by TK Hoshikuzu (TK \u661f\u5c51)<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Reputation<\/b><\/p>\n
Breakfast is an outdated meal, but it\u2019s the hill that this damned school is determined to die on. Connor stares grumpily at the floor with his eyes half-closed, acknowledging no one as he trudges to the shower. It wakes him up, but a hot shower does not a morning person make. His mood is worsened when he runs into Vince and Dove brushing their teeth together, as if they were a <\/span>real couple.<\/span><\/i> Connor stomps out because they don\u2019t seem to notice him. <\/span><\/p>\n He barges into Vince\u2019s room a little later to demand help adjusting his collar and tie. Vince\u2019s frown deepens but tends to Connor\u2019s appearance. He flips Connor\u2019s collar up and tugs the length of his tie so that it is tight. He places the knot right in the center of Connor\u2019s collarbones and smoothes the collar back down. Connor enjoys watching the concentration all over his face. Even close up, he can see that Vince\u2019s skin is flawless, save for the uncharacteristic dark circles under his narrow eyes. Ignoring — or accustomed to — his best friend\u2019s stares, Vince says nothing but steps back to give an approving nod. He pushes Connor out of his room before Connor can comment on his eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n They always wait for each other in front entrance of their dorm, House Cherry. The three of them — Connor, Vince, and Ben — walk to the cafeteria. Dove is nowhere to be seen, which both irritates and delights Connor. Ben smiles down on him as Connor complains about how tired he is. Vince does not comment, looking too drowsy to say much. <\/span><\/p>\n Their sleepy classmates filter out of dorms similarly named after trees: oak, redwood, spruce, elm, teak, ebony. Connor becomes more reserved and interested in the gravel path below. The masses of adolescent boys file into the kitchen, which has breakfast spread out on two separate tables. Connor huddles between Vince and Ben, grabbing his tray without a sound. He focuses his gaze on their choices: pastries and all of the jams for Ben, a stacked mountain of meats and bread for Vince, hot banana oatmeal for himself. <\/span><\/p>\n The three of them sit and eat together per custom. Connor spots Dove across the dining hall, who is chatting with someone else. He glares at Dove, but averts his eyes when Dove turns his head toward him. Connor glances at Vince, who eats with a steady, automatic rhythm and does not look up for Dove. This satisfies Connor. <\/span><\/p>\n Per custom Vince and Ben escort Connor to his classroom before going their separate ways. Vince is not in his class this year and Ben is in the year above them. By the time he enters the classroom, Connor stops talking entirely. For the rest of the school day — and as far as he is concerned, the rest of his days — he never meets anyone\u2019s eyes. He doesn\u2019t dare, fearing that he accidentally meet a classmate\u2019s judgemental gaze. Connor is certain that everyone looks at him that way.<\/span><\/p>\n He pulls out his geometry homework and places it in the wire basket on Mr. Chiou\u2019s desk. He walks a beeline to his desk and situates himself quietly to minimize attention. His classmates complain among themselves about their last quiz, on which Connor performed wonderfully, but he doesn\u2019t dare give the impression that he is listening. He makes a silent note to gloat to his dormmates later though. <\/span><\/p>\n Connor welcomes the start of class, not only because of the quiet it brings, but also because he looks forward to it. Mathematics leave little room for interpretation and Connor relishes when he reaches a neat and tidy answer to a difficult problem. Paying attention is easy for him; Mr. Chiou gives strict orders and Connor follows. It\u2019s all so easy. <\/span><\/p>\n Science, specifically Chemistry, comes second in the day and in Connor\u2019s affections. It\u2019s the labs that ruin the hard science for Connor, but he is a team player. Today is the beginning of a colorful lab on acidity and basicity. He intends to be cooperative, though without a word or meeting anyone\u2019s eyes. <\/span><\/p>\n He lets his group decide whether the mystery chemical in the test tube is an acid or neutral. They agree that purple is more reddish acid than bluish base, so Connor records the consensus. He is willing to admit that most of his classmates leave him alone. The thought that he <\/span>might <\/span><\/i>catch their disdainful looks causes anxiety, but he knows it could be much worse.<\/span><\/p>\n Then, as if on cue, the awful student on his right tapes a muted rainbow of litmus strips to Connor\u2019s shoulder with a hard prod. Connor expects this from horrible Philip though. The easiest response is to crumple up the paper and ignore him. