Free A Troublesome Boy by Paul Vasey

right out the open windows. “Gee, sorry about that, Henderson.” If a letter went zipping out the window you had to wait until mail call was over to go find it. For the priests it was payback time for all the grief you’d caused them during the week. They didn’t seem to remember that stuff about turning the other cheek.
    Docherty was just about finished firing all the letters when he called out my name. I put up my hand and he flipped the letter over my head.
    â€œSorry, Mr. Clemson.”
    What an asshole. Someone in the back of the room picked up my letter and it got passed back to me.
    It was from my mother. I folded it in half and put it in my pocket. The rule was you couldn’t open your mail until all the letters and parcels had been delivered.
    Docherty held the bag upside down and shook it.
    â€œThat’s it, boys.”
    Cooper got up out of his chair and headed for the door. No mail for Cooper. No mail for Cooper since we’d shown up at St. Iggy’s. From the look on his face it didn’t seem to matter one way or the other. But you could never really tell with Cooper. He had a tricky little face.
    I went out to the yard and down the fence line to the far end, sat under a spruce tree and opened the letter. My mother had slipped some fives and tens into the envelope. I folded them and put them in my pocket.
    Dear Teddy,
    Hope everything is going fine up there. Haven’t heard from you. Did the letter get lost in the mail? Ha-ha. Things are going fine here. Henry and I
 . . .
    Screw Henry. I dropped the letter in the trash bin just outside the door.
    Dinner time was always quiet on Saturdays. Being cooped up was that much worse after you’d had the afternoon to wander around town with no priests looking over your shoulder.
    I was actually glad to go to bed. I pulled the blanket over my head. Must have been asleep in two minutes flat.
    Next thing, I heard the dorm door squeak open. I looked out from under my blanket and there was Cooper silhouetted against the light from the landing. The door swung shut behind him. He headed straight for the washroom. He was in there a long time.
    I got up and went in. Cooper’s feet in the stall at the end.
    â€œCooper, you all right?” He didn’t say anything.
    â€œCooper?”
    â€œFuck off. Leave me alone.”
    4
    ONE DAY, MIDDLE of October, Cooper and I were out in the yard sitting on the ground, our backs against the wall. We had our jacket collars up against the wind. The sky was just a mass of grumpy-looking clouds, all different shades of gray. Storm clouds.
    We were having a smoke before morning classes. Cooper kept flicking his cigarette with the tip of his finger.
    â€œI’ll tell you this much. I can’t take this place much longer.”
    We could see the cars and trucks heading up the hill out of town, heading west.
    â€œWe could break out together,” I said. “Head out to the highway, stick out our thumbs. Next thing you know, we’d be at that beach of yours out in B.C.”
    â€œI dream about that beach.” Cooper was flicking the lid of his lighter, snapping it shut, flipping it open. “It’s what gets me through my time in The Dungeon. I saw a picture of it once. A rocky beach with big logs all over the place. They float in from the ocean. That’s what the people use to build their shacks.”
    â€œThey live right there on the beach?”
    â€œUp at the edge of the bush that comes down to the beach. They go surfing and swimming. Spend their days just hanging around doing what they want. They go fishing for their dinner and grow things in clearings above the beach. They get their water from a stream. They don’t need jobs because they don’t need money. Everything they need they’ve got right there. Paradise, brother.”
    â€œHow long do you figure it would take us to get there?”
    â€œA week if we got lucky with rides, if we