Chapter 2 two

Our absence from dinner was noticed.The next morning Mr. Prudhomme stopped at the door of our room on that clean and glistening summer morning in the north.He was broad-shouldered, grave, and dressed in a gray suit.He didn't have the insouciance that most English teachers tend to have, because he was a temporary substitute this summer.He enforced the school rules he knew, and missing dinner was one of the violations. We swam in the river, Finny explained, and then we wrestled, and then there was the sunset that everyone wanted to see, and then a few friends had to go and have something to talk about. He rambled, his The voice was high-pitched for a while, and then turned sharply for a while, as if it came from the vibrating speaker.From time to time his eyes widen and glow green across the room.Standing in the shadows, with his back to the bright window, he exudes a health that has been scorched by the sun.Mr. Prudhomme watched him and listened to his ramblings.It was evident that Mr. Prudhomme was rapidly losing his sternness.

If you hadn't eaten nine times in the last fortnight, Mr. Prudhomme interrupted suddenly. But Feeney wasted no time.It wasn't that he wanted to be forgiven for not eating this time. He was not at all interested in forgiveness. If the punishment was done in some new and unknown way, he would be more than happy to accept it.He lost no time, for he saw that Mr. Prudhomme was content and could not help being persuaded.The teacher is slipping away from his official position for now.Chances are, if Phineas tried a little harder, a simple, uncontrolled friendship would flow between them, and that flow was one of the dynamics of Phineas' life.

The real reason, sir, is that we just had to jump off that tree.You know the tree, I know it, Feeney knows it, and if Mr Prudhomme had stopped to think about it, he would have figured out that jumping off a tree was even more inexcusable than not eating a meal.Naturally, we had to, he went on, because we were all getting ready for battle.What if they lowered the conscription age to seventeen?Gene and I will both be seventeen after this summer, which is a perfect time because the school year is just beginning and it's pretty clear which class we're going to be in.Leiper.Lepellier is seventeen and if I'm not mistaken he'll be in the army before the end of the school year so he's totally supposed to be in a higher grade he's supposed to be in fourth grade now hope you understand I mean, then he'd be graduating and ready to be drafted.But we're ok, me and Gene are totally ok.There is no doubt that whether we are required to go to the battlefield now or in the future, we must meet the conditions.It's all a birthday thing, unless you want to be more precise, look at it from a sexual point of view, I've never looked at it that way myself, because it's my dad and my mom, I Never felt like I wanted to think too much about their sex life.What he said was true and sincere; Finny always said what came to his mind, and if it shocked his listeners it surprised him even more.

With a startling laugh Mr. Prudhomme breathed a sigh of relief, stared at Finny for a moment, and it was over. This is how the teachers want to treat us this summer.They seem to be revising their usual attitude, and they are no longer blaming endlessly.During the winter months, most teachers viewed anything out of the ordinary involving a student with suspicion, as if anything we said, anything we did, was likely to be illegal.Now, on these bright June days in New Hampshire, they show relief, seeming to believe that half the time we listen to them and only half the time we try to fool them.A hint of tolerance could be detected; Feeney judged that they were beginning to show admirable signs of maturity.

This is partly due to what he did.The teachers of the German school have never met such a student who calmly ignores the school rules and is eager to be outstanding. No one is better, a model boy who is extremely nonchalant when punished.The teachers relaxed Phineas, and with it all of us. But there is another reason.I think we, sixteen-year-old boys, reminded the teachers of what peace is like.We're not registered with the draft bureau, we haven't had any medical exams yet.No one checked us for intestinal hernias or color blindness.Weak knees and perforated eardrums were not serious enough to be disabilities enough to separate the fate of a few of them from others.We are carefree, we are crazy, I think we can be considered a kind of life symbol, and the purpose of this battle is to keep life like us alive.In any case, the teachers were more accommodating than ever; they were busy after the fourth graders, chasing them, grinding them, arming them for war.They watched our game tolerantly.We reminded them of what peace is like, of life that is not tied to destruction.

Phineas is all about this carefree peace.That's not to say he didn't care about war.After Mr. Prudhomme was gone, he began to dress, which means he reached for whatever was closest to him, some of which were mine.Then he paused to think, and went to the dresser.From a drawer he took out a finely woven suede shirt, well cut and bright pink. what is that? A tablecloth.These words slipped out of the corner of his mouth. No, pull it down.what is it This, he replied somewhat proudly afterwards, will be my trademark.Mom sent it in the mail last week.Have you seen such a thing, have you seen such a color?Even its buttons don't go all the way through.You have to put it over the head, like this.

