Enigmatic Emotions

(ii) The White Rabbit

"I imagine one of the reasons people
cling to their hates so stubbornly is
because they sense, once that is gone,
they will be forced to deal with pain."

-James Baldwin

Alan shuffled uncomfortably on the hard wooden chair. It wasn't every day that he was summoned by the headmaster. Certainly not on the first day, when he could still keep his antics to a minimum.

Headmaster Boughey was seated in a comfortable-looking chair. His hands were folded into an ominous tent.

"I've been going through your file from years past, at Smith's request." He took out a yellow folder and turned it towards him, his cool eyes still fixed on Alan.

Alan swallowed, he had hoped never to hear the name of the previous director — Nowell Smith — again. He had been filled with relief when he heard that the science-hating pinhead was retiring.

However, judging by the man's scowl and grey hairs, he had the feeling that Boughey wasn't much better.

"Your results are below average and seeing you like this, I see what my predecessor meant by "an unkempt loner"."

Those words came as a slap to his face, one that did more damage than Cyril's kicks.

Alan swallowed bile and took a moment to answer calmly. Whatever he did, Boughey could corner him with his power. Literally and figuratively.

"My results in science subjects are good," he said as firmly as possible. "Sir," he added quickly.

Boughey's empty eyes stared at him, unimpressed. He cleared his throat and looked at the file again.

"Perhaps, although it says here that your style is chaotic and incomprehensible. Besides, you won't get ahead in life with being able to solve an integral. I hoped that roommate of yours had already made that clear."

So Blamey really was on a secret mission, Alan realised with shock. He had the orders to teach him Latin and Greek, and the so-called wonderful world of literature.

He had read Alice in Wonderland once, the only fictional story that really appealed to him. He would much rather have his nose in his scientific book Natural Wonders.

The grey-haired man continued relentlessly. "Only the shallowest mind can suppose that all the advantage of discovery brings us appreciably nearer to the solution riddles of the universe," he quoted the former headmaster.

Alan had to try his hardest not to say something very rude, or something atheistic, his mother forbade him. He dug his nails into the chair.

He licked his lips and welcomed the stinging sensation of the wound opening. He felt humiliated, but what was worse, Chris could hear all this. Alan was extremely aware of his presence.

As often happened, he noted that he had lost his voice. His brain was grinding for an appropriate response at full speed, until it overheated. All he could focus on now was the bloody taste in his mouth.

Chris seemed to notice his tension and got up, the chair nearly tripping behind him. An either quite heroical or dramatical action. For the second time that day, he saved him from destruction. "Turing will get help from me if he needs it, as I see great potential in him," he said with a sidelong glance and grin at him.

"Ah, Morcom, this is exactly why I wanted you to come along. Hopefully, you will succeed where Blamey failed." The headmaster seemed enchanted by Chris' charisma, as was Alan. "This is your penultimate year at our school, I expect all my students to go to a prestigious university. If you manage to get Turing back on track, you both might be able to obtain a scholarship to King's College," he said rapturously. "You are excused."