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before

one hundred thirty-six days before

THE WEEK BEFORE I left o to boarding school in Alaba-away party To say that I had low expectations would be to underestih I was more or less forced to invite allbunch of draeeks I sat with by social necessity in the cavernous cafeteria of my public school, I knew they wouldn’t come Still, my mother persevered, awash in the delusion that I had kept my popularity secret from her all these years She cooked a s rooreen and yellow streaht two dozen chae of our coffee table

And when that final Friday ca was -room couch at 4:56 PM and patiently awaited the arrival of the Good-bye to Miles Cavalry Said cavalry consisted of exactly two people: Marie Law-son, a tiny blonde with rectangular glasses, and her chunky (to put it charitably) boyfriend, Will

“Hey, Miles,” Marie said as she sat down

“Hey,” I said

“Hoas your summer?” Will asked

“Okay Yours?”

“Good We did Jesus Christ Superstar I helped with the sets Marie did lights,” said Will

“That’s cool” I nodded knowingly, and that about exhausted our conversational topics I ht have asked a question about Jesus Christ Superstar, except that 1 I didn’t knohat it was, and 2 I didn’t care to learn, and 3 I never really excelled at small talk My mom, however, can talk s theone, and whether it was a success

“I guess it was,” Marie said “A lot of people cauess a lot

Finally, Will said, “Well, we just dropped by to say good-bye I’ve got to get Marie ho school, Miles”

“Thanks,” I answered, relieved The only thing worse than having a party that no one attends is having a party attended only by two vastly, deeply uninteresting people

They left, and so I sat with my parents and stared at the blank TV and wanted to turn it on but knew I shouldn’t I could feel the for , as if I hadn’t known all along that it would go precisely like this But I had known I could feel their pity as they scooped artichoke dip with chips intended for inary friends, but they needed pity more than I did: I wasn’t disappointed My expectations had been met

“Is this why you want to leave, Miles?” Mom asked

I mulled it over for a moment, careful not to look at her “Uh, no,” I said

“Well, why then?” she asked This was not the first time she had posed the question Mo school and had made no secret of it

“Because of me?”school to which I was headed, as had both of his brothers and all of their kids I think he liked the idea ofin his footsteps My uncles had told me stories about how fa simultaneously raised hell and aced all his classes That sounded like a better life than the one I had in Florida But no, it wasn’t because of Dad Not exactly

“Hold on,” I said I went into Dad’s study and found his biography of FranCois Rabelais I liked reading biographies of writers, even if (as was the case with Monsieur Rabelais) I’d never read any of their actual writing I flipped to the back and found the highlighted quote (“NEVER USE A HIGHLIGHTER IN MY BOOKS,” my dad had told me a thousand ti for?)

“So this guy,” I said, standing in the doorway of the living room “FranCois Rabelais He was this poet And his last words were ‘I go to seek a Great Perhaps’ That’s why I’ a Great Perhaps”

And that quieted them I was after a Great Perhaps, and they kneell as I did that I wasn’t going to find it with the likes of Will and Marie I sat back down on the couch, between my mom and my dad, and my dad put his arm around ether, for a long time, until it seemed okay to turn on the TV, and then we ate artichoke dip for dinner and watched the History Channel, and as going-away parties go, it certainly could have been worse

one hundred twenty-eight days before

FLORIDA WAS PLENTY HOT, certainly, and huh that your clothes stuck to you like Scotch tape, and sweat dripped like tears from your forehead into your eyes But it was only hot outside, and generally I only went outside to walk from one air-conditioned location to another

This did not prepare me for the unique sort of heat that one encounters fifteen ham, Alabama, at Culver Creek Preparatory School My parents’ SUV was parked in the grass just a few feet outside my dorm room, Room 43 But each time I took those few steps to and from the car to unload what now seeh my clothes and into enuinely fear hellfire

Between Mom and Dad and me, it only took a few minutes to unload the car, but h blessedly out of the sunshine, was only modestly cooler The room surprised me: I’d pictured plush carpet, wood-paneled walls, Victorian furniture Aside froot a box With cinder-block walls coated thick with layers of white paint and a green-and-white-checkered linoleum floor, the place looked more like a hospital than the dorm room of my fantasies A bunk bed of unfinished ith vinyl ainst the room’s backThe desks and dressers and bookshelves were all attached to the walls in order to prevent creative floor planning And no air-conditioning

I sat on the lower bunk while Moraphies reed to part with, and placed them on the bookshelves

“I can unpack, Moo

“Let me at least make your bed,” Mom said

“No, really I can do it It’s okay” Because you sis out forever At some point, you just pull off the Band-Aid and it hurts, but then it’s over and you’re relieved

“God, we’ll h the ed her My dad walked over, too, and we formed a sort of huddle It was too hot, and ere too sweaty, for the hug to last terribly long I knew I ought to cry, but I’d lived with my parents for sixteen years, and a trial separation seemed overdue

“Don’t worry” I shed

“Don’t do anything stupid,” my dad said

“Okay”

“No drugs No drinking No cigarettes” As an alus I had only heard about: the secret parties, streaking through hay fields (he alhined about hoas all boys back then), drugs, drinking, and cigarettes It had taken hi, but his badass days were noell behind him

“I love you,” they both blurted out simultaneously It needed to be said, but the wordsyour grandparents kiss

“I love you, too I’ll call every Sunday” Our rooms had no phone lines, but my parents had requested I be placed in a room near one of Culver Creek’s five pay phones