Chapter Text
At the moment, Jude is sitting on his new bed. He would rather be stowed away in the trunk of his mothers' rental car on the way back to the airport. He could not seem to find the enthusiasm he once possessed about coming to boarding school. He wondered where he lost it. Probably when he was vomiting in the airplane bathroom. That was special. At any rate, there he was sitting on his new bed.
The bed was one of two beds in the not terribly large room. It would felt larger if the walls weren't covered in deeply carved wood panels that may have been thicker than his torso. He was pretty sure that a species of tree had gone extinct building this dormitory and the rest of the sprawling campus. If it wasn't made of brick or very large stones, it was made of wood. It was more wood than Jude would have thought any person could have deemed necessary. It was cozy and warm, for sure, but at the same time the only thing that seemed to rival the amount of wood was the number of fireplaces. Fireplaces that seemed like they got regular use. It struck Jude as a bit silly to start fires near all that very dry wood, but the school had been around since about 1850 so maybe there was a trick to it.
He looked at the other bed. It was currently occupied by a strange boy named Mehmet Ozdemir. The only thing Jude had been able to determine about Mehmet was that he A) was the son of a Turkish diplomat, and B) totally comfortable wearing nothing but tight blue underwear. The former he had discovered while his moms were speaking with Mehmet's mother and father when they were moving in earlier that morning. The latter he discovered not long afterward when Mehmet came back from a shower and proceeded to lounge about the room without any hint of intent to dress himself further.
Mehmet looked up at Jude. "Are you okay? You look like you're about to be ill."
Jude couldn't say for sure, but he was nearly certain that Mehmet had learned to speak English somewhere in England. He filed that away as fact C. Jude sat up a little bit straighter and tried to make himself look confident. "No, I'm fine." He said, shaking his head.
"This is your first boarding school, no?" Mehmet said as if he already knew the answer was yes.
"Uh, yeah." Jude replied tentatively "how did you know?"
"This is not my first go. Before this I was at a public school in the north of England."
"Wait, I thought you just said you were at a boarding school?"
"Yes, that's what it was. Don't ask me why they called it a public school." He shrugged his shoulders and resumed flipping through his copy of The Economist. He glanced back up at Jude. "You'll be fine."
"I guess." Jude watched him turn the pages. "So, is this your first year here?"
"Yes, we're all third formers in this house."
"I still don't know why freshmen are called third formers." Jude said flatly.
"It's because we're in the third form." Mehmet said dryly.
Jude was not sure whether to be offended at the comment. It sure sounded like it was meant to be an insult.
Mehmet looked up again at Jude, scrutinizing his expression. "I was joking, you know."
"I missed the part where it was funny." Jude said, making every effort to sound friendly when he did it.
"Americans always do." He flipped another page in his magazine.
Jude ignored the comment. It had sparked some odd sense of patriotism that he felt was better left alone. "You didn’t say how you could tell this was my first boarding school."
"It's easy to see that you're homesick, the way you're sitting on the edge of your bed and glaring out the window like that. You want to go home." Mehmet observed casually.
Jude let out a melancholic sigh. "And you're not homesick?"
"I am. But I have the good sense to hide it."
This statement was disconcerting for Jude, but his defensiveness was allayed by the honesty of it. “Have the other kids been at boarding schools before?”
“It’s unlikely, from what I’ve heard this will be the first year for most of the third formers.”
“What about the first and second formers?”
“There aren’t any. The school dropped that program ages ago.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Do you not read?”
Jude was a bit offended by the bite in Mehmet’s comment, but he persuaded himself this was just another attempt at a joke. “Obviously not enough of whatever you seem to find entertaining.”
Mehmet smirked, then reached under his bed and drew out a glossy magazine emblazoned with the school crest and a shot of the lake on campus. He tossed it to Jude. “It’s all in there. I suggest taking to the loo. Read it and then use it as a bog roll.”
“Loo? Bog roll?”
Mehmet sighed and rolled his eyes. “Bring it to the shitter and use it as toilet paper.” He said in what was a reasonably good impression of an American doing a cowboy impersonation.
Jude laughed. Mehmet would take some time to get used to, but Jude actually felt a little hopeful about his roommate situation. He did have to use the bathroom, so he got up and announced his intention to Mehmet, who only nodded his head and turned another page in his magazine.
