2. Tiffin Talks The Rankings
Being ranked number two consumes our group chats and private stories, not because anyone actually cares (notable exceptions: our parents, who feel like their tuition dollars have increased in value, and sixth-former Annabelle Tuckerman, who believes this is somehow gonna help her get into Princeton) but because it feels as if the metaphorical dark cloud that has been hanging over camp since Cinnamon Peters died just let in a stream of sunlight.
At the Move-In Day cookout by Jewel Pond, we form a pyramid in the sand.
Dub Austin anchors the bottom, Davi is smack in the middle, and Willow Levy, who weighs less than ninety pounds, climbs up top.
Our Spanish teacher, Senor Perez, asks everyone in the pyramid to hold up two fingers indicating numero dos.
He gets one decent pic before the whole thing collapses.
We have chicken fights in the water—Dub and Madison R.
versus Taylor and Hakeem. Lisa Kim glides out to the center of the pond on the paddleboard she bought in Maui, where she did a “summer service project” (eye roll emoji).
A JBL speaker blasts rap music, but Ms. Robinson doesn’t balk at the explicit lyrics and she doesn’t make Davi change out of her cheeky bikini bottoms, even though they violate dress code.
The sixth-formers among us are old enough to remember when the Move-In Day cookout meant frozen hamburger patties and bags of generic-brand potato chips.
But this year, Chef Haz serves beef brisket that he’s been smoking for days.
There are rainbows of grilled vegetable skewers, homemade potato salad and broccoli slaw, and fluffy cheddar-chive biscuits.
Instead of store-bought sheet cake, there are blackberry hand pies and rocky road brownies.
As Dub Austin drenches his brisket with Chef’s secret-recipe BBQ sauce, he says, “Number two is kind of like losing the Super Bowl.”
“That’s so negative,” Taylor Wilson says. “Number two is crazy. We beat Northmeadow. ”
Most of us agree with Taylor: It is crazy. Tiffin ahead of not only all the brainiacs at Northmeadow but also Choate, Groton, Hotchkiss, and Deerfield? Seriously?
Everyone notices when East shows up (late, obviously; rules and schedules don’t apply to him). The past two years, he came to the cookout high as a kite, but today he seems clear-eyed. He strips off his T-shirt and charges into the water.
The new girl, Charley Hicks, is sitting alone in the grass behind the beach.
She’s wearing the same clothes she arrived in—a green polo, like something a fourth grade boy would wear for school pictures, a khaki skirt that hits below the knee, and boat shoes.
Her belt has whales on it. And that’s when we wonder if Charley Hicks is trying to be ironic.
(Mrs. Wully tried to teach irony back in third-form, but most of us still don’t understand it.) Does Charley Hicks not have a bathing suit, a cute cover-up, or a sundress if she doesn’t want to swim?
She’s sitting on a patchwork quilt that looks like it came straight out of a Conestoga wagon, and she’s reading a book called The Night Circus.
We’ve heard that Charley Hicks is here to challenge Royce Stringfellow for valedictorian.
(This would actually be great; Royce is a dick about his grades, and we’re like, Bruh, who cares, wouldn’t you rather get laid?
) But even Royce is out in the water today, trying to impress Tilly Benbow with his dance moves.
What is up with Charley Hicks, reading all by herself? Is she super weird, or is she… intriguing? We’ve seen this storyline on Nickelodeon—a new girl shows up and doesn’t fit in. Should one of us say hello? We were all new once.
“Want to go over?” Olivia H-T asks Davi Banerjee.
“Not yet,” Davi says. “We can’t overwhelm her.”
“She doesn’t seem overwhelmed,” Olivia H-T says. “It’s like she barely notices we’re here.”
“She notices, trust me,” Davi says. “She’s observing us just like we’re observing her.”
Ohhhh okay. Olivia H-T gets it. Davi is like a naturalist with a new species of wild animal. Or is Charley the naturalist?
Just as Olivia H-T is about to offer Davi her brownie—Davi eats like a long-haul trucker and never gains an ounce—an astonishing thing happens.
East emerges from the pond, shaking water from his dark hair in a way that makes every girl swoon (except for Davi; she thinks East is a douche canoe, but Olivia H-T suspects this is because East is the only student at Tiffin who gets more attention than Davi herself).
He strides across the beach to the grass, where he plops down on the quilt next to Charley Hicks.
Olivia H-T gasps, but Davi says, “Oh god, he’s so predictable.”
Predictable? Olivia H-T thinks. What about the hottest (and richest) guy at school sitting next to the freak show is predictable? Olivia H-T fears she’ll spend the whole school year one step behind Davi.
“How so?” Olivia H-T asks.
“She’s supposed to be smart.”
Ah yes, Olivia H-T thinks. East will charm Charley Hicks, then get her to tutor him in English and write all his papers. Charley will be unable to resist because… well, because he’s East.
