Page 16 of Considering Us

“No problem,” he said. “We’ll go around back to the water where the ducks swim with our ice cream. And yes, I owe you. The food is infinitely better in the dining hall since you took over. Marnie’s food really sucked.”

I felt bad that everyone was ripping on Marnie left and right, but there wasn’t much I could do about it other than change the subject when it happened. She didn’t say much to me but did her job well and got along with everyone. I hoped Tam’s evergreen quote that “people have short memories” rang true, and eventually, everyone stopped referencing the brief era of terrible boxed meals.

We walked to the water’s edge, and Annie meandered down the shore a bit. I pictured her as a toddler, ambling along with her ice cream, babbling to the ducks. She had grown up in St. George’s. Now, at ten, she was a mature only child who had already navigated so much in her decade of life. Although my parents hadn’t gotten divorced, I could see myself in her in many ways. She seemed like a person I’d like to know better.

“She’s fantastic,” I said. “You must be proud.”

“I can’t take much credit,” Kyle said, taking a big bite of cookies and cream. “She’s so much like Cora. All her poise, all her smarts. I hope she stays that way.”

“Come on, you know about the assassination attempts on all the presidents,” I said, trying to keep things light.

“True,” he said. “Remind me to tell you more about Warren Harding sometime. So much scandal.”

“Deal. So, here’s a question for you. Can you please tell me about The Barnacle? Because I didn’t know until about thirty minutes ago that I’ve been cooking above a speakeasy.”

“Oh Jesus, I didn’t realize I hadn’t told you about it yet. Too busy babbling to you last week about Teddy Roosevelt getting shot and still making a speech.”

“That was a good story.”

“Right? There are so many. Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it. It’s kinda dumb, at least in my opinion, which doesn’t mean a whole lot around here. But it was established early in the school’s history by the second Head of School, whose family owned a huge shipbuilding company. I’ve only been there twice.”

“Is it like a normal bar? Do people go there regularly? Is it open every night? How does it all work?” I couldn’t help firing questions at him. It was such a strange concept to wrap my head around. A bar in a boarding school full of underage teenagers?

“It’s more like a private club for people of legal drinking age who are associated with Rockwood. So, faculty and staff are welcome, but not many use it. You might see a couple of them if you go down there. It tends to be people on the Board and local alumni who like that sort of thing. You have to know it’s there, and it’s not obvious, which you’ve already gathered, or else you would’ve noticed it. You actually can’t enter through the dining hall.”

“That makes me feel slightly better, then, that I wasn’t staring at some staircase for five weeks or something.”

“Totally. You go through the back door of the chapel. Hang a left down the hallway. You’ll come up to a closed door with a keypad. Type in the code 4-3-2-1.”

“Isn’t that kind of ridiculous? Everyone must have it figured out.”

“Some of the people who come to the club are like ninety. They try to keep it easy. There is an elevator just past the door, or you can walk down the stairs.”

“And the students don’t know about it?”

“Oh, they know,” he said. “It’s all locked up at eleven each night, with codes that are presumably tougher to ascertain than 4-3-2-1. You might encounter a couple of them in the chapel, though. Just warning you.”

“Why are students in the chapel at night?” I asked, finishing my ice cream cone. “You mean they go there to…” My voice drifted off.

“Sometimes. There are other spots. I once caught kids in the copy room on a Sunday. That seemed really stupid. Teachers are always working on weekends, unfortunately.”

“Anyway, why’d you even go to The Barnacle if you think it’s dumb?”

Kyle rolled his eyes and polished off the rest of his cone. “Al Holton was on campus, and they paired me up with him as hisfaculty ambassador, or some bullshit like that. Back when they used to trust me to do things.”

“Al Holton?”

“Exactly. They made some big deal about him, but no one knew who he was.”

“Who is he? Or was he?”

“He was a senator from Kentucky at the time. His sister was an alum. The dude thought he was hot shit and knew about The Barnacle and wanted to go because it seemed exclusive—you know the type. So, we went. He then lost his re-election to a pro-choice Democrat. In Kentucky. He wasn’t very popular.”

Kyle’s stories were always so much fun. I imagined him in these scenarios and laughed to myself. “And the second time you went?”

He grimaced. “I was lured there by Ryland Dennis.”

“When you thought he was having an affair with Cora? That sounds like something out of a movie.” I couldn’t think of exactly which one. Tam would know.

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