Jude's room was one of six assigned to students in the dorm, a large brick and carved masonry structure that had the appearance of being some sort of monastery or small château. There was a large common room in the center of the building. On one side of the common room was the hall with the boys' rooms, three on the first floor then three on the second. Jude’s room was the last on the second floor, directly above the common room. On the other side of the common room were the living suites for the faculty that supervised the boys. Also appended to the common room through a bulky wood door was a sort of kitchen area with a sink, some countertops and cupboards, a dining table and a large refrigerator. There were bathrooms scattered throughout the building, one on each floor of the boys’ quarters, and another down a short hallway off the kitchen. It was enough that you could easily find an available shower or toilet, but not enough that it could be any sort of refuge. Which is what Jude wanted at the moment.
He meandered into the common room in search of an unoccupied bathroom only to find a group of boys he could only presume would be his classmates. There were only about ninety kids in his entire form, forty-three of which were boys. Twelve of them lived in this dorm. Four of them were in the common room. One of them looked over at Jude. He smiled and waved.
Jude was sure he felt his lungs collapse. The boy was about Jude’s height, probably five foot eight, with sandy blonde hair and a solid build. His smile was dazzling. He had always had a thing for boys.
His hand was outstretched. Breathe. Stop smiling like an idiot. Jude's stomach had dropped down and out of him. He was pretty sure it had just reached the mantle of the earth.
"Hi, I'm Connor!"
"Hi!" Jude said, shaking his hand. He couldn't figure out why Connor was giving him such an odd look.
"What's your name?" He asked cheerfully.
Oh, right, that part. They have to call you something. "Jude. I'm Jude." He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels.
"Cool. Where ya from?"
"Uh, San Diego, it's in California." Jude said pointing his thumb back over his shoulder as if somehow that was the direction of California.
"Yeah, I know where San Diego is." He smiled.
"Oh, yeah, right, of course it's pretty well known I guess." He stammered out. "Ahhh, so where are you from?"
"A couple of different places. Mostly Washington, D.C."
"Oh cool." Jude nodded. He did not know if this was actually cool or not.
"Stevens!" Another kid yelled from the other side if the room. Connor turned to look at him with that blazing smile.
Being momentarily released from Connor’s spell, Jude scampered away, terrified that he might say something stupid. He slipped into the bathroom and took a deep breath. In San Diego he had had a fairly intense crush on close to only friend, a funny little character named Mark. Jude would frequently find himself daydreaming about Mark coming out of the closet, being able to hold his hand, blissfully cuddling away the afternoons together. He had been looking forward to maybe having that fantasy recede. The joy of the fantasy was undercut by the longing for the impossible. He hated that they could only be friends. Part of his enthusiasm for boarding school had been removing himself from feeling like that. Now it looked and felt like he was about to supplant one impossibility with another.
***
Jude splashed some water on his face, calming himself down in the bathroom for a minute and regaining his composure. He returned to the common room. His usual course of action would have been to go back to his room or take a walk somewhere, but he was feeling a little saucy and perhaps even a little giddy from his recent introduction to Connor. Also, he wasn’t that familiar with the hundreds of acres that made up the campus, and it would have been a short walk anyway. This afternoon the whole dorm was to have a mandatory bonding session. It was apparently only the first of many such gatherings that they were to endure during their tenure at the school.
It didn't take long for all twelve of the boys and their three live-in faculty members to gather in the spacious common room. Jude sat down on a love-seat and finally took the time to examine the room in detail. Apart from a fireplace that could be described as medieval in scale, there were an abundance of books lining the walls, stuffing the shelves and leaving only a small amount of room for oddments like an astrolabe (Jude does not know what an astrolabe is), the bust of Theodore Roosevelt, and a set of tiny figurines set in a lewd position that had been left there long ago by a former student, somehow overlooked in the decades since they had appeared.
Where there were no books, there were paintings of lush valley landscapes and colonial towns. The floor was made of broad, wood planks, but covered by two large Persian rugs. One rug was largely yellow with running motif of blossoms and lotus flowers. The other was mostly red and patterned with lilies and star-shapes. There were also numerous heavy coffee tables interspersed throughout the room near the stuffed furniture, and desks and other tables along the edges of the room, presumably for studying. The many stuffed chairs and sofas were all identically upholstered in a sparse floral pattern on a background of white. They clashed beautifully with the rugs.
