Chapter 12
The Xavier Prefects were gathered in the Head's reserved meeting room fifteen minutes after classes ended for the day. Their weekend was supposed to be starting, but when Dr. Jenkins said wait, they waited.
At precisely 4:05pm, the Head entered the room, sweeping in to take his place at the head of the long, meticulously polished hardwood table.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "good afternoon. Given what's happened today I knew you would want to share your thoughts with me, as this first and foremost concerns two of our students." The Head held up a hand to forestall Jensen Carter's protest. "Easy, Mr. Carter. I'm not holding you at fault for what happened between you and Ms. Wallace. Your record since coming here this fall has been nothing short of sterling and I believe you, as an Xavier prefect and a gentleman, when you tell me what occurred and why."
Jensen nodded. "Yes, sir."
The Prefects had all put on all their decorations, every medal they had earned, in perfect accordance with British military standard. The left breast of Cassandra and Woodes' blazers were practically buried beneath the rows of colorful fabric and gleaming metal, and all the other Prefects had at least a full row of five medals each.
Four Prefects- Woodes Rogers, Cassandra Marshall, Josh Marshall, Junior, and Chris Marshall- wore the crimson ribbon and ornate medal of the Legion of Honor, Chevalier grade. Three- Cassandra Marshall, Jensen Carter and Alan Parks- wore the Gold Lifesaving Medal. Emily Wright wore two Silver Lifesaving Medals, and Lukas Shepard wore the Walker Medal, a gift from Woodberry Forest School, declaring him an honorary member of the Class of 2006.
All these decorations and more spoke to the level of achievement required for consideration as a Prefect, the type and the caliber of those chosen. The Prefects rarely spoke of them, even to each other, and only wore the medals at formal events where it was required. But they all knew what their fellow Prefects had done and why they had been chosen for the rank, why they were each sitting here in this room.
Tom Jenkins, a man possessing extensive familiarity with Xavier's customs and traditions, both official and unofficial, recognized a silent statement by his ranking students when he saw one. He looked around at each young face, waiting to see if anyone would speak up first. When none of the assembled adolescents did, Jenkins gave a slight nod, and spoke in a soft, composed voice, yet one that carried effortlessly to every ear in the room.
"All right. This is either a protest, or a ringing alarm bell. Either way, I promise it's been noticed and heard. I am the Headmaster. You are the handpicked best of my students. I just said I was ready to hear your thoughts, but let me say that again now. You are my Prefects. Whatever it is you want to say, I am ready to listen."
The Prefects were silent for a few moments. Nobody moved. Finally Cassandra Marshall sighed, briefly grasping the hem of her blazer with both hands and giving it a firm tug to straighten it out. The rows of medals clinked softly together as they shifted in place.
"Sir, I won't deny mistakes were made. I'll be the first to admit that… we let Makayla Wallace down. But she's missed too many days now. Even if she passes finals next week, she'll be on academic probation next semester." Cassandra paused. "It's more than that, sir. Whatever we did to try and help her situation, it was too little, too late, or both. Maybe she was just never going to succeed here. I don't know. But I don't think we're gonna see her in the halls for much longer."
"And you wanted to make sure I knew how the Prefects feel about this?"
"We failed Makayla Wallace, sir," Woodes said, looking the Head in the eye. "We all agree with Cassandra on that. The point now is, we wanted to apologize, at least to you, for not seeing how much she was struggling. Not seeing it sooner, I guess, sir." Woodes cleared his throat. "We just wanted to be up front about that. At this point, even if we acted late, we did what we could. We're doing what we can. It's not enough."
"And now a stranger, someone with no affiliation with this school, entered the grounds, attacked a Prefect, and left with my sister," Melissa Wallace said evenly. "I understand who Riley Janssen is. My sister wasn't kidnapped. But she just as easily could have been. If it'd been anyone else-" Melissa broke off, shaking her head.
"It's scared us all to death, sir," Alan Parks said quietly. "Imagine what we could've had on our hands had anybody with worse intentions come through that hole in our security."
"A lot of this school's parents are VIP's," Woodes said simply. "People with enemies. People whose kids could be turned into targets. Or hostages for good behavior. Riley Janssen showed us what could've happened today. I don't like it, sir." The Head Boy shook his head repeatedly, gripping his hands together tightly in front of him. "I don't like it. No. No, I really don't."
