Thank you for choosing to read "The Watchers of Greenport Academy."
This is the first story I have published online, after writing for several other ventures. I just graduated college, and am excited to share these stories with you.
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Any resemblance of real people or events is coincidental. Please be aware this story depicts homosexual themes. _______________________________________________________
Tiredness stirs in your system like a drug. It makes you doubt your perception of reality.
But suddenly, my eyes opened wide. Moonlight glared on the twisting brass doorknob. A small rush of adrenaline flooded my body. Not sure what to do, I backed away like a timid prey. My eyes stayed on the mystery in front of me as I fixed myself with no escape up against the other side of the room.
The latch finally clicked as it cleared from the doorframe. My anxiety shot up through my nose as I inhaled one more deep and resounding breath. The hinges on the door began their chorus, making way for what was next. Something tickled.
I wanted to stifle it, but I couldn't silence it. I let out a blunt sneeze as the dust from my vintage wood-paneled walls showered over me.
My mistake was echoed by the sound of the doorknob springing back to its upright position. The door, though, continued to sway open.
Whoever it was made a silent retreat. As I looked through the growing crack of me to the world beyond, I saw nothing but darkness.
Except for the faint red light, which turned off again as soon as I saw it.
I didn't have plans to linger in the hallway all night. I gently closed the door, and went for the lock this time. Deadbolt, too.
Nearly stubbing my toe on the footboard, I stretched out on top of my bed. My sleepy thoughts diluted the rush I just lived through.
The second act of my sleepless night brought peace I hadn't felt during the first. I rested, until I heard loud fraternization coming from the quad outside my window.
"Can you believe they had him as their fullback?" One of them loudly yelled to the rest of their pack.
A familiar voice responded. Adam was down there, walking in the center of the group. My clock beeped.
6 a.m.
"You would have landed flat on your ass if you thought you could do any better," he said.
Most of the guys had gym bags slung over their shoulders. They were all in only shorts, dripping head to toe.
The morning sun bounced right off Adam's bicep as he gripped the football under his arm.
"Coach would be stupid to go through with this new plan of his," someone else said.
Adam spun around.
"You know he's got to," he said.
"Oh, of course!" One of the others said mockingly. "Gentlemen," he started to say, lowering his voice to sound like a coach. "I know Greenport Academy has been national champions for two years. But, I'd like you to take a charity case."
The guys were all laughing. Slapping each other's backs.
Suddenly, Adam launched the ball at the ground. His two hands white-knuckled with clear anger.
"He's not my first choice either," he spat. "But if you care about your own spot, you will see things differently."
Several seconds punctuated the silence. Adam had clearly put this other guy in his place, and there was an intense staredown.
"Dude, relax."
Adam did not relax. He split off from the rest of the group and started to turn toward our dormitory.
I went back to my morning. Being late for what was actually the second day of classes would've cost me a vital organ or two from the appearance of things.
Boys from across the hallway all stirred awake. Like a herd of animals, we migrated to the showers.
I kept my eyes down, trying to save myself from any trouble.
But the moment I walked in, it felt like parading down the middle of a battlefield. It roared with grunts, and the wet moans of some guys helping themselves in their showers. Guys who wrapped up were slapping each other's butts and yanking towels.
One of the stalls toward the end of the row was open. Halfway there, everyone seemed to stop and look at me.
"Fag!" One guy yelled.
No one else said anything, but the words they didn't speak still carried the same message.
Some shower heads turned off, and more guys stepped into the middle of the room to join the show. A couple of them I recognized from this morning. They were the guys Adam argued with.
I didn't hear the door open behind me, but a hand did slap my ass.
"This is no fag," the neighborly voice said. "He's a fucking idiot, though. Move your ass."
The added insult couldn't have been wrapped around a more meaningful gesture. All the other guys turned back to what they were doing.
I gave a half-nod to Adam, who just finished his shower as a display of my thanks.
Condensation dripped along the rusted divots of the shower tile. A disgusting amount of pubic hairs collected near the drain. This was going to be quick.
Back in my dorm room, I dropped my towel and went for my unpacked bag in the wardrobe.
A voice inside the room cleared its throat while I fumbled the waistband of my underwear and dropped it. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I swallowed hard.
"Adam?"
He was sitting near my desk, but stood up and closed the blinds of my window. My hands dropped to cover my dick.
Next, he came up to me.
"I wanted to thank you," I said.
A shot up finger to shush me. He reached past my bare ass to lock the door.
"Have you read your schedule?" He asked, while undoing his blazer and laying it across my bed.
"Yes, I have it."
"I asked if you've read it," he said, holding up a folder paper.
I realized, I hadn't.
"No."
He flicked the paper at me. I went to catch it, leaving my flopping cock exposed. In a pivot, I bent back down, inadvertently mooning Adam, to grab my underwear. I hopped around, struggling to stick a foot through the leg hole.
"I am so sorry," I said to Adam, finally snapping my waistband over my hip.
