The Escapist (6 page)

“Sorry, Master.” Oscar said, determined not to apologize to Clarke directly.  She glared at him then turned her attention back to the desk.

“Master, this is ridiculous.  These accusations have no truth and I refuse to blame Edmund, who if anything deserves praise for his fast actions.  It is clear that Oscar is accusing him purely to distract attention from his own recklessness.  If he were not playing around the pond in the first place such an accident would not have occurred.” As she spoke her face became redder and redder with the exertion and stray hairs beginning to work their way out of the severe bun which was knotted tightly at the back of her head.

“Please Sir, I’m not lying, I…” Oscar was hushed by the waving hand of the Master.

“The matron is correct in that you should not have been playing around the pond in the first place, but nonetheless I see no reason for you to fabricate a story just to accuse Edmund.  It is quite possible Edmund is the liar and only sought to help because he realised that his actions had gone too far.” The Master stated calmly, as Matron Clarke jutted her chin in protest.  “However, it is only Oscar’s word against Edmund’s.”

It seemed Matron Clarke could not keep the inevitable outburst contained any longer. 

“Surely you are not going to side with this wretch?  The boy has a history of causing trouble!”  Veins were now clearly showing at the matron’s temples and her back stiffened as though in reaction to the gravity of the point.

The Master looked sharply at her, with a sternness Oscar had never witnessed

“And I hear many things about young Edmund that aren’t too favourable either.  Unfortunately they never get brought to light because it seems none of the matrons are ever witness to his crimes.”

The tension in the room was palpable and Oscar felt he was now an observer on something he never had any intention of being. 

“I do not know what you mean.” Matron Clarke protested. “Edmund has never shown himself to be anything but obedient”.

Despite the atmosphere Oscar could not help but let loose a slight cough of amusement at the last comment, though this unfortunately caused the matron to turn and focus those black beady eyes onto her victim.

“This boy!” she said, her finger pointing mere fractions of an inch from Oscar’s face “He must be punished!”

“Enough!” the Master said coldly, though a redness in his cheeks had begun to show.  “I decide who will or will not be punished, not you.  I want Edmund monitored for the next week and any misbehaviour directly reported to myself.  I will also be having a private word with Edmund on this incident.  Oscar you may go.”  The old man was clearly flustered and breathed heavily to calm himself.

Without needing to be told twice Oscar hastily made his way through the door.  He avoided any eye contact with Matron Clarke, for fear of being eaten alive.  Once through the door he paced quickly down the corridor, his heart fluttering with nerves.  Nonetheless, it had been interesting to see the struggle between the two adults, though he could not help but feel that despite the Master’s clearly good intentions he would never make much headway with the matrons.  He had heard them talking amongst themselves before and much was clear from their manner – they thought he was too old and too soft on the children.  They knew full well that if they pushed hard enough he would not stand up to them, and so they humoured him.  Why else had Edmund managed to get away with it all these years, when the Master so obviously suspected him for what he truly was? 

Although Oscar respected the Master he knew that he would never be more than a faint comfort to him, as he couldn’t wield the authority over the matrons to do anything more.  Sighing, he headed for the lunchroom, knowing full well that the chances of Edmund being remotely punished for what he had done were no better than his own chances of truly escaping his situation at the Institute for once and for all.

Upon entering the food hall Oscar was again greeted by a barrage of stares from the surrounding children and a thinly concealed smirk from Edmund.  However this time the admiration seemed somewhat lost and there was a new uncertainty in the eyes of those who considered him.  Oscar strode quickly across the room, his bandaged head bowed as he slid into an empty place at the end of a row of benches.  A bowl of steaming slop was thrown down before him and like a spark to a fuse, Oscar’s mind detonated as the threads of memory came together.  Images of his comatose dream engulfed his mind: rancid slurry pouring down into a gigantic cauldron; the wild and overgrown grounds; the heavy door to the study with the rusty armour; the deserted dormitories and worst of all, the black sickened animal.  Oscar shuddered at the recollection of the menacing animal in particular, his heart beating faster and a panic rising in his throat, feeling once more the urge to run.  He remembered now, and though the images were seen through the foggy lens of memory, the intensity of emotions that they triggered shocked him all the more. 