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cMaybe you prefer this one,\u201d Philip says, fashioning another litmus paper badge. He sticks Connor with a pinkish triangle. <\/span><\/p>\n Connor wants to slap his hand away, but doesn\u2019t want to call attention to himself. Again he silently reaches for the paper and crushes it in his hand. The others in the lab group ignore them and Connor\u2019s gaze slowly moves downward, chin nearly touching his neck and shoulders drooping forward. He concentrates on taping his strips to the lab worksheet.<\/span><\/p>\n As he chews on his bottom lip, he guesses Philip is disappointed in his response, so Connor braces himself. He can feel Philip watch him and he absolutely loathes that it makes him sweat and his adrenaline rise, but the lab continues without more painful pokes. Connor knows better than to believe that Philip will leave him alone. <\/span><\/p>\n The end of Chemistry is the cue to be on alert. Connor stacks his lab papers neatly, punches holes in them and stow them into his binder for the next class. He packs it all into his backpack and collects his pencils. Slinging his bag onto his shoulder, Connor looks up for the first time to gaze through the window. The sun seems to promise summer\u2019s rapid arrival, but for now it\u2019s a cold light. <\/span><\/p>\n Connor can hear that the classroom and hallways are finally empty. His movements turn quick and he darts to the nearest bathroom before fleeing for lunch. He glances around to make sure that stalls and urinals are empty. He waits a beat, hesitates, and waits another beat before unzipping his pants. <\/span><\/p>\n He takes care of his business with a wary eye on the door. Connor is flushing when the treacherous door swings open with a wooden squeak. His heart jumps to his throat and his stomach sinks when he sees Philip. His body\u2019s automatic response is to sling his bag onto his shoulder and scurry out, but Philip narrows his eyes. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAren\u2019t you going to wash your hands? Gross,\u201d he says as he stands akimbo in front of a urinal. <\/span><\/p>\n Connor swallows hard and clenches his jaw, but he passive aggressively drops his bag and obeys. Nothing can stop Philip from spreading nasty lies about him, but at least Connor can take comfort in his own truth. He scrubs his hands and can\u2019t stop wishing that Philip and the rest of Connor\u2019s former friends disappear mysteriously. <\/span><\/p>\n Fantasizing about the tragic circumstances of their disappearance, through his daydreaming he catches his own gaze in the mirror above the sink. Blonde hair swept over an eye cannot hide his anxious face, the cause of his troubles. As he straightens and dries his hands, his face stares back with an irritated expression. He bites his bottom lip again, a horrid habit that makes his lips perpetually red and pouty. Connor\u2019s mood worsens because it\u2019s so unmanly.<\/span><\/p>\n He wants nothing more to run away from Philip and the merciless mirror, so he grabs his bag and starts into a sprint, but Philip steps into his way. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cExcuse you,\u201d Philip sneers, as if Connor had run into him, and Connor looks into his face on instinct. <\/span><\/p>\n Face hot, Connor is sure his cheeks are scarlet. He should be furious, but instead he is embarrassed at his own helplessness. Worse, the sight of his face revives what Connor wanted to be old memories. He remembers the rumors and the lies and he remembers being abandoned. His chest tightens like a vice when he begins to remember more, and he can\u2019t–<\/span><\/p>\n Wet-eyed, Connor ducks and tries to sidestep Philip, who is taller and broader than him, but Philip blocks him by bumping against his chest. More unpleasant memories spring forth and Connor begins to panic. He remembers being cornered in the bathroom like this not too long ago.<\/span><\/p>\n Because Connor loses his balance, he instinctively grabs Philip\u2019s elbows, but releases as though they are burning metal. He does not fall backwards because Philip reaches out to catch him by the forearms. Regrettably Connor gets another good look at Philip\u2019s face, which wears an expression that makes Connor forget his distress.<\/span><\/p>\n He is still a unpleasant, nasty troll, but his expression is both familiar and strange, like a new combination of old feelings. Disdain and arrogance are covers for a mix of distress, shame, and unmistakable desire. <\/span><\/p>\n Despite his fear, Connor senses that he has the upper hand at this moment. He lowers his gaze and says, \u201cYour tie is crooked.