8. Tiffin Talks Day in the Life #4
Seven o’clock brings our favorite time of day: Intervis.
This is when we’re allowed to visit one another’s rooms, regardless of gender, for an hour.
During Intervis, the door is supposed to stay “halfway open,” which means “open a crack.” For that reason, “Intervis” should probably just be called “intercourse,” though to be honest, it’s no longer cool to hook up during Intervis.
Joining the Harkness Society or getting with someone in God’s Basement is way more elite.
Charley Hicks is the only student on either of Simone’s floors who has never exercised the privilege of Intervis—but one night, this changes.
Simone is in the common room with her clipboard and a bowl of Starbursts on the table in front of her (she likes to offer the girls something sweet at the end of the day).
This hour helps Simone learn the social landscape.
A handful of girls—Tilly Benbow, the Madisons and Olivias—go to Davi’s room, where they make TikToks in front of the neon sign that says THIS IS WHERE THE MAGIC HAPPENS .
Taylor Wilson goes to North to hang in Hakeem’s room or Dub’s room, though sometimes Hakeem and Dub come to South to hang in Taylor’s room.
The first time that happened, at the start of the year, Simone checked on them (two boys and one girl)—and she found Taylor and Hakeem sitting on the bed and Dub lying across the floor with his AirPods in.
Sometimes girls come to the common room to hang with Simone.
This is nice (though it initially takes Simone by surprise; don’t they have better things to do?).
They gossip about other teachers—Mrs. Wully is a hard grader, Senor Perez is a total DILF—but it seems the real reason the girls hang out is to find out more about Simone.
Specifically, does she have a boyfriend?
No, Simone hasn’t been in a serious relationship since her first year at university.
Well then, they ask, what about Mr. Rivera?
“I think he likes you,” Lisa Kim says. “He was totally into you the night of First Dance.”
“He looked like he wanted to eat you,” Annabelle Tuckerman says.
“Mr. Rivera and I are colleagues,” Simone says.
“Friendly acquaintances.” Her tone of voice is clipped; she doesn’t want to talk about Rhode.
Simone suspects that the girls are right, Rhode does have a crush on her, or he did until he found her in the tunnel.
Since then, he’s been more reserved with Simone, and she’s caught him looking at her strangely.
Did he see? she wonders. Does he know?
When Charley Hicks walks into the common room, Simone could not be more surprised. She’s dressed in Levi’s, a pink oxford shirt, and penny loafers. Her hair is pushed back from her face in a grosgrain headband. Behind her glasses, her expression is typically inscrutable.
“Hey, Charley!” Simone says. She can’t help believing that, if she continues to try, she and Charley will form some kind of bond. “Are you… Intervissing tonight?”
“I am.”
“Terrific!” Simone says. “Where are you headed?” The girls are supposed to let Simone know what room they’re visiting, though if they’re staying on the floor it doesn’t really matter. Is Charley staying on the floor? Is she, maybe, going to Davi’s room?
“North,” Charley says.
Simone wants to throw a party. Charley is visiting a boy!
Simone would assume this was something school-related, but for the first time ever, Charley is without a book.
Does Charley have a… love interest, then?
Is it maybe Royce Stringfellow? He’s the top student in her class.
Who else would Charley deem worthy of her time?
“Okay!” Simone says with what she’s sure is a manic smile. “Be sure to check in with Mr. Rivera when you get there, and we’ll see you back here at eight!”
Charley nods and leaves the room. Would it kill the girl to smile? She didn’t even take a Starburst. Who passes up free candy? Simone unwraps a red one—cherry is her favorite—and once a couple minutes have passed, she texts Rhode.
Did Charley make it over there? Simone can’t believe she’s doing this. Charley is sixteen; North is less than fifty yards away.
Yes, Rhode texts back. She just checked in.
Who is she going to see? Simone writes. It’s none of her business. Should Simone explain that this is the first time Charley has chosen to Intervis? She’s mentioned to Rhode that Charley is having a hard time making friends. It’s only fitting that Simone should take an interest.
Simone’s phone pings. A text from Rhode: Andrew Eastman.
Simone drops her phone like it’s hot.
Simone isn’t the only one who’s shocked that Charley is Intervissing with Andrew Eastman. Rhode can’t quite believe it either.
“East?” he says to Charley.
“Yes,” she says. She signs her name and writes down her destination: Room 601.
