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Authors: Jenny Hubbard
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brilliant,” he whispers.
“What do you mean?”
“The giant penis on Dovecott’s desk.”
“I didn’t put it there.”
“Like hell you didn’t,” Glenn says.
“I think
you
did. And I bet Miss Dovecott thinks so, too.”
“Why the hell would she think that?”
“Because you did,” I say.
“So maybe I did. It’s part of The Plan.”
“What plan?”
“The one to figure out how much she knows.”
“Glenn, we have to be careful. There doesn’t have to be a
plan
. It’s way too dangerous and completely unnecessary.”
“She knows, Stromm. She knows something, and she’s not telling us or Dean Mansfield or Mr. Armstrong. She’skeeping it all to herself, and you are the perfect one to find out what it is.”
“Why were you looking through my desk?” I ask.
“Pencil,” he says, raising one up in the air, and he writes out The Plan, with a line for signatures beneath it. Is Male signs it. Because he loves to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts.
The Plan
1. Mess with Miss Dovecott psychologically (as in the photo/drawing left on her desk).
2. Act innocent. Do all the homework; answer promptly and intelligently during class.
3. Make sure she is at the final pep rally.
4. Glenn: Tell Dean Mansfield she makes you uncomfortable when you go in for one-on-one help. Glenn: Go in for one-on-one help.
5. Alex: Use your writing to lure her. (This step is my contribution, though I do not tell Glenn what Miss Dovecott said to me in the quad.)
6. If she knows more than she’s telling, move in for the kill.
Glenn Albright Everson, III, Class of 1984
Achilles in the flesh. If you were a casting agent and were looking for someone to play the legendary Greek hero, Glenn would be your man. Two years ago, I wanted to be Glenn. I wanted his blond curly hair; I wanted his brain. I wanted his walk, his athleticism, his easy way with other guys. It wasn’t lust. I wanted his house on the golf course, his happy-lookingfamily, his girlfriend with the thick brown hair. I wanted his whole entire history.
Our first year at Birch, he invited me to his house for Thanksgiving. He had overheard me say that I was supposed to spend it with my mom and didn’t want to. So I told my mom that she and Victor could go on to Aspen without me (which I knew they wanted to do anyway), and I rode down to Charlotte with Glenn on the bus. The room I stayed in had a fireplace. Glenn let his dog, Bailey, an old black lab, sleep with me because he knew I missed my own dog. At Thanksgiving dinner, Mrs. Everson poured me a small glass of wine, and when I drank that, she poured me a second one, no questions asked. The Eversons ate by candlelight, even though it was only four o’clock. Afterward, everyone gathered in the living room, and we had to say one thing we were thankful for. I said I was thankful to have a friend like Glenn. Then they told family stories, and I listened and laughed. Glenn’s big sister, a junior in college, told me that I was an old soul. She said I had a great smile. That night, Glenn’s dad lit the logs in the fireplace in my room, and I slept like a baby, Bailey at my feet. In the morning, when I woke, I hugged Bailey to me as I watched the last orange ember burn itself out.
For the rest of the school year, Glenn and I played cards together on dorm and tossed the football around outside in the quad. Glenn showed me that I had interesting things to say because he encouraged me to say them; all the other guys I knew would rather hear themselves talk. One day Glenn asked me what I thought happened when we die, and I told him, “Nothing. We rot in the earth.” I told him that the idea of coming from dust and returning to dust was the onebelievable thing in the Bible, and he looked at me, wide-eyed, like I was some kind of prophet.
But he was the teacher, not me. When the weather grew warmer, he taught me the basics of lacrosse, a game I had barely even heard of before I came to Birch, but I
“What do you mean?”
“The giant penis on Dovecott’s desk.”
“I didn’t put it there.”
“Like hell you didn’t,” Glenn says.
“I think
you
did. And I bet Miss Dovecott thinks so, too.”
“Why the hell would she think that?”
“Because you did,” I say.
“So maybe I did. It’s part of The Plan.”
“What plan?”
“The one to figure out how much she knows.”
“Glenn, we have to be careful. There doesn’t have to be a
plan
. It’s way too dangerous and completely unnecessary.”
“She knows, Stromm. She knows something, and she’s not telling us or Dean Mansfield or Mr. Armstrong. She’skeeping it all to herself, and you are the perfect one to find out what it is.”
“Why were you looking through my desk?” I ask.
“Pencil,” he says, raising one up in the air, and he writes out The Plan, with a line for signatures beneath it. Is Male signs it. Because he loves to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts.
The Plan
1. Mess with Miss Dovecott psychologically (as in the photo/drawing left on her desk).
2. Act innocent. Do all the homework; answer promptly and intelligently during class.
3. Make sure she is at the final pep rally.
4. Glenn: Tell Dean Mansfield she makes you uncomfortable when you go in for one-on-one help. Glenn: Go in for one-on-one help.
5. Alex: Use your writing to lure her. (This step is my contribution, though I do not tell Glenn what Miss Dovecott said to me in the quad.)
6. If she knows more than she’s telling, move in for the kill.
Glenn Albright Everson, III, Class of 1984
Achilles in the flesh. If you were a casting agent and were looking for someone to play the legendary Greek hero, Glenn would be your man. Two years ago, I wanted to be Glenn. I wanted his blond curly hair; I wanted his brain. I wanted his walk, his athleticism, his easy way with other guys. It wasn’t lust. I wanted his house on the golf course, his happy-lookingfamily, his girlfriend with the thick brown hair. I wanted his whole entire history.
Our first year at Birch, he invited me to his house for Thanksgiving. He had overheard me say that I was supposed to spend it with my mom and didn’t want to. So I told my mom that she and Victor could go on to Aspen without me (which I knew they wanted to do anyway), and I rode down to Charlotte with Glenn on the bus. The room I stayed in had a fireplace. Glenn let his dog, Bailey, an old black lab, sleep with me because he knew I missed my own dog. At Thanksgiving dinner, Mrs. Everson poured me a small glass of wine, and when I drank that, she poured me a second one, no questions asked. The Eversons ate by candlelight, even though it was only four o’clock. Afterward, everyone gathered in the living room, and we had to say one thing we were thankful for. I said I was thankful to have a friend like Glenn. Then they told family stories, and I listened and laughed. Glenn’s big sister, a junior in college, told me that I was an old soul. She said I had a great smile. That night, Glenn’s dad lit the logs in the fireplace in my room, and I slept like a baby, Bailey at my feet. In the morning, when I woke, I hugged Bailey to me as I watched the last orange ember burn itself out.
For the rest of the school year, Glenn and I played cards together on dorm and tossed the football around outside in the quad. Glenn showed me that I had interesting things to say because he encouraged me to say them; all the other guys I knew would rather hear themselves talk. One day Glenn asked me what I thought happened when we die, and I told him, “Nothing. We rot in the earth.” I told him that the idea of coming from dust and returning to dust was the onebelievable thing in the Bible, and he looked at me, wide-eyed, like I was some kind of prophet.
But he was the teacher, not me. When the weather grew warmer, he taught me the basics of lacrosse, a game I had barely even heard of before I came to Birch, but I
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