The Bully

Hammil Academy
Greater Marsten
Berkshire, England
1970      

Part 2

It was an hour later when Foster tapped on my door, and I let him in.  He had some books in his hand.  Camouflage, I imagined.      

        After having him sit, I asked, “Foster, you looked like you had something to say when we spoke earlier.  What have you seen?”

        “It may be nothing, sir, but I like Sandervale and I heard he got knocked around in the changing room after everyone else had left.  So I’ve been thinking, and what you asked?  If I’d seen anyone hanging around him, or looking at him?  Well, I have.  This morning, I was on the sidelines watching the under 14’s house sides have a go and happened to be standing beside Haskins.  I don’t care for him much so moved away a little and off the line so I was a little behind him at a small distance.  No way for him to chat with me that way, if you see, sir?”

        I nodded but didn’t interrupt, not wanting to distract him at all.

        “Sandervale was on one of the sides and as I watched the game, I happened to notice, while everyone else was watching the ball, Haskins only watched Sandervale.  It became obvious from where I was standing.  Everyone else was turning their head as the ball moved up and down the pitch, and Haskins just kept staring at Sandervale, who was playing fullback and didn’t advance past the midfield line, and so was frequently away from the action. 

        “After the game, I went into the changing room to congratulate Forsythe, he’s my mate and he scored the winning goal.  I was in there till he finished his shower and got dressed.  By then, the place had pretty much cleared out, only one or two boys were left, and Sandervale was one of them.  He was just emerging from the showers as I was leaving.  The other two boys were almost dressed.

        “Forsythe and I called goodbye to everyone as we left, then pushed open the door.  Standing right outside was Haskins.  I didn’t see him go in, we just walked away, but there was no one else around and unless he was waiting for one of the three boys still inside, he had no reason to be standing there.  He well could have entered the room after the other two boys had gone.  Sandervale would have still been there, and could have been alone.”

        I thanked Foster for his information.  He nodded his head at me, picked up his books, and as he was leaving said, “I hope Sandervale is all right, sir.  He’s a good kid.  Haskins is a bad lot.”

        After that, I asked one of the prefects to have Sandervale come and see me.  The boy returned shortly thereafter and said Sandervale had told him he didn’t feel up to it at the moment, and perhaps he’d be better in the morning and would see me then, if that was acceptable.

        “Did you ask him if he should go the sanitorium and see Matron?”

        “Yes, sir, I suggested that, and he said something I didn’t understand.  He said he couldn’t discuss it with her.”

        I thanked the boy and then did what wasn’t at all usual for a Housemaster.  I went to Peter’s room.

        I tapped softly at the door, then after a short pause opened it.  I stepped inside and closed the door.  Peter was in his bed, covered and with his face to that wall.  He appeared to be sleeping.  He shared his room with Tim Osgood, but it wasn’t time for prep yet and Osgood was out.

        I moved over to the bed, looked down, then sat on the edge.  Peter didn’t react.  I reached out, gently lifted his hair off his forehead and placed my hand there.  He was warm.  I wasn’t sure, but he could have been running a slight fever.  What upset me, however, was the bruising I could see around the eye that I could see, and the fact he hadn’t awakened when I’d sat down, then felt his forehead.

        I shook his shoulder gently and said, “Peter, are you all right?  Can you wake up, please?”

        Peter stirred, then quickly opened his eyes, rolling his head back so I could see his entire face.  His first reaction, on seeing who had awakened him, was to start to smile, but he only started.  Then a look came onto his face as his memory returned to him.  It seemed a mixture of fear, pain and something else I couldn’t read.

        “How do you feel, Peter?”

        He just lay there looking at me for a moment.  Then he said, “Not very well, I’m afraid, sir.  I’ll be better in the morning.”

        “Peter, I think you should go see Matron.  I felt your head and you might be running a little fever, and I don’t like the looks of those bruises on your face.”

        Now I could clearly read discomfort in his eyes.  Whether it was from his injuries or the thought of seeing Matron, I didn’t know.  “Oh, no, please sir!  I don’t need that.  I’ll get better.  I’ll be all right by morning.  I’d really rather not go see her, sir!”

        “Peter, I’ll make a deal with you.  You tell me what happened, all of it, and then let me look at you.  I’ll decide then if we can skip the Matron or not.”

        “I can’t tell you, sir.  I can’t.”  His voice was nervous, but resolved.

