I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I read the finely written letter once again; my old schoolmates and I were to get together tomorrow! I wondered who was left standing and why they chose to reunite. I hoped quietly to myself that we would only talk of our triumphs instead of our school years at dear Devon Academy. Going back to New Hampshire again would bring back all the old feelings of denial and insecurity but I knew I must venture there to confront my past and trudge on further into my future.2
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Thoughts plagued my head as I trudged up the vaguely forged paths of Devon Academy. This Devon was a different Devon; it was now cutoff from the rest of the town, shielded in crude metal bars and high gates. When the gates of the academy were opened, it was as if my mind drifted back twenty years through time. The sun lightly shone its light on the many sprouting oak trees. I turned wonderingly and gazed up at the school. To me, this wasn’t just a school. It was a time machine of cold marble steps and vigorously polished desks that lead me back to the war. It took me years to of reflection, however most of my friends never fought in the war, though we were prepared for it. Yes, we sank into our desks at beautiful, bountiful Devon and became learned men. I wandered carelessly over the newly painted blitzball field and sat on a bench beneath an old Oak tree. As I sat and looked up at the thickening branches of the tree, my mind strained to remember the pleasures and pains of my youth at this wretched and miraculous place.4
I felt the irony of my yesteryears, and the pang of the self-aging forever. I slowly ventured to the gleaming headmaster’s house, for I knew a reunion of past and present would be there. The last time I had been in this delightful mansion was in the midst of my senior year teatime. As I questioned the reaction I would get from my friends, I knocked hardly on the oak door twice. When I raised my hand to knock the third time; the door opened. Standing with a vaguely constructed smile on his face was Quackenbush. I expected a rush of egotism and stories of glory; however, he smiled, patted me on the back, and pushed the door aside to reveal a beautiful maiden. He introduced her with a smile saying; “Gene, I’m so happy you have made it. This is my fiancée’ Miss Hazel Brewster.”5
I nodded. It figured that out of all people he would spite me and date the local town belle. She smiled and led me inside. As the tension rose, I thought quietly. The headmaster was the only being ever to open his dormitory door; therefore Quackenbush was the newly elected headmaster. Chet Douglass sat quietly on the sofa in the sitting room. He wore strategically placed glasses and a casual expression on his face. 6
“Mr. Forrester…I mean Gene! How are you? My, it has been so long,” belted Chet.7
“Tired, after the long walk on campus. Yes, it has been an awfully long time since I have seen you. Tell me, Chet, what have you been up to lately?”8
“Actually,” he straightened up. “Medicine.”9
“Medicine...a doctor?” I raised my eyebrows at the very thought.10
“Well, sort of. I’m a surgeon; I work on a lot of problems like Phineas…God rest his soul- had.”11
“Oh.”12
We heard the knocking of the headmaster’s door. I wondered who it would be and how they would react to our reunion. Both Chet and I gazed at the solid oak door wondering who would be behind it. Neither of us was prepared for who entered the house. It seemed an eternity it took Quackenbush to open the door; and an even longer forever until he entered the house. I dropped my jaw when I saw Leper Lepellier. He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t screaming. Walking inside, he waved at the three of us and nodded at Quackenbush. He obviously could tell by the awestruck look in both mine and Chet’s eyes that we were questioning his sanity. Then, as if he was compelled to answer our unspoken and urgent questions he said;13
“Hello Chet. Hello Gene.”14
“How are you?” I quietly stuttered.15
“Fine, fine, and you?”16
“Great.”17
“So, you were in the Olympics, eh? I saw you in the paper. Two medals…that is a lot.”18
“Don’t you remember? Every morning Gene and Phineas would wake up and run a course around the headmaster’s quarters,” Quackenbush mentioned.19
“Yes, I guess we all do owe a lot to dear ol’ Finny,” glaring, I challenged him. “After all, Chet here became a surgeon because of him.”20
“Well,” Chet confessed, “not only because of him. So many people were hurt-injured-and killed in the war; I just thought that destroying some of the gruesome reality of pain could be a well-spent use of my time.”21
Hazel spoke up. “I believe I once met a Phineas. He often wore a dreadful pink shirt and tightened a tie around his waste. I believe he was killed in the war or something such as that.” Silence awkwardly filled the atmosphere. We knew he wasn’t killed in a war, we knew that surely was not the case. One of us needed to speak, and the tension and anxiety of this thought plagued our minds like the locusts God sent to Egypt. It wasn’t a surprise when Lepellier broke the silence.22
“That wasn’t what happened. Phineas wasn’t killed in the war,” he said quietly.23
The fates hadn’t destined the truth to be spoken here, yet. A knock sprang out from the thick, oak door. Once Quackenbush opened the door, Brownie Perkens and Bobby Zane entered. They supposedly had met on the school grounds and were excited to see all of us. Both of their faces gleamed when they saw our awkward expressions, and our feelings which we thought were at their zenith.24
Brownie spoke up, “Hello. I figured we would need something to lighten the mood; and I was saving this for a long time.” Out from behind him he pulled out a quart of the hard cider we had at our Winter Carnival. Seeing the surprised look on our faces, he added, “I figured we could wait for Brinker to drink this…How are all of you?” Numerous answers were spoken by the group as the two men sat down. Bobby slunk down in his spot as if he had better things to do. I was feeling the same as he acted, but I strove my hardest to keep my composure. Then, looking at Hazel I could see she was still interested in the topic of Phineas. I was praying that she did not have enough courage to mention it although I knew of its inevitability. I knew that the past no longer mattered, that the ever-lasting present was what I had to live in; though I longed for someone to say something careless as to what would be said I waited. Then surprisingly, I was the one to break the irony of the silence.25
