sk.thewastelands-第21部分

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　　Jake　came　in　and　took　his　seat　in　the　third　row。　There　were　only　eleven　pupils　in　all。　Jake　remembered　Orientation　Day　last　September；　when　Mr。　Harley　had　told　them　that　Piper　had　The　Highest　Teacher　To　Student　Ratio　Of　Any　Fine　Private　Middle　School　In　The　East。　He　had　popped　his　fist　repeatedly　on　the　lectern　at　the　front　of　the　mon　Room　to　emphasize　this　point。　Jake　hadn't　been　terribly　impressed；　but　he　had　passed　the　information　along　to　his　lather。　He　thought　his　father　would　be　impressed；　and　he　had　not　been　wrong。
　　He　unzipped　his　bookbag　and　carefully　removed　the　blue　folder　which　contained　his　Final　Essay。　He　laid　it　on　his　desk；　meaning　to　give　it　a　final　look…over；　when　his　eye　was　caught　by　the　door　at　the　left　side　of　the　room。　It　led；　he　knew；　to　the　cloakroom；　and　it　was　closed　today　because　it　was　seventy　degrees　in　New　York　and　no　one　had　a　coat　which　needed　storage。　Nothing　back　there　except　a　lot　of　brass　coathooks　in　a　line　on　the　wall　and　a　long　rubber　mat　on　the　floor　for　boots。　A　few　boxes　of　school　supplies…chalk；　blue…books　and　such…were　stored　in　the　far　corner。
　　No　big　deal。
　　All　the　same；　Jake　rose　from　his　seat；　leaving　the　folder　unopened　on　the　desk；　and　walked　across　to　the　door。　He　could　hear　his　classmates　murmuring　quietly　together；　and　the　riffle　of　pages　as　they　checked　their　own　Final　Essays　for　that　crucial　misplaced　modifier　or　fuzzy　phrase；　but　these　sounds　seemed　far　away。
　　It　was　the　door　which　held　his　attention。
　　In　the　last　ten　days　or　so；　as　the　voices　in　his　head　grew　louder　and　louder；　Jake　had　bee　more　and　more　fascinated　with　doors…all　kinds　of　doors。　He　must　have　opened　the　one　between　his　bedroom　and　the　upstairs　hallway　five　hundred　times　in　just　the　last　week；　and　the　one　between　his　bedroom　and　the　bathroom　a　thousand。　Each　time　he　did　it；　he　felt　a　tight　ball　of　hope　and　anticipation　in　his　chest；　as　if　the　answer　to　all　of　his　problems　lay　somewhere　behind　this　door　or　that　one　and　he　would　surely　find　it　。。。　eventually。　But　each　time　it　was　only　the　hall；　or　the　bathroom；　or　the　front　walk；　or　whatever。
　　Last　Thursday　he　had　e　home　from　school；　thrown　himself　on　his　bed；　and　had　fallen　asleep…sleep；　it　seemed；　was　the　only　refuge　which　remained　to　him。　Except　when　he'd　awakened　forty…five　minutes　later；　he　had　been　standing　in　the　bathroom　doorway；　peering　dazedly　in　at　nothing　more　exciting　than　the　toilet　and　the　basin。　Luckily；　no　one　had　seen　him。
　　Now；　as　he　approached　the　cloakroom　door；　he　felt　that　same　daz…zling　burst　of　hope；　a　certainty　that　the　door　would　not　open　on　a　shad…owy　closet　containing　only　the　persistent　smells　of　winter…flannel；　rubber；　and　wet　wool…but　on　some　other　world　where　he　could　be　whale　again。　Hot；　dazzling　light　would　fall　across　the　classroom　floor　in　a　widening　triangle；　and　he　would　see　birds　circling　in　a　faded　blue　sky　the　color　of
　　（his　eyes）
　　old　jeans。　A　desert　wind　would　blow　his　hair　back　and　dry　the　nervous　sweat　on　his　brow。
　　He　would　step　through　this　door　and　be　healed。
　　Jake　turned　the　knob　and　opened　the　door。　Inside　was　only　darkness　and　a　row　of　gleaming　brass　hooks。　One　long…forgotten　mitten　lay　near　the　stacked　piles　of　blue…books　in　the　corner。
