Mind and Vision by InSilva
Disclaimer: Danny isn't mine, no way, no how.
Chapter Four: New Surroundings
At some point in the early twentieth century, a little after prohibition and a little before the 1941 War, a Texan millionaire with a philanthropic streak had set up a preparatory school for young men who wished to further themselves. Some decades and changes of strategic direction later and the Weston Harkett School had become a modern-thinking environment, its buildings lounging over a sprawling campus. The school had over a thousand students, now boys and girls, about a quarter of them boarders.
With that number of people, it was easy for Danny to keep his mouth shut and his head down and his eyes and ears open as he learned the routines and the geography of his new home. The teachers were easy-going and liberal and earnest. The pupils were quick to take advantage of the laid-back attitude. There was no uniform, there were few rules and Danny's lessons were in no way challenging.
His first English lesson.
"We are going to have a very difficult spelling test," announced Miss Campbell, long patterned dress, long, curly hair and enormous spectacles. "Everyone ready?"
Danny stared down at the paper, concentrating as she cleared her throat dramatically.
"Wednesday."
Danny lifted his gaze incredulously and felt others do the same. "Very difficult" was obviously a relative term.
There were no sparks of the magic he'd had studying with Mark, his tutor. The upside of that was that it left his imagination free to roam.
His imagination was his lifeline too as he lay in bed in the ten boy dormitory each night and listened to the gentle snores around him. Danny thought of the stories about Luis and Felipe, about pranks and charm and friendship. Adventure after adventure after adventure. Eventually, he would fall asleep.
It wasn't hard to see the have nots. The school was full of them. Danny felt no compunction in taking the opportunity to carefully relieve some of them of a few dollars here and there. He redistributed the cash equally carefully, sharing it amongst the unknowing and the unwitting whom he felt deserved it, Luis and Felipe at his shoulder, urging him on.
The mail at Weston High School was delivered at breakfast. Seven weeks after he had arrived, the letter dropped down in front of Danny and he stared at the careful handwriting. Luis. He stifled the joy and pulled the envelope down on to his lap. Tears prickled the back of his eyes. He hadn't been forgotten.
General Studies was the first lesson but Mrs Hayes was always late. Mack Henry, two years above Danny, told everyone that she drank and enough people believed for it to be a truth. Danny didn't know if it was true or not and he didn't care. The important thing was that she wouldn't even notice if Danny stole a precious five minutes.
Up in the empty dormitory, he tore the envelope open and pulled out the short letter.
Dear Danny,
We hope you are well and the school is good.
We have a new position with a family. The address is at the top of the letter."
Danny checked. It was another East Coast family.
"Mr and Mrs Morgan have three grown-up daughters who live at home. Their house is very smart. Maria cooks and cleans and I drive and do some little jobs."
Maria's cooking. Wonderful meals and marvellous cakes and cookies. Danny felt more homesick than he knew was possible.
"We think about you often, Danny. We hope you learn much.
Your friends,
Luis and Maria"
His vision was almost too blurry for him to make out Maria's words added at the bottom. Words of love written in bad English.
Danny lifted the paper to his nose and thought he could make out Luis's tobacco. Maybe Maria's baking. He blinked back the tears: he wasn't going to cry anymore.
Life continued. School continued. Danny folded down into himself and made several shallow friendships and acquaintances. He was everyone's friend and no one's. There was no shortage of people to sit with at mealtimes or to partner with in lessons; Danny was never the last to be picked for teams; he enjoyed a quiet popularity.
Treading water. That was what it felt like.
December and the holidays came and the school emptied apart from those who had nowhere to go. Danny listened to the chatter and the excitement around him. Unmoved, he smiled a goodbye to his classmates until his jaw ached and he could stand it no longer. He took himself to the library and found a copy of "Huckleberry Finn" tucked behind other titles he didn't recognise.
Two hours later, when Danny was sure that all the happiness had left for three weeks, he walked back to the dormitory.
Sitting on his bed was a parcel. Danny moved closer and stared down at it. It was a brown paper package and as Danny saw the handwriting, it became one of his favourite things. He dropped down on to the bed and tore the paper off.
There was a letter and love and an old pack of cards – "I meant to give these to you before you left" - and a cake, a wonderful fruit cake from Maria. Danny picked it up reverently.
"Mr Nash brought it up."
With difficulty, Danny refrained from jumping. In the corner of the room sat Osmond Forsythe, a stringbean of a boy with reddy-brown hair and glasses whom Danny hadn't taken that much notice of. Osmond was studying a chessboard and he didn't look up.