"So what I'm hearing is a call for change," the Head responded, looking around for confirmation. Nods from the Prefects told him he'd read things correctly. "Well, needless to say, we can't do much immediately. You're all right. We do have the children of some wealthy and powerful people here. Movers and shakers. CEOs, generals, admirals, and so on. And my staff and I have been talking about how the times they are a-changin', like the song goes. I wish it weren't true, but we don't live in the times of Xavier's founding. Things have changed now. The old way, allowing open access to the campus like we've done, may have to go away for good."
"The 1940s were an exception," Josh Marshall, Junior offered. "Because of a perceived threat from, uh- well, Nazis and Japanese, we fenced in the campus, maintained guardhouses at the access roads. And visitors had to check in and carry badges."
"Because of all the VIPs sending their children here," Dr. Jenkins responded.
"Yes, sir."
"Well, it's precedence with good reason behind it," Jenkins went on. "I see your point. About security and the need for more of it, and about Makayla Wallace. You'll get a plan for concrete action on the first thing by the time we come back from break. Makayla Wallace is something else again.
She has missed a lot of time in class, and her record here is a troubled one, all just in her first semester. I respect how you all feel about what's happened with her, but don't take it too hard or too personally. We all know that Xavier is exclusive. By design it isn't and can't be for everyone. I myself believe we could yet help Makayla turn things around, but at some point now, it has to be her choice whether she wants that or not.
Mike and Julia Wallace have the final say, but they can't go to classes or take exams for her. If Makayla Wallace wants to succeed here and find a way to fit in better, I believe there's no reason why she couldn't. But if she truly does not like it here, her path may lie elsewhere. That's the most I can tell you. Mike and Julia and I will have to talk over the rest of it when they come back."
"We understand, sir," Woodes answered.
"You've done what you can for now," Jenkins told them. "Keep doing it. I trust each and every one of you to set the standard and look out for the other students, and to be there when they need you. We're almost to a well-earned break."
"Thank you, sir," Cassandra said.
"Thank you- all of you- for coming to see me on such short notice, and for making your thoughts and assessments so clear. We face challenges all the time here at Xavier. These are just the latest ones. Good afternoon."
ΩΩΩΩΩ
Josh waved Woodes Rogers over as the Prefects were all heading outside, their various expressions showing they appreciated the moderate weather this Friday. The cold would soon be coming to stay, they knew, so even if it was overcast, even if they'd spend much of the coming weekend huddled inside at their desks and in the Harlow Library, a December day in the mid-60s deserved to be appreciated.
"Woodes," Josh said, "you think we got a little over-dramatic in there?"
"Nah," Woodes said after a moment's thought. "We had to say it. We let Makayla Wallace slip through the cracks. Even if this place isn't ever gonna be a good fit for her, we should have been there, helping her figure that out the easy way, not the hard way. Which, you know, is what she did instead."
"Yeah." Josh considered that- made a show of it, just a little- and brushed the knuckles of one hand against his jaw while he did so.
Smooth as a baby's ass, Josh thought, thinking briefly of how young he looked clean-shaven- he'd been mistaken for twelve plenty of times when he was fourteen. He also gave a moment to wondering why in the hell people said it that way, anyway; babies were pretty much smooth all over and bringing up their asses was just strange. But people said it all the same.
"I mean, look, we said our thing and the Head can take it from here," Woodes said reasonably. "Me, I got Ivy League applications to worry about. So, between you and me, I don't really give a fuck what she does at this point. Yeah, we let her down, and I still stand by the stuff I said offering to help her with classes and stuff, arrange tutors and what. She's caused us more trouble than she has a right to. And so has that… boyfriend of hers."
"You say it like it's a dirty word," Josh said, barely suppressing a laugh.
"Man, don't call me out like that," Woodes fussed with mock sternness. "I gotta stay in good with my constituents. Always pamper them, Josh. And the press. Always pamper the press."
"Don't worry, Mr. President," Josh said with equal pretended gravity, "I won't tell anyone." He suddenly looked up and noticed another friend, another ally, passing by. "Hey, JC! JC!"