        “Then it’s Matron, I suppose.”  Peter’s eyes dropped from mine, and he didn’t say anything.

I sighed.  “Look, Peter, it isn’t that bad.  I know this is embarrassing, for both of us, but particularly for you.  We simply have to ignore that, both of us, and get on with it.  You can tell me what happened.  I already know pretty much everything anyway.  It’s just the parts in the changing room, the details about when you were attacked, that I don’t know.  Everything else, I think I do.  I even know who attacked you.”

        “You do?”  That brought his eyes back to mine.  He was very surprised, hearing that.

        “Yes, so you don’t have to give him away.  But this is very serious.  You’ve been hurt.  Maybe badly.  And I think he did sexual things, too.  I really need you to tell me about it, Peter.”  I looked at him, trying to show him my concern, but also my responsibility.  “Look Peter, there’s a certain distance we Housemasters are supposed to maintain with our boys, but sometimes that becomes difficult.  I think you understand, you must, that even though you and I get on very well together, I’m not allowed to have any favourites.  One cannot help especially liking those he most admires, though.  I won’t say any more about that, but believe me, I can’t stand to see this happen to you.  It almost hurts me in a physical way, seeing you suffer.  I want to do something about it.  I know the way things work here, that you don’t peach on other boys.  But this isn’t something trivial.  This is important, and we have to make sure it doesn’t happen again to another boy.  Please, Peter.  I have to know.”

        “But, but. . . .  I just can’t tell you.  You’ll hate me.  I don’t want you to hate me, sir.  I couldn’t bear that.”  Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes.

        That statement struck me, and made me realize I really didn’t know what had happened.  It also made me realize he might need more help than I’d thought.  I had to respond to that statement quickly, but what to say?

        I needed to be reassuring.  “Peter, no matter what you say, I’m not going to hate you.  I can promise you that.  I have been dealing with boys your age for a long time now.  I know the sorts of things that go on with boys.  It was a while ago, but I was once a boy.  I know the sorts of things a boy does, the things he feels, what it’s like to be 13.  Whatever you tell me, I’ll help.  And it’s important that we get this sort of thing stopped.  You can help see no other boy here gets this done to him.  Please talk to me, Peter.”

        He just looked at me, his eyes full of indecision.

        “Peter, please.  Trust me.  You can.  We’ve always got on with each other.  I suspect you may be as comfortable with me as I am with you.  I want to help you, and I want to protect the other boys as well.  Will you let me?  Can you trust me?”

        Maybe it was my tone of voice, maybe it was the time we’d spent together, perhaps it was all the emotion I was trying to make available to him in my eyes, or maybe his current pain made persisting in his argument difficult for him, but he looked at me some more, then capitulated, saying a gentle, “All right,” in a soft voice.

        He struggled to sit up in bed and I helped him, arranging his pillow against the headboard and settling his thin frame against it.  He winced when I had my hands around the sides of his chest to help him slide up, even though I was careful to be gentle.

        “I don’t know where to start,” he said.  Then he continued almost immediately.  “Can I really trust you?  I mean, if I tell you things, I won’t get in trouble?”

        I didn’t like the sound of that at all.  Still, this was Peter I was talking to, and in my years working with boys, I had learned to know them.  Peter was a good kid.  He cared about other people, he did well in his studies, he was well liked.  What could he tell me that would get him in trouble?  But more pointedly, could I commit myself to not following up on something he told me, not knowing in advance what it would be? 

        “Peter, if you trust me, I’ll trust you.  I know you.  Go ahead and tell me what happened.  Someway or other, no matter what you say, we’ll make it work out.”  I gulped and hoped I wasn’t making a horrible mistake.

        Still, he hesitated.  Then, looking directly into my eyes, he nodded.  I got the distinct impression that at that moment, he had decided to put his trust in me.  He gave me a very tentative but nervous smile, and then began talking.

“I guess it started about a week ago.  Two other boys and I, I can’t tell you their names, were the last ones in the showers after our football match.   We’d helped Coach pick up all the balls and take in the nets so everyone else was already showered and dressing when we came in.  We undressed and went to the showers, and then we were chatting, and Os-,  oops, one of them got, uh, well, but...."

        He stopped and blushed and looked beseechingly at me.  I gave him a small, sympathetic smile, nodded my head slightly and motioned for him to get on with it.