He frowned.
I squatted on my bed and unfolded my schedule.
MONDAY-WEDNESDAY 8 - 10 AM: COMPUTER PROGRAMMING TUESDAY-THURSDAY 9 - 11:45 AM: BIOCHEMISTRY APPLIED SCIENCES MONDAY-WEDNESDAY 3:15 - 4:30 PM: SYSTEMS AND DATABASES FRIDAY 11 - NOON: ORGANIC LABORATORY
The classes seemed more advanced than the college back home I was supposed to attend, especially for a freshman.
"Check the bottom," Adam said.
MANDATORY ATHLETIC CREDIT - FOOTBALL DAILY PRACTICE, EXCLUDING SUNDAYS, 5 - 8 PM
"Uh," I glanced at Adam, who had a deeply serious look on his face.
"I don't play football."
"I know," he said. "But now you do. It's part of it."
"I don't know how to play football."
"And?"
I still looked a bit shocked. He got very close to me.
"I know why you're here."
I shook my head, as I had been told to do.
"But you need to hide it. Things will happen if you don't," Adam said.
"I'm not afraid of the guys in the showers."
"Good," he said, then got so close to my ear, a chill ran through me. "But I'm talking about something else."
"Something else?"
"The academy fixes guys who've had issues with the law, or who have racked up debt. Stupid decisions. But each of them is still a genius in one way or another. That's why they still get an opportunity to learn."
I kept quiet, like Loyd and my parents said to do if this conversation came up. Adam tapped me on my hip and motioned to sit down with him.
"I'm not describing you, am I?" Adam asked.
No response from me.
Adam leaned in again.
"I know who you are, Matthew," he said. His voice was filled with reassurance.
"And it's ok," he continued.
Suddenly, his watch beeped like a timer.
"Oh, fuck."
"What?" I said.
"Quick, get dressed."
Adam threw back on his blazer and slicked back his hair with his fingers. I dug for my second uniform from my bag. I hastily put it on, and screwed up the tie. Adam opened the blinds, took a step back over, and spun me toward him.
"You look like shit," he said. "But we'll make it work."
He loosened my tie and adjusted the knot.
"That'll have to do. Ready?"
I grabbed my backpack, and checked to make sure my tablet was inside. Adam still had his gym bag from earlier.
He opened the door to my room and gave me a push into the hallway. Suddenly, he had a football in his hands.
"Don't lose this, FUCKER!"
He shoved the ball into my chest, and I fell backward a bit. He walked off down the hall and never turned back to look at me. I was left all alone to catch the breath he just partially knocked out of me. The red light was blinking again.
I threw the ball through my doorway and onto the bed, then shut the door and locked up. I had a class to get to, but a general sense of anxiety made it difficult to focus.
Biochem really wasn't my strength, but not impossible. I thought I would be enrolled in more computer science classes, since that was my emphasis, but that was the consequence of an eleventh-hour "let's fuck up your life" decision from my parents.
I wasn't really sure what to do with the rest of my morning, and wasn't excited to sit in my musty dorm room. So, I went toward the library.
I figured it might be somewhat empty, since most of the guys I've seen so far seem like nothing more than fragile meatheads. But I was wrong. Virtually every table inside the reading hall was full. So, I started walking toward the stacks.
It was a lot more confined, but I found a tiny desk to sit down at. Just before I pulled out my tablet, I noticed a guy searching for a title between two shelves. That's when he turned toward me, and I quickly acted like I wasn't staring.
I unlocked my tablet, and began to load the app for my e-textbook when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"Mind if you move?"
It was the guy I had just finished staring at.
"Oh, yes, I am sorry. Of course," I said.
I began to pack my bag.
"No, you're good to stay here. I just need to grab that one, Foundations of Nuclear Isotopes."
I bent back, reached for it, and handed it to the guy.
"Thanks, man. I'm Artemis."
"And I'm Matthew," I replied.
Artemis was the first Black guy I had seen on campus. And actually, the only one who wasn't white at all."
"Are you new?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm a freshman from Texas," I told him.
"I'm a freshman from Atlanta. How'd you end up all this way North?"
"My parents thought -- we thought -- this would be the best place to study computers."
That wasn't anywhere near the truth, but I remembered what Adam told me earlier.
"Yeah, they're pretty good at that here. And other things," he said, while holding up his textbook on nuclear engineering.
"How'd you end up here?" I asked him.
"My dad is an alum. I know, a legacy kid. But, it actually wasn't as easy as that. They rejected me for `reasons' and he had to sue to get me in. I had better aptitude scores than 97% of the other guys that are here."
"And the reasons they rejected you?"
"Well, you're staring right at me."
Damn.
"Hey, I've got 5 minutes to book it across campus, but it was good to meet you. Don't be a stranger."
"Same here," I said back.
I turned my attention back to my tablet and noticed the front-camera indicator light was on. But, my camera app wasn't open. Probably a glitch I can tinker with later.
