Chapter 2A Chapter by J.D. HawesMartin fumed all the way to the Suspension
Room. Anybody that has ever had
suspension at the Carlton Academy for Boys will know that the walk to the
suspension room is one of the longest walks of your life. Having walked that particular walk multiple
times myself, I can assure you that when you walk through the door, it feels
like you are crossing the threshold to a new and terrible world. I am sure that Martin felt this same phenomenon as
he walked up to the desk of the short, bald man in charge. “Martin Chatsworth reporting for out of school
suspension, sir.” The man crankily turned around in his chair. “Welcome to hell, son. My name is Sergeant Ramey. You may call me Sergeant Ramey. Please find a seat and read over the
following rules and procedures of OSS.” Retired Sergeant Jim Ramey was an intense man. Nobody was ever quite sure of which war he
fought in, exactly, but he frequently grumbled about it to himself. In fact, aside from barking his ‘welcome to
hell’ speech, muffled grumbles about the war were the only thing to ever leave
his mouth. As Martin took his seat, he flipped through the
pages of the rule book he had been given.
THE RULES OF SUSPENSION 1. While in
suspension, there will be no talking to anyone.
For any reason. Whatsoever. This includes in the dormitories and
cafeteria. 2. If you
need to use the restroom, get water, or have a special request, you may raise
your hand and ask Sergeant Ramey when he acknowledges you. 3. While in
Out of School Suspension, you will wake up at 6am and report to the suspension
room. 4. You will
not make eye contact with, or in any way acknowledge the existence of your
fellow classmates in suspension.
The list went on and on until rule 37b (During the
30 minute recreation period, you may not interact with anyone. This includes team sports). I have long suspected that Sergeant Ramey
made this comprehensive list himself, for he seemed to know every one of the
rules verbatim from memory. The first night in suspension is a particularly
bleak one. Martin had never been in
suspension, so he felt particularly alone.
The silence of the Suspension Room is enough to make your ears
hurt. But Martin pushed through it. At 8:30, Sergeant Ramey led the seven boys in
suspension in a single file line to the dining hall. The last stragglers that were still eating
quickly exited the hall, fearing the old superstition that eating with suspension
kids was bad luck. Most of the good food was already gone, so Martin
walked out of the kitchen with a particularly chewy piece of roast beef, a
small helping of mashed potatoes that had long since turned cold, and a
generous helping of peas that tasted as though the cooks had never been
introduced to seasoning. As he walked into the main dining hall, Sergeant
Ramey gave him a gruff reminder about Rule 19 (Students in suspension must eat
alone at their own table). Martin ate
his food in silence, unable to shake the thought of the library from his
mind. It was too real to have been
imagined, and yet it couldn’t have just disappeared. At 10:07, after Martin had finished eating and
cleaning the dining hall, the snake of a line wound its way all the way back to
the dormitories. Martin climbed into his
bed silently, and went straight to sleep.
He had violent dreams that night.
Dreams of battles and betrayal.
But as soon as dawn came, they slipped back into the shadows of his
subconscious. He reported for breakfast the next morning and
drifted through the rest of the morning routine. The monotony of a suspension morning is
broken up pleasantly by a thirty minute recreation break. It is pleasant, of course, for those people
who enjoy walking in a circle around a basketball court, or trying to kick a
ball without interacting with anyone else. After this, came more waiting. More sitting.
More silence. Until suddenly,
Martin Chatsworth raised his hand. You
could feel the tension shoot up with his hand, because for a few seconds, there
would be noise in the suspension room. “Mr. Chatsworth.” “I have to go to the bathroom, Sergeant Ramey.” “Is there anyone currently occupying the lavatory,
Mr. Chatsworth?” “Not to my knowledge, Sergeant Ramey.” “Then you may proceed.” And that was it.
For thirteen and a half seconds, the boys in the suspension room were
reminded what a human voice sounded like.
And then it was over. As Martin
stood up from his narrow desk and crossed in front of the room to the bathroom,
he could feel the envious stares of the other inhabitants on him, jealous that
he was afforded the opportunity to leave the room. For the second time in as many days, Martin made the
mistake of assuming. This time, he
assumed that the bathroom would be a brightly lit room with tile floors, three
stalls, two sinks, and a small mirror that seemed to always be fogged, no
matter how hard you scrubbed it. Instead, he found himself once more overwhelmed by
the smell of dusty books and leather.
His eyes adjusted to the colored light cascading in, and he saw the old
man standing before him. “Welcome back, Mr. Chatsworth.” Martin’s lips snarled downwards as he glared at the
old man. “Why are you here now? Why weren’t you in the boathouse when the
Headmaster walked in?” “My dear boy,” the Librarian said. “This library is where it is needed to be,
when it is needed to be there.” “I needed you to be there when I was showing the
Headmaster. I got suspension because you
weren’t there!” he was nearly shouting, which is never a good idea in a
library. The Librarian never got a
chance to respond, because suddenly there was a loud knock on the library door. “Mr. Chatsworth, Rule 6b clearly states that bathroom
trips must be limited to 7 minutes. It
has been 8. Please exit the bathroom at
this time.” The librarian nodded. “It’s time for you to go. But don’t worry. I’ll be expecting you again.” Martin looked back and forth between the door and
the old man, inwardly debating what to do next.
But finally fear of Sergeant Ramey won out. He didn’t say goodbye to the old man as he
exited the library, but he did take one last look. For a split second, Martin thought he saw a
tear on the cheek of the old man, but then he was gone, as was the entire
library, and Martin was standing alone in the Suspension Room. The rest of Martin’s week in suspension passed with
little excitement. In fact, it passed
with no excitement at all. On the day he
was allowed to return to school, Martin was forced to write a formal apology to
Headmaster Sutton and start the arduous task of catching up in his
classes. There was one good thing that Martin immediately
missed about suspension. There are no
bullies in suspension. But if you’ve
ever been to the Carlton Academy for Boys, then you will know that bullies are
as unavoidable as Mr. Bartholomew’s Economics class. You may be able to escape its wrath for a
little while, but eventually it always finds you and brings you to tears. By second period, the whispers had started behind
him. Every time he went into a room, the
kids would stare at him as if he had just interrupted a very interesting
conversation. All morning, Martin barely
caught the faint end of hushed discussions, frequently catching the words
“crazy,” and “library.” When he sat down in the dining hall, at his usual
table with his usual friends, they were staring at him too. Markus Tenzyk, a young man from out of the
country patted him on the back and sat down next to him. “It’s ok, mate.
They all just think you’re crazy because of some rumor going
around. They say you went into an
imaginary library. What a load of
tosh. It’ll pass.” Martin shook his head. “Markus, I did go into the library. It’s real.” Markus’ eyes widened in amazement. “Don’t tell me you’re serious. You actually believe you went into a magical
library that disappeared when the headmaster looked in?”
Martin knew the idea sounded crazy, and yet he knew
it was real. By the end of the day, the
other kids had stopped ending their conversations when Martin walked in the
door. They would just talk about him as
if he were a bug on the wall, interesting to look at from afar, but easily
squashed if it flew too close. By the
end of the week, Martin felt as alone as he had in suspension. © 2013 J.D. Hawes |
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