        "All right then, he, he got a stiffy.  We teased him, but he started grabbing at us, we were laughing and dodging and pretty quickly, we were all hard.”  Peter was watching me closely, gauging my reaction as he hesitantly related his story.  I didn’t change expression, but complicated emotions were running through my head.  We were supposed to make sure this sort of activity didn’t happen; that was part of my responsibilities.  That it occasionally did happen, I understood, but the official line was we were not to sanction it.  Still, I had led him to this revelation, I’d told him he could trust me, and if I had to balance what had happened to him against what he had done in a spur of the moment lark with a few friends, it was not difficult to see where my efforts should be concentrated.  Therefore, I made sure the compassionate expression in my eyes remained constant. 

Peter continued, perhaps taking strength from my lack of criticism.  “We all looked at each other, of course, and then one of us asked if we all wanked, and we all admitted it, and then pretty quickly we were all doing it right there.”

        He stopped to take a breath, still studying me closely.  In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought, though I hoped this wasn’t going to get even worse.  I felt it important to keep a straight face.  He’d brought back memories.  When he didn’t see any disapproval or shock in my face, he felt safe enough to continue.

        “We’re not supposed to do things like that at school.  We all know that.  If you’re caught, you get kicked out.  If other boys find out, the teasing is fierce and humiliating.  So even though all three of us would have liked to do it again, we couldn’t.

        “But we’d talk about it when we were alone.  It was exciting to talk about.  I haven’t ever had anyone I could talk with about things like that, and now I have.”  He blushed, but continued on.  “I think about sex all the time, so being able to talk to other boys who have been with you when you were doing it, who felt the same things you did when you were doing it, boys you don’t have to be embarrassed talking about it with, it was really great.

        “So we talked, but very carefully so no one would hear us.  But after a while, I guess we got a little careless, and this older boy, not one of my friends but someone I’d noticed who always seemed to be hanging around, must have overheard.  Because he made a remark to me a few days ago.”

        I thought this was the best time to confirm my guess of who this ‘someone’ was.  So I broke in, trying to make my question sound just like clarification of already known facts.

        “You mean Haskins.  You can use his name.  I already know.”

        His eyes looked back up to mine and opened a bit wider.  “You do know!  But, how, sir?”  He was obviously puzzled.  I had to keep a triumphant smile in check.

        “You told me once, Peter, that I know everything here.  That’s something of an exaggeration, but not too much of one.  Anyway, go on with your story.”

        “All right, sir.  Three days ago, while I was standing alone reading the games board to see when my side was playing next, he walked up beside me.  

        “ ‘ Sandervale,’ he said, ‘I know what you did in the showers.  You’ll do it with me, too, or everyone will find out about you.’  I felt like someone had dropped a load of bricks on me.  Of all the people to find out, Haskins!  He’d been around me a lot lately.  I couldn’t help but notice.  Now he wanted to do things with me.  I didn't want to.  I just couldn’t.”

        He looked at me, the memory of what had transpired with Haskins sharp in his mind, and I could see how upset he was at the memory.

        “I thought the best way to handle it was simply pretend I didn’t know what he was on about.  That way, if he did know something, he might tell me what it was.  So, I told him he was bonkers, and asked what he was talking about.  He laughed and told me I certainly did know, I knew exactly what he was saying.

        “ ‘ You were with those other two and you had it off in the shower.  Sucking and wanking each other.  And that’s what we’re going to do together, you and me.’  When he said that, I knew he was guessing.  We hadn’t done those things.  We hadn’t even wanked each other, only ourselves.  Thinking about what he was saying, and what we’d done, it suddenly seemed what we had been doing wasn’t as bad as I’d come to think it was.  I’d been feeling rather guilty about it, but what Haskins said made me realize it could have been much worse.

        “But, knowing he was guessing, I thought I could bluff him.  I said to him, ‘ Where in the world did you get the idea we were doing anything like that?   We never did.  You really are bonkers.  And if you start spreading it around we did that, we’ll just make something up about you and spread that around, too.  I wonder who people’ll believe, us or you?’  Then I smiled at him.  He doesn’t have a very good reputation, and he must have known it.

        “He didn’t give up easily, sir.  He said to me, ‘I overheard you talking about it.  That’s how I know.  So you did it.  And I can make one of the others tell if you won’t.  I can make you do whatever I want, too.’  Saying that, he looked around, but there were other people all around us.  I think he was going to hit me, just to show he could, and maybe scare me a little, but he didn’t.  He’d have been seen for sure.  Anyway, he uncurled his fist, dropped his arm, and then said, ‘ You and I are going to do stuff.  I know you did stuff with those boys.  Now you’re going to do it with me.’  Then he glared at me, turned and walked away.

