Ashwood Ambitions

Waking to a crisp September morning in 1947, Ross Eldred, a returning sophomore at the Ashwood Academy for Boys, was surprised to find a small envelope on his nightstand. Puzzled, he could only guess that someone had snuck into his room and left it while he slept. Leaning on one elbow, he rubbed his eyes, removed the folded note from inside, and read:

“Greetings, Mr. Eldred,

We are impressed with you. If you are interested in pursuing membership among our ranks, go to the gazebo on the far side of Mirror Lake at 12 noon today. A representative will meet you there to discuss.

The Brotherhood”

Ross was thrilled and amazed at the Brotherhood's interest in him. An exclusive and secretive society, it comprised the most popular and influential members of Ashdown’s student body. Little was known about the details of their inner workings, but they were said to be comfortable with bending school rules and circumventing ethical norms when it suited their purpose.

He imagined that membership in the Brotherhood would immediately elevate him to a level of recognition and respect that a farm boy could only dream of. It would also provide him with a cadre of fraternal protectors who would come to his aid when some bully decided to ruin his day.

After breakfast in the dining hall, Ross gathered his books and set out across campus. White clouds floated in an autumn sky of deepest azure. Several Adirondack peaks loomed in the near distance, their slopes gilded in splashes of fall color above the small town of Winthrop, New York.

Ross, a smallish 15-year-old, was attending Ashwood on the strength of the coveted Hawthorn scholarship. He was the third son of a dairy farmer, and childhood polio had left him with a pronounced limp. But his physical limitations were more than offset by a keen mind, an oversized hunger for knowledge, and a tenacious ambition for proving himself to the world.

Each academic year, Ashwood awarded one rising ninth grader from a rural community in upstate New York the Hawthorn scholarship, a full financial ride at one of the finest private secondary schools in the northeast. Given the Eldred family's modest income, and Ross’ physical limitations as a farm worker, the scholarship had come to them as a welcomed boon.

As he crossed the campus, Ross reveled in its Gothic Revival exteriors. Carefully crafted native stone appointments included arched windows and doorways, breathtaking towers, and gargoyles. In his second year at Ashwood, he sometimes still had to pinch himself to believe it was real. As he entered Whitney Hall and made his way to the classroom, he noticed and appreciated the meticulous finishes, replete with mahogany paneling and wainscoting.

The interior staircase to the second floor featured intricate walnut balustrades and railings. Sconces and elaborate chandeliers lit the hallways, and massive chestnut beams hovered high above it all. For Ross, Ashwood was more than an exemplification of rich history and tasteful opulence; it served to boost his spirits on those occasions when a passing student mumbled “Gimp” at him or put a shoulder into him, sending his books scattering across the floor.

Ross had just shuffled into his seat in the lecture hall when Dr. Adams came sweeping in the door and assumed his position behind the lectern. The professor was a tall, thin man whose very being exuded an air of academic and intellectual superiority. Most students disliked him, and as rumor had it, true friends among his peers could be counted on one hand.

After taking attendance, Dr. Adams began lecturing in his droning baritone voice, capable of lulling even the most alert student into a drowsy stupor.

“Good morning class. In last night’s reading, you encountered the myth of King Midas. Midas had done a good deed for the god Dionysus. To show his gratitude, Dionysus granted the King a wish - one unlimited, unconditional wish. After thinking for a moment, the greedy King wished that from that day forward, everything he touched would be turned into gold. So, Dionysus, true to his word, granted that wish. In today’s class, we will explore the lesson implicit in this myth: that over-reaching ambition can sometimes produce unexpected and unwelcomed results.”

Forty-five minutes later, the teacher completed his lecture, assigned homework, and dismissed class. Several students had to be nudged awake by neighbors when it was time to leave.

After completing his remaining classes for the morning, Ross skipped lunch and excitedly headed down to the lake. Mirror Lake was more of a large pond than a lake, and he could see a figure standing in the gazebo on the far side. His heartbeat kicked up as he wondered who it might be. Ross took to the trail and, moving as quickly as his limp would allow, arrived there somewhat breathlessly, a few minutes later.

“Good afternoon, Eldred,” a tall, athletically built boy waiting inside extended a hand. “I’m Kent Northrup, president of the Brotherhood.”

“Yes.," Ross said, returning the offered handshake. "Pleased to meet you, sir. I’ve seen you around campus, of course.”

“Of course, of course. Well, obviously you discovered our invitation in your room this morning.”

Northrup explained what membership in the Brotherhood could mean for Ross during his years at Ashwood but, even more importantly, later in life. Members tended to remain in close touch, he said, assisting each other with mutually beneficial social, business, and political matters. His description sounded like a message from a promotional pamphlet.