From head to toe?pink!You will look like a little fairy in it! Yeah?This is the thoughtful tone he uses when he's thinking about something more interesting than what you're saying.But his mind always records what you say, and replays it to him when he has time.So when he fastened the buttons on his high collar in front of the mirror, he said flatly: I wonder what would happen if everyone thought I was like a fairy. You are crazy. Ah, and in case suitors start yelling at the door, you can tell them I'm wearing it as a sign.He turned around and let me admire.I read in the paper that two days ago we bombed Central Europe for the first time.Only someone who knew Phineas as well as I could realize that he wasn't changing the subject.I waited silently for him to make any outlandish connections linking the words to his shirt.Ah, we gotta do something to celebrate.We don't have a flag, we can't wave one proudly from our windows.So I'm going to wear this, wear it as a sign.

He actually wears it.No one else in school wears it without risking being ripped off their back.After history class, old Patch Mr. Withers, the toughest teacher in the summer term, came to him and asked about it.I watched the old gentleman's elongated pink face turn pinker as Finny politely explained the significance of the shirt. This is hypnotism.I'm beginning to see that Phineas can turn everything around.I can't help but feel a little jealous of him for that, which is perfectly normal.A little bit of jealousy, even of your best friend, doesn't hurt much. In the afternoon, Mr. Patch|Withers, acting as acting principal this summer term, invited the third graders to a traditional tenure tea.The tea party was held in the unoccupied principal's mansion, and Mrs. Patch Mr. Withers shivered every time the teacups clinked.We're on a sun porch that doubles as a conservatory, and it's spacious and humid with not many flowers or plants.But there are some tall, non-flowering stems with unscrupulously large leaves.Chocolate-brown wicker furniture jutted out menacing twigs, and we thirty-six students stood nervously dangling our teacups among the wicker and leaves.The four teachers present and their wives were talking to us, and we were all trying not to say something stupid as they offered us their opinion.

For the tea party, Phineas dampened and brushed his hair.It gave his head a very bright look, which was at odds with the astonishment and honesty on his face.His ears, which I hadn't noticed before, were very small and set close to his head, which, together with the clumps of hair, now made his sharp nose and cheekbones look like an angry man. Vibrant prow. He was the only one who could talk freely, and he was talking about the bombing of Central Europe.It just so happened that no one else read the news, and since Phineas couldn't remember exactly which target was bombed in which country, he couldn't remember whether it was the US Air Force, the British Air Force, or even the Soviet Air Force.He couldn't even remember which newspaper he read it on which day, so the conversation was one-sided.

It doesn't matter.What matters is the event itself.But after a while, Feeney felt he should expand the discussion to other people.I think they should be bombarded, as long as they don't bomb women, children and old people, right?He was talking to Mrs Patch-Mrs Withers, who sat nervously behind her teapot.Don't bomb the hospital, he continued, and of course the school.and churches. Work of art has to be careful, too, she interjected, as long as it has permanent value. What nonsense, muttered Patch-Mr. Withers, flushed, how could you expect our lads to drop multi-ton bombs thousands of feet with such precision!Look at what the Germans have done to Amsterdam!Check out how they fry Coventry!

