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“Do what?” asked Theo, who’d forgotten Alwyn’s original question as he tried to keep up with his scattergun chatter, bouncing along like a cork on a running stream.

“Change your name. How did you swing it?”

“I told the headmaster.”

“Bloody hell—you’re brave, aren’t you?” said Alwyn, letting out a low whistle. “You don’t want to get on the wrong side of the Old Man. I can tell you that.”

“Old Man?”

“Yes, that’s what we call him. That and The Flogger —he’s got a whole rack of canes in his study. Sometimes he ties them together for extra punishment.”

“I didn’t see them.”

“That’s because he keeps them hidden when parents come. He’s all sweetness and light then, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. But once they’re gone, he doesn’t have to pretend anymore. It’s like that new film Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde . I saw it in the holidays. You should too. It’s scary.” Alwyn’s voice dropped and his eyes got bigger behind his thick glasses as though he were picturing the headmaster wrestling in his study with his schizophrenia, fingering his canes.

“How do you know all this?” asked Theo dubiously. “You’re new, too, aren’t you?”

“No, it’s my second year, but I also like to keep my ear to the ground. It doesn’t do not to know what’s going on—not in a place like this. So come on—why did you want to change your name?”

“Campion-Bennett’s my stepfather. I’m Sterling, like my father.”

“And where’s he, if he isn’t married to your mater anymore? In America still? Will you go back to see him in the holidays?”

“No, he’s dead.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that.” Alwyn sounded disappointed more than sympathetic. It was almost as if he’d been angling for an invitation. “How did that happen, then?” he asked, resuming his interrogation. He had no restraint, and with his carrot-topped head jutting forward with each new question, he reminded Theo of a demented woodpecker.

“He had an accident,” said Theo and stopped, biting his lip. He’d had to either lie or say nothing. Telling a complete stranger that his father had put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger wasn’t an option. Really, he should have told Alwyn to get lost—the boy had no right to ask him stupid personal questions before they’d even gotten to know each other, but he’d been feeling lonely with no one to talk to, and everything was so unlike anything he’d been used to.

Now he felt guilty, too, as if he’d denied his father in some essential way. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said angrily. “It’s none of your damn business what happened to my dad.”

“All right, all right. Keep your hair on,” said Alwyn, backing away a step and putting up his hands. “There’s no reason to get sore—that’s what they say in America, isn’t it? Like in the movies? Or is it mad—don’t get mad?”

Theo didn’t respond. He started getting things out of his trunk to put in his drawers, hoping that Alwyn would go away and leave him alone.

But Alwyn didn’t. He was clearly not one for taking a hint. “Do you want to know a secret?” he asked, coming closer and dropping his voice.

“What secret?”

“A secret about what’s going to happen tonight. They’re going to put you out. And it’s okay if you don’t look down. I know that from when they did it to me last year.”

“Down! What are you talking about?”

“I can’t say,” said Alwyn mysteriously. “It’s more than my life’s worth if they found out that I told you. Just remember, though—eyes up, not down.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“The prefects—the ones with the waistcoats. They do it at the start of every year to the new boys. It’s like an initiation. You’ll see.”

“What is?”

But Alwyn wouldn’t say any more, even when Theo threatened to hit him over the head with his pillow, which he would have done if lights-out hadn’t intervened.

The prefects came at ten o’clock, waving flashlights and making all the new boys—or brats , as they called them—get up and follow them up the iron stairs to the corridor where the sixth formers had their studies. Some of these older boys were standing in their doorways, watching and laughing as the snaking line went past and halted in front of a door at the far end, where Lewis, the head of house, was standing with a list of names in his hand.

Theo was at the back of the group, standing beside the half-open door of a study in which a boy was sitting in an armchair reading a book laid open across his knees. Theo felt a jolt of envy, which startled him with its intensity. He would have given anything at that moment to trade places with the boy and leave behind the disgusting dormitory and whatever ghastly ordeal the idiots in the colored waistcoats had got planned beyond the closed door at the end of the corridor.

Theo was older than the other new boys, and it had been agreed that he would start school as a third-year fifth former, but that still meant he would have a year to wait before he became eligible for a study. It felt like an eternity as he stood outside, looking in.

He could see only half the room from where he was standing, and he couldn’t resist taking a step forward into the doorway from where a disordered desk under the window and shelves overflowing with books came into view. On top of them, up near the ceiling, was a white plaster bust of a man with a vast beard that grew out of his chin instead of down over his chest. Theo recognized him straightaway. He’d seen the same face on statues for sale on the sidewalks in Union Square when the Communists had their meetings there and tried to sell copies of The Daily Worker to passersby and recruit them for the revolution.

