The holidays over and done with everything went back to normal, well as normal as it could get at Crowmill. I was constantly pondering how to spring but didnīt come up with any really bright ideas. Mr Jackson was back on duty January 7th. After dinner the same day he summoned me to his office, mr Benstead present, too. I kneeled and waited. I was dead calm, like when the cops interrogated me on the outside. Iīd been expecting this and was well prepared.
"Been at it again, Jennings?"mr Jackson said. "Apparently you have no social talent. Or maybe youīve missed the feel of a sore, bleeding butt? Because thatīs what youīre getting for assault. And a trip down to Special Confinement to teach you self control."
"Permission to speak, sir?" I said, staring straight ahead because I was afraid Iīd flip if I looked his way. This was a strategy move and I actually didnīt have much to say yet, but if youīre innocent, you want to tell them right away. If youīre guilty, you play the waiting game, adjusting your story to the facts revealed. Thatīs just a rule of thumb, and very stupid or very smart people donīt follow it, but most ordinary people do.
"Shut the _f_u_c_k_ up!" mr Jackson roared. "Iīm not even nearly finished with you yet. Lying wonīt do you no good either. Weīve had one fight here these past four months. Then you arrive and it happens twice within a fortnight. Neither JD nor Robbie have a history of fighting, like you. Whatīs the matter, Jennings? Too yellow to challenge Unix or Dazzle?"
I stayed silent. Those were like rhetorical questions. I doubted Robbie had snitched, though. He wouldnīt dare. Iīd seen the sheer terror in his eyes when I came at him, and he knew that if I was sent down, Bear or Dazzle or JD would jump in line. Robbie had noone to protect him, the slimy bastard. And there still was no substance in what mr Jackson was preaching. They just supposed I did it, me being the guy most likely compared to the other Step Two angelinos.
"Hold out your hands", mr Benstead said, and I did, palms up, deliberately trembling. He turned them over and scrutinized them. This was eight days after the fight and the bruises were gone since New Yearīs Day. Then I was ordered to strip naked. I could understand why mr Jackson was pissed off. The screws had screwed up. If theyīd examined me more closely right afterwards, theyīd have found hard evidence and Iīd been had. Mr Benstead had noticed the marks on my hands but done _s_h_i_t_ about it, and then he went off duty for a week. While I undressed I _c_o_c_k_ed a mental snook at him, the silly _f_u_c_k_er. There were no telltale signs on my body except the ones theyīd put there themselves. Robbie wasnīt even close to hitting me back at any time.
I was told to put on my clothes again, and when I was about to get down on my knees mr Jackson told me to stop and keep standing.
"Come on, Jennings", he said. "Fight me."
I jumped with surprise and quickly scanned him. He looked dead serious. This was a new move.
"Sir, please explain to me why you want me to fight you", I said, playing for time. "I donīt understand."
"You donīt have to understand _s_h_i_t_. Just get on with it." He spread his legs and gestured another come on to me with his hands.
Sweat was running down my back. I glanced at mr Benstead. He was staring at mr Jackson, apparently as surprised as I was.
"Sir, Iīll incriminate myself if I fight you", I said. "Please donīt make me do it."
"Mr Benstead can confirm you were ordered to. Now cut the yapping, Jennings. Get going."
"I refuse, sir", I said lowly. "Iīm supposed not to fight anymore. Thatīs as bad as stealing, sir. I donīt want to do it."
"Youīre a canting bastard, Jennings. You donīt have the right to refuse, either." Mr Jackson strode over and half turned me around, then he slapped my face twice and pushed me away from him. "Come on now. Too yellow to fight back? You look like a girl, maybe you fight like one, too? _f_u_c_k_ing sissy."
I was cornered. I could feel a vague anger rising inside, but I also knew heīd smash me to pieces, him being at least twice my size, his upper arms as thick as my thighs. Then he pushed me again, and again, and I tried to get down on my knees to make him stop, but he pushed me once more and then I charged, aiming at his groin because nothing else seemed worthwhile, but I never even got close. His fist slammed into my stomach and I lost my breath, and then he punched my jaw, sending me sprawling on the floor.