        “The next time I saw him was after our match today.  I was the last one in the changing room, and he came in.  I was at my locker, drying off, starkers.  I heard the door close, looked up, and there he was.  He’s much bigger than I am, and he’s intimidating and all, he tries to be, if you see, sir, and being alone with him like that scared me.  He walked right up to me and said, ‘ Good, already undressed for me.’  Then he reached out and brushed his fingers over one of my nipples.  There was nothing I could do, sir.  I tried to move away, but the changing bench was behind my knees and I started to stumble a little and was trying to maintain my balance when he pushed me back onto it and I just sort of collapsed.  I was sitting on it and he grabbed the back of my neck with one hand, then rubbed my nipple some more.

        “I was scared, but he kept rubbing my nipple and I got hard.  I didn’t want to, I hated it when it happened, but it did.  I was sitting there naked and my nipple was being rubbed and I got hard.  I couldn’t control it.  Haskins saw it and his eyes lit up.  ‘I knew you were a queer,’ he said.  Then he reached down and grasped it.  He started stroking, only for a few strokes, then let go.  He started unbuckling his belt.  I told him, ‘ Someone’s bound to come in.  You’re going to be caught.  Let me go and I won’t say anything.’  He just laughed and said I wouldn’t tell anyway, not when I was enjoying it like he could see I was.  And he grabbed my stiffy again momentarily.

        “I think what I’d said about being caught did worry him because at that point, with one hand on the back of my neck and one on my arm, he forced me to a less open area of the room, behind a row of lockers where we wouldn’t be seen by someone walking in from outside.  He pushed me down on the bench there.  There was a glassy excitement showing in his eyes that really scared me.

        “He got his belt undone and his trousers down at that point.  His underpants were tented out.  He lowered them, exposing himself to me.  Then he grabbed the back of my neck with one hand, holding me firmly, and said, ‘ Suck on it,’ pushing himslef into my face.  Even though his hand was holding my neck, I turned my head so it was against my cheek instead of my lips and told him no way, I’d bite it if he forced me.  He said that was too bad, because he was going to fuck me and having it wet from my mouth would have make it easier for me. 

        “He took his hand away from my neck and grabbed my shoulders.  He’s a lot stronger than I am and, though I struggled, he rather easily forced me down and over the bench.  My stomach was pushed into it and I found it hard to breathe.  He held me there with one hand on my back, then lined himself up behind me and shoved himself in.  I couldn’t believe the pain!  I started to scream, it hurt so much, but he quickly put his hand over my mouth.  ‘Shut up!’ he hissed, probably afraid my noise would alert someone.  I wasn’t about to shut up.  I kept trying to scream, and he kept his hand in place, stifling the noise.  He must have found this off-putting, though, as instead of continuing what he was doing, he hesitated, then pulled himself out and stood back.  I was crying badly by now.  The pain was enormous.  When I felt he was no longer restraining me, I cautiously pushed myself off the bench.  My whole bottom felt like it was on fire. 

        “I looked down at him and could see blood on his cock.  He was looking at it, too.  I think he was surprised by the blood.  While he was looking, I tried to get away.  I was hurting too much to move very quickly, and anyway I was pinned against the bench, but at least I was on the open side of it.  I tried to run away from him, but my legs had other thoughts than moving fast.  He was able to catch me quite simply, and he did.  

        “ ‘ Where do you think you’re going?  We’re not done yet.’

        “ ‘ Get off of me,’ I shouted, trying to peel his hand off my arm.  I wasn’t scared any longer, just hurting and mad.  ‘ You stuck your knob in me.  You’re going to prison, you sod.’  I was yelling and crying both, and felt like killing him.  He heard what I said, though, and grasped my arm so tightly is hurt.

        “ ‘ You’re not going to tell anyone.  If you do, this will happen to you again.’  After saying that, he used his other hand to make a fist and hit me in the face.  It felt like my whole face was broken, he hit me so hard.  I only stayed on my feet because he was holding me.  Then he let go and started hitting me with both fists, in the face, the stomach and the chest.  I pretty quickly went down, and he kicked me a few times.  I don’t know how many because I could barely breathe, I hurt all over and then everything went black after he kicked me really hard in the ribs.