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. There was something just so wonderfully absurd about finding the father of atheistic Communism staring down at him from the top of a bookcase in the “best Catholic school in the country.”

“Who the hell are you?” The boy’s angry question shocked him. The books had made Theo think of him as a fellow spirit, but now he was staring up at Theo like he was a mortal enemy, his bright-blue eyes hard and unforgiving.

He had an arresting face. Fine and delicate and almost feminine, each feature drawn as if with a sculptor’s scalpel, and all set within a mess of unbrushed blond hair that was so fair, it was almost white. He had an Elastoplast on his chin where he had obviously cut himself shaving, and was wearing an old, shapeless gray sweater over his uniform trousers. There were several small holes in the front and a paint stain on one of the shoulders.

“I’m Theo Sterling,” Theo said, stammering over his name. “I’m sorry I laughed. I didn’t mean to.”

“Wait!” the boy commanded, stopping Theo in his tracks as he had begun to back away. “What were you laughing at?”

“The statue.” Theo pointed weakly over at the bookshelf, not knowing how to explain himself. The boy intimidated him for some reason in a way that nobody else had up to now, not even the headmaster.

“Do you know who it is?” the boy asked.

“Karl Marx.”

“And you think he’s funny, do you?”

“No. It’s just him being here in this place. I wasn’t expecting it. That’s all.”

The boy continued to stare at Theo for a moment and then unexpectedly smiled. It lit up his face and made Theo want to laugh again, with relief this time, but he didn’t, not wanting to risk giving further offense.

“Nobody here’s got any idea who it is,” the boy said. “They’re all too stupid. You’re the first one.”

Theo nodded. He was happy that the boy didn’t think he was stupid. It mattered to him for some reason.

“You’re American?” the boy asked.

“Yes.”

“Who do you want to win the election?”

“Roosevelt,” Theo said without hesitating, and then winced.

“Having second thoughts?” the boy asked, noticing Theo’s grimace.

“No, the election made me think of my father. That’s all. He loved Hoover. He had a photograph of him on the wall, even used to talk to it sometimes. But I don’t like him. I saw what happened.”

“What? What did you see?”

“Sorry—I’ve got to go,” Theo said, stumbling backward as someone pulled his arm. The door had opened at the end of the corridor.

“Now listen and listen good,” called Lewis from the open door, “because I’m not going to say this again.” The head of house seemed like he was seven feet tall, towering over them, lit by the wavering light of the prefects’ flashlights, which threw moving shadows on the walls. “Up there behind me is the Folly. Some of you may have seen it from the ground. There are two towers and a ledge, and it’s called a folly because there’s no purpose to it, except that the man who built this place thought it would give it more class if he added on a couple of battlements at the end. And no one uses it except on one night of the year—this night, when boys who are joining the house walk the ledge. I did it, all the men in these studies behind you did it, and now it’s your turn.”

All around him in the darkness, Theo could hear the sharp intakes of breath and the start of whispering as fear spread through the group.

“Settle down,” said Lewis, raising his voice. “You don’t need to be scared. It’s not like it used to be. The ledge is wide and there’s a rope along the edge to hold on to, so you can’t fall. It’s only twenty-six and a half feet to the other tower, so it doesn’t take long, and once you’re done, that’s it. You’re one of us and no one can take that away from you.”

“Who goes first?” someone asked in a squeaky voice.

“You’ll go in alphabetical order. Barker here has got the list. He’ll call out your names, and when he does, you go through this door and up the staircase, and I’ll be waiting at the top with a flashlight. And be careful on the stairs. They’re steep, but there’s a rail to hold on to. It’s the same on the other side.”

Lewis turned and disappeared from view until after a few moments a beam of light appeared, illuminating the first steps of the winding gray stone staircase rising beyond the door.

“Addison, you’re first,” a new voice called out, and Theo immediately recognized it as belonging to the bullying prefect from the dormitory.

Up ahead a boy detached himself from the crowd and went up the stairs. Everyone was silent, standing utterly still. Theo’s palms were clammy and he could feel sweat on his forehead, too, and it made him angry that he was frightened. He was sorely tempted to turn around and walk back down to the dormitory, and only stayed where he was because he did not want to be branded a coward.

After a minute, maybe two, they could hear Lewis’s voice again, calling “Next,” and everyone started moving again, exhaling their relief as the next boy was called forward.