Over on the quilt, Charley shows East her book. He studies the cover, flips through the pages, then sets it down, leans back on his elbows, and says something that makes Charley laugh.
“Oh god,” Davi groans. “She’s falling for it.”
Charley kicks off her ghastly shoes, stands up, and untucks her shirt.
Hello? Olivia H-T thinks. What is happening here?
She checks to see if any of the adults are watching this.
Ms. Robinson is talking to Mrs. Spooner and Senor Perez.
The new English teacher, Mr. Rivera (he has a dad bod but is otherwise kind of hot), and the new history teacher, Miss Bergeron (who looks so young she could pass for a student), are sitting in beach chairs with their feet in the water, but they’re deep in conversation and don’t notice anything but each other.
Olivia H-T is both surprised and relieved to see that Charley is wearing a bikini under her clothes—and she has a figure: teacup breasts, a cute ass. She folds her clothes, takes off her glasses, and follows East into the water, where the two of them start to… race across the pond.
“Holy shit,” Davi says. “She can really swim.”
Charley’s freestyle stroke is so strong and clean that she keeps pace with East. (None of us realized East could swim like that, but he’s our school’s answer to James Bond: He has all kinds of hidden talents that he whips out when they’re useful.) The cinematic ending to this little vignette would be Charley beating East in the race—those of us in the water start to cheer as East and Charley make their way back—but when they reach the middle of the pond, East pulls away and wins by two or three lengths.
Charley emerges from the water with a shy smile, her braids hanging down her back like two wet ropes. East offers her a towel from his backpack. Charley dries her face, wraps the towel around herself, and follows East over to the grill, where they pick up plates and dig in.
“He’s using her,” Davi says.
Davi is probably right, Olivia H-T thinks. What other explanation is there?
On Saturday, we play our first home football game against the Excelsior School, which can’t even be considered a rival because they’re too good: Their record of beating us is 114 years old.
Sports at Tiffin have never been about winning, but rather about spirit and sportsmanship.
(This is a nice way of saying that most of our teams suck.) We dress up in green and gold, paint our faces, and cheer when either team does something good.
The score is 17–14—Excelsior is, of course, ahead, there’s less than a minute on the clock, but we have the ball and are driving for the end zone.
Dub Austin sinks back in the pocket, and just as he’s about to be steamrolled by the Excelsior left tackle, he chucks a pass to Hakeem Pryce, who catches it and charges into the end zone.
When the final whistle blows, we storm the field. The offensive line hoists Dub and Hakeem into the air.
We are gracious hosts; this has been instilled in us by Ms. Robinson and the faculty. We congratulate the Excelsior team. “Good game, good game!” We invite the Excelsior fans over to the food trucks that line the Pasture. Does anyone want carnitas?
At Sunday’s church service, Chaplain Laura Rae praises us for our “resilience” (she doesn’t mention Cinnamon Peters, but she doesn’t need to) and encourages us to be careful and thoughtful—indeed, intentional —in all things.
“Our ranking at number two and the unexpected win on the football field may lead us to believe that Tiffin has entered a golden era,” she says. “But in my experience, quality is never the result of dumb luck. Quality comes from hard work, time, and energy.”
Laura Rae has a way of telling us what to do without telling us what to do: We sit up a little straighter and remove our phones from their hiding places within the Book of Common Prayer.
When the new week begins, we get to class on time, come prepared, listen attentively.
The boys’ shirts are tucked in, ties tied (Windsor knots are big this year; Teague Baldwin—who’s frankly the only sixth-form boy worth emulating—shared an instructional YouTube video with the boys on his floor), and the girls’ skirt hems fall below their extended fingertips.
There have been no disciplinary infractions since the start of school. Has this ever happened before?
Monday is the first Burger Night and Piano Bar, a tradition started by Chef Haz.
We choose Swiss or cheddar, crispy bacon or slices of beefsteak tomato, homemade pickles, special sauce or just plain ketchup, brioche bun or lettuce wrap.
After dinner at the Paddock, some of us hurry over to the Teddy to get milkshakes from the Grille while our music teacher, Mr. Chuy, waits at the baby grand, ready to take requests.
Last year, Piano Bar was attended by mostly choir and theater kids—Cinnamon Peters always took the seat next to Mr. Chuy on the bench—but then word spread about how much fun it was.
Mr. Chuy plays old songs like “Rich Girl,” or “Santeria,” but sometimes he surprises us.
He ends the first Piano Bar of the year with “Love Story” by Taylor Swift.
The girls go nuts (and not just the girls, to be honest).
Dub Austin is wrong: We didn’t lose the Super Bowl. The ranking in America Today has raised us up, literally and figuratively. There’s something in the atmosphere now that suggests a world of endless possibilities.