"Whaddya want?"
"Hey, man, hold up!"
"Okay, but whaddya want?"
"I wanna talk to you!"
"You're doing that right now, for Chrissakes!"
Josh laughed, then turned to Woodes. "I gotta run and talk to JC next. I'll come by with those notes from Chem II in an hour, tops."
"I'll hold you to that," Woodes said. "I know how those 'talks' with you and Melissa keep happening."
"Marshalls keep their word," Josh assured him. "I'll be there." Then he headed over to Jensen Carter, the tall, well-muscled football star, one of the top contenders for Hottest Guy on Campus besides Josh himself, his twin Chris, Woodes, and a few others here and there, all of them athletes.
"So what'd you wanna talk to me about?" Jensen asked, sounding more intrigued than impatient as they resumed walking.
"I wanted to talk to you," Josh said again, but this time more carefully, more personally. He'd been cultivating friendships and alliances as far back as he could remember, mentored and encouraged always by his father, who emphasized how such connections could open doors and lead to all kinds of prospects in life, and his mother, who said the current generation of Marshall children was the one doing the building, creating the esteemed dynasty that would endure far into the future.
It was complex stuff, but Josh understood it. Friends and allies meant never standing alone. They meant prospects for fun and adventure, paths to influence and power. Josh was always sizing up newcomers in or near his grade, gauging how likely they were to succeed and their chances of being useful. He also just went with his natural instincts as to who he liked and got along with, but it was important- vital- to identify the power players among the new students and make them your friends before they could even think of becoming anyone else's.
Jensen Carter- athletic, outgoing, handsome, wealthy, confident, talented- had been a bar of pure gold amidst so many nuggets. Josh had buddied up with Jensen in the other boy's first week here at Xavier. Kill your enemies, present and possible, Dad said, by making them your friends.
"Yeah? What about?" Jensen asked.
"You know what," Josh went on, still in that slightly hushed tone, still leaning towards Jensen ever so slightly as he brushed gently at his school blazer, like they were sharing a secret.
"Oh, you mean how I'm in trouble," Jensen said, and his tone and expression went for the toilet. "Yeah. As if I could even forget."
"Jensen," Josh said, looking up at the other teen, "I know you didn't mean for that to turn out like it did. I know you're better than that. Makayla Wallace even knows it; she's been making puppy-dog eyes for you since you transferred in, like half the girls around here."
"Oh, a little more than half, Josh," Jensen said, a little smug, a little pompous.
"But look. Big thing I want you to know is, I got your back," Josh went on, looking Jensen steadily in the eyes. "My whole family does. So don't worry about catching heat from the Head or the Disciplinary Committee or your parents, or Makayla's parents. The Marshalls've got you." He thumped his own chest twice for emphasis. "You'll get through this. Guaranteed."
Jensen smiled in obvious relief. He might have been a year older than Josh, but he had appreciated Josh's self-appointed efforts to be his first friend and personal guide when he first arrived on the campus. He still did. Josh had gone out of his way knowing it would pay off to have Jensen Carter on his side, but it didn't mean he didn't like "JC". The guy had style like few others in this century.
And he could throw a mean football, even when thoroughly drunk.
"Thanks, man," Jensen said, his cheeks going slightly red. "Well, look, I'm sorry if I got you into any trouble. You really helped me out when I first got here, and-"
"Hey, I got myself into trouble," Josh said, laughing at his own misfortune. "But, just between you and me, I'm going to make a truce with that kid tomorrow."
"Who, that- the dude with the gray truck?"
"That's actually Gunny Gibbs' truck," Josh said, "but yeah, Riley Janssen, the boyfriend from Princeton University. Dad says I gotta apologize for punching him in the face. So I'm gonna do that and tell 'im that from now on, we leave him alone, and he leaves us alone."
"And our students," Jensen said, looking every inch the aggrieved Prefect.
"And our students," Josh agreed. "Look, I don't like this guy either, but Dad says I have to do it. Janssen is with Gibbs, and Gibbs saved Dad's life. So… you know, if everything goes like it should, I'll get that guy to at least back off and give us some space."
"Sounds fair enough to me," Jensen admitted. "Hey. You wanna see if the President wants to go pick up pizza for the whole campus after we do our studying for today?"