Germans are not Central European, my dear.said his wife very gently. He doesn't like to be interrupted.But it was his wife who interrupted him, and he seemed to be able to bear it.After a while, he said rudely: there is no permanent art in Central Europe. Feeney liked this kind of argument.He unbuttoned his seersucker coat, as if he needed more physical freedom for the sake of this discussion.Patch | Mrs. Withers' eyes fell on his belt.She said in a hesitant voice: This is not ours. Her husband's eyes followed; I was terrified.In the rush of the morning, Feeney had substituting a tie for the belt not on a whim.But the first tie he had on hand this morning was a German school tie. This time he couldn't escape.I could sense my own unexpected excitement about the situation.Patch | Mr. Withers' face was getting red, and his wife's head was drooping as if on the guillotine.Even Finny's face seemed to change a little, unless it was because of his pink shirt.But his face was unflappable, and he said in his booming voice: I tie it, you see, because it matches the color of my shirt, and it's one piece I didn't mean any pun, I don't think it's particularly funny , especially on such a polite occasion, don't you think?It is also completely consistent with what we just talked about, the bombing of Central Europe, because in detail, schools are closely related to everything that happened in the war.The war is the same war, the world is the same world, and I think Devon should be in it too.I don't know if you agree with me on this. Patch｜The expression on Mr. Withers' face continued to change, and the complexion continued to change, and now the freeze frame became surprise.I've never heard such illogical reasoning in my life!His voice wasn't particularly indignant, though.It was probably the strangest tribute in the school's 160-year history.Some unknown corner of his mind seemed to feel pleasure or amusement.Even in such a dangerous situation, Phineas had to escape. There was a magical gleam in his wide eyes, and he went on in a more forceful voice: I must admit, though, that I wasn't thinking of that when I tied it this morning.He smiled contentedly after providing this amusing supplementary information.Patch|Mr. Withers was really at a loss for words, so Feeney added: I'm glad I got a thing as a belt!I certainly don't want to cause embarrassment by dropping my pants at the principal's tea party.Of course, the principal is not at home.But it will be as embarrassing in front of you as it is in front of Mrs. Patch|Withers.He nodded and smiled at her politely. Patch | Mr. Withers' laughter surprised us all, including himself.His face, the cloudiness of which we have so often classified, has now reached a new tone.Phineas was delighted; surly and stern Mr. Patch|Withers laughed heartily for the first time.He succeeded!He broke through the conjuring, thoughtless severity of a man. He got away with everything, and I felt a sudden disappointment.It's because I just want to see something more exciting; that must be it. We both left the tea party feeling good.I had a lot of laughs with Finny along the way, he is my best friend, he is like no other in the world, everything can be turned around.It's not because he's some sort of schemer; I'm sure of that.He can turn everything around because he's such an amazing guy.In fact, it is an honor for such a man to choose me as his best friend. Feeney never let go of the things he didn't do well, even if the thing has been done enough, as long as it hasn't been perfected, he won't let it go.Let's dive into the river.He whispered as we walked out of the sun corridor.As we walked, he forced me by leaning on me and changing my direction; like a police car pushing me to the side of the road, he directed me reluctantly toward the gymnasium and the river.We must get this tea party out of our minds, he said, and the talk! Yes, of course that is boring.Who is talking eloquently? Finny thought deeply.Patch | Mr. Withers is such a bombast, and his wife, and yes, and ? He looked at me pretending to be shocked, don't you mean that I talk too much? Seeing his stunned look, I retorted with great interest, you?Talking too much?How could you accuse me of saying that about you!As I said before, that was my summer of sarcasm.It was only much later that I realized that sarcasm is the protest of the weak. We headed all the way to the river on a sunny afternoon.I don't really believe we bombed Central Europe, do you?Finny said thoughtfully.The dormitories we passed were huge, unrecognizable behind layers of thick vines with leaves so big and old that you'd think they were here all year round, a perpetual New Hampshire summer sky garden.From building to building, the elms bend at such heights that you no longer remember their height until your gaze reaches above the familiar trunk, sees the canopy of leaves at the lowest part, and consciousness And above that they hold high complexes, branches, branches, branches.A world of branches, with endless leaves, and only then do you remember how tall they are.They also seem permanent, unchanging, a world high above untouched, unreachable, like the ornamental spire of a cathedral, too high to enjoy, too high to use, great , far away, useless.Yes, I don't believe it either.I answered. In the distance ahead of us, four boys were walking toward the tennis court, looking like white flags on the endless green playing field.To their right, the gymnasium contemplates behind a gray wall, its tall, wide, oval-shaped windows above reflecting sunlight.On the other side of the gymnasium, the playing field began to turn into woods, the woods of our German school, and in my imagination, this woods was the beginning of the great northern forest.From Devon Grove, I reflected, the trees formed a more and more uninterrupted corridor far to the north.No one can see where it ends on the other side, leading in places to the wildest tip of far-off Canada.We seem to be playing on the tamed edge of this last, greatest wilderness.I never found out if that was the case, maybe it was. For us here, the bombing of Central Europe is completely unreal, not because we can't imagine it. Over a thousand newspaper photographs and newsreels have given us a pretty accurate idea of ​​the scene but because Devon is too good a place for us to accept something like that.We spent that summer in utter selfishness, I say now with joy.There were not many people in the world who could be selfish in the summer of 1942, and I'm glad we made the most of that summer. The first one to say something nasty gets a kick in the ass.said Feeney reflexively when we came to the river. All right. Are you still afraid of jumping from a tree? There's something annoying about this question, right? this problem?No, of course not.It depends on how you answer. Scared of jumping off a tree?I would find it very fun to jump off. After we swam in the river for a while, Finny said: You jump from the tree first, okay? OK. I began to climb the peg stiffly, feeling a little more secure with Feeney right behind me.We will strengthen the partnership by diving together, he said, and we will form a suicide club, and the condition for joining the club is to jump once from this tree. Suicide club, I say nervously, summer term suicide club. good!Summer Semester Super Suicide Club!how is this Very good, all right. We were standing on a branch, me a little further out than Finny.I turned around and said something else, something to stall for time, even for a few more seconds, when I realized that I was starting to lose my balance instead.There was a moment of sheer, impersonal panic when Finny reached out and grabbed my arm, and the panic went away as I regained my balance.I turned around again, faced the small river, walked forward a few more steps along the branch of the tree, and jumped into the deep water.Feeney also jumped beautifully, and the summer semester super suicide club was officially established. It was only when, after supper, that I headed for the library, that the whole danger of my almost slipping from the branch frightened me again.If Finny hadn't been right behind me, if he hadn't been there I'd have fallen on the bank and broken my back!If the fall is unlucky, I may die.Feeney actually saved my life.