"I thought…" Danny tailed off.
Osmond did look up at that.
"You thought you were the only one left behind?" Osmond's mouth twisted into a smile. "Nah. My parents are both in the forces. They've been leaving me behind for years."
Huh. Danny looked down at the present in his hands.
"You want some fruitcake?"
"I'm allergic," Osmond sighed.
Danny frowned. "To fruitcake?"
"To most things. Mom says I need to eat healthy."
"Fruit's healthy," Danny pointed out.
"Yeah…" Osmond shrugged and held up the packet of prunes. "You want some?"
Danny looked down at the fruitcake and then up at Osmond and smiled suddenly. "I'd love some."
Spring semester. Winter and cold isolation thawed and new shoots of friendship started to form. Danny taught Osmond poker and Osmond taught Danny chess. Osmond always beat him. Often in less than five minutes. In desperation one day, Danny tried another tactic.
"That's…that's an unusual opening move…" Osmond frowned.
"Unusual good or unusual…?"
"I'll tell you in a minute."
More frowning. More deliberation. Osmond's usual confidence was definitely knocked. There was an eventual stalemate and Danny grinned. It felt as good as winning.
Long letters written to Luis and Maria about lessons, about haves and have nots…lots about Osmond... Irregular short missives in return with Luis's neat letter formation and Maria's badly written hand. Danny treasured every one.
"Here." Danny pushed an opened bottle of Coke into Osmond's hand and flopped down beside him on the bench.
"Thanks." Osmond's face was as red as his hair. "Who ever thought that Phys Ed was a good idea?"
Danny drank from his own bottle and considered the question. "People who are good at it?"
"Probably." Osmond shook his head at the proffered Mars bar. "No, thanks."
"Allergic to chocolate?"
"Dairy."
"What do you eat?" Danny wondered aloud.
"Nothing that tastes good," Osmond assured him.
"And you're sure about these allergies?"
Osmond hesitated. "Mom says…Mom wants me to be careful."
Well, there was a difference between careful and the cardboard that Osmond seemed to live on. Not to mention Osmond's veritable medicine chest of mysterious bottles and pills that Danny was certain the school would confiscate if they understood the contents. Funny how laxatives could masquerade as health drinks and vitamins.
"There's a doctor on the campus," Danny suggested. "Ask him to check you over."
"S'pose…" Osmond looked dubious. "Reckon that'd cost money."
"How much?" Danny's brain was already making calculations and thinking about sources.
"More than I've got," Osmond sighed.
"But-"
"Just forget it, Danny." Osmond gave a shrug of acceptance. "You don't miss what you don't have."
A roundabout conversation with the campus doctor led to two inexorable conclusions. Firstly, allergy tests did cost money. More than Danny could lift out of wallets without someone noticing. Added to which, Osmond didn't seem the sort who would just accept the cash.
Secondly, allergy tests needed parental permission. Danny would have suggested forging Osmond's mom's signature but he knew enough - Osmond never cheated - to know that Osmond was firmly glued to the straight and narrow path. Still. If Os had the cash, maybe he could ask his mom… Moms were supposed to do that sort of thing, weren't they?
It took Danny a whole two days to remember the accumulated allowance he hardly touched. After that, it was just a case of figuring out how to pass it on to Osmond.
Mr Nash, Housemaster and Math Teacher, thought a school chess tournament was a wonderful idea.
"Not that we at Weston's encourage too much competition, you understand," he told Danny. "But chess is about the battle of the minds! Strategy! Tactics! The mental cut and thrust! It will be a fantastic way to round off the summer semester!"
Danny nodded agreeably.
Osmond was less amenable.
"A chess tournament?" He stared down at the flyer that Danny had handed him. "I don't know, Danny."
"What's not to know?" Danny asked quickly. "You're terrific, Os."
Osmond looked at him. "I'm eleven. And this is the whole school we're talking about."
"You're terrific," Danny told him again. "Besides. I'm going in for it. You won't be on your own."
Not until after the first match at least, Danny added mentally.
Osmond wavered a little longer and then capitulated. Danny's smile was broad.
Danny firmly believed in Osmond's brilliance but there was more riding on this than he could leave to chance and skill. Danny looked at the schedule that was pinned up on the main school noticeboard.