Eyeing the bowl of slop with greater suspicion than usual Oscar reluctantly begun to eat his food, all the while trying to make sense of what he could now recall.  He had to put it down to a bad dream, of course, nothing more.  But he couldn’t throw off the feeling that it was something extraordinary, silly as it may seem.  The sheer intensity of the experience made his usual dreams seem like pale imitations.

During his meagre lunch Oscar managed a whispered conversation with a couple of the younger children, reluctant though they were to engage.  His heart sank as they hesitantly confirmed the rumour passing around.  Edmund was a hero for having found Oscar in the pond and saving his life.  Despite Oscar’s fiercely hissed protests to the contrary, he received only disdainful looks from the children.  They seemed in no way keen to acknowledge his argument and instead chose to side with the more imposing force which Edmund represented.  Young as they were, the children were reluctant to whisper in the presence of the matrons at the best of times but on this occasion there seemed to be an unnecessarily rigorous level of avoidance.  Indeed, two of the boys in Oscar's presence had upped and left before even finishing their meal.  Oscar watched with some concern as they hurried out of the canteen.  It was certainly an odd reaction. 

Turning to look around the slowly emptying hall, Oscar could see Piggy hurriedly slurping away the remainder of the grey sludge they had been served.  Sitting just a few rows behind him and looking totally at ease was Edmund.  Oscar stared hard at Edmund trying to convey all the malice he could with one look, but Edmund’s attention was focused elsewhere and he did not see.  He was deep in conversation with a tall, dark haired boy who Oscar seemed to remember was called Flynn.  As Edmund’s argument peaked, he leaned in further to whisper into Flynn’s ear.  In response the boy gave a twisted smile, pushed away his bowl and strode out of the canteen in a less than subtle way, gangly arms swinging by his sides.  

Oscar soon decided he too was done with trying to force his slop down and fed up of having been out of the loop so long. Still puzzling over the odd behaviour of the younger boys he pulled himself up from the bench and stalked out the room, once again fuming over the hero rumours Edmund had been spreading.

Heading towards the bathrooms on the way to his afternoon work session, Oscar rounded a corner only to stumble upon what was rapidly turning into an uncomfortable scene.  The tall boy, Flynn, had two of the younger children cornered in the hallway; the same boys Oscar had pressed for information at lunch.  But no sooner had the group noticed his arrival than the previously volatile conversation drew to a close.  A glare from Flynn coupled with a few guilty glances from the boys indicated it wasn’t going to continue until Oscar’s departure.   Resigned to now being out of the loop he merely raised his eyebrows and continued on his way.

The sudden switch of allegiance bothered Oscar, for why would the other children choose to side with the one person whose only contribution to their lives would be to intersperse it with beatings?  Together Edmund and the matrons managed to maintain a state of constant anxiety amongst the children, he by doing exactly what he liked and they by turning a blind eye.  Oscar supposed it was easier for them to let Edmund beat some semblance of order out of the children, rather than having to do so themselves.  After all, if it wasn’t for Edmund’s influence, who knows, maybe the children would be stronger as a group, more able to rally against the neglect they suffered at the hands of the matrons. 

Yet, despite the fact that none of the children dared stand up to Edmund, it was clear enough that they didn’t actually like him and up to now they were rooting for any underdog that presented itself.  Oscar thought back to the admiration he’d received after his escape from the Institute, short-lived though it was.  It was a stark contrast to his current standing within the group.  But even mulling the potential reasons for this over, he remained baffled.  The incident at the pond did not entirely explain it and the motives for the scene that had unfolded outside the toilets with Flynn were even less clear.  The more Oscar dwelt on the unfortunate turn of events the more it needled him, stirring him to a state of anger.  Edmund was getting away with this and no one seemed to be able to see it any more; no one believed him. 