        “I woke up with Mr. Gentry standing over me.  He helped me get up, but everything seemed to hurt.  I could barely get to my things to dress.  I got back to my room and went to bed.  That’s about everything that happened.  I’m feeling a little better.  My backside doesn't hurt as much.  I’m very sore all over still, but don’t think anything’s seriously wrong with me.  I think I’ll be able to go to lessons tomorrow.”

        I looked at this brave, brave boy in front of me.  He’d been badly hurt, but he was going to try to simply get on with it.  I had to ask him a question.

        “Peter, were you meaning to just let Haskins get away with this?  You weren’t going to tell anyone?”

        “No, sir, I wasn’t going to say anything.  We don’t do that.  I don’t think he’ll bother me again.  He knows I could tell someone about it then, so I think he’ll steer clear of me.”

        “I think maybe I’ll have a word with him in any event, Peter.  I don’t think he should get off so easily.”

        “Oh, sir!  You mustn't tell him I gave you his name!  You won't, will you?”

        “Why, Peter?  Are you afraid of revenge?”

        “No, I don’t want the other boys to know I told someone.  I’d rather just suffer in silence than that.”

        “Peter, I won’t tell him.  In fact, you didn’t tell me his name.  I already knew it.  He’ll think you told me, but I’ll take steps so he no longer thinks that when he leaves.  Now, the second part of what we agreed.  I need to look you over.”

        Peter got an embarrassed expression on his face.  A Housemaster can see his charges naked as he can and does visit any area of the house and might on occasion visit the shower area when it is being used, but that would be rare.  And of course, a boy doesn’t expect to be exposed all alone, to be inspected personally by his Housemaster.  But I needed to see the damage, I needed to evaluate how badly he was hurt, and he had made it clear he didn’t want Matron inspecting him.  I felt I’d better make sure he still felt that way.

        “I can do this, or Matron can, but someone has to make sure you’re all right.  Which shall it be?”

        He frowned and looked down, but eventually raised his head and said, “If it has to be someone, I’d rather it be you.”

        I pulled the covers off him.  He was wearing his pyjamas.  I asked him to lift his arms, and he did so, cautiously, it appeared to me.  I pulled his top up and off.  I winced.  His chest, stomach and sides were covered with bruises.  They still looked red and angry, the darkening that would come just now at its beginning stages. 

        “Peter, I’m going to have to feel along your ribs, and it’s going to be uncomfortable.  I’ll be as tender as I can, but I have to see if you have anything broken.  May I go ahead?”

        He nodded, then shut his eyes.  I very gently felt along the bruises on his sides and chest, prodding now and then.  He winced once or twice, but overall was much more stoic than I would have thought was possible.

        Finishing, I told him, “I don’t feel anything that seems to be broken.  You’re going to be very stiff tomorrow.  I don’t think you’ll want to get out of bed at all.  Why don’t you just stay in, and I’ll have some breakfast brought to you?  I know you want to show everyone what you’re made of, but you won’t feel at all well tomorrow.  I’ll look in on you in the morning, and you can decide then.  Now, I need to see your backside.”

        He paled a little at the thought, but without argument very carefully rolled over, then lifted his hips with a grunt and started to pull his bottoms down.  I quickly assisted.

        I asked him to spread his legs a little, and he did.  I could see the residue of dried blood in his crevice.  I wasn’t sure how to proceed.  Then I stood and told him, “Just lie there for a moment, I’m going to get a damp cloth.”  I covered him up, found his washcloth and took it down the hall to the washroom where I rinsed it out in some warm water, wrung it out and brought it back to his room.

        I gently placed it on his crevice and began carefully dabbing at the blood.  I had to spread his cheeks and was reluctant to do so for fear of doing further damage, but as he wasn’t complaining, I mentally braced myself and continued with what had to be done.  As easily as I could, I spread his cheeks and continued with my cleansing.  When I could see his anus, I cleaned it off too, being extremely gentle, softly pressing at it more than anything.  I could see it was red and swollen.  There appeared to be a slight tear that had healed with just a small amount of crusting scab on it.

        “Peter, I need to see a little more.  There’s a small tear on the surface of your anus that looks like it’s healing, but I need to know if it goes deeper.  What I need you to do is press out a little.  That may let me see more than I can now.  Can you do that?  I can see why you didn’t want to see Matron for this, but someone has to check.  Can you try to open up a little more?”