Iīve been beaten up twice by the cops and they just hammered down on me, never asking me to fight back and I never even thought about it, just tried to protect my head and balls and ride it out. I didnīt stand a chance against mr Jackson, either. I got up on my knees and breathlessly asked for permission to speak, but he punched me again and I fell sideways, my head hitting the floor, and then he kicked me twice and I rolled away from him, getting up on my feet, feeling like that puny Disney character fighting Baloo the Bear. When he came at me again I dodged the next blow and drove my head into his belly, kicking at his left leg and he lost balance for a second, and I slugged a backhand with my fist against the side of his head and he seemed to go down, but was up again before I knew it and then did what he should have done from start, just hammered on and on. I was sure heīd kill me. I tried to roll away, but he was all over the place.
Then I heard mr Benstead saying something like this was enough, and the beating stopped. I lay there shaking all over, trying to sort out what parts of me were damaged and what were still working. My nose and mouth were bleeding, but the teeth seemed allright. I got up on hands and knees and had to puke, mostly blood, and I thought of internal bleeding and dying and curled up again, dizzy and scared.
"Thatīs how Robbie felt", mr Jackson said, a bit short of breath from the exercise. "And you didnīt get half of what he got. Bet youīre not used to being the losing part. Well, from now on you are. Another fight in here and Iīll give it to you until you wind up in the hospital or even the _f_u_c_k_ing morgue. Is that clear, Jennings?"
"Yes, sir", I managed to get out.
"Now, mr Benstead will escort you to the shower room and make sure you clean yourself up, and then youīll come back here and take care of the mess youīve made on the floor. Then weīll talk again. And youīll tell me the truth, right, Jennings?"
"Yes, sir", I said once more, because that was the only answer possible. And I did, too. I told him everything, from the alleged fight with JD in the day room to my revenge on Robbie. Iīd never confessed as thoroughly as I did then, because I didnīt want another beating and I didnīt want mr Jackson to bear a grudge against me, either. I didnīt mention the background story, JDīs brothers and _s_h_i_t_, because that was none of mine or mr Jacksonīs _f_u_c_k_ing business. If anyone should tell, thatīd be JD himself. I was taken back to my room and had to write everything down and sign it, then hand it to mr Jackson.
He told me Iīd be locked up until Robbie came back, and then Robbie would determine my punishment. If I hadnīt confessed, Iīd have had to see the chief and would probably have been sent down to S. C. for at least a month on bread and water, let alone the whipping.
As it happened and Iīm sure mr Jackson knew beforehand Robbie came back the very next day, uglier than ever with two front teeth gone. Iīd been miserable, my face and body badly bruised and aching from the beating, missing the company of the other guys, even missing the morning run, and I was still more miserable having to kneel in mr Jacksonīs office with Robbie in the visitorīs chair, eyes gleaming with content. I had to apologize to him and ask him to decide my payback, and he didnīt hesitate to do so. He generously gave me 50 lashes and one hour in the corner, and Iīd get it after dinner that same evening. I had to say thanks to him, too. Mr Jackson really knew the art of true disgrace.
Iīd never had as many as 50 at a time and was really spooked up about it. I was hoping Iīd be locked up again, to get a chance to prepare myself, but of course I wasnīt. This was around 10.30 and mr Ryan walked me to school, the others greeting me in different discreet ways. I could tell from their looks that they knew all about whatīd happened. I did maths for an hour and then started on a composition about the EU, and the 50 were right there all the time together with Robbies smug rat face.
At lunch Chas asked me whatīs up but mr Ackroyd told him to change the subject. Conversation was low at my table that day and I hardly said anything at all, not having much of an appetite, either. We played volleyball at PT. Robbie was excused from all sports for a fortnight and sat on the bench watching, and having him around _f_u_c_k_ed me up. I played lousy, netting my serves, failing to pass the ball, and Unix hissed out his opinions through his teeth, calling me _f_u_c_k_ing miss Jenny, which was OK to me as a joke but not as an insult, so I accidentally tackled him once or twice in return and we were mighty pissed off at each other by the end of the game. I had a headache afterwards and was sick in the shower, and there were bruises all over me, making clear to the others Iīd had more than a slapping.
We had dinner, pork chops and chips and vegetables, and all of it tasted like sawdust. My eyes were drawn to the _f_u_c_k_ing corner as by magnetic force. Robbie sat with his back to me but I could hear him chatting and giggling like he was the happiest asshole on earth, and maybe he was for a brief time, but Iīd make sure that didnīt last long. I wouldnīt have to use my fists to get back on him.
Then mr Donovan rose and ordered all to be silent. He told us that the assault in the shower room had been sorted out, and that Iīd confessed and would be punished in front of all of them. That floored me for sure. Iīd had big audiences at my whippings on Step One, but this was different. I kept staring down at the table until mr Donovan called my name and told me to fall in behind him.