Despite Northrup's wholesome depiction of the Brotherhood, it was soon clear to Ross that they lived in a transactional world underpinned by a system of exclusivity and quid pro quo. That kind of mutual backscratching ran contrary to the ethics and values that Ross had been raised with, yet his ambitious nature certainly made the potential advantages hard for him to ignore.

“If you choose to pursue membership, you will be assigned a mission which you must complete without being detected or exposing the Brotherhood in any way. If you succeed, we will plan your induction into the society.”

“Can you tell me what my mission would be?”

Ross would be expected to gain access to Dr. Adams’ office and copy the answer key to the “Roman History III” mid-term exam. He told Ross that Adams always had his tests and answer keys prepared months ahead of time and locked in a particular drawer in his office desk. The key to the drawer could be found in the pencil tray of the wide drawer under the desktop.

“Do the instructors lock their offices at night?”

“Some do, but fortunately for you, I managed to get ahold of this,” he pulled a key out of his pocket and handed it to Ross. “Just in case. It unlocks Adams’ office. Room 12, Whitney Hall sublevel.”

“I don’t know,” Ross said perplexedly, looking at the key. He imagined the consequences if he failed, and in that moment the value of his Ashdown education loomed larger than any potential benefit he might gain as a member. Unlike most members of the Brotherhood, he didn’t have a trust fund to fall back on. “If I’m caught I would probably be expelled.”

“Well, it’s your decision now, isn’t it? Your choice. We can drop the whole thing if you prefer.” Northrup regarded him with a cynical grin.

Ross frowned and paused, looking out over the glassy water, weighing the risks of taking on the mission against a losing out on a lifetime of possible rewards.

As Ross considered his options, he noticed a fish rising to seize a dragonfly out in the lake. It cleared the surface and hung for the briefest moment, suspended like a snapshot in a sporting magazine, before splashing back into the water. A circular wave undulated outward from the spot, until the leading edge and the following ripples took in the entire lake.

“Okay, I’m in. I’ll do it,” Ross said at last, pocketing the key.

“Good. Do it tonight. I’ve been told Adams will be off campus. Meet me here with the answer key same time tomorrow.”

That night at sunset Ross put the key in his pocket and donned his jacket, then shrugged into his backpack. Descending the stairs, he exited the building into a misty evening and set out for Whitney Hall. The weather had taken a turn that afternoon; the sky was dark now, but for a row of knuckled grey clouds hanging low above Mount Winthrop to the west.

It felt odd to Ross, crossing the usually bustling campus in darkness. A chilly breeze tossed the branches of oak and elm trees overhead. Limping along with his head down and shoulders hunched against the damp, he passed no one before mounting the steps of Whitney Hall.

Once inside, he found himself disoriented by the silence. His footsteps echoed loudly from the marble floors and polished walls of the stairwell down to the sublevel. He had never been to Dr. Adams’ office before, but he soon found an office door marked “12”. The professor’s calling card was displayed in a holder beneath the numbers.

Trying the door, Ross found it locked. He unlocked it and slipped inside. As he rummaged in his backpack for a flashlight, Ross’ heart nearly leapt into his throat when Dr. Adam’s desk lamp clicked on. He turned to see his teacher sitting behind the desk with his arms crossed, glaring at him.

“Good evening, Mr. Eldred,” Dr. Adams growled. “Please. Come join me.” The desk lamp uplighting Dr. Adams’ face added a menacing severity to his aquiline features as he gestured toward the guest chair. With his head down, Ross silently crossed and sat with his backpack in his lap.

“I want you to tell me exactly what you are doing here and why. You are already in a great deal of trouble, but lying to me will only make things worse for you. Now, start talking.”

Ross sat silently with his head down, his mind a muddle of confusion. He couldn’t tell the truth. If he did, he would certainly be expelled, and the Brotherhood would be exposed. If he lied, and the truth was never discovered, he would avoid trouble with the school, but the Brotherhood would own him. If he lied and the truth later came out, his punishment would be even more severe than if he had told the truth from the start. In the end, he decided that since he would be expelled either way, he might as well tell the truth. But not knowing where to start, he remained silent.

“What are you doing here?” Dr. Adams demanded.

“I – I’m here to steal the answers to the Roman History III mid-term.”

“And why would you need answers to a senior level exam?”

“It’s not – it wasn’t for me.”

“I see. Pray tell, who was it for, then?”

“The Brotherhood.”

“The Brotherhood?”

“Yes. It’s a secret society…”

“For God’s sake!” Dr. Adams slapped his hand down on his desk so forcefully that Ross nearly jumped out of his chair. “I know what the Brotherhood is, Eldred. I actually have an informer high in their ranks. He told me of Northrup’s plans for you, so I knew you would be here tonight. My only question is – why on earth are you putting yourself at risk for them?”

“It was a trial mission. A test. They said they saw promise in me. Potential they said. I’m being evaluated for membership.”