"Cool," Josh said, nodding. He flashed Jensen a smile. "I'm buying. Let's go ask all the little kids what they like on a pizza, say we're doing a survey for a class."
"Nice," Jensen grinned. "They'll love us for that."
"But don't they look so cute, with their tiny little Bambi eyes, dressed up in their little uniforms?" Josh asked. They both laughed.
"I swear I'm starting to believe what you guys say, about how they get smaller every year," Jensen remarked.
"They really are, man. One of these days I'll be able to just pick one of those 8th graders up and put 'em in my pocket."
ΩΩΩΩΩ
Cassandra waved Emily Wright off when Woodes, Jensen, Josh and Chris sent her in to ask about coming on the pizza run, so the four boys went themselves, armed with a list of names and pizza preferences half a mile long.
Climbing into the back of Josh's slate-gray Corniche, surrounded by the best leather, glass, fabric and sound insulation money could buy, Chris Marshall lay his head back against the headrest, left arm comfortably supported by the fold-down armrest, right by the padding below the window.
I could get used to riding in this car, Chris thought as Josh started the barely-audible Rolls-Royce V8 and got the Corniche moving. This is even better than my Bentley. I feel like a king.
But that was half the point of what Mom and Dad were after, wasn't it? Always telling their kids to make friends, influential friends, form alliances, build networks. Not just for their own benefit, but for the family. The luster added to the Marshall name by this generation would endure far into the future. That was the idea. Mom, from old money, convinced that to be a Marshall made you practically royal, and Dad, the magnificent general who'd risen from nothing, plenty glad to believe it.
And me, Chris thought with some chagrin, soft enough to believe it.
Idly listening to Josh, Jensen and Woodes banter back and forth, Chris shot a few texts to Danny Burke, assuring the other boy he'd be back soon, and they'd finally get a chance to really talk after such a long and stressful week.
They were all staying in the dorms this weekend, having decided over dinner on Wednesday that the Marshall children needed to all be back on campus for the weekend before finals, and for finals week. It was out of the ordinary to stay off campus in any event- Xavier was strictly a boarding school only- but the Marshalls had gotten the exception given what had happened.
Chris remembered little of the accident and for that he was grateful. He didn't want to remember it. Getting thrown around in that rolling car had been bad enough once. There was no need to have his mind experience it again and again.
Once they made the drive over to Springfield and stopped at Milano's, Chris leaned back on his buff arms and neatly launched himself out of the car as Jensen leaned in to pull the passenger seat forward.
"Christ!" Jensen exclaimed, barely stumbling out of the way in time.
"Don't you say that," Chris admonished him. "Otherwise, uh, that 16-inch pizza you wanted might just get stuck under the tires. If you know what I mean."
"You- you wouldn't!"
"I might."
"You- you inhuman monster!"
"And I'll take pictures. So I can remind you every time I see you again."
"You deranged, self-destructive monster!"
"Knock it off, guys," Woodes said, laughing even as he tried to be stern with them. "Look. I'm hungry. Can we go in?"
"Sure, Woodes," Chris agreed.
"Well, I'm glad everybody's good with us going into the pizza joint we just drove to," Josh deadpanned.
A glance backward as they headed in showed Chris that his brother's massive, elegant car definitely stood out among the numerous "normal" cars all over the parking lot, the Fords, Chevies, Hondas, Toyotas, the Hyundais and even the occasional Daewoo or Kia. It drew attention just by being there, being meticulously polished and the length of a small train.
And mine's in the shop getting its paint buffed up, 'cause some moron doesn't know how to park, Chris thought with some annoyance. The garnet red interior was a nice touch to the Rolls, though. The twins had agreed on it, Hampden-Sydney colors on each car, reversed between them.
"Hey, Chris," Josh called from inside, "you coming in or what? C'mon. You can stare at my car later."
ΩΩΩΩΩ
In stark contrast to the quiet, austere Ivy League atmosphere of the Xavier Prep School campus, Milano's was a classic pizza place- boisterous, cheerful and noisy. People chattered back and forth at over a dozen tables and booths, cooks and wait staff shouted amiably at each other, and the owner, Giuseppe, seemed to be having five different conversations at once while also taking down orders over the phone.
