There was never a question as to Oliver and me being together. I don’t think anyone had any question about us; we were just as natural as the sky and earth. Immediately we met between classes. He always seemed to know where I’d be. If I was in the library and he had a moment, there he’d appear, whispering to me between the shelves. If I were coming out of a classroom and he was in the same hall, he’d wait for me in the corridor and walk with me. He saved me a seat beside him at meal tables and he always brought me back to the entrance of my hall of residence at curfew. “Just Silvia Cotton,” became, “My Sil” within a month. Mostly we hung out on the quad and in the common room with our friends, but we often went walking by the lake alone.
I loved those long walks we’d take. Those times are extraordinary, the ones when you first get together with someone special and spend all your time getting to know each other. Oliver was the most outgoing person I’d ever met. He was light hearted and funny, something that was new to me in a male. The only real encounter I’d had with any man had been my father, whose personality was something like a flannel; constant and reliable, but not the most stimulating companionship. Everyone at Bennington seemed to be fond of Oliver and he greeted them all with the same warmth. He had a knack for being sensitive, but just when you thought he was a complete pushover, he’d come out swinging like any other lad. Neither Oliver nor Alexander were small boys. They were both imposing figures, standing at least a head taller than the next tallest teenager. They sported broad shoulders and muscular physiques and had large hands. Both of them were fearsome on the rugby pitch as well, so much so that opposing players occasionally hesitated to approach them and once or twice actually ran away. I would have thought that rugby would have been Alexander’s game as he was usually the more aggressive of the two, but Oliver was an animal on the pitch. His transformation into brutality amazed me because, in general, he was just such so gentle.
The first time I encountered my sweet Oliver Dickinson being really naughty was three weeks into my stay at Bennington. I was walking down the corridor in the East wing during my free period when I saw him and Alexander huddled together in a corner.
“Hi, Ollie!” I said brightly, coming up from behind, “Hi, Alex!”
“Shush!” He and Alexander said simultaneously. Oliver didn’t turn to face me. He was obviously too busy with something, but Alex spun and put his finger against my lips.
“Sorry,” I whispered as he removed it. I could see Oliver now since Alex had shifted. He had an Eppendorf tube in his hand and was frantically packing something into it.
“What are you doing?”
“Shush, Silvia!” This time he turned and they both waved a hand at the floor to prove they meant it.
I stood there in silent compliance with no idea of what they were up to. I was still quite dumb to them and their evil ways at that point.
“Is it ready?” Alex breathed.
“Yeah. Is he coming?” Oliver whispered, pinching the top on to the vial. “Is he on time?”
Alex looked over his shoulder and sniggered, “He’s by the end of the way, he is.”
Both of them stood up and straightened their jackets. Oliver looked at me and winked, then took two steps forward and hailed another student, “McGuigan!” He said quite loudly, “You need my notes for laboratory.”
Josh McGuigan stopped about ten feet away and eyed the twins suspiciously.
“Come on!” Alex said curtly. “We’ve been waiting for you! You want to make us late?”
I knew Josh from my philosophy class. He was a nice boy, but he had a terrible case of psoriasis that left him with open sores on his hands and neck, and probably other areas of his body as well that he kept covered at all times. I recognized his ailment immediately because my father suffered from the affliction from time to time. I knew that it wasn’t contagious, only ugly and painful to its bearer. Most people didn’t know that, though, or they were at least insensitive enough to avoid or tease poor Josh.
I’d come upon Oliver having a chat with Josh one afternoon in the courtyard. When Josh left Oliver mentioned that he felt badly for the boy. “I like him,” He said as he took my hand and led me down the hall, “We’re mates,” He paused, “Well, sort of like. He’s good at taking a joke, mind. I took him on as my lab partner second year without asking him to be. I’d watched him always left standing alone, being the last one chosen, so I just walked over and chucked my books on the table and told him to shove over.” Oliver looked at the ceiling as he continued, “I didn’t see Old Josh’s dorm mate walking around with big, nasty scabs all over him so I figured it was safe to exchange a couple of test tubes with the bloke. I hate that, you know? When people are rubbish to somebody who's done nothing to harm anybody.”
I nodded. I hated that, too. What a good heart Oliver Dickinson had. His kindness often went unnoticed, but it never failed.
Josh didn’t say a word in response to either of them the morning they stopped him in the corridor. Instead, he sighed and came forward, reaching out his hand to take the notes from Oliver. Just as he was about to collect them, however, Alexander smacked Oliver’s hand at the wrist with such force that the papers scattered across the ground.
“You dickhead!” Oliver gave his brother a shove, “Why’d you do that?”
I wondered the same thing. It seemed such a senseless act, but within seconds it was all too obvious why he’d done it. As Josh bent down to pick up the papers, Oliver pretended to help him, As he leaned down, he dropped the vial into Josh’s pocket. Josh didn’t notice.
“Ah, who cares?” Alex demanded, stealing my arm, “I’m taking your Sil and we’re going. You two bore us shitless.”
I allowed him to haul me off. “What was that about?” I asked as he dragged me around a corner and sat with me on one of the benches outside along the corridor. “That was rude, Alex!”
“Just wait,” He grinned. He looked just exactly like Oliver when he smiled. Breathtaking, really, how closely the two of them resembled the other.
“What did you two do to poor Josh? I thought you three were friends!”
“Don’t worry about it,” Alex said quietly, giving my shoulder a playful squeeze, “It’s a game! Josh knows it! He gives it right back!”
Oliver appeared around the bend and sat on the other side of me. Immediately, those two began to snigger, “About fifteen seconds, I’d reckon,” Ollie said, turning to peer back at the direction he had come. “I can hear the girl’s football team coming up the corridor…”
“What’s going—“ I began to ask the question, but was never able to finish before there was a loud bang that sounded something like a gun shot. Seconds later, a flock of startled girls in their football uniforms ran squealing around the wall past us out on to the quad. About ten feet behind them followed Josh McGuigan, his mouth open in a silent scream, moving at full speed. The dishevelled notes were still clutched in his hand.
“What the hell was that?” Professor Rankin, the physical education instructor, jogged into the quad to gather her distressed team. “Is everyone all right? Is everyone here? Calm down, Ladies!” She shouted, and then paused, “Joshua McGuigan? What on Earth are you doing out here with the girls? Go on! Go to class! Clear off or I’ll give you detention!”
Oliver and Alexander howled with laughter.
Josh’s face was deep red as he walked off the quad. He looked at the twins, shook a fist at them, and began to chuckle.
The boys doubled up.
I didn’t need to ask what they’d done. I knew Oliver had packed that test tube with dry ice. Dry ice packed tightly enough in an Eppendorf tube will explode. It shouldn’t have hurt Josh, not inside his pocket, but it certainly went off with a bang that was amplified between the stone walls of the corridor. Timing it so it happened as the girl’s football team was leaving the dressing room was just a stroke of genius.