“I see.” Dr. Adams said, his mouth twisting with contempt. He looked at Ross for a long time. His expression reflected anger at first, then morphed into disappointment, then it softened. “Eldred, let me tell you something.”

Dr. Adams shared with Ross that he, himself, was an alumnus of Ashford. He had been a student there thirty years earlier. Born the only child of a livery stable worker and a washerwoman, he had been an unathletic child, but academically gifted. And the similarities between himself and Ross didn’t end there.

“I, too, attended Ashford as a Hawthorn scholar. But despite always being near the top of my class, I was never good enough in the eyes of my fellow students – never truly their peer. Much like you, I was tired of life at the bottom of the social ladder. So, you of all people can imagine my great surprise and excitement when I received my own invitation to join the Brotherhood.”

Ross raised his head and sat up. Dr. Adams explained that as part of his initiation, the Brotherhood tasked him with carrying out a series of pranks against their headmaster - mostly harmless mischief, nothing rising to the level of criminality. After several of these pranks, he was eventually caught red-handed in the act of kidnapping the headmaster’s greyhound and releasing him in the school cafeteria.

“The school suspected me of the other pranks, but as they lacked any direct evidence, I was not charged me with those. Thanks to my outstanding academic record and no previous behavior issues, they let me off with a one-week suspension.

“And what thanks did I get from the Brotherhood for remaining silent regarding their involvement? They revoked my invitation. I’m sure they all had a hardy laugh at my expense as I resumed my place among the dregs of Ashdown’s student population.”

Ross lowered his head again, considering the portent of Dr Adams’ experience. Even though the story was decades old, it did confirm his worst misgivings about the ethical fiber of the group. His stomach turned as he wondered how Dr. Adams would choose to handle this current situation.

“Tell me Eldred, what did you think when they reached out to you? When Northrup tasked you with this ‘mission’? Did it occur to you that perhaps they didn’t really care whether you succeeded or not? Or, if you did succeed, did you consider there might always be one mission after another until you were ultimately caught and held to account as I was?”

Ross shrugged and shook his head.

“Exactly. Please understand that if you join these scoundrels, nothing you do for them will ever be enough. They will never be satisfied. Is that what you want? Are these the kinds of people you want to associate with as friends and colleagues for life?”

Ross’ shoulders slumped even further. Dr. Adams sat for a long moment, regarding his student with a thoughtful expression.

“Simply put, Eldred, these are not good people. I knew many of their fathers. As the saying goes, the apple does not fall far from the proverbial tree. You must see by now that as much as you seek acceptance and inclusion, this is not the way to realize your own dreams and goals.”

“Yes, sir. I see that now,” Ross mumbled, feeling on the very verge of tears. “So, what are you going to do with me?”

“Yes. What, indeed? Well, my answer may surprise you,” Dr. Adams said. He pulled the answer key out of the file drawer, placed it on the desk, and slid it across to Ross. “I am not going to turn you in. On the contrary, I will give you the opportunity to choose your own destiny. If you are resolved to complete the Brotherhood's dirty work, here is the answer key. You may copy it, and turn it over to Mr. Northrup tomorrow, then see how things go from there.”

Ross’ eyes opened wide as he looked down at the document. He was so surprised by Dr. Adams' actions that he couldn’t suppress a nervous giggle.

“On the other hand, if becoming their errand boy is not the role you want to play in life, leave this office now. Go to your meeting with Mr. Northrup tomorrow and tell him that after some careful consideration, you have decided to decline his offer. If you choose to do that, I will let this matter go and no one will ever know about this conversation. The choice is yours.”

Ross took a long moment to look at the answer key while he considered his choice. After searching his heart, he realized with a deep sense of relief that his decision was already made. Looking Dr. Adams in the eye, he slowly slid the answer key back across the desk, shaking his head.

“You’re sure about this?” Dr. Adams asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“I think you’ve made the right decision,” the teacher said, returning the answer key to the file drawer. “One last thing. You should do some hard thinking about your priorities. Remember the values imparted to you by your parents. Remember where you came from. In moderation, ambition can be a wonderful attribute as you pursue your goals and dreams. But pursue them being who you are, not who somebody else wants you to be.”

“Yes, Dr. Adams. I will. Thank you for giving me a second chance.”

“If you make good use of it, that will be thanks enough. Now collect your things and return to your dormitory.” Dr. Adams looked at his watch. “If you don’t dawdle you should be back in time to make curfew and avoid a demerit.”

The next morning, a few minutes before noon, Ross stood on the near side of Mirror Lake. In the gazebo across the water Kent Northrup waited. Ross chuckled to himself when he realized how differently he was now struck by his memory of the fish catching the dragonfly. “Starting today, I’m nobody's dragonfly," he said with a smile. "I’m the fish."