"Hey, Charlie!" Chris barked, waving to a harried-looking boy with neatly-combed reddish-brown hair who was coming up from the back with a sack of flour.
"Oh, hey, what's up, guys?" Charlie West said between breaths, tossing the sack of flour onto some spare counter space, cutting it open, and dumping it into the wheeled bin the cooks used.
"Just coming in to pick up pizzas for the whole school," Chris said. "Woodes' idea. Or I'm pretty sure it was."
"Somebody's idea, anyway," Josh agreed.
"But as long as you guys still have that delivery van around for the big orders, getting it all to campus won't be a problem," Chris went on.
"Sounds good to me," Charlie agreed. "Hey, listen, I gotta go get more stuff for the cooks or Giuseppe's gonna kill me."
"Well, do you think I could see that?" Chris asked, lowering his voice confidentially. "Like, get it on video, take some pictures? I might do a Journalism or Photography major."
"Man, fuck you," Chris laughed, "I'm not gonna die just for- hey, I'll see you back at the dorm, all right?"
"Yeah, man. Sure thing."
As Josh paid for the order, Chris carefully took out a handful of bills from his wallet and slipped them into the dead center of the tip jar. He'd just added more than was usually given in a week, easy, but it felt like the right thing to do.
"You guys must really like some pizza," Giuseppe cracked as Charlie, joined by Josh, Jensen and Woodes, started carrying the numerous pizza boxes outside. "What, you running some prep school convention tonight or something?"
"Kind of," Chris said. "Everybody's going in for finals next week. The Prefects wanted to do something nice for 'em, so here we are."
"You just about ran me outta dough," Giuseppe said. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but an order this big on a Friday night- I'm lucky Charlie keeps such a close eye on that stuff. I'm all over the kitchen on days like this, but I swear, it's like he knows how many pounds, ounces and grams we got on hand of anything. Flour, dough, cheese, anchovies- you get the idea."
"Sure," Chris agreed, knowing that Giuseppe hardly needed his input. The man could keep a whole conversation running, and have you interested the whole time, all by himself.
"Well, look, next time I'd appreciate it if you donated a little extra to the tip jar, but-"
"Oh, I think there's a little extra in there tonight, Giuseppe," Chris said with a knowing smile.
"Really?"
"You'll see."
Chris sketched a salute to Giuseppe, then headed for the door. He almost ran into Chris, who was still trying to dust flour off on his apron. The two boys shook hands anyway.
"It's fun going to school with you guys," Charlie said warmly.
"I imagine it would be, yes," Chris deadpanned, and Charlie laughed.
"You ready to go? I got Jimmy to take the delivery to the DiNozzo place so, I'm all good to make the trip over to school right now."
"They seriously trust you with a van?" Chris asked, seemingly in clear disbelief.
Charlie laughed. "Yeah, man, they do. Now let's go. I'm not getting paid just to stand around and look good."
"You know I would've stolen your job a long time ago even if you were," Chris responded as they headed back outside.
A/N: 1-18-2021.
And there we go! My first update for the new year, and my first update for this story in many weeks. Too many, and I apologize for that. Jenny wrens has been patient but understandably felt the need to update, so I missed out on keeping proper pace with things in her story. Now I need to do a little more to catch up.
Another chapter, the one depicting Josh Jr. coming by Gibbs' place to try and talk to Riley on Saturday, is going to follow within the next day or two.
I based Josh Jr.'s calculated moves in the social world of Xavier, like making sure to become and stay friends with Jensen Carter due to his likelihood of becoming a major social figure at his new school, off of the constant social calculations of Coriolanus Snow in "The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes" by Suzanne Collins, published in 2020. I also took inspiration from the Malfoy family as depicted by Dethryl in the "They Shook Hands" fanfiction series. I would not say Josh Jr. or his family are as ruthless or villainous as either of those inspirations, but the Marshalls are building themselves into a political and social force, and I found it easy to imagine Josh Sr. imparting lessons and recommendations for his children to pay attention to the value of being connected, well-liked and respected.
The minor OC of Charlie featured in this chapter is based closely off Charles Simms in the 1993 movie "Scent of a Woman."
All reviews are welcome.