the cadence of part time poets

Chapter 27: Full Moon

I see the bad moon a-rising,
I see trouble on the way;
I see earthquakes and lightnin',
I see bad times today;
Don't go around tonight,
Well it's bound to take your life,
There's a bad moon on the rise...

- "Bad Moon Rising" Creedence Clearwater Revival, 1969

Thursday 10th June 1976 continued...

Exams concluded, everyone was to return to their regular schedules for those precious few days before the end of term, which meant that the boys were to spend their final afternoon of lessons on the sports field, baking under the hot June sun. Tomorrow was for packing and cleaning, and the day after that the entire student body of Hawkings Independent College would return home for the summer. Knowing that he'd finally be back in London after being denied the chance to visit home over April holiday, Remus should've been excited—and he had been, until he was informed that they'd be spending their final gym class playing rugby.

"It's cruel, really. An entire week of suffering through exams after months of studying for them, and still they attempt to force us back into a normal routine as though we were just robots to be oiled and shined. As though we were not people with proper wants and needs. Truly, you cannot spell systematic oppression without mandatory school sports."

"Just run the damn ball, Lupin!" James shouted from across the field, standing just beneath the goalposts of the great green rugby pitch.

Remus huffed and spun the ball in his hands before taking off at an indignant run towards the posts. Sirius met him half-way and he tossed the ball backwards to him, letting the other boy finish the play and score the practice point while he veered off to the other end of the posts toward the benches and Peter, who was standing by and watching the whole thing play out.

"Good try, Lupin," Peter said, and it took a moment for him to realise he meant 'good play' instead of a sarcastic quip. "Try", "maul", "scrum"—having to keep up with rugby terms was almost as bad as pretending to like football.

"I think this is the most dramatic he's ever been," Sirius said to James, as the both of them crossed the pitch and joined them.

"It's just a scrimmage match, Lupin," James sighed, clearly irritated with Remus' intention to have everyone share in his misery. Really, it was easy to enjoy sports when you had the arms and thighs of a Greek god. If Sirius was made in the image of a rebellious angel, James was made in that of a kindly saint—a saint who spent his free time doing press-ups and 100-metre dashes for fun.

Sometimes Remus just hated James.

Of course their uniforms didn't help his attitude either. His had never quite fit, with shorts that were too wide in the waist and always sagging down. He missed the comfort that came from his track pants, but not even the heat exhaustion he would've gotten by wearing them would've granted him a pass from Ms. Hooch, who seemed to live and breathe for physical exertion.

When she had told them that they would be celebrating the end of term with a fun, easy game of rugby, Sirius had beamed with joy. Apparently he liked rugby even more than football and was over the moon since they'd avoided the sport for most of the term, as James was in their class and an obvious expert at running football drills and coordinating games.

Remus had initially tried much harder in gym to disguise his aversion for the sport just to keep up the facade in front of the Hawkings' football captain, but he'd felt distinctly less motivated the closer they got to the end of the year, and now with both exams and the FA Cup over with, and a live music show and the summer holiday to look forward to, Remus was done pretending he more than just tolerated team sports.