CALVIN

thirty-five: the valentine's dinner

Sitting in environmental class, with Mr Taylor at the front of the room and me and Calvin on opposite ends, was a nightmare after that. I spent the whole lesson staring at my notebook. I wasn't even writing anything; I was just slowly, silently decomposing into a pathetic pulp. A haze of embarrassment was surrounding me for the whole hour and a half, and multiplied when, just as the lesson was over and I was free to escape the dungeon, Mr Taylor called my name.

Everyone was leaving. I stood by my desk, cheeks already hot. Calvin was staying back as well, giving his dad a look of warning. Mr Taylor tried to discreetly shoo him away with a hand. Calvin put his hands out as if to say, What? And then he left, taking one last forlorn look at me and his father.

When the room was silent, Mr Taylor slipped his MacBook into its sleeve. He took a wet sponge and erased the writing on the chalkboard. In the painful silence, I thought of taking out my phone, but I couldn't move a muscle. Finally, he cleared his throat and took a couple steps closer to me, looking mostly at the floor. Here we go...

"So, I..." he exhaled in exasperation as he lost his words. Looked out the window for a second. "I'm, uh... trying to understand the nature of your relationship with... Calvin."

It was my turn to clear my throat. I didn't know where to look.

"Normally this would be... be none of my business. Believe me, I have no interest in who my son fancies. Well, no, th-that's not true..." he scratched his head, "Of course I'm interested. And involved. But-but I don't... I would never consider myself a helicopter parent, or... or anything of the like."

"Right..."

"My point is..." he looked at me blankly for a second as he regrouped his words, "are you... are you of the position with Calvin that it's applicable for me to invite you for dinner? Or was that just a - uh - just a one-time thing? Or...?" when I didn't respond (mostly out of fear of squeaking instead of saying words), he went on, "Not to, not to pressure you or anybody, it's only that... I want Calvin, and-and yourself, might I had, to not feel... you know... the need to - uh - hide things from me." after another pause, he thought of something else and continued quickly, "And it's not as though I'm asking for ultimate - uh - transparency, no! No, not at all. B-But I want - uh - things to be, how do I say... comfortable."

"You... want to have dinner?"

"Well, not today, if it were to disrupt your, uh, plans for Valentine's Day." I cringed at the phrase plans for Valentine's Day. It made me think of Patrick and Louisa rubbing foreheads in the train. "B-But soon, yes - if it were at all applicable." he took a deep breath. "I just assume... well." he shook his head. "I assume this has been going on for months."

"No," I said, "it hasn't." I wanted to say more, to explain something, so that I didn't look like an asshole. But what was there to explain? What could I possibly say to Calvin's father? To the principal of the school? "Um, I..." say something, "I need to talk to Calvin."

"Of course."

"Because I don't know..."

"Yes, of course." I thought that was my cue to leave, so I gave him a half-smile, shouldered my bag and started for the door. "Oh - Elias?" I turned around. "I've been meaning to ask, how are things going with you and Ms Vecoli?"

Every particle of my body froze. It wasn't possible. Nobody knew about me and Ms Vecoli, besides Patrick. And Patrick wasn't Tobias: he didn't go around telling everyone everyone's deepest, darkest secrets. So I stood there, dumbfounded, prickles creeping up my arms. What would happen next? I was unable to speak, so I just shook my head slowly.

"She told me you were having extra essay sessions with her."

"Oh," I said, still terrified. Was this a trap?