22. More in store

The little gang was back to school, and on the first evening spent again in Saint Sebastian, they gathered in the prefects’ room, which had now become their official lair, since it was remote enough from the rest of the dorm to keep a veil on their activities. The topic on the agenda was recruitment. The goal was to have a whole dorm of TuGGers in September, and they still had to double their number. Putting up signs was not an option, and getting in touch directly was a bit risky. The way the original trio had recruited Keith and Billy could work, but there would be a problem if they targeted the wrong person.

“I could always have some doodles with a tied up character in the margin of a notebook?” Keith suggested.

“Of course, but as in the direct approach I exposed earlier on, it’s important to feel the ground beforehand,” Lewis said. “The Houdini Challenge Technique, which I think we should refer to as the HCT among ourselves, can then be tried on the target subject. Have you thought of someone in particular?”

“Keith, when you’re talking about doodles, you think about this guy who actually saw some sketch you’d done in physics class this afternoon?”

“Exactly, he saw my boy detective sketch, the one tied on a chair, and when I caught him looking, he blushed and looked away.”

“Your talent is indeed precious, Cowboy, and if it turns out he’s one of us, songs of praise will be sung to your glory in this house for ages to come!”

“Hmm, I’m glad for once your flowery speech is not full of threats of revenge,” Keith replied.

“Do not overestimate my kindness, Cowboy, recognizing one’s adversary’s worth is not tantamount to letting him off the hook at no cost. All good things come to those that wait. By the way, Phil, do you think we should demonstrate to our friends the hogtie we tried out last week?”

“Uh, sure?” Philip replied.

“You guys spent some time together last week?” Ben wondered out loud.

“Yes, we did, but our blonde buckaroo and his cap-wearing friend did the same, didn’t they? Tallyho, I have a Phil to truss up, and no time to spare! Gather the ropes, Fred.”

Without further ado, the demonstration took place. As Lewis gloated over the helpless turkey Phil had become a while later, the group felt whole again. The evening then glided on joyfully, with the boys reinstalling themselves in the House’s routine.

Keith entered the prefects’ room two evenings later with the widest grin on his face, having summoned an exceptional meeting.

“I went for the old Houdini trick, and it worked! I think I scored for number seven!”

“Following my advice is always a good idea”, Lewis said, striking a triumphant posture, “I’d even got to say the wisest call that can be made.”

Billy sighed silently.

“Yes, yes,” Keith went on, “I’ve got the handcuffs bet on with Matt.”

“The vaquero’s sayings infer that the physics class lad interested in his restrained art is named Matt,” Lewis stated.

“Actually, they infer that he’s found a new candidate,” Billy corrected.

“Will you please let me finish and stop bickering?” Keith protested, none too eager to go into a lengthy and boring semantics discussion. “The bet is on for tomorrow at four, by the cricket field. Are you in for helping me to check Matt out?”

There was a short staring contest between Billy and Lewis, who quickly yielded.

“Go ahead, Billy Boy, expose your plan. I’ll work out the flaws so as to finalize a well laid-out scheme…”

It didn’t take long for the six official club members to plot how they’d take care of Matt. They were getting some experience in handling their recruiting.

The next afternoon, Matt came to the meeting place, unaware of the five pairs of eyes detailing every single one of his moves. He was cheerfully greeted by a buoyant Cowboy.

“Hey Matt! Glad you made it! You’ll leave ten quids lighter than you came!”

“You’re quite sure of yourself. Is this a scam, with tricked handcuffs?”

“Of course not! Skill, skill and more skill, this is all I need. Just have a look at the cuffs, if you want to make sure.”

Keith handed the steel bracelets for inspection. He couldn’t help but notice Matt’s interest. This was promising if he had to be recruited. He would be a nice addition to the team, if his ability to play TuGs was as good as his looks. He was well groomed, and his upturned button nose made him look curious and on the look for adventure. The shiny steel bracelets were carefully examined; then Matt turned to Keith.

“They seem genuine. Should I put them on you?”

“Yes.” Keith turned around and got his wrists in the small of his back. “Go ahead.”