“He knows you’re coming?” Rhode says.
“I’m not showing up uninvited, if that’s what you’re asking.”
That’s exactly what Rhode is asking. East is, quite literally, too cool for school. Rhode doesn’t have him for English; he’s apparently doing an “independent study” with Ruth Wully. Rhode asked Ruth about him the Monday after First Dance because he suddenly had a new curiosity about the kid.
Ruth said, “I’ve taught him the past two years, so I’ve learned how to handle him.”
“He has remedial issues?” Rhode asks. This is the only reason Rhode can think of why East wouldn’t be in the regular curriculum.
Ruth laughed. “He has issues, but he’s not remedial. He’s a smart kid, brilliant, even. He just doesn’t want to do the work.”
“Isn’t he worried about getting into college?”
“He claims he’s not going to college,” Ruth said.
“What?” Rhode said. “Then why is he here? This is a prep school, college prep.”
Ruth held her palms up. “You can ask someone else about East, but I’m not talking. Student-teacher privilege.”
What, Rhode wonders now, does Charley see in someone who doesn’t even want to go to college? Is it the obvious? Does she think he’s hot? Maybe the better question is, What does East want with Charley? Is he paying attention to her in exchange for help with his independent study? Is he using her?
Don’t go up there! Rhode thinks. Getting involved with East is a big mistake!
But instead, he smiles. “Have fun, see you at eight.”
“Thanks, Mr. Rivera,” Charley says, and she steps into the elevator.
A second later, Rhode gets a text from Simone. Who is she going to see?
Ha! Rhode thinks. Wouldn’t she like to know. It gives him a perverse thrill to type the name: Andrew Eastman.
As Rhode waits for a response—what will Simone say?—there’s a disruption coming from upstairs. Pounding, a girl yelling.
“Open the door, Hakeem!”
This is followed by a chorus of other voices: Seriously? Leave the dude alone! What are you, psycho?
Rhode trudges up the stairs, where he finds Taylor Wilson in tears.
“He won’t answer the door,” she says. “He won’t talk to me at all, but I know he’s in there.” She pounds on the door again. “Hakeem, open up!”
“Try your other boyfriend!” someone calls out from the end of the hall.
Rhode says, “Guys, that’s enough!” To Taylor he says, “If Hakeem isn’t coming to the door, it’s safe to assume he wants some space. Why don’t you go back to South, and you two can chat in the morning?”
“He’s mad at me for no reason !” Taylor says. “He was spying on my phone, and he misunderstood…”
“Okay, okay,” Rhode says in what he thinks of as a therapist voice. He’s afraid to touch Taylor, so he positions himself between her and Hakeem’s door. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Taylor.”
“I’m going to FaceTime you in ten minutes,” Taylor shouts at the door. “You’d better fucking answer!”
During Intervis, Mr. James makes his usual rounds in the Gator.
First, he checks the Schoolhouse. He’s too lazy to patrol the halls like he’s supposed to, though he did it religiously back in the day—and caught his fair share of kids joining the Harkness Society.
Most of them he barked at and let go with a warning.
The only kids he turned in were the douchebags: One kid accused Mr. James of leering at his girlfriend’s tits.
Well, her tits were out on display, how was Mr. James supposed to avoid seeing them?
Another kid called him “Mr. Jameson” to his face.
(Mr. James secretly finds the nickname funny—and apt.
He does break out his flask of whiskey once the sun goes down, though he prefers Bushmills.)
After the Schoolhouse, Mr. James checks God’s Basement.
Here, he’s a bit more conscientious. He parks the Gator out front and enters the chapel.
It’s a soaring space that smells like furniture polish—they’re fanatical about the “integrity of the woodwork”—and beeswax candles.
A light is kept on above the altar at all times, which helps guide Mr. James down the aisle to the back stairs.
And… jackpot! He hears voices and footfalls on the steps. He flips on the stairwell light to see Honey Vandermeid and Cordelia Spooner. Their heads snap up in alarm. Cordelia puts a hand to her bosom and says, “Jesus, Michael, you scared the piss out of me.”
Mr. James says, “You weren’t who I expected to find, sorry.” Cordelia seems flushed, and Honey Vandermeid—she’s a fine-looking woman, Mr. James wouldn’t mind having a go-round with her in God’s Basement—twists her long blond hair into a bun. “Everything… okay?”
“Just fine,” Honey says. “We heard a rumor about kids sneaking down tonight, so we came to check it out.”
