A Separate Peace.pdf - Southwest High School

64We went into the gym, along a marble hallway, and to my surprise we went on past theTrophy Room, where his name was already inscribed on one cup, one banner, and oneembalmed football. I was sure that this was his goal, to mull over these lost glories. I hadprepared myself for that, and even thought of several positive, uplifting aphorisms to cheer himup. But he went by it without a thought, down a stairway, steep and marble, and into the lockerroom. I went along mystified beside him. There was a pile of dirty towels in a corner. Finnyshoved them with a crutch. "What is all this crap," he muttered with a little smile, "about nomaids?"The locker room was empty at this hour, row after row of dull green lockers separated bywide wooden benches. The ceiling was hung with pipes. It was a drab room for Devon, dullgreen and brown and gray, but at the far end there was a big marble archway, glisteninglywhite, which led to the pool.Finny sat down on a bench, struggled out of his sheep-lined winter coat, and took a deepbreath of gymnasium air. No locker room could have more pungent air than Devon's; sweatpredominated, but it was richly mingled with smells of paraffin and singed rubber, of soakedwool and liniment, and for those who could interpret it, of exhaustion, lost hope and triumphand bodies battling against each other. I thought it anything but a bad smell. It waspreeminently the smell of the human body after it had been used to the limit, such a smell ashas meaning and poignance for any athlete, just as it has for any lover.Phineas looked down here and there, at the exercise bar over a sand pit next to the wall, at aset of weights on the floor, at the rolled-up wrestling mat, at a pair of spiked shoes kickedunder a locker."Same old place, isn't it?" he said, turning to me and nodding slightly.After a moment I answered in a quiet voice, "Not exactly."He made no pretense of not understanding me. After a pause he said, "You're going to be thebig star now," in an optimistic tone, and then added with some embarrassment, "You can fillany gaps or anything." He slapped me on the back, "Get over there and chin yourself a fewdozen times. What did you finally go out for anyway?""I finally didn't go out.""You aren't," his eyes burned at me from his grimacing face, "still the assistant senior crewmanager!""No, I quit that. I've just been going to gym classes. The ones they have for guys who aren'tgoing out for anything."He wrenched himself around on the bench. Joking was past; his mouth widened irritably."What in hell," his voice bounded on the word in a sudden rich descent, "did you do that for?""It was too late to sign up for anything else," and seeing the energy to blast this excuse