CALVIN

fourteen: the halloween party

Schneider and I were eating breakfast together in the dining hall. It wasn't even seven-thirty yet, which meant that the entire hall was empty. Even the kitchen staff had abandoned their posts. We sat amoung fresh bread and bowls of cereal. When we spoke, our voices echoed.

"I didn't know you were related to Queen Elizabeth," I said, my mouth full of bread. Schneider carefully set his spoon down, picked up his orange juice, and drank very slowly. He set that down, too. Then he looked at me.

"Who told you that?"

"Calvin."

"How would Calvin know?"

"It's not some big secret. Or... shoot, is it? Oh my God. Is that why you use a fake name?"

Schneider exhaled. He clearly looked uncomfortable. "I use a fake name because it's just... easier."

"Easier than what? Everyone knowing you're, like, two-hundredth in line for the British throne?"

"Yeah."

"What's your real name, then? Timothy? Hans? Alberto?"

"What's the point of a fake name if I go around telling everyone my real name?"

"Timothy Teck?"

"House Teck is extinct," he said. "My surname is Durchdenwald. It means nothing."

"Nothing? That sounds so ominous. What's your first name?"

"Alexander." he smiled to himself, ripping apart a croissant. "Alexander Albrecht Francis Durchdenwald. I'm family to the kingdom of Württemberg and the British monarchy. God, that feels so good to say out loud." He popped a piece of croissant in his mouth and immediately started choking on it. I pat him on the back a few times until he gained control over his esophagus. 

...

Patrick walked out of the bathroom with cat ears on, holding a vile with a skull on it and a bag of yellow dust.

"Great." I said. "Now I know you're going as an idiot for Halloween."

"This isn't even my holiday. And I'm Schrödinger's cat. I know you don't take physics, but, come on, man. I practically spelled this one out for you."

"No. No you didn't. What are you holding?"

"Poison and uranium. Really, Elias? Wait - look," he turned around, and I spotted a furry tail poking out of his bottom.

"Oh, God, it gets worse."

"What are you supposed to be, anyways? A drag queen?"

"Uh, I'm Lady Gaga? And you act like I'm the stupid one." I sidestepped Patrick and looked in the mirror. I was wearing a blonde wig, extravagant makeup, and a faux-leather ensemble I'd bought on Amazon.

"It's like you're not even trying to hide that you're gay, anymore," he said, as I reapplied lipstick.

"Yeah, it's like you're not even trying to hide that you're a fucking nerd, too." I turned around to face him, and leaned against the sink. "You know, there's something liberating about setting fire to toxic masculinity. You should try it, sometime."

"I did, when I stuck my tongue down your throat." He walked out of the bathroom and into our room.

"I thought we agreed to never speak of that again!" I yelled after him. 

The school party took place in the backstage of the Aula. Patrick and I snuck in through the back and swindled beers from the concession, quickly blending into the throng of students lit only by a lazy strobe light and purple filters from above. It was so dark I could barely see five feet in front of me. The air was thick with haze and smelled of a grape-scented juul pod. As I edged through the crowd, Roman, dressed as a carrot, stumbled backwards into his group of friends and had to be dragged off the dance floor. I uncapped my beer and took a swig, only to find that I had lost Patrick.