Aaron wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly, and stood for a
moment with his mouth gaping open. Regaining himself, he stood taller and aimed
to appear as nonchalant as possible.
He had expected to
be reprimanded for what he had done, for sure, but this...this was unmistakably
bad. As the headmaster
grimly persisted, he found his mind wandering down to Harlem. What would Turkey
say? He’d probably just shake his head and say nothing, like usual. Junior was probably
skippin school right about now. He’d probably give him a high five and tell him
he was the dumbest smart nigga ever. His youngest brothers, Peachfuzz and Feet
were were too young to think anything. Hell, they’d probably be happy that he
was coming back home. But at this point, having been away for 3 years, could he
even call it home?
“Son, I think it’s time that you said something,” Dr. Peterson
said, his cold gray eyes bearing into Aaron with such cool fire that Aaron
could feel his heart flutter in mild terror. Still though, he could never stand
to look like a coward, and he stared back in silence. When he had been a
candidate for the school, Aaron’s enterprising spirit had been seen as an
asset. Now, it would be the very instrument that would remove him.
Xavier Academy school was an academy started fifty years ago by
Sir Frances L. Xavier in beautiful Chester New York. It was said that his mama
named him “Sir” because she always knew he would be royality one day, and he
hadn’t let her down. He had been a track star at P.S. 181 in East Harlem, and
had earned a scholarship to Howard University, in Washington DC where he set
school records in the 100 and 200 meter sprints. He studied at the school’s
famed College of Medicine, and upon completing his medical degree and
residency, opened his own hospital in New York at 117th and Lennox Ave where he
was affectionately known as “Dr. Sir” (as this, of course, WAS his name). At
52, he got married to a woman 27 years his junior, and had three sets of twins
by her, two fraternal, one identical, all boys. As is true with so many
people who acquire means, Dr. Sir
decided that the very secondary education he had received as a child would not
be good enough for his children, and he relocated his practice to Westchester
where, to the chagrin of white
people everywhere, he made several offers on properties. There had been demonstrations,
neighborhood association meetings,
and threats wherever Xavier went, but in the end, the astronomical bid
that he made on the property excited just the right combination of municipal
officials, and he was the proud owner of a 45 acre tract.
A day after the
deed for the land had been handed to him, a group of townspeople gathered
outside the small house that existed on the property, and attempted to set it
on fire while the entire family was in their home. Sending his wife and children into the surround woods to
hide, Dr. Sir is said to have stood in front of the men and uttered what would
become the motto for the school. He said in his mild voice, “Shall the decency
of your forefathers be soiled by the
ignominy of your INdecency? Gentlemen, Be Dignified!”
It is unclear how
these words came to be known. Perhaps one of the men who fatally beat Dr. Sir on what would become the
school’s center of campus had
taken a moment to note his eloquence. Nevertheless, the school that
would for 25 years be run by Dr. Sir’s young wife, lived by his creed: “BE
DIGNIFIED.”
It was these words that Dr. Peterson laid on Aaron now, as they
faced off in the Headmaster's office.
“A dignified Xavier man would take responsibility for his
actions,” Dr. Peterson gravely assured Aaron.
Aaron thought that what he had done was quite harmless. The
idea, in fact, had been recommended by a friend of his from prep-for-prep, who
was currently at Philip's Academy at Andover. He had taken a Brita Water filter
and filled it with cheap vodka. Though he rarely drank himself, he knew that
the alcohol that had dripped through produced a far more palatable liquor than
what he had started with.
He had marketed his product as JayBird, a brand of liquor he
had researched online that was
high class and expensive. He had sold 12 ounce “water bottles” for $60 each to
friend’s of his he knew could afford it . To his pleasant surprise, his “water”
became known among a circle of covert “partiers,” and demand had been quite
high. Soon he had to hire a “team” of individuals so as to make enough of the
purified cheap liquor, and he thought about expanding his operation to whiskey
and rum. By the third semester of his business, he had 3 “employees,” 2 to
deliver the “water” and one who specialized in “operations,” which included
delivery and supply chain.
It was the team’s supplier, the operation man’s older sister
who attended Pace University, who busted the them. During her visit earlier that afternoon, some stroke of morality had hit her
after a money dispute with the “company,” and she had confessed to the school
that she had a sneaking suspicion that liquor was rampant among a section of
the school that happened to include all 4 members of Aaron’s team. His employes
all had pointed to him as the leader, and he had been left alone with the
Headmaster.
Dr. Petereson shook his head, and whistled softly.
“Have it your way, son. We will arrange for your train home
this evening. You are hereby expelled.”
Aaron barely felt his legs as he left the office. He wondered
if this is how Dr. Sir had felt when they had beaten him senselessly all those
years ago. Was it so bad that he had sold the stuff to make extra cash? Hadn’t
he exemplified the ingenuity and a CEO’s bold spirit? As he approached his
room, he began to feel that the school should be rewarding him for his
audacious action. How many 16 years olds could brag that they had overseen a
full-scale, if small, operation?
Shame, however, thick and deeply painful began to course its
way through his brain. He realized that he had become everything his mother had sought to keep away
from: a drug dealer, a criminal, a dropout.
“Well,” Aaron thought wryly to himself, “at least I don’t got
no kids.”
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