In the rush of the end of semester activities, the chess tournament had mostly been overlooked. Sixteen players had signed up – fifteen, actually, they'd had to give someone a bye to the next round. Osmond and he were the only two from his year. There was a girl from the next year up and Mack Henry and another third year, six fifth years and four from the top end of the school. Four matches stood between Osmond and the title and a little silver cup that Mr Nash had bought. Four matches. That didn't seem a lot.
Mack Henry was Osmond's first opponent. Danny smiled. It wouldn't take much to find out how good Mack was.
Sure enough, Mack had taken up residence on the edge of the playground, chessboard in front of him, small circle of awed faces around him, as he stared furiously down at the black and white squares.
Sitting opposite him, glancing round at the audience and knitting and unknitting his fingers, was Wally Rybeck, Mack's classmate who was also taking part in the competition. Wally was patently more self-conscious about this public show.
Danny watched them play. Wally was the one with the skill. When he wasn't gulping air and blinking, when he was actually focused on the game, he reminded Danny of Osmond, his hands moving surely and swiftly and decisively to take out pieces and to reframe the game ready for the next move. He wasn't quite as smooth as Osmond, didn't seem to take all the chances that he could but Wally was good.
Mack, on the other hand, was all about the showmanship. Sweeping gestures, dazzling sacrifices, heavy sighs and delighted smiles. No tactics, no strategy. Danny reckoned he could beat Mack Henry.
Just as Danny felt he'd seen enough and turned to go, Mack surprisingly put Wally's king in check. It was a weak check and Wally could easily escape. Something unspoken, though, was going on between them. Danny watched their faces; Mack, unblinking and Wally, nervous.
With a jerky gesture, Wally reached out a hand and knocked over his king.
"Checkmate," he muttered and Mack beamed and took the applause.
Interesting.
He had no qualms about Osmond being able to take Mack Henry. The match would be over in about six moves. Except…
Osmond was late down for dinner. Danny saw the discomposure and the way he favoured his right arm and didn't say a word until they were out of the dinner hall and on their way back to the dormitory. He pulled Osmond to one side.
"What happened?"
Osmond flushed.
"Os, what happened?" Danny asked again gently.
Osmond sighed. "Mack Henry asked me if I intended to win our match."
"And you said-"
"I said yes and of course."
Danny's eyes dropped down to Osmond's arm. "What did he do?"
"S'nothing."
Danny grabbed his arm and pulled up the sleeve. There was an ugly mark that spoke of flesh being twisted in two different directions. Danny's mouth tightened.
"I'm not going to tell anyone," Osmond said quickly. "And I'm not going to win the match either."
"Osmond!"
"No, Danny, I'm sorry. I'm a complete coward. Had my glasses knocked off one too many times to do otherwise."
He pulled away and Danny stared after him, open-mouthed.
Neutralising Mack Henry was tricky but not impossible. Danny knew he wasn't up to confronting Mack head on but he thought he understood what was important to Mack. Mack liked an audience and high regard and popularity and he wanted to be in with the older kids.
Which meant that a scrunched-up flyer, dropped carefully at lunch amongst the group of fifth years whom Mack always sat next to, might work a treat.
"Chess tournament?" one of them scoffed loudly as Danny walked away and took up residence at the next bench. "What a stupid idea!"
"Yeah," agreed another. "For girls and wimps."
"Or wimps who want to pull girls," said a third.
"How could anyone think that was cool?"
Danny could see Mack's cheeks going redder and redder. Good.
Mack Henry withdrew from the tournament shortly after lunch and Danny heard him announcing to anyone who would listen that it had all been a bit of a joke and only a weirdo would want to take part.
Osmond was a little bewildered and a lot relieved.
"I get a bye to the quarter-finals," he gabbled. "How lucky is that?"
"You make your own luck in this life," Danny told him. "Now make sure you win."
Unexpectedly, Danny found his way past his first opponent, a fifth-year girl named Coco who made a number of flustered mistakes. Danny guessed that maybe he was better than he thought. All those weeks of playing Osmond and some of the clever must have rubbed off.
Apart from himself and Osmond, the final eight comprised three fifth-years, a boy in his final year at Weston, Wally Rybeck and Karen Allen, the second year. He and Wally were up against fifth-years: Osmond was playing Karen.
Girls were harder to fathom than Mack Henry. Danny wasn't even sure how he was going to find out about Karen. Well, he knew the basics. She had brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and she had braces. She sat on her own a lot at lunchtime with books piled in front of her. Apart from that…
Two days later and the day of the match and Danny was still puzzling about the enigma that was girl. He sat in the library ostensibly reading reference books on Billy the Kid and Jesse James and actually resigning himself to the fact that he was going to have to trust to Osmond's innate skill at chess on this one.