        I could tell by the sudden reddening of his cheeks he was blushing.  However, as I spread him again, he pushed and the anus did open slightly.  I could see the tear was very superficial and entirely closed.

        “All right, that’s enough.  Thank you, Peter.  You were very brave to do that.  If you’ll lift yourself again just a bit, I’ll help you on with your pyjamas.”  He did, and I pulled his bottoms up and around his waist.  With that, he slowly rolled over on his back again, and I helped him back into his sitting position, assisted him in replacing his top, then pulled the covers over him again.  He was still blushing.

        “Peter, you look well and truly beaten up, but I think there’s nothing seriously wrong.  I don’t feel any broken ribs, and if you had some you’d probably be having some difficulty breathing, and the rolling over would have hurt rather badly.  As you seemed to have managed, I don’t think you have broken ribs.  The bruises are just that, bruises.  They’ll look awful for a few days, then go away.  You’re going to be sore tomorrow and then the next day, too, and that will probably be the worst of it.  You might feel truly terrible.  I can get you some medicine for that, but they’ll only take the worst of it away.  How quickly you’re up and around will depend on you.”

        “I’ll be up tomorrow,” he said staunchly.

        I couldn’t help but chuckle.  “Don’t go making promises too quickly, young man.  I got a knock or two when I was your age.  You’re going to be thinking otherwise tomorrow, and you don’t want to be feeling regretful about rash promises.  Let’s just wait and see what’s what then.”

        I was about to say goodnight when a thought occurred to me.  I paused, then sat down on the bed again.  “Peter, you’ve been very brave with me tonight.  You’ve said some things that were very hard for you to say, and did it honestly and openly.  I don’t know any other boys here that would have done so well.  And it will make a difference.  Haskins won’t be troubling young boys here again, and that’s because of you.  But, now that’s said, I’m going to ask one more thing, and you’re going to have to be brave again.”

        He looked at me with puzzlement in his eyes.  I looked back with sympathy in mine, and then asked my question.

        “Peter, you said I’d hate you when I knew.  Nothing you’ve said this far would even start to make me hate you.  So I have to ask, did you leave something out?  Something that really would upset me?”

        Peter looked surprised.  “But I told you.  About being in the showers with the others.   About him rubbing my nipple, and I got hard.  I shouldn’t have done that, but I did.  I got hard.  Then he grasped me and stroked me, and it felt good.  I, I, well, I wanted him to keep doing that.  I guess I’m a homosexual.  That’s why I said you’d hate me.  I think you have to expel me if I’m a homosexual, a queer.”  His eyes filled with tears, his emotions suddenly too much for him to contain.

        My brave Peter.  I felt humbled.  When I asked him to trust me, he accepted what I said and did indeed do precisely that.

        “Peter,” I said, as consolingly as I could manage, “I wouldn’t hate you for that.  If you come to me someday and tell me you’re homosexual, I won’t hate you then, either.  I’ll be proud of you for having the confidence in both of us that you’d be able to do that.  But what you just said doesn’t mean you’re homosexual.”

        “It doesn’t?”

        “No, Peter, it doesn’t.  Being homosexual is part of who you are and defines, among other things, whom you fall in love with.  Responding to sexual stimulation is just a reaction, something like your reflexes making your leg kick out when the doctor taps your knee.  Your body is designed to respond like yours did when your nipple was rubbed.  Something or someone stroking your erection is supposed to feel wonderful.  Homosexual people love those feelings and respond to them like you did.  So do straight people.

        “You were badly taken advantage of, Peter.  You weren’t in control of yourself or the situation.  You have nothing at all to be ashamed of.  I think you acted exactly as you should have done, as well as you possibly could have.  There’s only one person to be ashamed here.  Roger Haskins is the only one at fault, and he’s the one who needs to feel the weight of his deeds.  That’s not to be your concern.  It’ll be my duty to see to it that he is sorted out.”

        I stood up.  Thinking about Haskins had got my blood boiling.  I asked Peter if he needed anything, and he asked for a glass of water.  I got one and brought it back to his room and put in on the stand next to his bed, then told him I’d be sending a prefect with some medicine shortly.  Then I smiled at him, told him again he was brave, and then told him he was a very special boy.  He smiled, and just before I left, standing by the still closed door, I said to him, “Peter, don’t worry about anything you told me.  No one will every hear any of it from me.  Your trust was well placed.”  Then I left his room.

It took me a while to return to my rooms.  When I did arrive, I sent the prefect for Haskins.