February 1903

Professor Reynaldi stops me in the hall. "Mr. Hockley…my office." I follow him inside, and he pulls a piece of paper from his desk drawer, a paper I recognize as my last essay. "I'm very disappointed, Cal," he says, handing the assignment back to me. "Your penmanship is an abomination! This-" his voice trails off as he searches for the right word. "Chicken scratch- isn't like you."

"I'm sorry, Professor," I mumble, hurriedly turning to the door. "I'll rewrite it."

"Too right, you will…now!" Reynaldi demands, jerking his head toward the desk. I stare at the blank paper in front of me, and the pen wobbles in my left hand. "I've never known you to write with your left hand," Reynaldi says sternly. "Now, no more funny business, Mr. Hockley!" I take the pen in my right hand and immediately wince. Reynaldi's eyes soften as understanding dawns on him. "How long has your arm been injured?"

"Since the holidays," I reply, avoiding his eyes.

Reynaldi sighs, turning toward the door. "Wait here." He returns a few minutes later with a taller, dark-haired man. "Cal, this is Dr. Briggs, the head of the medical department. He's agreed to take a look at you." And he turns away, shutting the door behind him.

Dr. Briggs approaches. "So, Professor Reynaldi tells me you have an injured arm." He chuckles slightly as he opens his black doctor bag. "Since I started teaching, I haven't had much opportunity to use this." I wince as he prods my right arm; he tsks. "Classic spiral fracture."

I stare at him. What the hell does that mean?! His eyes are stern as they meet mine. "When did this happen?"

"Over the Christmas vacation."

"C-Christmas vacation?" Briggs stammers flabbergasted. "That was weeks ago! And no one bothered to set your arm?" I shake my head; he sighs. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to re-break your arm to set it properly."

I manage a reluctant nod as Briggs voices exactly what I'm thinking: "This is going to hurt." My teeth clench as he takes hold of my arm, but I don't allow myself to make a sound. I grip the back of the chair hard, so hard I can see my knuckles turning white, as the sharp pull on my other arm worsens, tighter and tighter until…CRACK!

I look at Briggs again as he unfurls a long bandage. "You'll be good as new in about a month or two," he says nonchalantly, wrapping my arm.

"A month or two?" I repeat incredulously. "But what about rowing? I'm the team captain, and-"

"I'm afraid that's out of the question," Briggs cuts me off, tying off the bandage. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must have a word with Professor Reynaldi." I stare after him as he disappears into the hall. Reynaldi's voice rises, but I'm hardly paying attention. No rowing for two months! How is the team going to get on without me? Who will they give my spot to? What if they don't give it back? I laugh mirthlessly. It's almost as if my father planned this. The old bastard never tires of taking away the things I love; it sounds just like something he'd do…

"What happened?" Professor Reynaldi's voice jerks me out of my thoughts as he takes a seat across from me; his eyes are dead serious as they meet mine.

"I-" I stop myself before I can tell him what really happened; I know my father would never forgive me if I did. I'd better think of some story and fast. "I slipped on some ice… you know how unusually cold it's been…"

Reynaldi shakes his head disapprovingly. "Cal, the doctor said you have a spiral fracture. That's not an injury you'd get from slipping on ice." His eyes change. "Now, tell me what really happened."

"M-my father…" I barely manage to choke out. My head bows but I still feel Reynaldi's eyes boring into me, waiting for me to finish that sentence. Memories of that night come rushing back, the way he flew into one of his typical rages upon learning I'd beaten up Anthony Chandler. I can still feel is grip on my arm, squeezing, twisting…

Tears suddenly pour from my eyes before I can stop them. I turn away, but I know it's pointless…Reynaldi's already seen. I half-expect him to laugh or scold, but he doesn't… just sigh sadly as his hand rests on my shoulder. "Your father's been doing this to you for a long time, hasn't he?"

I nod, vainly wiping my eyes. "Since my brother died when I was five…"

"You don't have to take that!" The harshness of Reynaldi's tone startles me, though I'm not sure whether his anger is toward me or my father. "Cal, you're not a child; you have every right to defend yourself."

