Chapter 4: bastards!

Randolph and I were walking along the lake edge. The water level was down a bit and there was a sandy strip along a fair stretch of the edge. We'd gone quite a way when Randolph said, "We'd better head back; we'll probably have early dinner tonight."

I didn't want to, but thought I'd better not push it at this early stage. Besides, I hadn't even unpacked my bag. Mrs Keaton had said not to worry about it, she would help me with it later.

It was late in the afternoon when we got back and Mrs Keaton told us to go and have our showers.

"You go first, Lynden. Come on, I'll show what to do. The bathroom's not very big so get completely undressed in you bedroom and wrap this towel around you."

The bathroom didn't look that small to me, but I guess it was from the perspective of rich people. The shower was great, it warmed me up because the temperature was starting to drop.

When I went back to 'my bedroom', I found both Mr and Mrs Keaton there. What was this?
 He spoke, "Lynden, you have been nasty to the kids at school, particularly Randolph, and you were teasing him in the car on the way up here (shit, they'd seen). We have discussed the matter with your parents and they have agreed that we can take whatever action we deem necessary."

I didn't like this, it didn't sound good. I was standing there in my towel feeling stiff and shifting my gaze from one to the other.

"Lynden," Mrs Keaton took over, "we have decided to try to teach you some humility so that you will learn to treat others with respect. All the clothes you brought with you have been locked away; you will wear the clothes we provide for you. Your pyjamas and robe are on your bed. Get dressed and come out to the living room, we've got the fire going so it will warm up quickly. Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes."

They both went out.

What the hell was this? What did they mean? What were they going to do?

I took a couple of steps over to the bed. They weren't my pyjamas, they were girl's pyjamas. What the fuck . . .?

And the dressing gown, it was a girl's as well. What were they trying to do to me? If they thought I was going to wear that shit, they were sadly mistaken. I ripped open the wardrobe door . . . more girl's stuff, and in the drawers, girl's things. They couldn't do this to me, they couldn't.

I was cold and starting to shiver; the towel was damp and not helping. I dropped the towel and jumped into the bed under the covers.

Bastards, bastards, bastards. They were trying to humiliate me, but there was no way I was going to put on those girl's clothes; fuck 'em.