"Hi." Shy and hesitant and female.
Danny looked up and saw the object of the conundrum standing next to him.
"Hi," he replied, allowing curiosity to flavour his voice.
Karen drew out the chair next to him and sat down, huddling close.
"It's Danny, right?"
Her voice was low as if she was about to impart a big secret and Danny automatically mirrored it.
"Yeah."
"I'm Karen."
"Yeah." He knew.
Mrs Oliver, the librarian with eagle eyes, the ears of a bat and the skin of a hippopotamus, walked past and paused, frowning. As one, they ducked their heads over the books in front of them. Mrs Oliver moved on on her rounds.
"You know Osmond Forsythe," Karen blurted out.
"I do."
Karen was obviously doing a little digging of her own.
"I'm playing him after lunch in the next round of the chess tournament."
"I know."
"I didn't know he liked chess. It's just…" she tailed off and looked down at her hands, knitted together in front of her. "Does he like me?"
The question caught Danny by surprise. He looked at her – really looked at her – and something in her manner reminded him of… The movies he'd seen with Mark, his tutor. The doe-eyed way some of the women had looked at the hero…
"Yes," Danny said at once, full of conviction and absolutely to be believed.
After all, Osmond hadn't said he didn't like Karen...
"Oh!" Karen blushed prettily.
Mrs Oliver walked past again and killed the conversation but judging by the little glow still colouring Karen's face, enough had been said.
So Karen liked Osmond... Danny mused on this fact on the way back to the dormitory to meet Osmond for lunch. Karen liked Osmond… This seemed significant and he wondered briefly how to use the information and wondered longer about whether to tell Osmond.
Osmond was sitting on his bed with the chessboard in front of him, lost in a world of knights and bishops and kings and queens and pawns. Maybe now was not the right moment.
Danny's match was after Osmond's and he stood in the main hall and watched as Osmond and Karen shook hands and sat down opposite.
Karen was blushing all over again at the handshake: Osmond was oblivious. Karen looked up under her eyelashes every time she moved a piece: Osmond never took his eyes off the board. Karen wasn't a bad player, Danny realised, but she wasn't in Osmond's league.
Five minutes later and Osmond moved his queen forward, pressing home the attack that he'd started with his knight.
"Check," he said and lifted his gaze up to Karen's face for the first time since the game had got underway.
Osmond sat back in his chair, his eyes widened and he swallowed hard and Danny saw that all concentration was gone. He could only hope…
"Checkmate," Karen acknowledged, knocking over her king and blushing.
"Yeah…" Osmond agreed.
Danny steered a dazed Osmond to a bench at the side of the hall.
"Well done," Danny congratulated him. "You're through to the next round."
"Yes," Osmond agreed absently. "Danny, did you see how she looked at me?"
"Uh huh."
"Danny, why did she look like that at me?"
Danny smiled. "I think she likes you."
"Oh…" Osmond took the information in and digested it. "Oh!"
"That's good, isn't it?"
Osmond flushed to his roots. "No one's ever liked me before. No girl, I mean. I mean not like that."
"Danny?" Mr Nash cut across Danny's response as he summoned him. "You're up next."
Danny's opponent was Silas Whittaker, a large fifteen-year-old with a superior look that reminded him strangely of Cole. Silas's non-chess piece handling hand was buried in a bag of candy.
"This isn't going to take long," Silas informed him, throwing a handful of candy into his mouth.
The annoying thing was that Silas was right. Ten moves and it was all over. Danny was reminded of Osmond. If Osmond had been arrogant and conceited and vile.
Silas yawned without putting his hand over his mouth and with fascinated horror, Danny saw boiled sweet decorated molars. Silas stood up and pushed the chair back.
"You know the interesting thing?" Silas said, leaning over the table. "I don't even want to win this ridiculous competition."
"Then why did you enter it?" The words were out before Danny could help himself.
"Because," Silas drawled and turned and left.
"Bad luck," Osmond was at his shoulder and looking up, it appeared that his complexion had returned to its normal pallor.
"He's good." As much as Danny didn't want to admit it, it was the truth.
"Yes," Osmond agreed with a sigh. "And I'm playing him next."
Osmond's semi-final against Silas was in two days' time which gave Danny a brief window of opportunity to plan furiously and execute carefully. Not that he didn't believe in Osmond's ability because he did, he really did. But this wasn't about helping Osmond to win. This was about helping Silas to lose.