Jude was so transfixed examining the details of the room that he had hardly noticed someone had sat down next to him. It was the nudge of an elbow in his arm that brought him back to his neighbor.
Jude had spent the better part of the last two years dissuading himself from fantasy, concentrating on not reading into things, but somehow in the moment he was never able to do it. It took concentration afterward to undo the lies he told himself. In this instance he was over analyzing the fact that Connor had chosen to sit next to him despite there being ample single seats elsewhere in the room. This was amplified by the fact that Connor was not cleaving to the armrest, rather he had situated his body right in the middle of the cushion—close enough that they could not have both had their arms extended very far before they were touching. Jude knew then that it would be the better part of the next few days before he could talk himself down from thinking this guy could possibly be gay, and even more improbably, interested in him.
"You space out a lot, huh?" Connor asked lightly.
Jude moved from stunned to embarrassed. "Uh, sometimes. I was just..." He trailed off, pointing around at the decor of the room.
"It's pretty crazy in here, right?" Connor nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, it looks like the term ‘understated’ was not in wide use when they decorated this place." Jude said wryly.
Connor laughed out loud and gave Jude a backhand slap on the arm. Jude was just as pleased.
"Good evening, boys!" Said a kind-looking older gentleman that Jude had been introduced to earlier in the day. It was Professor Moore, one of the three faculty that lived in the house with the boys. He was also the philosophy teacher. Or something along that line. "As most of you know, I am Professor Moore, one of your faculty advisors. This is my twenty seventh consecutive year of being a professor here at St. Thomas's Academy." He swept his arm to the side, gesturing to the two younger men standing next to him. "This is Professor Nickerson." He gestured to a guy with closely cropped dark hair. Jude guessed he was in his late twenties. His most distinguishing feature was his pants. They were the most brilliantly colored pants Jude had ever seen, a patchwork of mixed plaids in yellows and blues. Jude would later learn that pants of that style are called madras, and were something of a wardrobe staple in these parts.
Jude was still staring at the pants when he felt another nudge on his arm. Connor signaled to Nickerson’s pants with a flick of his eyes and a scrunched brow. He mouthed out "wow". This resulted in much snickering on Jude's part. He did his best to stifle it. Connor backhanded Jude's chest. Jude looked up to see the Professor looking at him, obviously aware of what had just transpired. At first he was a little mortified, but Nickerson’s somewhat menacing stance was belied by a disarming and mirthful smirk.
“As Professor Moore said, I’m Professor Nickerson. This is my third year as faculty. About half of you will be in my history class.” He was casual in his tone, rocking back and forth on his heels as he spoke. “The other half, well, I’m sorry that fate has robbed you of my glorious presence in the classroom.” He said sarcastically. There were some chuckles from the audience, at which Nickerson drew a light smile.
Professor Moore moved on. "This is Professor Kennedy." Kennedy was taller than either Moore or Nickerson, with dirty blonde hair, and a face like a crag- though he was far from homely.
"Before anyone asks, I am not related to the Kennedy's." This got another small chuckle out of the boys. "This is my seventh year here. I teach upper level math courses for the fifth and sixth formers, and so you all have lucked out of basking in my glory." He glanced over at Nickerson and grinned, who returned a congenial laugh. "Now, why don't we all go around and introduce ourselves. Be sure to tell us an interesting fact about yourself, or if it's easier, what sport you intend to play."
Jude had conveniently forgotten that sports were mandatory here, and that he would have to chose one for each of the fall, winter, and spring terms. It made him a little nauseous. He tried to forget about it again.
By turns, the boys went around the room. There was a boisterous, heavy-set kid from New York, Asher Grumman, whose interests seemed to be dumplings and lacrosse. Next was James Bradford, a boy with a sharp, long face and a slow, deliberate means of address. He thought it would be interesting to say he was descended from the first governor of Massachusetts. Then Harvey and Max Wu, hyperactive twins from Chicago who were dead set on being just like Venus and Serena Williams. After them was Adrian Moore (“no relation”), a soft spoken boy from D.C.—a fact that got a little whoop from Connor—who loved to read and play chess. Then came Mehmet.
“I’m Mehmet Ozdemir. I am from Turkey, but was mostly raised in England. I am a dancer.” He said casually.
