Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Strange how that memory came back to me right then.
“Christ, these people with money. Not that I’d know,” he said, and I grimaced. “Of course, not all of them are awful. Just like not every poor person is decent.”
“Too true. The world is way more nuanced than that.”
“Uh-huh. Still, you’d think Henry’s remission would be something his family wants to celebrate.”
“That’s what I told him. But…who am I to disrupt his perfect college experience?” I frowned. “For now, I’m going to keep my distance.”
“Good idea,” he replied as we got to the perimeter of the junkyard lot. “Catch you later.”
We watched for a bit from a distance as Pete helped his uncle work on the machine, mostly because Star wanted to see the giant magnet in action. But after a time, she got bored, so we walked back into the woods and took the path leading to the swings.
I pushed for as long as she wanted while my mind wandered, taking inventory of the past month. It still felt surreal.
Back home, I put on a kids’ movie, made us dinner, then got started on my homework.
It wasn’t much different from high school, except the work was tougher and I’d need more confidence and perseverance.
Failing was not an option. I needed to make it through the year to keep my scholarship. What I didn’t need were any more distractions from Henry Albrecht.
6
HENRY
I made it a habit to walk past Lark’s dance class before football practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays. If students were in the hallway, I’d keep moving like I was on my way to somewhere important. But if no one was around, I’d watch for a few minutes. And after his class, I’d sometimes see him at the fence, watching the marching band get in formation.
“Isn’t that your friend Lark?” Bones said during practice the following Thursday. “Bet he’s watching Emil. The dude plays the trumpet. Glad he doesn’t practice in our room.”
I chuckled. “Better not piss him off, or he might wake you up using that thing.”
“Fucking hell, he better not.” Bones rubbed a hand over his face. “And by the way, I think they’re probably queer for each other.”
“Dude, what the hell? Just because they’re dance majors doesn’t automatically make them gay.” That was the kind of stereotype I hated and dreaded all at once.
“Well, duh. But that’s not what I mean. The other day they were in my room when I got back from class. Lark looked uncomfortable, like I’d caught them doing something, and then they left right away.”
My gut churned, and suddenly a memory from the hospital filtered back to me.
“Do you miss your friends at school?” I’d asked.
“Yeah, sure. Though I don’t have many. How about you?”
“Uh-huh, but I’m missing football and soccer too.”
“I get it. I’m missing dance.”
“Are there any…girls you’re missing?”
Lark’s cheeks colored. “I don’t like any girls.”
“Not yet?”
He shook his head and looked away.
I didn’t even know why I’d asked, except out of curiosity. I hadn’t crushed on any girls either. And right after that, the therapy dog had entered the room, so I let it go, even though I was confused by his response. And after our goodbye, I was even more so. Was Lark gay?
“You’re probably just reading into it,” I told Bones as Coach called us into a huddle to make some announcements.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about Lark all night, and the next morning in review class, I got brave enough to sit at his table. He looked uncomfortable at first, but soon enough he got lost in the assignment, along with his tablemates. When he made a frustrated sound, I knew he was struggling with the new concept the professor had introduced today.
I stood and motioned to him. “Follow me to the whiteboard.”
“Huh?” He blinked at me.
I glanced at the three students quietly working on the problems we just reviewed.
“So I can demonstrate it in a different format. It might help.”
He stood hesitantly, then followed me to the front of the room.
“Are you trying to embarrass me in front of the class?”
“What? No! I’ve done this with other students; maybe you just haven’t noticed. The professor has you guys work out problems at the board too.” Did he really think I’d do something so mean, or was he that self-conscious?
“Okay, fine.” He breathed out. “Let’s just get on with it.”
So I picked up a marker and began working out the problem on the board. “Did you take algebra in high school?” I asked over my shoulder.
He winced. “Yeah, but I’m not sure I remember any of it.”
“You might recognize a couple of these steps as stuff you’ve already learned.”
“Doubtful,” he murmured.
We worked the problem step-by-step together, and I saw the light bulb go off in his eyes when he finally got it. “There you go!”
“How are you so good at this stuff?”