William Poulet lost a bet and has to accept the very first teaching job he's offered. Now he's teaching at a Military Academy he'd never applied to, in a State where gay porn is a popular download yet it's still anti-LGBT+. One night a friend of a f...
Boxton is 50 or so miles from Gulfport, which is its closest commercial airport. Being so close to Biloxi, it had a heavy presence of Naval personnel. While Will was an avowed pacifist, he could definitely appreciate a man in uniform. He'd done some research on the plane into the state's southern gay scene, and found a small, clandestine number of watering holes. The crime rate and bands of drunken soldiers, sailors and hayseeds made for a less than appealing destination.
While walking to baggage claim, he noticed posters in various vandalized states. On them was a picture of a well-known national LGBT+ rights activist, Matthew Stone. The ones that hadn't been completely torn, written over with slurs or mangled showed his photo with the heading: MISSING: $10,000 reward for information leading to his location, along with a 1-800 number.
"Arriving passengers from American Airlines Flight 969 from JFK can pick up their luggage on Carousel 6."
Retrieving his two suitcases, Will went to hail a cab, when he noticed a teenager holding a sign that bore his name. He was at least 6'2" tall, compared to Will's 5'8", with flaming red hair cut in a Marine style high-and-tight, and shoulders so wide that he likely had to assess doorways regularly. When he saw Will coming towards him, his face lit up like a lighthouse.
"Sir, are you William Poulet?" he asked in a Southern accent that was dipped in caramel. He extended a beefy hand.
"It's pronounced 'poo-lay.' And yes, cadet...?" His grip was firm and warm. All sorts of images crossed Will's mind, and he tried to erase each and every one.
"Cadet Huck Calhoun. Welcome to Mississippi. And Boxton's Senior classmen send their regards. I'll take your bags..."
"No, that's..." Will began, but he'd already picked up one as if it were a box of facial tissues. "The Headmaster General's Mustang Convertible is over there."
It was candy apple red, shiny as if it had just been polished. William had never, despite his family's wealth, owned a car, which in New York would have been a liability. His first few minutes in that car was a revelation. First thing on his agenda next weekend, he thought: buy a car! (First, he'd have to get a license!) Cadet Huck retracted the roof as soon as they turned onto Highway 49 headed north.
Huck put on a pair of aviator glasses, and he looked so fine that Will was forced to think unhappy thoughts. But it didn't help. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the direction of Huck's gaze shift from the road to his lap and back. Suddenly, without warning, the cadet let out a 'Woo-hoo!' and went past 80 mph.
"I'm sorry," he said, his cheeks red from the sun and wind, the car slowing down to 65. "I don't get to drive cars like this often. I'm lucky if I'll get my Pappy's old pickup." His tone turned serious. "Mister Poulet, Sir, you can report this to Headmaster General Lee, if you think I deserve disciplining," he said and added, "He'd probably let you administer it."
Will was astounded. Disciplining for just enjoying life a little? What kind of students are at Boxton Academy? Truthfully, he'd not given the subject any consideration beyond the fact that they'd probably be inbred, beer swilling, and gun obsessed. "No worries, Huck. When I get my own car, I'll let you drive it as often as you like."
Huck placed his hand on Will's leg, just above the knee and squeezed. "Cool. Thank you, Sir!"
Was it his imagination, Will thought, or did the cadet leave his hand there a few seconds longer than necessary? Realizing the kind of trouble that he might find himself in, he quickly asked Huck how old he was. The redhead laughed.
"Oh, I'm sixteen. I know, I look older than I am." He grinned ear to ear as he gazed at Will. And then guffawed, "Holy crap, Sir! You turned white as Cadet Davis' swimmer's butt! I'm joking – I'm eighteen. Why you wanna know?" And he gave me a mock-salacious wink.
His high spirits were infectious, and a welcome change from the heart attack he nearly gave Will with his first answer. "Perhaps something as innocent as offering you a beer sometime. I am, after all, not much older than you. Friendship's out of the question, since I'm your teacher."
"Sir! In Mississippi, I can't until I'm 21 – but I can drink if I'm 18 with a legal guardian present..."
They passed by a billboard for the Academy, which stated it was 'founded in 1890" and gave its distance as 30 miles east. Will felt he and Cadet Huck had found a kind of common ground and began asking for some inside school dirt.
"What's it been like for you at the Academy?"
"Hmph. It was hell at first. I was a wild kid, but since the men in my family have always gone to Boxton, Pappy waited. I learned to follow a man's orders, and the pleasure of earning a man's praise. I've grown stronger, smarter and wiser. And don't tell anyone, but I don't buy into their Cult thing."
"Cult thing?" inquired Will.
"The Seeds of Priapus. Look, best you hear about it from someone else. If word ever got out that I...that I 'look both ways', I'd be badly reprimanded. Look, you won't be initiated unless Headmaster General Lee is truly impressed with you."
Huck turned off the Highway and drove onto Route 5 which had a sign that said 'City of Boxton, Pop. 2,028.' The '28' had been crossed out with a Sharpie and written over with the number '30' and beneath that were the words 'Go, Sallie Mae!' William couldn't help but laugh.
Passing through the small retail area took all of 8 minutes, including a stop at one of only three traffic lights. There was Bubba's Beer, Wine & Moonshine; Daisy's Beauty Shop, alongside Barber Don; Early Bird Books; Grampy's Bar & Swill; and Farmer Stu's Feed Store & Nursery, among others. It was another 3 miles before Huck put the roof back up and turned onto Academy Drive. To Will it seemed like an old forest out of Lord of the Rings – dense, dark and foreboding.
The school grounds were easy to spot, being surrounded by a brick wall that stood two stories high. Will did a double take but found the existence of what had to be watchtowers alarming in the extreme. They drove through the equally tall wrought-iron gates to the front of the main building, with the distinguishing feature of a massive fountain showcasing a copy of Ruggeri's Hercules wrestling Diomedes.
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The most striking feature, however, were the many police cars with their lights flashing. Two officers were speaking to a small but impeccably dressed gentleman in a grey uniform with black piping and gold braids – Confederate colors, Will realized, the same as Huck's only more detailed. The cadet excused himself and went to talk to a group of students gathered in front of the fountain.
In a moment he returned, looking even paler than his red hair made his skin out to be. "What's up, Cadet? Was someone caught watching 'Heartstoppers' on Netflix?"
"No," Huck replied somberly, "Someone's been murdered."