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n Hope gives him the composure to plan an escape. No time to be hesitant, Connor flips Philip\u2019s shirt collar up. He recalls the warm thrill he felt when Vince did the same for him, and it seems Philip is similarly mesmerized. He runs a finger under the hot space between collar and tie to re-center the knot, which he pinches as he tugs at the tail to tighten the noose. <\/span><\/p>\n Philip gapes awkwardly at him, but Connor ignores the stares. He can feel the disgusting, moist heat of Philip\u2019s palms through his sleeves, but it\u2019s a little satisfying to tease him. Connor lets the length slip through his hand and smooths the collar back down. His hands move out, running over Philip\u2019s shoulders and downward until they settle on Philip\u2019s chest. Philip leans forward in anticipation. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou need to zip up,\u201d Connor blurts out — whether or not this is true — then shoves Philip backward with all of the might of his skinny arms. He scrambles to the door and yanks it open, stumbling and nearly falling on his face in the hallway. Not brave enough to look behind him, he skips to the cafeteria and hopes to catch sight of a friendly face. <\/span><\/p>\n He brightens to see Ben loitering at the entrance, nose in a book, but likely waiting for him. Connor loops an arm around Ben\u2019s elbow, which makes the elder boy look up, or rather, look down. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s eat!\u201d he says breathlessly, pulling Ben to the cafeteria. Connor is very fond of Ben because he is gentle, patient, and does not ask unnecessary questions about Connor\u2019s red face. Feeling calmer in the presence of his second-favorite person, he scans the room for his first. <\/span><\/p>\n Ben tucks his book away as he lets Connor lead them around the tables. \u201cI guess Vince is finished with lunch already,\u201d he remarks. <\/span><\/p>\n This notion displeases Connor, particularly because Ben is right. He wishes that the three of them ate together like they used to. Another quick sweep of the bustling cafeteria suggests that Dove is also absent. Connor grimaces, pulling all sorts of unhappy faces.<\/span><\/p>\n In the Rough<\/b><\/p>\n Vince is hungry. He takes a few bites of a salad and dumps the rest. He walks briskly back to House Cherry, feeling a little self-conscious, as if others could sense what he was craving. So he shoves hands in his pockets to attempt a casual demeanor, but maintains his pace. There is only thirty minutes of lunch and free time before the afternoon session. <\/span><\/p>\n The House is smaller and shabbier than the rest of the dorms, which stand grandly in front of it, but nonetheless home base for them. Vince goes in through the back entrance where the kitchenette is. The common room is empty, but it is expected. After all, only four of them live here. <\/span><\/p>\n Slipping his shoes off, Vince pads up the stairs, which creak under him. He wrinkles his nose as he thinks of the years of filth buried in the carpet. Vince is certain that the cleaning staff half-asses their dorm and he\u2019d be damned if he let it get worse. This is why he enforces a \u2018no shoes in the house\u2019 policy. He would like to bring back slippers from home, but he won\u2019t go back if he can help it. <\/span><\/p>\n In his room he lays his bag on the floor. He undoes his tie and sheds his blazer, laying both down on his bed. To save time, he unbuttons his shirt as he enters Dovenbarger\u2019s room down the hall. Doors are not allowed in the dorms, so he walks in unannounced, though he does not need to speak. Their ritual is perfectly timed now. <\/span><\/p>\n Vince is picky, but lately he makes little allowances. He lets Dove kiss him now, since Dove now knows to be quick, or at least efficient. A minty kiss on the lips and their shirts are off, a wet kiss to his throat and they can step out of their trousers, and a sucking kiss buried in Vince\u2019s neck as they tumble onto Dove\u2019s unmade bed. <\/span><\/p>\n Communication is not as much of an issue anymore. They\u2019re already rocking and bucking against each other, Dove\u2019s slicked grip wrapped around their cocks. The heat from their wet rhythm and the chilly mouth and breath on his neck are enough to make Vince\u2019s hips curl inward. They make Vince focus on his hunger and he grows impatient. <\/span><\/p>\n Between his silky, stilted breaths, the only audible noise he makes is a slight whimper. He hooks a leg around Dove\u2019s hips to stop his grinding and digs his heel in hard, right next to his spine. Dove lifts his head from the crook of Vince\u2019s neck, eyes glazed over. Vince is not going to repeat himself, so he glares angrily at him as the tips of their noses touch. Dove recognizes the look, but makes an effort not to react. The punishment for smirking or smiling is too steep to risk it. <\/span><\/p>\n But lately Vince makes little allowances. Dean is never allowed to tease or approach him, but Vince does let him grip his sides and flip him onto his stomach. He expects it now. Vince reaches for a pillow and hugs it tightly, while he angles his hips up to present himself. The brazen way he exposes himself, the pleasure of being so vulgar are never familiar, always intoxicating. The knot in his groin tightens when he feels Dove\u2019s fingers settle on his thighs.