Free Finding Tom by Simeon Harrar Page A

could tread silently through the labyrinth of shelves as if in another world. I loved the feeling of the room. The air was cooler than up above and had a faint, musty odor. There was a deep stillness and silence that felt almost unnatural; the books and carpet seemed to soak up all the sound. I soon found out that students came down to this level only when they wanted to partake in private activities. The rest I will leave to your imagination.
    Locklear started out as an all boys’ school, and it wasn’t until after the World Wars that women were invited to attend, but on a limited basis. Not wanting to become a “heathen” school like so many others around the country, Locklear built a separate set of dorms and school buildings for the women, where they spent the majority of their time. Women were allowed to attend men’s classes with special permission from the dean, and they were entitled to use public facilities such as the library, but they were most definitely not allowed in the men’s dorms. It really should go without saying that male students were not allowed in the women’s dorms under penalty of expulsion. Locklear was to be a place of the utmost moral character. Men and women were not to hold hands, and there was certainly to be no kissing or other promiscuous behavior. Of course, these strict rules only encouraged both male and female students to break the rules, and the library became the primary destination for acts of indiscretion. Dean Groves saw it as his personal calling in life to uphold decency and help students focus on the discipline of academics rather than romance. He always seemed to be lurking with his gaunt features and yellow eyes.
    I spent most of my evenings at the library, while Charles was off gallivanting around with his rich cronies, trying to win the favor of the Locklear damsels. Knowing that I was but one misstep from being given the boot, I buckled down and worked harder than I ever had before in my life, but I could not help noticing the female students coming into the library in small giggling groups, sporting elegant patterns and polka dots in their always-matching outfits. Even their shoes seemed to shimmer and shine as they walked. With their hair piled in curls and lips rubbed red with lipstick, they were visions of beauty. They frolicked and flaunted their God-given curves with every step, knowing they had the full attention of every man around. They would giggle, laugh, and point, making an absolute scene and leaving chaos in their wake. Men weakened in the knees as they floated by and blew kisses. They were indeed the forbidden fruit. Sweet and supple, they dangled before us, seemingly untouchable. How we longed for them!
    Outside of classes and work, I had a weekly visit with Dr. Emory to chat about Charles and other students I met, to talk about school, and, most importantly, to discuss my writings. In spite of my busyness, I made it a priority to keep writing. With all my new experiences, it wasn’t difficult to find topics to explore.
    Much of my writing focused on my contempt for the utter frivolity and wastefulness of my fellow students. There were a few exceptions here and there, but overall the men were pompous bores, having been bred to believe they were the cream of the crop simply because of their wealth. I could not stand this attitude and mocked them at every possible turn, though not to their faces for fear they would gang up on me. Most of the time, I was silent while they jostled with one another, vying for attention in their never-ending game of king of the hill. I was a peasant, so I had no incentive to dream about being king. I contented myself with a resolve to find other ways to make my mark.
    Two weeks into the first term, I was shocked to find a note in my box, summoning me to the dean’s office. I groaned when I read it. What had I done? Was the old coot going to kick me out already?
    That afternoon, I made my way up to his office and was shown in