“Reminiscing…ha! I remember that cider, it was the second drink I ever had.”26
“Yea, yea- and Brinker forced me into guarding it. I was the most scared I had ever been in my life- I felt I would be attacked at any moment; however that once changed when I enlisted.” Brownie mentioned.27
“Everything changed once I enlisted. Man, in the old days they would at least train em’ for war. I was plopped straight out on the battle field. Man, the things you see, the things you see will drive you crazy.” Lepellier replied. He laughed psychotically. He was one of the toughest looking guys in New Hampshire, and when he did things such as these the atmosphere became eerie as it did the many days of our Devon schooling. 28
“I never really did join the war, I saw so many lives being lost- so many good people destroyed. I just figured there are more pleasant things to do than to beat up people.” I told.29
The oak door again sounded its pounding. We all knew who would be at the door so we held our silence. We awaited Brinker’s entrance. He entered looking happily fit and resembled a twenty year old man in youth. We wondered how he had managed such a task. 30
He looked at Brownie, and said; “So Brownie did you bring the cider, or did you drink it all already?”31
“No, we’re all waiting for you. It looks as if Gene here is begging for a taste of our youth though.”32
“He always was the type.”33
“Aye.”34
“Wow, look at you all. It’s been so long.”35
“So what have you been up to?” Lepellier asked curiously.36
“You don’t know? Well, that certainly is amazing. I’m the official president of international security.” Brinker gloated.37
Defending himself, “Is that so? Well I just happen to be an artist.”38
“Wow. That takes loads of talent.” He said sarcastically.39
Trying to break the air of tension, Hazel dislodged a question. “I’m rather curious. If this Phineas was not killed in the war what did happen to him?”40
Before Brinker could say anything, Lepellier spoke up. “My dear Hazel, must all our pleasant times be consumed with all this talk of death?”41
“Dear Sir, I mean no pain. I just wish to know what happened to my first crush. He was supposed to meet me after this winter carnival you talk so much about- but he never came.”42
“Bite your tongue. He was just a crush, why does it matter how he died? Why must you ask such questions?”43
“If you wish not to tell me I will ask again, someone else. Your cynicism is not welcomed. I do not know why you are so aggressively fated to answer a simple question with more questions. How did this youth die? The only answer I can come up with is many of you were there.”44
“Yes four of us were there. I, Lepellier, Bobby, and Gene.” Brinker stated. I glared wondering why he had to bring it up. Who knew? Maybe we could possibly leave this comment alone.45
“Why must we talk of the past, when it is of no use to us in our future? So tell me uh- Bobby! What have you been up to lately?” I choked out. I was looking for some type of comment, someway to escape from the threatening subject at hand. I glared to show I was no longer joking. I lowered my eyebrows and sat praying that for once in his life he knew how to take a hint. I was beyond mad, beyond furious; my feelings began to take new heights.46
“Have you ever even thought about it, Gene? Have you ever even wondered what could’ve happened if Phineas was alive?” Brinker questioned. He seemed to try to challenge me again. As if he was trying to unleash the jealousy of our youth. He was an old friend wasn’t he? Why would he attempt to reveal what should remain in the depths of our Devon years forever? I knew that I couldn’t keep an eternal silence. That I must speak.47
“Sure, I’ve thought about it, but, I’ve learned to put the past behind me; instead of living in the evil day after day.” Unlike you. I could swear he planned this, thought exactly what he would say if the subject were to be brought up. He contained himself, although I knew he was fighting his primitive urges. He wanted to punch me. His eyes showed those of an attacker; fierce and strong. I strived my hardest to remain calm. I closed my eyes for a moment’s peace, trying to enclose all the vile thoughts within my mind. I knew I could at least try to be the better person here. Unlike him I didn’t have to reunite aggression. I had put it all behind me, way behind me.48
“Oh Gene. I had thought knowledge and wisdom had come with age. Clearly I was mistaken. I live in the past because all the interesting things happened then.” This was truly the last straw. I couldn’t throw a punch on Devon grounds- all I could do was run. I would leave in a rush and leave the past here. Phineas is gone; there was nothing that could bring him back. Why talk about him?49
“It was high-school. I don’t understand why they even have these stupid academy reunions…Brinker, I’m leaving! I’m sorry everyone. I can’t stay. Good Day.” I felt pathetic. I could’ve gotten back at him for so many things. 50
As I walked out of the house, there were a million thoughts running through my head. The arrogance of Brinker had again been unleashed. I remembered why I disliked him so much. He was willing to sell me out for anything. I mean, with friends like that who really needed enemies? Sure, he had gotten me to reminisce about Phineas. I remembered the day Finny’s casket was lowered into the ground. I kept denying the fact that I killed him; I looked for numerous ways to challenge the fact that it wasn’t my fault. I just…I knew it was. I shook the branch that held my best friend hostage. I had strived so hard to be Phineas that I killed him. I had come to reunite the past and present, I had figured I would find closure here. Brinker just happened to unleash the horror of Devon again. It’s true. So many things happened during both the summers and winters of Devon- but youthfulness is filled with Irony. 51
Everything that happened at Devon I now looked at through kaleidoscope vision. It was distorted, yet I knew all the facts. They were in front of me as though it were yesterday. Devon taught me about the world. Devon taught me of the irony, jealousy, and many malicious evils. I’m glad; thanks to them I learned to harness the good in the world. 52
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