Lester of Two Evils

Brothers

The Crowley School for Boys sat perched on the edge of a grassy cliff, high above an outcropping of jagged rocks standing like soldiers against the crashing waves of the ocean below. Its cluster of wood-shingled buildings, weathered to a dull gray by the salt-tinged wind, looked more like an old fishing village than an academy of higher learning. The only access to the lofty campus was via a narrow sandy path that wound its way up from the coastline below. There was no need for a gate or signs warning against trespassing. The rugged New England landscape itself acted as both a deterrent and endurance test for anyone contemplating a visit.

In truth, Crowley students did spend nearly as much time fishing their dinner out of the rough sea from small rowboats as they did in class. They also filled their days adding rocks to the long seawall or chopping wood for the coming winter. The administration's philosophy revolved around the idea that students who had no free time were less likely to use it unwisely. Thus, a program of hard work and calluses demanded as much attention as traditional classroom time. A premise that seemed archaic to many of the roughly one hundred teenagers in attendance, but which made perfect sense to their parents, who, after all, were the ones paying the hefty tuition.

Reaching the top of the path, Lester took a moment to catch his breath before approaching a group of students. They were sitting on the grass, mending fishing nets. None looked up from their task as he stopped to ask for directions, but a boy wearing a necklace made out of what appeared to be shark's teeth paused long enough to point to a long low dormitory.

As Lester stepped inside, he passed several additional students. Some wore blazers with ties and carried books, while others dressed in rubber overalls, with matching boots that smelled strongly of fish. Each moved with purpose, barely slowing enough to eye him suspiciously.

Following the main hall, Lester walked to the last door on the left. It was open.

The small room was lit by a single lightbulb hanging down from a low ceiling. It cast a pale yellow glow on bare cinderblock walls, devoid of posters, photographs, or anything of a personal nature. Between a pair of gray metal bunk beds pushed to opposite ends of the room, a young man sat at a tiny desk, his back to the door.

Lester cleared his throat.

"Give it up, Will," the young man said without turning around. "I've already told you I'm not switching kitchen jobs."

"Not even for me?" asked Lester.

At the sound of Lester's voice, the young man at the desk spun in his chair, and his eyes went wide. "Lester?"

"Hey, Mathis. How's it going?"

The boy from the photograph hanging in the North's kitchen jumped to his feet and pulled Lester into a giant bearhug, nearly knocking both of them over as he did.

"Wow! Look at you!" Mathis North marveled, letting go of Lester and taking a step back. "You're almost as tall as me now." Then the joy that had lit his face upon seeing Lester suddenly disappeared. "Wait. What are you doing here? Is everyone okay? Mom? Dad? Bernard?"

"They're fine," Lester said. "Everyone's fine. I've — come on my own."

"They don't know you're here?" Mathis asked, arching his eyebrows.

"Not exactly," said Lester.

Mathis stared at him for a long moment, and Lester worried he might send him away. What would he do then? Who else could he turn to? Lester still had the roundtrip bus ticket in his pocket, but he couldn't just go back home.

"Okay," Mathis said, his warm smile returning. "Since it's just the two of us, let me grab my coat, and I'll give you the tour."

It had been a long time since Lester had seen his brother. As they walked down the hill away from the school, he couldn't help noticing that Mathis no longer resembled the childhood companion he remembered. It shouldn't have been surprising. He was in his junior year of high school, after all, and soon would be off to college. Still, Lester kept looking for the young boy behind the broad shoulders and stubbly beard.