Matt put the handcuffs on, and Keith spun on his heel once again. The only sign of an escape attempt Matt could notice was his shoulders twitching lightly. He almost forgot about the bet in the next two or three minutes as Keith engaged into playful chitchat. Matt couldn’t believe his luck as he gradually found out about the interest Keith had in restraining activities.

Of course, there had been games with his cousin George, not to mention the exchanges he’d had with his friend from across the sea, but finding out about someone else in school was great. Not to mention that if he understood correctly, Keith wasn’t the only one in Saint Sebastian to indulge in tie-up activities.

“So, you mean you’ve got friends to play games in which you tie each other up?” Matt asked, slightly skeptical.

“Indeed,” Keith replied, and brandishing the unlocked handcuffs under Matt’s nose. “And having proper escaping skills does help to win!” he grinned.

Matt was flabbergasted. “How did you do this?”

“Did Houdini give his tricks away to the masses? I don’t think so,” Keith replied solemnly.

“You and your friends learn these skills from each other?”

“Yes, we do, but I think I’ve let you in on too much already. Our activities are very secret, and no one should know. Now you do, but let’s make a deal: I won’t collect the ten pounds if you promise not to tell anyone.”

“Sure, that’s fine,” Matt agreed. He was proud to be trusted for his silence, but a bit frustrated not to be offered more. He decided to try his luck.

“Hmm… won’t you give me a first lesson in escape artistry?”

Keith pretended to ponder on the decision to be made.

“Well, I’m not sure... But since you’ve already promised, I guess... Do I really have your word that you won’t let anyone outside our little circle know?”

“Not knowing who’s in your ‘little circle’, I guess I shouldn’t talk to anyone anyway. And yes, you have my word.”

“OK, hands behind your back then.”

It was Matt’s turn to offer his wrists to Cowboy, who’d grabbed a three-foot long piece of rope from his pocket. A swift looping and knotting of the white material quickly imprisoned Matt’s hands in the small of his back.

“Hands-on learning, you’ve got to try and get free all by yourself. Fast!”

Darn! This was weird; there was no way for Matt to reach the knot, however hard he tried, however much he squirmed and wriggled. He smiled at Keith, but this smile betrayed his anguish. Keith picked up on this.

“Don’t worry; I’m not going to use your distress to do nasty things to you. But let me introduce to you a few friends. Lads, do come out!”

And out from nowhere, Matt saw five boys coming out. Not actually from out of nowhere, but from behind trees and around the corner of the building he and Keith were standing next to.

Matt easily identified all of the boys Keith had summoned. Four of them were in his science classes. He realized that they all belonged to the pupils he’d nicknamed; everyone he deemed of interest got a mental nickname, known only from Matt. There was “The Cat”, the lean, supple boy who moved gracefully, whose name was Fred; his buddy Ben, or “Happy ”, for this lad was always cheerful, and his features made him think of a Disney dwarf; “The Brooder”, Phil, who never said much except for a few sarcastic remarks when there wasn’t too big of a crowd around him; “The Whiz Kid”, Keith’s friend Billy, who was good at every subject, but also good at sports, and apparently gifted with arts too; and last but not least, “Il Divo”, Lewis Fatbind, who wasn’t in any of Matt’s classes, but who was a celebrity all around Saint Thomas More.

Who else could get out of any situation with a sharp tone, and a vocabulary the legend said exceeded those of the English teachers? Though a few pupils would have liked to beat him up to bring him a few pegs down, no one had ever dared. They knew he’d relentlessly and verbally harass them for the rest of the time they’d be pupils in the school.

Plus the vocabulary stuff wasn’t the only legend that was being told about Lewis. Matt had heard from students in lower forms some stories about magical powers he’d have. Maybe their imagination and Lewis’ very remote resemblance with one of J.K. Rowling’s character – he did have a faint scar on his forehead, a remnant of an unfortunate fall in a sandbox when he was three, and his hair was black, but he didn’t wear glasses – combined with his ability to go through tons of dire situations had gotten impressionable kids to make up some lore, which Lewis had never tried to repress. His vanity was always quite pleased when he was told that some of the younger kids wondered if he could really make someone flunk a test just by looking at him.