Word on the playground was that Silas was a straight A student who knew it. He had no close friends and didn't care in the slightest. His weakness was junk food. Candy. Chocolate. Chips. Cake. Junk food and he didn't care how he came by it. Somewhere at the back of Danny's mind, an idea started to form.
Silas yawned and stretched on his way to lunch then stopped in his tracks. The first year that he'd thrashed in the chess match was sat on a bench staring lovingly at a large chocolate cream cake in his hand.
"Hey," Silas said softly, standing in front of the kid. He was pleased to see the kid give a jump of recognition. "That looks good."
"Oh, it is," the kid gabbled. "It's cream and sponge and it's delicious."
"That's what I reckoned," Silas grinned and reached out and took the cake from the kid's nerveless fingers.
"But…but…"
Silas bit into the cake in front of him and frowned.
"Tastes funny."
"That's the cherry syrup!" The kid sounded close to tears. "That's the best part!"
"Huh. Yeah. I'm getting it now." Silas demolished the rest of it in four impressive bites then moved on to lunch, the nearly tearful first year forgotten.
After lunch, there was the tiresome matter of the chess match. Another first year to walk over and then- Silas stopped as an alarming gurgle came from his stomach. Oh, that wasn't right…
Silas was late. Danny saw Osmond shuffle uncomfortably in his seat, not keen on being the sole focus of attention. Osmond looked over at Danny and silently asked the question. Danny shrugged an encouraging shrug that endeavoured to say he didn't know where Silas was and that Osmond ought to sit tight.
"Er…" Mr Nash was checking his watch. "Has anyone seen…Silas! Oh, good! You're here!"
Silas was indeed there. Green-faced and white-faced all at the same time. He pushed past the onlookers and slumped awkwardly down at the table. Osmond held out a hesitant hand. Silas ignored it.
"Let's get this over with," Silas snapped.
The game lasted all of four moves before Silas clutched his stomach and groaned and galloped from the room.
"Well…" Mr Nash broke the silence. "I think we can declare that a victory for you by default, Osmond."
There was a smattering of spontaneous applause. And that was probably all about Silas losing but Danny caught sight of Karen clapping furiously and surely that was all about Osmond.
"I'm in the final," Osmond beamed happily. "Danny, I'm in the final."
"That's-"
"Do you think Karen will come and watch me?"
"I-"
"She came and watched me in the semis."
"Yes-"
"Yes." Osmond's smile wasn't fading. "Yes."
The smile was infectious: Danny returned it.
Wally Rybeck. That was who the other finalist was. Danny hadn't taken much notice of Wally's progress and it was a surprise to find him as Osmond's opponent. A lesson to be learned about paying attention to detail.
Intimidation worked on Wally; Danny had seen that for himself. But intimidating Wally just seemed wrong. Wally wasn't Mack Henry with ego and swagger or Karen doing a great job of distracting herself or Silas with greed and arrogance. Wally was nice. With regret, Danny resigned himself to leaving it up to Osmond.
"I've seen Wally play," he told Osmond at lunch. "He's good but he's not as good as you."
Osmond nodded and didn't look in the least bit comforted. "He got to the final, didn't he? Of course he's as good as me."
Danny sighed and tried again. "Hold your nerve. Look confident. If you look confident and you act confident then Wally will fold."
Osmond nodded again and Danny could see him doing his best to muster up a little swagger. It really wasn't working as a look.
Danny hesitated for a second and then looked him straight in the eyes and told him the truth, his voice clear and carrying.
"I believe in you, Osmond. You can do this. You can win."
Osmond believed. His eyes shone. And over his shoulder, Wally Rybeck visually shrivelled.
Danny didn't get to see the final. A persistent summons to the Principal's office came out of nowhere over the tannoy and reluctantly, he left Osmond to it.
Danny's imagination ran riot on the way up the stairs. Maybe, somehow, they'd found out what he'd done to Silas. Maybe, somehow, the conversation with the campus doctor had come to light. Maybe, somehow, they'd read Danny's mind. He couldn't think how but he wasn't going to rule out the possibility of telepathy existing.
"Come on in, Danny." Principal Beckerling beckoned him in. "You have visitors."
Two visitors. Two unexpected visitors sitting in front of the Principal's desk. As Principal Beckerling excused himself, Danny stared at Cole and Mr Lawrenson.
"Oh, believe me," Cole said shortly. "I'm as surprised as you are to be here."