“You could have just called me,” Mr. James says. “That is my job.”
The ladies can’t get up the stairs and past him fast enough, it seems, and they talk over each other: Oh yes, we know, thanks, Michael, have a good night, good night, good night.
“Good night?” Mr. James says. He turns to watch them skulk out of the chapel like a couple of guilty kids.
What were they doing down there? He has only one guess—but it’s too wild, even for this crazy place.
At five minutes to eight, Mr. James is heading back toward the dorms and passing kids going to the Sink or the Teddy to study.
Hey, Mr. James. How’s it going, Mr. James?
Mr. James lifts a hand, occasionally saying, How’s it going, Trouble?
He tries to be sparing with his greetings, since he has a reputation as a grouch to uphold.
He’ll return to the security office, a garage on the Back Lot, where he’ll watch a couple episodes of Yellowstone and then do his final rounds before check-in at ten.
As he’s motoring around the back of the dorm buildings, he sees two figures ascend the cement stairs that lead up from the cellar of Classic North.
What fresh hell? he thinks. Have the kids discovered another place to sneak around? Mr. James has spent enough time in that cellar dealing with furnace issues to know how inhospitable it is. But maybe creepy is a kink.
He slows down and confronts the two kids as they reach the path.
Surprise, surprise, he thinks. He doesn’t know a lot of the students by name, but he knows this young man.
“Hey, Mr. James,” the kid says.
The girl he’s with, tall and thin with glasses, stares at her shoes. Mr. James has seen this girl around, always carrying books. He doesn’t know her name.
“Good evening, East,” Mr. James says. He nods toward the stairs. “What were you two doing down there?”
East grins. “Nothing.”
Nothing? Did young Eastman really just toss him a nothing ? God, the kid is so cocky, but something about him is likable. He’s a rebel, just like Mr. James was in high school. And, of course, Mr. James knows who his father is.
“Okay, then.” Mr. James won’t press it; his show and his flask await. “Have a good night.”
Head of School Audre Robinson cherishes her evenings.
After prepping for the following day with a glass of wine and having dinner in the Residence, she takes a scented bath and reads her mystery novels (she loves Louise Penny and Selena Montgomery).
She eats a couple of pieces of dark chocolate, then crawls into bed by ten thirty and prays there will be no overnight emergencies.
But a couple of times a week, Audre forsakes both bath and reading for a stroll around the campus during study hours, which are held from eight to ten p.m. She observes the kids as they do a group project for Evil and Justice or tackle an essay for Visions and Revisions.
(Mrs. Wully has started out this course by having the kids compare King Lear with Jane Smiley’s A Thousand Acres, sheer brilliance in Audre’s opinion.) She likes to see the kids in the Grille reading Bel Canto while they sip dulce de leche milkshakes.
She overhears Lisa Kim and Annabelle Tuckerman debating US trade policies with China.
The students’ young minds are discovering the poetry of Jorie Graham, the intricacies of calculus.
They memorize the periodic table, the causes of World War I.
As buoyed as Audre is by all the learning that takes place at Tiffin, she’s also sadly aware that most of the facts will fall out of the backs of the students’ heads in a few short years.
Audre couldn’t pass an Algebra II test now if her life depended on it; she’s lost the basic plot of The Old Man and the Sea —does he die in the end?
But a truly fine education teaches the students to be curious, to ask questions, to augment their understanding of the world around them and feel at ease in it.
Audre realizes not every student is immersed in academia—or is even on task.
Somewhere on campus, a freshman girl is on her phone crying to her mother and begging to come home, Davi is probably giving her followers a peek at tomorrow’s OOTD, and Audre doesn’t even want to hazard a guess at what East is doing.
But for the most part, the developing imaginations and intellects of Tiffin are engaged, the gears turning, the creative juices flowing.
When the chapel bells chime ten, both the Teddy and the Sink empty out as we hurry back to the dorms for check-in. Then we shower or snack, we complete our skin care routines, we brush our teeth and occasionally floss, then finally, finally, climb into bed.
“Bonne nuit, mes cheries!” Simone Bergeron calls out as lights down the hall go out, one by one.
We’ve all heard about this bit of nightly theater—are the girls on the first floor living in a Madeline book?—but we’re too tired to care.
Outside, the moon shines down on camp as we, the 240 students of Tiffin Academy, fall asleep.