Graham read over Headmaster Westinghouse’s letter with no small degree of disappointment. He couldn’t help but feel he was now on the outside of a circle within which he thought he had membership. Of course he knew that the Headmaster Archives were real. How else should he know such a name? He had hoped to use the piece of knowledge as a bridge between them. To get him access.
He had to acknowledge that there were certain expectations of favor he had on account of some previously held distinctions. Being a West Point graduate. Having been a Lieutenant in the Army. Being the nephew of the previous Headmaster. He was used to certain aspects of his privilege. Though he supposed there were several doors closed to him now that the word ‘former’ could be applied to all those distinctions.
Graham hated being in the dark. He was ready for some illumination in his life. Some clarity. He tossed the letter carelessly on his desk and fixed himself a drink. Graham sipped slowly at it and gazed out the moonlit grounds outside his bedroom window. One way or another he’d get answers. Perhaps now instead of going through official channels he’d have to find other ways to obtain what he wanted.
After all, Graham never got anywhere notable in his life by always accepting the first ‘no’ that came down the pipeline. He was no stranger to adversity and not unfamiliar with struggle. The question only remained what means he would deem acceptable to justify his ends. Truly, that seemed the question facing all at Lowell, these days.