So here they were, all these interesting characters, gathering in front of him. It was a bit embarrassing to have twelve eyes looking at you as you were stuck with your hands behind your back. Six faces staring, expressionless. Even Keith, who’d been so bubbly, was now silent.

“Uh, well...” Matt was trying to find something clever to say.

Lewis turned to Billy, and almost imperceptibly signaled he was the one to go on with the interview.

“Matt, we’ve all heard Cowboy telling you about us.” He paused. Matt was starting to find this a bit creepy.

“Uh, yes, but I promised not to tell anyone...”

“Yes, you did. And, since you did, we think we’re safe with you knowing about the members of the club. You will have to repeat the pledge too.”

A quick glance at Lewis indicated it was his turn.

“The oath you took with the fair-haired vaquero was a good commencement, but we, as an underground organization, need to hear it loud and clear. So repeat the phrase: ‘I vow never to let anyone know of the secret society of the tie-up boys of Saint Sebastian. I understand I’d suffer the strictest of retaliations if I did so.’ And please make this loud and clear.”

It seemed it was also a memory test, since it was rather long, but this was no issue for Matt, who voiced the expected promise in a sincere and convincing tone. He controlled his usually fast-paced delivery to bring the expected solemnity into his statement. He’d been making eye-contact with everyone, and he looked anxiously at his assessors once he was done.

The somber faces hung on for two seconds, then radiating smiles illuminated all six faces as ropes and scarves got removed from pockets and he was overcome by his peers who dragged him to a nearby tree to which he soon was trussed up thoroughly. This lasted for a little while, with taunting and excited explanations; then he eventually was freed.

“You still have to go through initiation,” Philip asserted boldly, “but you half belong to the group now.”

Seven boys got back to their evening regular schedule in quite a cheerful mood that evening.

It turned out Matt was able to join the group two weeks later for a weekend at Ben's grandparents. They had a farm not too far away from Saint Thomas More. It was less than two hours of driving, and the boys jumped out from the two cars that had carried them on a short stretch of motorway and then for a much longer time, though certainly for not as much of a distance, on winding countryside roads.

Ben's grandparents' house was a big L-shaped brick building, with bow-windows in front and on the left and three wide chimneys solidly turned towards the sky. This was nice indeed, but what was much nicer was that five hundred yards away, once they'd walked through the woods, there were three cottages where they were scheduled to stay. The cottages were rented to tourists during the summer, but they were quite empty at this time of the year.

They put down their bags into the first cottage; they had to have dinner, and so they'd get back to the main building. Ben's grandmother had cooked quite a copious meal, and she was quite pleased to see Ben's friends devour the ham, the stew and the pies. She and her husband had wholeheartedly agreed on having their grandson and his friends come to make the costumes for the school's Christmas play. This was quite a pleasant crowd.

Ben's grandfather was particularly impressed by the boy with his dark hair and his amazing proficiency when he spoke. Overall, the elderly couple was glad to see how polite all these boys were, and how much they seemed to get along. Ben was the most cheerful of their grandchildren, and they weren't surprised he gathered a merry crowd of boys at his boarding school. Quite a boarding school gang, indeed.

Actually, Matt was really getting into the general cheerfulness of this late autumn family-like evening. So it was almost like a surprise when, a bit after nine, once they'd gotten back to the cottage, they'd gravely gathered around the hearth in which logs were brightly burning. There was no avoiding the initiation - the moment had arrived. The ritual went on for the next three hours; it was conducted with as much enthusiasm as the ones of the other members of the band; then, exhausted, they all went to sleep.

For the first night they'd do with the three bedrooms upstairs in which there were mattresses and blankets. They'd explore the two other cottages the next day. Vows had been made as to not having any nightly attack on their first night, since there was a game the next day that would require all of their energy. Soon everybody was asleep underneath the thatch roof .

© Copyright Bondwriter 2008

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