Hawaii - James Michener [489]
"You think he can still make Yale?"
"We won't condemn the boy in our report, Hoxworth. Of that you can be sure."
"I appreciate this, Larry. But tell me, does this essay indicate a diseased mind?"
There was a pause, and the headmaster said reflectively, "I think we'd better leave it the way I said first. About adolescents, we can never know."
"Do you know where Bromley is?"
"No, Hoxworth, I don't."
The call ended and Hale sat in the lowering darkness. The phone immediately resumed jangling but Hoxworth let it ring. It would be some parent raising hell about what Bromley had said regarding their ancestors. "Damn them all!” Hoxworth cried in real confusion as he watched the lights of Honolulu come on, that nightly miracle that pleased him so much. His family had brought electricity to the city, just as they had brought so much more, but now that a Hale was in trouble, the vultures would want to rip him apart. Therefore, when the front doorbell rang insistently, Hoxworth was inclined to let it ring; he would not parade his hurt to the vultures. Let them pick the bones to their own ghoulish cackling.
The door opened and a cheery male voice cried, "Hey! Anybody in?" Hoxworth could hear footsteps crossing the first big room and he had a panicky thought: "It's some cheeky reporter!" And he started to run for it, when the voice called, "Hey, Mr. Hale. You're the one . . ."
"Who are you?" Hoxworth asked stiffly, turning unwillingly to see a brash-looking young man in flannel trousers and white linen coat. He carried three books under his arm, and looked disarmingly at ease.
"I'm Red Kenderdine. Brom's English teacher." He looked at a chair, and when Hale failed to respond, asked, "Mind if I sit down?"
"I don't want to talk about this thing, Mr. Kenderdine."
"Have you seen Brom yet?"
"No!" Hale snapped. "Where is he?"
"Good. I wanted very much to be the first to talk with you, Mr. Hale."
"Why?"
"I don't want you to make a serious mistake, Mr. Hale."
"What do you mean?"
"First, will you agree to honor what I'm about to say as coming from a personal friend . . . and not from a Punahou master?"
"I don't even know you," Hale replied stuffily. He had never liked educators. To him they were a mealy lot.
"But Bromley does."
Hale looked at the young man suspiciously. "Are you in any way involved . . ."
"Mr. Hale, I come here as a friend, not as a conspirator."
"Excuse me, Kenderdine. Bromley has spoken well of you."
"I'm glad," the young instructor said coldly. "I'm here to speak well of him."
"You're about the only one in Honolulu . . ."
"Exactly. Mr. Hale, have you read Brom's essay?"
"All I could stomach."
"Apart from the photograph of you, which is unforgivable, did you recognize your son's essay as a marvelous piece of irony?"
"Irony! It was plain unadulterated filth. Sewer stuff."
"No, Mr. Hale, it was first-rate compassionate irony. I wish I had the talent your son has."
"You wish . . ." Hoxworth sputtered and stared incredulously at his visitor. "You sound like one of the elements we're trying to control in this community."
Kenderdine blew air from his lower lip into his nose and took a patient respite before daring to answer. Then he handed Mr. Hale three books. "These are for you, sir."
"What do I want with them?" Hoxworth growled.
"They will help you understand the extraordinarily gifted young man, who happens to be your son," Kenderdine explained.
"Never heard of them," Hale snorted, at which the young master lost his temper slightly and said something he immediately wished he could recall.
"I suppose you haven't, sir. They happen to be three of the greatest novels of our time."
"Oh," Hale grunted, missing the sarcasm. "Well, I still never heard of them. What're they about?"
"Family histories, Mr. Hale. A Lost Lady is a great masterpiece. I wish everyone in Hawaii could read The Grandmothers by Glenway Wescott. It would explain so much about Honolulu and Punahou. And this