asked me too. Anyone mind including him?”
“What’s his specialty, boot-licking?”
“Come on, he’s your roommate.”
“That’s not my fault,” the other boy said, laughing and lighting his cigarette.
Todd, who had been fixedly looking at the suitcase on his bed, glanced to the left to see where he’d put his clock. The boy called Meeks seized the opportunity and caught his eye.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, “My name is Steven Meeks.”
“Oh, this is Todd Anderson,” Neil said, rising from the radiator and clapping Todd on the back.
“Nice to meet you,” Meeks said politely as Todd leaned across the room to shake his hand.
“Charlie Dalton,” said the boy on the bed, raising his eyebrow and smirking lewdly. Todd wasn’t sure how to respond to this so he just nodded.
“Knox Overstreet,” the third boy said, extending a hand from where he’d been sitting at Todd’s desk. Todd recognized him as the boy who’d carried the discipline banner.
Neil took the cigarette from Charlie. “Todd’s brother was Jeffrey Anderson.”
There was a noise of recognition from the other boys.
“Oh yeah, sure,” Charlie said, “Valedictorian. National-merit scholar.”
“Ooh. Well,” Meeks said, “Welcome to Hell-ton.”
“It’s every bit as tough as they say,” Charlie continued from the bed, “Unless you’re a genius, like Meeks.”
“He flatters me. That’s why I help him with Latin.”
“And English. And trig,” Charlie said, coughing and taking the cigarette back from Neil.
There was a soft knock at the door, and Charlie hurriedly flattened the cigarette under his heel.
“It’s open,” Neil called as they all sprang to their feet. In stepped a middle-aged man in a gray suit.
“Father. I thought you’d gone.” Neil said in surprise, his voice cracking.
“Keep your seats, fellas,” Neil’s father said, and the boys sat back down, except for Neil, who was still staring at his father, and Todd, who had never been sitting in the first place. “Neil, I’ve just spoken to Mr. Nolan, and I think that you’re taking too many extracurricular activities this semester. I’ve decided that you should drop the school annual.”
Neil’s face fell. “But I’m the assistant editor this year,” he tried.
“Well. I’m sorry.”
“But...father I can’t, it wouldn’t be fair-”
“-Fellas,” Mr. Perry interjected, feigning good-naturedness, “would you excuse us for a moment.”
Charlie and Meeks exchanged a wary look. Neil glanced uncomfortably at his friends before following his father into the hall. The relocation didn’t do much in terms of privacy, as Mr. Perry didn’t bother closing the door.
“Don’t you ever dispute me in public, do you understand?” they could hear him say from out of sight.
“Father I wasn’t disputing-” Neil tried again.
“-After you’ve finished medical school and you’re on your own you can do what you damn well please, but until then you do as I tell you. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir, I’m sorry.” There was a pause.
“You know how much this means to your mother, don’t you?” Mr. Perry said in lowered tones that carried perfectly into the room.
“Yes sir.” Another pause. “You know me, always taking on too much.”
After a moment of silence had confirmed that Mr. Perry was gone, Charlie, Meeks, and Knox followed Neil into the hallway, leaving Todd on his own for the first time in hours.
However, as he transferred his unpacked clothes into one of the dorm’s small closets, Todd couldn’t help listening to the boys’ conversation in the hall.
“Why doesn’t he let you do what you want?” came Charlie’s voice.
“Yeah Neil, tell him off,” Knox said, “Couldn’t get any worse.”
“Oh that’s rich,” Neil’s calm disposition was gone for the first time that day. “Like you guys tell your parents off? Mr. Future Lawyer and Mr. Future Banker?”
“Okay, so I don’t like it any more than you do,” Charlie conceded.
Neil sighed. “Well just don’t tell me how to talk to my father, you guys are the same way.”
“Alright, alright, Jesus,” Knox said, “So what are you going to do?”
“What I have to do: drop the annual.”
“Well I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over it,” Charlie said, “It’s just a bunch of jerks trying to impress Nolan.”
“I don’t care, I don’t give a damn about any of it,” Neil said, trying to play off his frustration with a quiet laugh.
“Well, uh, Latin?” Meeks asked, “Eight o’clock tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Neil said, grabbing the opportunity for a subject change and stepping back into the room.
“Todd, you’re welcome to join us,” Meeks offered.
“Yeah,” Knox said, “you should come along, pal.”
“Oh, thanks,” Todd said, caught off guard. It came out barely louder than a whisper, and he cringed inwardly.
The other boys left and Neil sank onto his bed, leaning against the wall.
“So,” he smirked, “what do you think about my father?”