‘I’m sur e these facts about the Broken Cross are very interesting,’ Ebersole cut in smoothly,
‘and it’s certainly information worth having — if it’s true, of course — ‘
‘It’s true,’ Skip said. ‘Bert Russell, not Joe Stalin. British kids were wearing it five years ago when they marched to protest US nuclear subs operating out of ports in the British Isles.’
Tuckin A!’ Ronnie cried, and pumped his fist in the air. A year or so later the Panthers —
who never had much use for Bertrand Russell’s peace sign, so far as I know — were doing that same thing at their rallies. And, of course, twenty years or so further on down the line, all us cleaned-up sixties babies were doing it at rock concerts. Broooo-ooooce! Broooo-ooooce!
‘Go, baby!’ Hugh Brennan chimed in, laughing. ‘Go, Skip! Go, big Nate!’
‘Watch your language while the Dean’s here!’ Dearie shouted at Ronnie.
Ebersole ignored the profanity and the cross-talk from the peanut gallery. He kept his interested, skeptical gaze trained on my roommate and on Skip.
‘Even if all that’s true,’ he said, ‘we still have a problem, don’t we? I think so. We have an act of vandalism and public obscenity. This comes at a time when the tax-paying public is looking at University youth with an ever more critical eye. And this institution depends upon the tax-paying public, gentlemen. I think it behooves us all — ‘
‘To think about this!’ Dearie suddenly shouted. His cheeks were now almost purple; his forehead swarmed with weird red spots like brands, and right between his eyes a big vein was pulsing rapidly.
Before Dearie could say more — and he clearly had a lot to say — Ebersole put a hand out to his chest, shushing him. Dearie seemed to deflate. He’d had his chance and fluffed it. Later he’d perhaps tell himself it was because he was tired; while we’d spent the day in the nice warm lounge, playing cards and shooting holes in our future, Dearie had been outside shovelling snow and sanding walks so brittle old psychology professors wouldn’t fall down and break their hips. He was tired, a little slow on the draw, and in any case, that prick Ebersole hadn’t given him a fair chance to prove himself. All of which probably didn’t help much with what was happening right then: he had been set aside. The grownup was back in charge. Poppa would fix.
‘I think it behooves us all to identify the fellow who did this and see he’s punished with some severity,’ Ebersole continued. Mostly it was Nate he was looking at; amazing as it seemed to me at the time, he had identified Nate Hoppenstand as the center of the resistance he felt in the room.
Nate, God bless his molars and wisdom teeth, was more than up to the likes of Ebersole.
He remained standing with his hands on his hips and his eyes never wavered, let alone dropped from Ebersole’s. ‘How do you propose doing that?’ Nate asked.
‘What is your name, young man? Please.’
‘Nathan Hoppenstand.’
‘Well, Nathan, I think the perpetrator has already been singled out, don’t you?’ Ebersole spoke in a patient, teacherly way. ‘Or rather singled himself out. I’m told this unfortunate fellow Stokely Jones has been a walking billboard for the Broken Cross symbol since — ‘
‘Quit calling it that!’ Skip said, and I jumped a little at the raw anger in his voice ‘It’s not a broken anything! It’s a damn peace sign!’
‘What is your name, sir?’
‘Stanley Kirk. Skip to my friends. You can call me Stanley.’ There was a tense little titter at this, which Ebersole seemed not to hear.
‘Well, Mr Kirk, your semantic quibble is noted, but it doesn’t change the fact that Stokely Jones — and Stokely Jones alone — has been displaying that particular symbol all over campus since the first day of the semester. Mr Dearborn tells me — ‘
Nate said, ‘”Mr Dearborn” doesn’t even know what the peace sign is or where it came from, so I think you’d be sort of unwise to trust what he tells you very far. It just so happens I’ve got a peace sign on the back of my own jacket, Mr Ebersole. So how do you know I wasn’t the one with the spray-paint?’