<\/span><\/p>\n His knees shift and braces him for impact. The heat behind Dove\u2019s fingertips lingers and spreads and Vince shift again, the balls of his feet pressing into the bed. When he realizes that Dove is pausing, he turns enough for a one-eyed glare, furious that Dove is teasing him. The rage nearly boils over when he\u2019s met with a cheeky look, though the rest of his face is stony.<\/span><\/p>\n Vince thinks about throwing a week or two of no contact in Dove\u2019s face, but then he moans and arches and trembles when he feels the wet tip of his dick push in with one long, slow stroke. It pushes out his fury, dissipating in his fevered breaths. <\/span><\/p>\n A few shallow, tentative thrusts after, he scarcely has the spare mind power to think. It\u2019s the moment when Vince isn\u2019t seething at something or another, when he\u2019s focusing on the deep, deep fucks that slap against him in rapid rhythm, that open him up and stuff him. <\/span><\/p>\n Vince pictures Dove\u2019s hands over the same handprint-shaped bruises, which sit on his hips and refuse to fade away, the ones he has to hide when he showers in the locker rooms. He feels his fingers clench and grip harder. The thrusting is more desperate and he can feel his own cock bobbing from the force. <\/span><\/p>\n The rhythm hitches when Dove lets Vince\u2019s hips go, instead grabbing the headboard and hoisting a thigh up. Vince gasps and gasps and gasps because because it\u2019s what he\u2019s been craving. He drops the aloof act and openly savors all of the thrill and indecency and adult indulgence. Finally he\u2019s in a panting, moaning trance, forgetting his straight laces.<\/span><\/p>\n Dove fucks with increasing intensity, which is around the time when Vince gets his fill. Feeling the fingernails dig into his thigh, Vince slides a hand over his length, dripping with precome. It barely needs a stroke before he comes. Face buried in pillow, he shudders and exhales sharp breaths, soaking in the pleasure as long as he can. <\/span><\/p>\n By the time Dove follows suit, pulsing and coming into him, Vince is satisfied. He rolls over on his side and, eyes closed, allows himself a few seconds to bask in the afterglow. He waits a beat, stretches, and waits another beat before sliding off the bed. <\/span><\/p>\n He stretches again — his arms are over his head and toes are clenched — and gives a cool, backward glance at Dove. Stepping back into his underwear, Vince shrugs his shirt back on and leaves the room as quietly as he entered. <\/span><\/p>\n In the hallway he meets eyes with Connor, who stops in mid-step at the top of the stairs. He looks upset and embarrassed, but can\u2019t seem to find the words to speak. Vince\u2019s first instinct is bristle and be prepared to lash out, but his reason calms him down. This is Connor, after all, not a nobody from the other dorms. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI found a YouTube video on that boss fight,\u201d Vince says, as if he is not in his underwear, sweaty and flushed. <\/span><\/p>\n Connor breaks into a small smile, which reminds Vince of a squirrel or another small woodland creature. \u201cLet\u2019s watch it before break is over,\u201d he replies, making a beeline for Vince\u2019s room. <\/span><\/p>\n Buttoning his shirt back up and running a hand through his disheveled hair, Vince takes a seat at his desk. Connor wedges himself next to him on the chair, which makes Vince sigh, but says nothing when Connor presses his shoulder against his. He imagines that this is what having a kid brother is like. <\/span><\/p>\n With Connor on the mouse and Vince on the keyboard, they pull up the video together. Vince skips through the cutscene, the beginning fight sequences, and Connor stops him when he recognizes that part where they always die. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cSo we actually have to stick together on this part, right?\u201d he says, pointing at the screen. Their gazes meet again and Vince can tell that Connor is still anxious, but it\u2019s hard to take seriously since it\u2019s kind of adorable. He considers patting Connor\u2019s head, because sometimes it calms him down. <\/span><\/p>\n Vince nods in agreement and Connor continues, \u201cSee how the fireballs are scattered, but it\u2019s harder when we\u2019re avoiding them at different times, \u2018cause we get in each other\u2019s way. So we have to move together. Okay?