　　His　heart　sank；　and　suddenly　Jake　felt　like　simply　creeping　into　that　dark　room　with　its　bitter　smells　of　winter　and　chalkdust。　He　could　move　the　mitten　and　sit　in　the　corner　under　the　coathooks。　He　could　sit　on　the　rubber　mat　where　you　were　supposed　to　put　your　boots　in　the　winter…time。　He　could　sit　there；　put　his　thumb　in　his　mouth；　pull　his　knees　tight　against　his　chest；　close　his　eyes；　and　。　。　。　and　。　。　。
　　And　just　give　up。
　　This　idea…the　relief　of　this　idea…was　incredibly　attractive。　It　would　be　an　end　to　the　terror　and　confusion　and　dislocation。　That　last　was　somehow　the　worst；　that　persistent　feeling　that　his　whole　life　had　turned　into　a　funhouse　mirror…maze。
　　Yet　there　was　deep　steel　in　Jake　Chambers　as　surely　as　there　was　deep　steel　in　Eddie　and　Susannah。　Now　it　flashed　out　its　dour　blue　lighthouse　gleam　in　the　darkness。　There　would　be　no　giving　up。　What…ever　was　loose　inside　him　might　tear　his　sanity　away　from　him　in　the　end；　but　he　would　give　it　no　quarter　in　the　meantime。　Be　damned　if　he　would。
　　Never！　he　thought　fiercely。　Never！　Nev…
　　〃When　you've　finished　your　inventory　of　the　school…supplies　in　the　cloakroom；　John；　perhaps　you'd　care　to　join　us；〃　Ms。　Avery　said　from　behind　him　in　her　dry；　cultured　voice。
　　There　was　a　small　gust　of　giggles　as　Jake　turned　away　from　the　cloakroom。　Ms。　Avery　was　standing　behind　her　desk　with　her　long　fingers　tented　lightly　on　the　blotter；　looking　at　him　out　of　her　calm；　intelligent　face。　She　was　wearing　her　blue　suit　today；　and　her　hair　was　pulled　back　in　its　usual　bun。　Nathaniel　Hawthorne　looked　over　her　shoulder；　frowning　at　Jake　from　his　place　on　the　wall。
　　〃Sorry；〃　Jake　muttered；　and　closed　the　door。　He　was　immediately　seized　by　a　strong　impulse　to　open　it　again；　to　double…check；　to　see　if　this　time　that　other　world；　with　its　hot　sun　and　desert　vistas；　was　there。
　　Instead　he　walked　back　to　his　seat。　Petra　Jesserling　looked　at　him　with　merry；　dancing　eyes。　〃Take　me　in　there　with　you　next　time；〃　she　whispered。　〃Then　you'll　have　something　to　look　at。〃
　　Jake　smiled　in　a　distracted　way　and　slipped　into　his　seat。
　　〃Thank　you；　John；〃　Ms。　Avery　said　in　her　endlessly　calm　voice。　〃Now；　before　you　pass　in　your　Final　Essays…which　I　am　sure　will　all　be　very　fine；　very　neat；　very　specific…I　should　like　to　pass　out　the　English　Department's　Short　List　of　remended　summer　reading。　I　will　have　a　word　to　say　about　several　of　these　excellent　books…〃
　　As　she　spoke　she　gave　a　small　stack　of　mimeographed　sheets　to　David　Surrey。　David　began　to　hand　them　out；　and　Jake　opened　his　folder　to　take　a　final　look　at　what　he　had　written　on　the　topic　My　Understanding　of　Truth。　He　was　genuinely　interested　in　this；　because　he　could　no　more　remember　writing　his　Final　Essay；　than　he　could　remember　studying　for　his　French　final。
　　He　looked　at　the　title　page　with　puzzlement　and　growing　unease。　MY　UNDERSTANDING　OF　TRUTH；　By　John　Chambers；　was　neatly　typed　and　centered　on　the　sheet；　and　that　was　all　right；　but　he　had　for　some　reason　pasted　two　photographs　below　it。　One　was　of　a　door…he　thought　it　might　be　the　one　at　Number　10；　Downing　Street；　in　London…and　the　other　was　of　an　Amtrak　train。　They　were　color　shots；　undoubtedly　culled　from　some　magazine。
　　Why　did　I　do　that？　And　when　did　I　do　it？
　　He　turned　the　page　and　stared　down　at　the　first　page　of　his　Final　Essay；　unable　to　believe　or　understand　what　he　was　seeing。　Then；　as　understanding　began　to　trickle　through　his　shock；　he　felt　an　escalating　sense　of　horror。　It　had　finally　happened；　he　had　finally　lost　enough　of　his　mind　so　that　other　people　would　be　able　to　tell。