I chuckle under my breath. Easy for him to say! He doesn't know what it's like… "How would you know?"

Reynaldi's eyes darken. "My father was the same way…"

I stare blankly at him. "My God! I'm sorry, Professor-"

"Don't be," he cuts me off, waving a hand as if to dismiss the matter. "It's not your fault." He bends so that his eyes are level with mine. "Cal, look at me." I reluctantly meet his gaze. "I promise you there is a way out of this." And he turns away.

I don't think any more about my encounter with Professor Reynaldi…at least not until several days have passed. I glance up at the clock on the wall…I'm late to class. I hurriedly jostle my way through the crowd and crash into a tall black-haired man standing outside Reynaldi's office. "Watch where you're going, you –"

He turns, and I'm met with a familiar pair of dark-gray eyes. "Father?" I have to work to keep the shock out of my voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Some professor invited me here…said a conference was in order."

"What professor?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

"Riley… Randall…something with an R."

"Reynaldi…" I mumble under my breath, but I realize my father's still heard me as his head bows into a damning nod. My heart sinks.

His eyes are glinting dangerously as they meet mine. "If he tells me your grades are slipping…" he whispers ferociously. He grabs my uninjured arm, squeezing hard, and I wince. At that very moment, the door flies open and Professor Reynaldi appears, his eyes darting from my father to me and back. My father suddenly releases his hold on me. "Professor Reynaldi?"

"Mr. Hockley," he replies coldly, barely inclining his head. "Please step into my office…" I start to follow them, but Reynaldi stops me. "Wait here, Cal. This won't take long."

I sit on the bench outside Reynaldi's office, and it isn't long before angry voices rise. "…comes back from vacation and just happens to have a broken arm?!" I can scarcely believe the voice shouting is Reynaldi's…I've never heard him so angry. "Did you honestly think no one would guess…"

"Did my lying son tell you that?" Father cuts him off. "That conniving little sneak! When I get my hands on him, I'll-"

"Abuse him?" Reynaldi finishes for him. "Again,"

"What you call 'abuse', others would call discipline, Professor Reynaldi." I can hear the barely veiled rage in my father's voice.

"Is that what happened to the other one, you disciplined him to death?" Reynaldi demands. He chuckles sardonically. "My God, you make me sick! If I had my way, people like you would be locked up for eternity!" A long tense pause follows, and I know his words have struck a nerve with my father.

A hauntingly familiar WHACK shatters the silence, and I know my father has just punched Professor Reynaldi. "You nosy bastard! How dare you talk about my son-"

"You're right," Reynaldi coolly interrupts him. "Cal is your son. It's about time you started treating him like it."

"Don't… tell me… how to raise my son!" The door bangs against the wall, shattering the glass, as my father storms out of Reynaldi's office. He grabs my hand hard. "Come along, Caledon! I'm pulling you out of this godforsaken school, now that I know what kind of-" He glares at Reynaldi. "-riffraff teach here." His voice drops as he turns to me. "I could get you into Princeton or Yale, no problem."

He tries to pull me along, but I don't budge. I glance up at Professor Reynaldi and see a bruise darkening over his left eye. A sudden pang of remorse grips my heart; he got that injury trying to defend me. I know I have to do the same for him. "No!" I yank my hand put of my father's; he wheels around, staring at me. "I'm not leaving; my friends are at this school…" Reynaldi smiles as he and I exchange a look. My father's eyes are suddenly burning with malice as I turn back to him, and I instinctively stand between him and Reynaldi. An idea suddenly dawns on me. "Besides, how would it look if you pulled me out of the most prestigious school in the country?" His eyes change, and I know I have him. "Everyone would think I flunked out or worse…" I can't resist sneering as I add, "Got expelled."

My father nods reluctantly. "Fine." I stare after him as he turns back down the hall, cursing. Did that really just happen? Have I finally won in an argument against my father? My eyes shift back to Professor Reynaldi; I notice his worried expression and know we must be thinking the same thing: not for long…