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n Again, Vince nods as Connor stares at him, searching, but Vince doesn\u2019t know for what. Connor turns back to the screen and they watch the rest of the boss fight. Because Connor would have been upset if Vince watched the video without him, Vince is watching the sequence closely, but with an eye on the clock. It is about ten minutes until the afternoon session. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s such an asshole, you know,\u201d Connor blurts out. His ears are pink, but he doesn\u2019t look at Vince. <\/span><\/p>\n The outburst is not surprising. Vince replies, \u201cI know.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Connor sneaks an incredulous glance at Vince, then looks down. \u201cHe\u2019s not good for you. He doesn\u2019t really care about you, I think.\u201d It grows warmer where their legs are touching. <\/span><\/p>\n He purses his lips in amusement, but is also confused by Connor\u2019s observation. Surely it was the other way around. \u201cI don\u2019t either,\u201d he says. His voice is lined with arrogance, proud of his careless words. <\/span><\/p>\n Facing him now, Connor is visibly struggling with his words, but manages to say, \u201cI think he\u2019s going to hurt you. I don\u2019t think he knows you. I know–\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Vince stands up abruptly. \u201cDon\u2019t worry about me. Just mind your business,\u201d he says, biting back meaner words. He begins to put the rest of his clothes on and seethes, his anger turning inward. He can\u2019t stand being lectured, especially by a puny twig-boy who can\u2019t defend himself. Connor doesn\u2019t know the agreement between him and Dove. He doesn\u2019t know anything. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t get mad, V,\u201d Connor says, voice quieter and more timid. \u201cI\u201d –he pauses– \u201cI care about you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Feeling petty, Vince does not answer and keeps his back turned to him, pulling his pants on, tucking his shirt in, and tightening his tie too roughly, too abruptly. He feels a tug on his belt loop, but ignores that too. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cBecause you\u2019re my best friend.\u201d Vince feels Connor tug harder and hears his voice quaver. \u201cYou should be happier.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Moments when Connor is blubbering reminds Vince why he is fond of him. In his teeny-tiny way, Connor is trying to protect him, which makes Vince want to protect <\/span>him<\/span><\/i> more. He lays a hand on Connor\u2019s wheat-blonde head. \u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d he says, but with a slight, playful lilt. <\/span><\/p>\n Vince braces himself for the inevitable hug so that he isn\u2019t thrown on the bed. Connor\u2019s arms are tightly wrapped around his sides, his face buried in his stomach. He gives him a few seconds before forcing him off.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s getting late,\u201d he says, grabbing his bag. He walks out with Connor on his heels. \u201cYou can\u2019t do this all the time,\u201d he scolds, using his grandfather\u2019s words. \u201cYou have to grow up some time.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Vince doesn\u2019t bother to look back to see where Dove is, whether he\u2019s left for class or not. The two of them trot down the stairs and round them to leave by the back entrance. As Vince is slipping his shoes back on, he sees that Dove\u2019s shoes are next to his smaller ones. The difference in size is quite visible and it reminds Vince that he is closer to Connor\u2019s physique than Dove\u2019s. This should annoy him, but instead, Vince feels hungry. <\/span><\/p>\n The Depths<\/b><\/p>\n Ben counts the minutes until World History is over. He finds the subject stifling, mostly because he is discouraged from asking questions that he likes to ask. Who cares when the Reformation happened? What about the struggle? What about average bystanders? What is their part in all of this history? <\/span><\/p>\n He finds it a little insulting when Mrs. Harrigan gives him a non-answer or ignores him. He knows there are many answers in this complicated world, a wisdom he is well-familiar with, but it seems Asper Academy insists on the least divisive. Everything else is glossed over, <\/span>whitewashed<\/span><\/i>. Mere acknowledgement are scraps thrown to the downtrodden, Ben thinks rather dramatically as he watches the clock. <\/span><\/p>\n Mrs. Harrigan does the best she can, Ben admits, but when class is dismissed, he is the first to rise. Unfortunately, even her best can\u2019t compare to the average literature class, which happens to be next. Taking long strides to his favorite subject, he spots his reflection in a display case window, which happens to show his nationally award-winning report on Zora Neale Hurston\u2019s <\/span>Their