“Wait, like ballet?” Asher interjected loudly.
“Ya guy, like ballet.” Mehmet responded, perfectly mimicking Asher’s heavy New York accent. There was a general snickering among the boys, even Asher seemed to think it was quite amusing.
Asher started to say something else with a mischievous grin on his face, but was cut off by Moore “Okay, boys, let’s keep focused here.” He turned to the next boy, signaling to him to speak.
Jude only partially paid attention. He was caught up thinking about the oddity of his roommate, and the strange mix of personalities and backgrounds that seemed to inhabit his dorm. Elian Morena, from Argentina, said he liked squash. Harrison Wyld introduced himself as a motor sports enthusiast from Connecticut. There was a kid from Hong Kong named Etienne Lafayette. He liked playing the piano. Then came Sam Peabody, who mumbled something about New Jersey and math. Jude wondered if all of them could ever possibly be friends.
That though was cut short when it came time for Connor’s turn. Connor sat up on the couch at attention. “Connor Stevens,” he said with gusto, "I'm really excited about crew and art classes."
Jude wasn't sure what crew meant, but he was surprised by the comment about art. Connor seemed so athletic and sporty, he couldn’t square that image with someone who was artsy. He didn’t have long to think about it—he came-to and realized everyone was looking at him in silence. Jude was slightly at a loss now that his turn had come. "I'm Jude Adams-Foster from San Diego, and I um, I guess I like writing and being outside." He said, shrugging it off. He hoped that was sufficient exposure.
"Well, very good. Now that we have introductions out of the way, let's turn to some of our house rules." Moore said satisfied. He then proceeded to explain the school’s general rules and what sounded like an absolutely Byzantine system of merits and demerits for good and bad behavior. Jude didn’t quite catch all of it. He would have to ask Mehmet later.
At the conclusion of Moore's speech, the boys began stirring. They had a so-called seated meal this evening- a semi-formal dining experience involving all of the students and faculty. The dress code was a shirt, tie, and an official school blazer. Jude had been fitted for his a little earlier in the summer.
Jude started toward his room, and he was happy to see Connor walking along side him.
"So what sport are you going to play?" Connor asked.
Exasperated Jude replied "Oh god, I have no frickin clue."
"What are you good at?"
Jude whistled. "That's the problem, I'm not good at anything."
"I'm sure your good at something." Connor said as if he couldn't fathom someone not being good at a sport.
"I am soooo not an athlete- I'm so uncoordinated that it's a miracle I don't die walking down the stairs in the morning." Jude quipped.
Connor seemed to think that was quite funny. They walked up the stairs and to the end of the hallway. "Is this your room?"
"Yup." He shoved his hands in His pockets.
"I'm right there." Connor pointed across the way to the first room at the top of the stairs.
Jude was happy to know that they were on the same floor. Not that they would have been very far apart in any event—there were only six student rooms in the house to begin with, and they were all down this one, winding corridor.
"Can I come in?" Connor asked quickly.
"Sure." Jude said, trying to balance being welcoming without sounding overexcited. Connor had, after all, walked right past his own room.
Each of the student bedrooms in the house had essentially the same layout. The door opened into a short hallway with a door on each side that led into a deep closet for clothing and other storage, after which the room widened up. Along the wall closest to the door were low bookshelves and a tall floor lamp in each corner, ready to cast light on the desk that sat opposite of the bookshelf, which was situated such that when a student sat at the desk their back was to the shelf. The foot of the bed ran up against the back of the desk. The bed stretched all the way to the end of the room. In between the beds were two small nightstands tucked up against the back wall and their respective beds. The gap between the beds was wide enough to allow for someone to lay between them head to toe.
The room was lit in the day by the ample sunlight that streamed in through large windows, one over the head of each bed. The view was of a small copse of trees that stood leaning over one of the many streams that meandered through the campus. Across the stream and over a small stone bridge there was a field that rolled down to a grand boathouse and the lake.
Jude pointed to the furnishings on the right and said “Welcome to my room.” Connor helped himself to a seat on Jude’s nightstand, pushing aside the lamp that lived there. Jude sat on his bed.
“So we should figure out what sport you’re going to do.” Connor said decisively.
“I guess.” Jude acquiesced.