And everything went like clockwork through the A’s and B’s, until they got to Cattermole, Theo’s neighbor from the first night, who started crying hysterically as soon as he heard his name. Not the low moaning like before, but earsplitting cries that Theo wouldn’t have expected someone so small to be capable of.

“Help!” he shouted at the top of his voice. “I can’t. Please. No.” Theo didn’t understand why Cattermole didn’t run like Theo had from the O’Donnell brothers all those years before in what seemed like another lifetime, but fear seemed to have paralyzed him.

And everyone else in the corridor seemed to be standing back, waiting to see what would happen next. Everyone except Barker, whose mouth had twisted into his version of a smile as he shone his flashlight at Cattermole, flattened like an X-ray of himself against the wall.

Barker put his list in his pocket and sauntered over, holding out his hand. “I’d be glad to help you, Cattermole,” he said. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

Cattermole backed away, but he had left it too late to run and Barker’s hand shot out, seizing him by the collar. Cattermole struggled but he was no match for Barker, who was four years his senior and almost twice his weight, and all he succeeded in doing was losing his balance and falling on the floor.

Slowly and methodically, Barker dragged Cattermole down the corridor toward the staircase, ignoring his pleas and cries. As they approached the doorway, one of Cattermole’s slippers came off, and Theo saw that there was a small owl’s face embroidered on it in brown wool. The sight of it triggered something in Theo’s mind and started him moving, and afterward he didn’t think he’d made a conscious decision to intervene but had just responded to the slipper.

He grabbed Cattermole from behind, just as Barker had lifted him up in preparation for pushing him up the stairs. Taken by surprise, Barker let go and Theo pulled Cattermole back, interposing his own body between Barker and his victim.

For a moment Barker was too shocked to respond, but then he exploded into rage, punching up toward Theo’s face. But Theo was ready for him and grabbed Barker’s wrist. It brought their faces together so close that they were almost touching, and Theo used all his strength to push Barker backward, where he stumbled and fell against the first step of the staircase.

“Leave him alone, you bully! Pick on someone your own size!” he yelled, hardly aware of what he was saying, just that he wanted to keep Barker back and yelling seemed the best way to do it.

But Barker was looking past him now, shouting to the other prefects in the corridor and, before he could turn around, Theo felt hands on his arms. Behind him, Cattermole was screaming again, and Barker was back on his feet and punched Theo hard in the stomach.

Theo staggered back. The pain was awful, exploding through his body and rising into nausea as he took a first shuddering breath. No one was holding him anymore, and he sensed that the other prefects’ intention had been to stop him getting away, not to serve him up as a punching bag. He looked at Barker and saw the way he was watching him, enjoying his pain, and he wanted to punch Barker back, but he didn’t have the strength.

“What the hell’s going on here?” It was Lewis, who’d heard the noise and come down the stairs to find out what was happening.

“This brat attacked me,” said Barker, pointing at Theo. “I was trying to get Cattermole up the stairs—he didn’t want to go—and then this other one pushed me over. He could’ve broken my leg. He needs to be punished, Lewis. You can’t let brats attack prefects. You know you can’t.”

“What’s your name?” Lewis asked, turning to Theo.

“Theo Sterling.”

“Sterling. We use last names here. Is this true, what Barker’s said?”

“It’s true I tried to stop him,” said Theo, talking between panted breaths. “And I’d do it again. He was hurting that little kid, dragging him along the floor like he was a sack of potatoes. And then he punched me while they were holding my arms. He’s not just a bully, he’s a coward too.”

Theo looked at Lewis, expecting the worst. Barker was a prefect and he was a brat. He didn’t need Alwyn Thomas’s inside knowledge to know how the situation was likely to play out. But then support arrived just when he least expected it.

“The American boy’s telling the truth, Lewis,” said a familiar voice from farther down the corridor. “I saw the whole thing from start to finish. Barker’s a menace, and you need to do something about him before he really hurts someone.”

The boy in the study with the Karl Marx statue emerged from the crowd and walked up to Lewis, looking him in the eye. He stood there fearless in his dirty, torn jersey, and Theo was struck by the irony that the boy still cut a much more impressive figure than the prefects gathered all around him, dressed in their silk waistcoats.

“It’s unlike you to get involved, Lisle,” said Lewis, sounding surprised. “I thought you were above all this schoolboy stuff.”

“I am. But if I see something with my own eyes, I think I should tell you about it, don’t you? There’s enough injustice in Saint Gregory’s already without me adding to it.”

“All right. I’ve heard enough,” said Lewis, making his decision. “Barker, Sterling, shake hands.”

