Free The Boy Avengers by Karl Flinders

of the few situations he could be on top of. In the first place, we do not allow a change of rooms except at the beginning of a year. In the second place, only the masters have rooms with baths. You're new here, but surely you knew that.
    Yes, I knew that, I said flatly.
    Well, then ...
    Well then, I said, go to the headmaster and tell him I wish to room with Jeff Talbot and that we require a room with a bath, even if it means kicking out one of the masters.
    Do you really want me to go to the headmaster with that?
    Yes, I said, I do.
    He drew a deep breath, smiled again. Very well, then. You wait right here. I am sure the headmaster will want to have a few words with you. He turned to the door that led to the headmaster's study.
    Tell him we want to move in this afternoon, I called after him. He turned back, his hand already on the doorknob. For the first time he looked gratifyingly uncertain.
    He was gone scarcely a minute. He came out looking as though his whole world had come crumbling about his pointed ears, as though he had suddenly discovered his closet had glass walls. Obviously there had been no time for prayer. You will be moving into Mr. Butterworth's room, he said in a strangled voice. You and Talbot. Two o'clock?
    Two o'clock will be fine, I said graciously.
    Needless to say, Mr. Butterworth was the newest, most innocuous of all the masters, the one with the least control over the boys. And now this! I resolved to make it up to him in some small way. Thank you for your cooperation, I said in parting.
    Not at all, said my fainting former adversary.
    I went directly to the schoolroom where I should have been, where Jeff, sitting twisted in his chair to spare his bruised asshole, was listening as the Latin master was drawing the excruciating details of Caesar's Gallic Wars out of a luckless lad who had unwisely been catching up on Prince Valiant. I beckoned to Jeff. He came at once and left with me. Not an eyebrow was raised. The Latin master elaborately ignored the whole business. How quickly word had spread that I was not to be crossed.
    We went to Jeff's room, got his things and moved them to my room, to simplify our final move at two. Jeff stripped, and I applied Jack Foster's unguent to his battered asshole. Oh, that feels good! he said in surprise.
    Apparently it was concocted for this very purpose, I said.
    Your fingers, too. They feel good. I peered at the typewritten label on the jar. Massage well, it said. And I did. That feels so good, Jeff whispered, eyes closed. It almost doesn't hurt. Yes, I had an erection.
    There was a discreet knock at the door. I had massaged Jeff's asshole well, perhaps sufficiently for now, and signalled him to dress. Then I unbolted the door.
    It was Mr. Butterworth. May I see the room? he asked. I understand I am to exchange rooms with you. I felt another pang of guilt that he said this entirely without rancor.
    Come in, I said.
    He nodded to Jeff and looked around. A pleasant room. Where's the bathroom?
    The end of the hall, I told him.
    I suppose I can always pee in the washbasin.
    I never thought of that, I said. And I never had. I am not without a sense of humor, and a couple of weeks later sent Mr. Butterworth a sterling silver chamber pot that had been difficult to find.
    Now he looked at Jeff. I could see he was summoning courage for the question he wanted to ask. I smiled to encourage him. How is he?
    I'll be all right, Jeff said, speaking for himself.
    It was a terrible thing to do to someone, Mr. Butterworth said. Someone who didn't want it done.
    They will regret it, I said quietly.
    He looked straight at me. I hope so.
    Yes, I assured him.
    This exchange, brief though it was, told me all I needed to know about Mr. Butterworth. He had, in that succinct exchange, revealed himself as one of us. More than that, he revealed himself to me as sensitively homosexual, whether he himself was aware of his proclivity or not. What followed confirmed it in my mind.
    In the war,