　　
　　　3
　　MY　UNDERSTANDING　OF　TRUTH
　　By　John　Chambers
　　〃I　will　show　you　fear　in　a　handful　of　dust。〃
　　…T。　S。　〃BUTCH〃　ELIOT
　　〃My　first　thought　was；　he　lied　in　every　word。〃
　　…ROBERT　〃SUNDANCE〃　BROWNING
　　
　　The　gunslinger　is　the　truth。
　　Roland　is　the　truth。
　　The　Prisoner　is　the　truth。
　　The　Lady　of　Shadows　is　the　truth。
　　The　Prisoner　and　the　Lady　are　married。　That　is　the　truth。
　　The　way　station　is　the　truth。
　　The　Speaking　Demon　is　the　truth。
　　We　went　under　the　mountains　and　that　is　the　truth。
　　There　were　monsters　under　the　mountain。　That　is　the　truth。
　　One　of　them　had　an　Amoco　gas　pump　between　his　legs
　　and　was　pretending　it　was　his　penis。　That　is　the　truth。
　　Roland　let　me　die。　That　is　the　truth。
　　I　still　love　him。
　　That　is　the　truth。
　　
　　〃And　it　is　so　very　important　that　you　all　read　The　Lord　of　the　Flies；〃　Ms。　Avery　was　saying　in　her　clear　but　somehow　pale　voice。　〃And　when　you　do；　you　must　ask　yourselves　certain　questions。　A　good　novel　is　often　like　a　series　of　riddles　within　riddles；　and　this　is　a　very　good　novel…one　of　the　best　written　in　the　second　half　of　the　twentieth　century。　So　ask　yourselves　first　what　the　symbolic　significance　of　the　conch　shell　might　be。　Second…〃
　　Far　away。　Far；　far　away。　Jake　turned　to　the　second　page　of　his　Final　Essay　with　a　trembling　hand；　leaving　a　dark　smear　of　sweat　on　the　first　page。
　　
　　When　is　a　door　not　a　door？　When　it's　a　jar；　and　that　is　the　truth。
　　Blaine　is　the　truth。
　　Blaine　is　the　truth。
　　What　has　four　wheels　and　flies？　A　garbage　truck；　and　that　is　the　truth。
　　Blaine　is　the　truth。
　　You　have　to　watch　Blaine　all　the　time；　Blaine　is　a　pain；　and　that　is　the　truth。
　　I'm　pretty　sure　that　Blaine　is　dangerous；　and　that　is　the　truth。
　　What　is　black　and　white　and　red　all　over？　A　blushing　zebra；　and　that　is　the　truth。
　　Blaine　is　the　truth。
　　I　want　to　go　back　and　that　is　the　truth。
　　I　have　to　go　back　and　that　is　the　truth。
　　I'll　go　crazy　if　I　don't　go　back　and　that　is　the　truth。
　　I　can't　go　home　again　unless　I　find　a　stone　a　rose　a　door　and　that　is　the　truth。
　　Choo…choo；　and　that　is　the　truth。
　　Choo…choo。　Choo…choo。
　　Choo…choo。　Choo…choo。　Choo…choo。
　　Choo…choo。　Choo…choo。　Choo…choo。　Choo…choo。
　　I　am　afraid。　That　is　the　truth。
　　Choo…choo。
　　
　　Jake　looked　up　slowly。　His　heart　was　beating　so　hard　that　he　saw　a　bright　light　like　the　afterimage　of　a　flashbulb　dancing　in　front　of　his　eyes；　a　light　that　pulsed　in　and　out　with　each　titanic　thud　of　his　heart。
　　He　saw　Ms。　Avery　handing　his　Final　Essay　to　his　mother　and　father。　Mr。　Bissette　was　standing　（reside　Ms。　Avery；　looking　grave。　He　heard　Ms。　Avery　say　in　her　clear；　pale　voice：　Your　son　is　seriously　ill。　If　you　need　proof；　just　look　at　this　Final　Essay。
　　John　hasn't　been　himself　for　the　last　three　weeks　or　so；　Mr。　Bissette　added。　He　seems　frightened　some　of　the　time　and　dazed　all　of　the　time　。　。　。　not　quite　there；　if　you　see　what　I　mean。　Je　pense　que　John　est　fou　。　。　。　prenez…vous？
　　Ms。　Avery　again：　Do　you　perhaps　keep　certain　mood…altering　pre…scription　drugs　in　the　house　where　John　might　have　access　to　them？
　　Jake　didn't　know　about　mood…altering　drugs；　but　he　knew　his　father　kept　several　grams　of　cocaine　in　the　bottom　drawer　of　his　study　desk。　His　father　would　undoubtedly　think　he　had　been　i