Reluctantly, Theo extended his hand, but Barker kept his by his side.

“Do it, Barker. Now, or you’ll be sorry!” Lewis shouted, losing his temper, and Barker angrily slapped Theo’s hand with his and turned away, but not before he’d hissed at Theo: “You’re the one who’s going to be sorry.”

“All right, let’s finish this so we can all go to bed,” said Lewis. “Everyone’s got to get across that ledge. And that includes Cattermole.”

Behind Theo, Cattermole immediately started crying again. He was shaking, too, and Theo thought he was close to an attack of full-blown hysteria.

“I’ll help him,” said Theo without thinking. “I’ll take him across.”

“No,” said Barker furiously. “It’s against the rules. You know it is, Lewis. Each brat has to cross on his own.”

“Says who?” said the boy in the torn jersey, intervening again.

“Shut up, Lisle,” Barker shouted, turning on him with a vicious look on his face. “And stay out of it. You’re not a prefect and this is none of your concern.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Barker. It is my concern. I’m a member of this house, too, and I don’t have to stand idly by while you try and bamboozle Lewis with lies about rules that don’t exist. There’s nothing written down anywhere about walking that ridiculous ledge. It’s just a nasty initiation test invented years ago by Fascists like you who had nothing better to do than torment new boys.”

“ Bamboozle! ” repeated Lewis before Barker could reply. “What the hell’s that mean, Lisle?” Lewis was athletic as opposed to academic—Alwyn had told Theo that he’d just been made captain of the first eleven rugby team—but he clearly had a good sense of the absurd. Theo thought that if the situation had been different, he might have laughed.

“‘Deceive by trickery’ is the dictionary definition, I believe,” said Lisle.

Barker, who had no sense of humor, shook with rage. “Are you going to let them get away with this, Lewis? Or are you going to uphold the traditions of this house? Because that’s your job, isn’t it?”

Instead of responding to Barker, Lewis looked hard at Theo. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “There’s no risk if you’re holding the rope, but if Cattermole goes nuts up there, it could be different.”

“I’m sure,” said Theo. “Just give me a moment with him. That’s all. He’ll be fine.”

Theo picked up the slipper that had fallen off and went over to Cattermole and got him to put it on. Then he pushed his fingers around the heels and toes to make sure both slippers were on properly, like the shoe salesmen used to do in New York when he went shopping with his mother. Kneeling down, he smiled up at Cattermole, who smiled weakly back.

“They’re nice slippers,” he said, and Cattermole nodded. “You don’t have to do this,” he told him. “But I think you’ll regret it if you don’t. You need people to respect you, and if you back out, they won’t. Not just Barker.”

Cattermole looked hard at Theo, locking eyes like they had when they’d woken up that morning. But he didn’t otherwise respond, and Theo didn’t know what he was thinking.

“And I can make it safe for you. Lewis will shine his light, and you’ll look down at my feet and do the same as I do with mine. One two, one two. Slow and even. And then, before you know it, it’ll be over, finished, and no one will be able to say you’re yellow anymore because you’ll have proved to them that you’re not.”

Theo paused. Still Cattermole stared, and then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. And Theo nodded, too, sealing their agreement.

At the top of the stairs, the air was cold and the sky was star-spangled, reminding Theo of the nights on the ship when he’d stood on deck with his head thrown back, gazing up awestruck at the glittering constellations. The height above the ground didn’t frighten him; rather, it exhilarated him. He stepped out and took hold of the rope with his left hand. It was better than he expected: the ledge was easily wide enough to accommodate two people walking together if they were careful.

“Come out beside me,” he said, beckoning to Cattermole, who was trembling beside Lewis at the top of the stairs. “The first step’s the hardest, and after that each one gets easier. I promise you.”

“He’s right,” said Lewis, and to their amazement, Cattermole stepped out, hugging the wall behind the ledge.

“Now walk beside me and copy my steps,” said Theo. “One, two; one, two. Slow and even. Eyes forward. Not up, not down ...”

It was as if they were performing a dance of an intensely elegant simplicity while time and space stood still all around them. And then they took a final step and were in the other tower, looking back across at Lewis, who was waving the beam of his flashlight across the sky in celebration.

Theo clapped Cattermole on the back, so that he almost fell down the stairs, and the two of them descended in a rush to join Addison and the other three boys who’d already made it over. Everyone was talking at once and nobody was listening to what anyone was saying, but they were united by a bond of at least temporary happiness now that their ordeal was over and their lives at the school could begin.