After a couple hours, I decided I would make the trek back to my dorm. My legs could barely squeeze into this desk.
When I returned, I reached for the door, but it was already unlocked. A bit odd, but maybe I forgot.
Inside, there was nothing strange. So, I dropped my backpack and went to the wardrobe and unpacked what little I brought with me. It wasn't much, beyond my uniforms and a couple shirts and shorts I could get sweaty in.
For just a short while, I laid down, staring at the ceiling, hating my life. But that couldn't last long, because I was supposed to attend football practice. And honestly, I had no idea where the field was.
I grabbed a change of clothes, and went back out into the wild.
Growing up, my dad took me to plenty of football games. I never understood it. He played a year at Texas A&M before having to quit for an injury. He always said he wanted me to follow in his footsteps. Probably not this way, though.
An uphill path took me from the dormitory, around the quad, past the student center, and to the football stadium. It wasn't much of a stadium, though, because the academy played in a smaller division. To the side of it was the practice facility.
Inside, it was less wild than I expected. I saw some of the other guys; a couple of whom I saw with Adam this morning, some who I encountered in the showers, and a few who I passed in the library. I didn't get nearly as many disapproving looks as I did when I started my day, but the welcoming atmosphere, if there were one, had been sucked right out of the room.
"Guys!" Adam said as he came running in from the outside. "Get your shit together. Let's go. Coach says we run if you're not out there in five."
I wasn't going to be that guy, so I hauled ass out to the field. I hung out near the back of the guys, not wanting to draw attention. But, Adam found me.
"Matthew, you should meet Coach R. He's in the Tri-State Hall of Fame, and has 7 total national championships."
"It's an honor, coach," I said.
"Don't kiss my fucking ass," he said. "Show me some hustle today."
Clearly, he's just as down-to-earth as every other person I've met so far. He walked back up toward the front of the squad.
"Alright, listen up! First game is in 3 weeks. A lot is being expected out of us this season. Now is not the time to hit the brakes."
Coach R's pep speech droned on a bit. As I looked at all the other guys, I noticed how stiff they were. They all looked like they were standing at military attention, hanging on every word coach was saying as if it were gospel straight from Jesus Christ.
"Now, meet your team captains, Adam Johnson and Derek Finemore."
I figured as much that Adam was a team captain of sorts. But I became more surprised to see the guy standing next to him, Derek, was the guy he almost beat up on this morning.
"We're in it to fucking win it," Derek started off. "We will practice every fucking day, rain or shine. And you guys will condition yourselves to be killers. Our duty to this legacy doesn't end when practice does."
Adam totally rolled his eyes.
"But," he started, "There's no excuse here to be an ass to anyone else. We play like a team, we treat each other like a team."
He should've just directly called me out by name. Every eyeball landed on me when he said that.
"Break off!" Coach yelled.
The squad started splitting off with a few of the assistants for some strength and conditioning. My feet took me nowhere, but luckily Adam elbowed me as he jogged past and I took the hint to join him.
There was a small hill just outside the chainlink fence of the practice field. It butted right up against a wooded area.
One of the assistants stood near the bottom, timing us as we busted our asses in fast sprints up and down.
I was winded like hell. There was zero juice left in my tank, the other guys were eating me up by a mile.
"Alright, time!" The guy yelled.
Half of us were at the top of the hill still, and the other half were at the bottom. I threw my hands up behind my head, propping my skin and bones up against one of the trees.
"Hey," Adam came up to me. "Are you okay?"
"Y -- yeah."
Jesus, I was panting.
"I'm fine."
"Think you can handle more of this?"
"Doesn't sound like an actual choice," I said back.
"At least you're catching on."
I didn't say anything back, because I was still preoccupied with not vomiting downwind of the hillside.
But as we both caught our breath in that moment, something happened.
Deeper into the woods, Adam and I heard a grunt. Then, a loud pop which ricocheted across the open skies above.
Growing up in Texas, I knew what it was.
A rifle shot.
"Was that --" I asked.
"Fuck," was all Adam said.
Adam and I looked back down the hill, and no one else seemed fazed by what we thought we just heard. He and I locked eyes and started moving our weight toward where the sound came from. It was hard to tell exactly how near or far away it was, but the canopy of August trees was especially thick, and it was impossible to see more than 20 yards in front of us.
We kept going until we reached a short drop to a creek below. We could hear nothing else beyond the weak flow of the summer drought beneath us.
"Do you see that?"
"See what?" I asked.
"Hold on."
Adam motioned me to come with. We angled ourselves down a steep bank, kicking up rocks along the way.
Near the bottom, Adam was crouched down. He found something.
When I came up behind him, I noticed a trail of blood.
But when I followed his gaze, I saw what he saw. The book was settled in a small patch of now red-streaked weeds.
Adam picked it up, turning it around to show me. A bloodied handprint obscured part of the cover, but I could still read it.
"We need to go," I said.
I knew exactly who it belonged to.