Eyes Were Watching God<\/span><\/i>. <\/span><\/p>\n Ben proudly indulges in the view, but his good mood withers as he catches sight of, then dismisses, his gawky appearance. Ben can\u2019t help but glance again in another window, but it confirms that he\u2019s not a very good-looking mixed kid, contrary to popular belief. He considers growing out his hair, but fears that it will be too unruly. Ben instantly feels guilt, which comes from the memory of his mother\u2019s insistence that chaos is natural and natural is beautiful. <\/span><\/p>\n It\u2019s easy for her to say that, as a beautiful person, but what suits her is a failure on him. Lost in his moping, his stomach lurches when he runs across Mr. Sloane, who is about to turn into the classroom. If chaos is natural, then order is ethereal, which Mr. Sloane emanates with grace. Ben is willing to argue there is beauty in both. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHello, Ben,\u201d Mr. Sloane greets mid-step and with a natural smoulder. A modern day Heathcliff, brooding and effortlessly confident, he likely does not dwell on frivolous thoughts like appearance. He\u2019s above all of the teenage woe, but not so much that he forgets what it\u2019s like.<\/span><\/p>\n Ben\u2019s face cannot decide between a smile and a grin and his mouth juggles a reply like a large jawbreaker. \u201cH-hi,\u201d he says with a surprising mouthful of saliva, but Mr. Sloane does not wait to hear his response. <\/span><\/p>\n The other students are not far behind him as Ben takes his seat. He uses this precious time to watch Mr. Sloane, who is writing notes on the board. His long, auburn hair is tied in a low ponytail, which points to the elegant lines of his shoulder blades, which Ben can just make out under his sweater. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cHope you\u2019re prepared to discuss your character maps in depth. I\u2019m looking for good discussion today. Bonus points on my favorite topic, as always.\u201d He cocks his head at the board, which has \u201cagency of disenfranchised\u201d written on the top. <\/span><\/p>\n Ben sits on the edge of his seat, ready to discuss circles around his privileged classmates, who could care less. The only reason Mr. Sloane gains favor among the students is because he assigns light coursework and is lenient. Even so, Ben is his best student and the prize isn\u2019t a good grade. <\/span><\/p>\n Pointing at the board, which also has the characters\u2019 names written out, Mr. Sloane drills his class for basic information on each. When no one volunteers, he calls out individual students. Ben does not speak up for easy answers. He thinks it makes him look like an underachiever snatching at low-hanging fruit or a teacher\u2019s pet rather than top student. <\/span><\/p>\n Impatient for the meatier discussions, where he can put forward his articulate, well-thought questions, Ben grows bored and gradually drifts into one of his daydreams.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cDo you have plans after class on Friday, Ben?\u201d Mr. Sloane asks, looking over his glasses. \u201cI enjoyed your take on <\/span><\/i>The Crucible<\/span> and would love to discuss more. I\u2019ll take to you to my favorite coffee shop.\u201d<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n The cafe is cozy, warm, and its decor is tasteful, just like Mr. Sloane. They talk for hours about literature and morality. Mr. Sloane understands and takes Ben seriously, lightly touching Ben\u2019s fingers, arm, shoulder when they agree or have the same opinion. They lean in toward each other because the conversation is so engaging. <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n When the barista gently reminds them of closing time, Mr. Sloane invites Ben to walk with him. They speak less as they leave the cafe and wander in the quiet streets. Mr. Sloane pulls his scarf off of himself and wraps it around Ben, because he notices that he is cold. It smells just like Mr. Sloane. <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n They happen to stop near a dark corner, just past a dim street light. They linger close together. <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n \u201c– Ben?\u201c<\/span><\/p>\n Ben blinks and sits up straight. He and Mr. Sloane stare at each other. The annoyed look from Mr. Sloane stings. After a crabby pause, he repeats the question. Ben answers without a hitch, but he is embarrassed. <\/span><\/p>\n Eager to atone, he pays rapt attention, but Mr. Sloane does not call him again. When the class is prompted to discuss open-ended questions, Ben volunteers to answer first. He likes to lead discussion in a way that encourages the other students to participate. He is careful to be genial and nuanced, not only here but in all interactions with his classmates. Because of this, despite the fact that he\u2019s from House Cherry, Ben is well-liked. Mr. Sloane scarcely interrupts except to change topics.