"Why are you?" The words were snapped and out before Danny could stop himself. He was still so very angry at Cole.
His half-brother waved an impatient hand. "Small print in the will. You have to have an annual review meeting with one of the trustees. It's not going to be Randall and it's never going to be your mother so you've got me."
"Fantastic."
Cole gave a flicker of a smile. "Well, let's get this over with."
Mr Lawrenson cleared his throat and consulted paperwork in his hand.
"The reports seem to suggest that you are doing well in your studies, Danny," he said. "The school seems to be meeting your educational requirements."
Danny shrugged. He didn't feel like he was being stretched.
"That's good," Mr Lawrenson went on. "If we thought otherwise, then I would have to push for more regular reviews. Maybe even a rethink."
Danny saw the grimace of annoyance on Cole's face that spoke of time being wasted and he couldn't stop the gleam in his eyes. Cole saw it and sprang to his feet.
"Don't even think about letting your grades slide! You drag me down here more often than I need be and I'll yank you out of here so fast, your feet won't touch the ground! This is the soft option, you know."
Soft option? Torn out of his roots and thrown the other side of the country?
Cole smiled unpleasantly. "You fancy a spot of military academy training?" he asked softly.
Danny's fingers curled into his palms.
"Crew cut?" Cole murmured. "Bit of discipline?"
Cole would do it. Danny had no doubt. Instinctive defiance made him raise his chin and then he thought about Osmond. About the relative freedom and independence he enjoyed at Weston Harkett. About the correspondence with Luis and Maria and the likelihood of letters and fruitcake and cards reaching him at military academy. The bargaining chips definitely lay with Cole. Danny dropped his gaze to the carpet and felt the triumph rolling off Cole.
"Good. Because believe me, I can be an annoying little bastard too." Cole turned to Mr Lawrenson. "He's fit and well. Are we done here?"
"Pretty much, pretty much." The lawyer shuffled his paperwork. "Just a couple of things to-"
"Do you need me?" Cole cut across him.
"No…"
"Right. I'll be waiting in reception."
Danny watched him disappear through the door and then turned his attention back to Mr Lawrenson.
"What else do you need?" he asked tonelessly.
"I just want to make sure you have sufficient allowance."
"It's fine."
"And the figures for your tuition are very modest."
No kidding.
"Danny…" Mr Lawrenson hesitated. "I'm not here to take sides with your brothers-"
"-half-brothers-"
Mr Lawrenson continued as if Danny hadn't spoken.
"I mean I'm not a trustee but it's my role to make sure that your father's will is executed properly. That the trust fund is administered correctly. I worked for your father a long time and I'm here to help and advise you if you have any questions or concerns..."
Danny looked at him and considered. He'd been so caught up both at the will-reading and today with the battle with Cole that he hadn't really taken much account of the man.
"Mr Lawrenson, please can you explain the terms of the trust fund to me in detail?"
Mr Lawrenson's face lit up. "It would be a pleasure."
Osmond was waiting for him when he got back to the dormitory and the sight of him drove the new information and plans from Danny's mind.
"Oh, Os, you won!" Danny grinned at the silver cup in Osmond's hand. "Tell me all about it."
Osmond took him at his word and recounted every move. It had been a quick and clean win and Osmond's biggest thrill was that Karen had been front and centre, watching him.
Danny smiled. Seeing someone he liked happy was a good feeling.
Four days later and Osmond was sat on his bed, staring wordlessly down at the contents of the envelope in bemusement. Danny gave it three minutes and then could bear it no longer.
"What is it, Os?"
Osmond started. With a furtive look around – highly unnecessary since they were the only two in the dormitory - he handed Danny the letter.
"Dear Mr Forsythe," Danny read aloud, "Congratulations on your recent win in the Weston Harkett Chess Tournament."
"They say there's a prize fund recognising achievement," Osmond said in a rush. "The-"
"-Cole and Randall Prize Fund," Danny completed, straight-faced, his eyes on the letter. "Set up by Friends of Weston Harkett. It says you were nominated to receive part of it."
Osmond held up a cheque and said in hushed tones, "It's for five hundred dollars."
"So it is," Danny nodded.
"Danny, do you think it's alright? Do you think it's legal?"
"It's from a law firm," Danny pointed out, indicating the address at the top of the letterhead.
"Oh, yes." Some tension left Osmond. He stared down at the cheque.
"I've never had so much money before. I've never seen so much money before."
Danny handed him back the letter and let reverent silence hang in the air for a long moment.
"You know what you could do with that money…"