Connor took a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and unfurled it. Jude could see that it was the athletic sign-up sheet they had been sent in the mail several weeks earlier. It had been filled out with tiny, neat handwriting.
Connor looked Jude up and down in silent assessment. “You probably don’t want to do football.”
“No way.” Jude said, waving his hands in dismissal.
“How about Soccer? That’s pretty easy.” Connor suggested.
“No, I care about my shins, thank you very much.” Jude retorted. “Besides, that’s only in the fall and spring and I would rather not have to agonize about this again in the winter.”
“The only two sports that run all three terms are cross country and crew.” Connor said, looking at the form.
“I guess I could do cross country.”
“What about crew?” Connor asked.
“I don’t even know what that is.”
“Really?” Connor said, surprised.
Jude felt embarrassed. It was turning out that there was a lot he didn’t know about. “Nope.”
“It’s rowing. I love it.” Connor said happily.
“I gathered as much.” Jude nodded and smiled. “What do you do?”
“You row.” Mehmet snarked as he walked into the room.
Jude raised his eyebrows “No shit!” he replied in faux amazement.
“He’s actually kind of right, it’s basically just rowing.” Connor laughed. “It can be hard work, but it’s, I don’t know, I guess it’s very…zen.”
“That sounds alright.” Jude paused. “But you row in the winter?”
“During winter it’s mostly weight training and indoor stuff.”
Jude shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not very...muscle-y.”
“It doesn’t matter. Can you keep a beat?”
“What?”
“Like, can you tap your foot along with a song and keep a beat?” Connor queried.
Jude was happy to say “Strangely enough, I actually can.”
“That’s all you need!” Connor looked at him imploringly and pleaded “C’mon! Do crew with me!”
Fighting back the urge convulse with joy at the thought of this overgrown puppy being so nice to him, Jude simply shook his head and sighed “Crew it is then.”
Connor hopped off the nightstand and raised his hand to high five Jude, who got up and did his part to make that happen. “Sweet!” Connor said.
There was a knock at the door. The boys looked over to see Nickerson leaning into room, resting his arms on the door frame. “There are a group of us leaving for dinner in about fifteen minutes. You can join us if you like, or if you rather you can make your way over on your own. Either way, dinner starts at six-thirty sharp. Don’t be late.”
“Thank you, professor. It wouldn’t do to have a demerit so early in the term.” Mehmet said politely, though not without a hint of mischief.
Nickerson chortled a little. “You’re welcome, and while we are in the house there is no need to be so formal, you can call me Tom.” He said warmly. He rapped on the door frame a couple of times and walked back down the hallway. They could hear him as he repeated his speech to the guys in the next room.
Connor looked at Jude and asked “Walk with me?”
“Sure!” Jude chirped. This was not going to help him beat down his false hopes.
Connor looked expectantly at Mehmet with the same earnest smile. Jude thought that would help, though.
Mehmet nodded his acceptance of the invitation, and Connor left the room to change.
After a moment had passed, Mehmet shut the door.
“It looks like you’ve made a friend.” He said nonchalantly.
Jude didn’t really know how to respond to that. He only shrugged and mumbled “I guess.” Then he looked at Mehmet. “We’re friends, though, right?”
Mehmet smiled and nodded. “I think so.”
The boys put on their dinner clothes. Though he had only had his blazer fitted a couple of months ago, the sleeves were already a little too short. They made their way to the front of the dorm and only had to wait a moment before Connor emerged with Asher. With a short nod from Connor, they set off toward the dining hall ahead of the other boys congregating and waiting for the professors to join. The four of them chatted and laughed as they strolled through the campus.
Jude took a deep breath, enjoying the light breeze and the warmth of the setting sun. He looked over at the other three, who were in the midst of some conversation about what they could expect for coursework. For the first time since he had arrived that morning, he felt somewhat relaxed, and possibly even cautiously optimistic about this whole thing. There was still a nagging sense of homesickness in his chest, but it had subsided a little.
Connor swatted his arm, laughing about something or another. Jude snapped his head over to look at him, at those eyes, those bright, cheerful eyes. He faked a laugh and looked down at the ground. He knew that no amount of staring at Connor would sate the butterflies in his stomach. The only thing that could do that was the impossible. He didn’t know why he had to feel like this. He wished he didn’t.