Good Old Boys

15 - Juniors and Seniors

No question about it: the Juniors were jumpy. Will didn't know if they'd been assigned to their Senior mentors yet, but he'd bet money that they hadn't. Even young Jeremiah Singleton, who'd given him a smile and a shy wave when he entered.

Unlike the Sophomores, the Juniors gave him another warm "Good Morning, Mr. Poulet," with two or three of them substituting 'Big Willy' and giving a few nervous laughs.

"Way to go, Mr. Poulet," said a cadet in the front row.

Will wanted the incident to be seen for what it was. "Okay, cadets. It seems the activities of today's second period class have been blown out of proportion. While I'm certain that young Jebediah is a fine quarterback, as a well-behaved student he leaves a lot to be desired. He insulted me and his fellow cadets by behaving in a rude manner and using foul language. Such things have no place in this Academy, unless it's in the privacy of your own dorm room. Do I make myself clear?"

"Sir, yes Sir!" they replied.

"Thank you. On your desks you'll find a binder that has the year's syllabus and a questionnaire..." Will gave his standard explanation and was about to continue on to the activity part of his first day of class for the Juniors, when a hand shot up.

"Yes, cadet? Name first, please."

"Cadet Guillame Worthington, but...everyone calls me Guy. Mr. Poulet, has anything more been learned about Eli's death? We've heard nothing about..."

"Stop right there, Guy. The Boxton police are investigating it..."

"All three of them?" said a tall, lanky student. "Cadet August Pearson, but you can call me Auggie. They couldn't find an ear of corn at harvest time."

"Cadets, the school is calling it a suicide, and it's best to keep any discussion of it amongst yourselves, in your rooms. Headmaster General Lee doesn't want to hear about it. If you have any information, give it to the police."

Another hand went up. "Yes, Jerry?" Will asked.

"Sir, is it all right if we write any thoughts we have on Eli and the...suicide...on the back of the questionnaire, and give it to you?" He wore a look that radiated worry and concern. Had there been something between Eli and Jerry? Why couldn't he talk to Derek instead. Only one way to know.

"Of course, it's all right. If any of you have any info you'd like to get off your chest, but are uncomfortable telling the police, use Jerry's idea. The smallest thing could be a case breaker. Now, I'm going to go out on a limb and give you a chance to get to know me."

Will pulled out a folder from his briefcase and handed out its contents to the class. "You're holding a multiple-choice test, and all the questions are about me. You're going to choose an answer, and then, when everyone is done, I'll give you the correct one. You can ask me questions about the right answers. At the end, you can take the rest of the period off."

ALL ABOUT MISTER POULET

1. Mister Poulet has a graduate degree in:

a. Education

b. International Literature

c. Educational Psychology

d. Dance Therapy

2. Mister Poulet played what sport in high school?

a. Basketball

b. Track and Field

c. Soccer

d. Cricket

3. Mister Poulet's favorite movie trilogy is:

a. The original Star Wars movies

b. Lord of The Rings

c. Guardians of the Galaxy

4. Mister Poulet's favorite novel genre is:

a. Gothic Romance

b. Fantasy

c. Mystery

d. Western

5. Mister Poulet's favorite international cuisine is:

a. French

b. Italian

c. Indian

d. Asian

6. Mister Poulet's political association is:

a. Green Party

b. Democratic

c. Republican

d. Libertarian

e. Independent

f. None of your business

7. Mister Poulet would most like to travel to:

a. Australia

b. Japan

c. Ireland

d. Iceland

e. Greece

Ten minutes later, he gave the answers (a, c, b, c, d, f and a) and there ensued lively conversations on the merits of lasagna versus biryani; the standard or the special edition of Star Wars, and how Dance Therapy really was a degreed discipline.

As Jeremy was leaving, Will took him aside and said, "You know you can come to me to talk about anything at all?" When he nodded, Will added, "Give your dad my regards, and tell him I'll call him soon."

Will had no pre-prepared syllabus ready for the Seniors. Somehow, he had convinced Headmaster Lee to let him get to know the seniors before he chose a selection of books for them to read and activities to explore. He'd need Lee's final approval, and Will had exactly one week in which to compile it.

The end of third period bell rang at precisely 12:50 pm. At 12:55 pm the Seniors entered. Or more accurately, they made an entrance. Whereas the Sophomores had entered with multiple violations of the Academy's dress code, the Seniors were perfect – creases crisp and even, buttons uniformly buttoned, shoes polished to a high gloss, not a hair out of place. Although it must be noted that most sported high-and-tight crew cuts. What Will found interesting was that all of them seemed to have gone commando.

Faces were expressionless, as each one paraded from the doorway to stand in front of him, stated their name, and took a position at the side of a desk, which they stood next to, hands held in immaculate salutes.

"Sir, Cadet Travis Morrison welcomes you to Boxton Academy!"

"Sir, Cadet Christopher Taylor Thomas welcomes you to Boxton Academy!"

"Sir, Cadet Robert Jeffers welcomes you to Boxton Academy!

"Sir, Cadet Jose Adamas welcomes you to Boxton Academy!"

"Sir, Cadet Siddarth Magnusson welcomes you to Boxton Academy!

And so it went, until he was standing inches away from Will, his trousers billowing in front with his fleshy flagpole standing at attention.

"Cadet Huckleberry Finnegan, Avatar of Priapus, welcomes you to Boxton Academy, Mr. William Poulet." He winked at me lasciviously, then took his seat – front and center, of course. "I assure you that none of the Seniors will disrespect you the way that Cadet Lee did today. Measures will be taken."

Will felt a frisson of unease. "At ease, cadets, and be seated. Cadet Huck, I don't need you to take..."

"With all due respect, Mr. Poulet, he has disgraced the school and given his year a bad name. These punitive measures will show him the proper way to behave. He will not be harmed in any way, I assure you. They will be administered by his fellow sophomores."

Huck sighed, saying: "Guys, I'm gonna drop the post-Civil War speak, all right? I know it's protocol, but I sound like a stuffed shirt. And I'm the one who should be doin' the stuffin'! So, floor's yours, teach!"