<\/span><\/p>\n He leads without doing the most talking. Ben smiles and nods at his classmates and their opinions, whether or not he agrees with them, but he always follows with a counterpoint. Ben likes to make sure that the conversation is captivating and challenging enough. Meanwhile, he keeps an eye on Mr. Sloane, who seems interested. <\/span><\/p>\n When class is regretfully over, Ben lingers until most of the room is empty. He \u201cwanders\u201d by Mr. Sloane\u2019s desk with a slow, shy smile. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThank you,\u201d he says to Mr. Sloane\u2019s back, loitering for a few seconds. He shifts his bag on his back, waiting for an answer, for praise.<\/span><\/p>\n Mr. Sloane turns from erasing the board and responds with a wry smile. \u201cNo, thank <\/span>you<\/span><\/i>, Ben. You\u2019re practically doing my job. Well done, as usual.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n Mustering courage, Ben says something that sounds cleverer in his mind. \u201cIsn\u2019t it funny that folktales are seen as feminine and frivolous?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWell\u2026\u201d he begins. The sweeps of the eraser are slowing down. \u201cIn general or in the context of the book?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n The fact that Mr. Sloane isn\u2019t facing him makes Ben nervous. \u201cBoth,\u201d he follows up, but regrets the simple answer, so he continues, \u201cStories like that are actually important, especially since it makes it easier for people to understand.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n The next period is electives, so they have time. Mr. Sloane focuses his attention on him, which makes Ben fluster more. The thoughts zipping in his brain are about culture, feminism, colonization, imperialism, and religion so he says, \u201cIt helps with history.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n He wilts when Mr. Sloane shoots him a less than desirable response. \u201cAre you already thinking about the literary criticism essays? Maybe you should come back when you\u2019ve given it more thought?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Embarrassed to be shut down, Ben shuts up. \u201cOkay,\u201d he says and escapes with dignity in delicate, fluttering shreds. <\/span><\/p>\n Ben swallows back the lump in his throat, feeling childish. He replays the exchange in his mind and grits his teeth and walks faster. He feels stupid and thinks about hiding in the first dark crevice he can find. He is tall but he figures a tight fetal position can fit him into most places.<\/span><\/p>\n He is near the library. Maybe Ben will skip track practice and take refuge among his beloved books. He turns the corner, looking forward to hiding in the darkest, quietest corner when he spots Dove also walking toward the library. <\/span><\/p>\n Before Ben can turn heel without being spotted, their gazes meet. He doesn\u2019t bother hiding his grimace, just as Dove doesn\u2019t with his smug smile. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhere\u2019re you going?\u201d Dove asks as Ben walks briskly away. He catches up to him and now walks in step with him, shoulder to shoulder. <\/span><\/p>\n Ben picks up the pace and so does Dove. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cAre you going somewhere you\u2019re not supposed to?\u201d Dove asks. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cUgh, don\u2019t stalk me, you stalker!\u201d Ben hisses with a scowl. <\/span><\/p>\n Dove chuckles. \u201cTakes one to know one, I guess? I think I saw Mr. Sloane walk toward the –\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n He stops in his tracks to glare at Dove. \u201cAren\u2019t you done with me now? You got what you wanted. Leave me alone.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cBut did you get what <\/span>you<\/span><\/i> want?\u201d he responds, tilting his chin up to look down on him with a smirk.<\/span><\/p>\n Ben is certain he is teasing him. He doesn\u2019t bother to answer him immediately, instead standing straight for dramatic effect. He waits a beat, looks at Dove with scorn, and waits another beat before he speaks. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not like you,\u201d he declares, but suddenly breaks into a run toward the track field, not wanting to spend another second alone with him. <\/span><\/p>\n What a petty bully, Ben thinks. No wonder he has no friends, or at least no good ones, when he blackmails people to get what he wants. The thought leaves a bad taste in his mouth. No, he and Dove are nothing alike, but he hates that he has allowed himself to be at Dove\u2019s mercy. All because of his deep love and admiration for…literature.<\/span><\/p>\n