Sitting repairing the dents in tin helmets at that afternoon’s work session Oscar became heavier handed, his actions notably more aggressive.  If anything he was causing more damage to the helmets than he was repairing, though the Institute did not really have much in terms of quality control so it mattered little.  As long as the children worked hard and silently, that was all that mattered.

“Psst, Osc what’s the matter?” Piggy hissed from an adjacent workbench.  Oscar was so wrapped up in thought he had failed to notice Piggy sitting on the workbench next to his.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Oscar was not in the right mood to disclose any feelings, and his thoughts were too confused to be worth talking about.

“Come on Osc, who else you gonna speak to?” Piggy whispered in a jovial manner but the implications of this question only received a stern stare from Oscar, comprehension finally dawning on him.  Jokingly though it had been said, it was true – Flynn had already seen to it that the few people who had spoken to him at lunch time were thoroughly put off doing so again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…” Piggy stopped as the matron walked past.

“I know
,” Oscar interrupted once the matron had moved on and before Piggy could finish his point. “This Edmund situation has got the best of me, no one seems to buy my story.  Or…”  he added  “ …if they do, they’re too scared to say anything”.

“Hmmm, someone really needs to confront him.” Piggy said thoughtfully, his furrowed brow suggesting he was at least attempting to formulate a plan to this effect.

“Perhaps, though I hardly think he’ll change.” Oscar said glumly, looking towards the bench where Edmund slouched at the rear of the workshop.  He didn’t bother repairing the helmets and instead chiselled chunks out of the wooden desktop with his trusty knife.  A gang of youths of similar age sat in close proximity and Oscar wasn’t surprised to see Flynn in amongst them.  It would seem that Edmund had formed the beginnings of a formidable army within the Institute grounds. 

At the end of the work session Oscar felt drained.  It was not just the laborious chore of hammering out the helmet dents but also the realisation that one could only sustain a certain level of anger before it became tiring.  He now had to resign himself to the current mood of the Institute, feeling alienated by the other children who had unjustly been poisoned against him.  Not wishing to eat but merely return to the dorms for an early night he was surprised by the scene that soon unfolded before his eyes as he left the workshop.

Oscar’s relationship with Piggy was one that had been formed on forced terms.  The two of them had known each other for only a short while and the camaraderie they had developed was more a result of circumstance and limited choice than how Oscar perceived typical friendships would be forged.  This is perhaps why Oscar was so taken aback by the sight of his chubby companion standing toe to toe against the unnatural goliath that was Edmund.

Jeering children formed a ring around the two verbal combatants, a wall that pulsed organically as those further back shoved and clawed their way forward to the epicentre of the entertainment.  It was strange in itself that the children were behaving in such a boisterous manner, for Oscar had rarely seen them so animated.  As he passed through the crowd to get to the middle - finding he had little need to push or shove as most children merely gave way upon seeing it was him- Oscar found himself filled with emotion as his friend stood proudly defiant against Edmund. 

“You’re a liar and a bully,” Piggy courageously said, his finger thrust accusingly in Edmund’s face. “Tell everyone what really happened to Oscar, Edmund!”

Despite his shaking legs, Piggy gave quite the imposing impression.  Edmund, whose defence had been compromised by this outright confrontation, seemed stunned by the surprise attack.  Not use to being challenged so brazenly a panicked look had entered his eyes.  The other children seemed to have sensed his hesitation, one or two of them bravely giving a whoop or yelling “hear, hear”.  The wavering crowd confounded Edmund further, causing him to throw an appealing look to Flynn and the rest of his outfit for support.  But the gang remained silent, no longer so sure of the imposing leader they had thought themselves to be following.  Edmund glanced around wildly, a manic glint in his eyes, slowly turning to triumph as his gaze alighted on Oscar.  The moment of doubt had passed.