CALVIN

thirty-nine: the rejection

I knew that if I first went to Mr Taylor, Calvin would see that as betrayal. It would probably confirm in his mind all the worst thoughts he had about me. If I went to Calvin first, I was losing time - and I'd probably end up promising to him to drop the Bona Fide thing altogether.

Either way, I was headed in the direction of their house. I told myself I'd decide who I was going to see on my way there. Then I saw Denis appear from the breezeway, and he stopped short. "Yo," he said.

"Hey."

"Wanna smoke with me?"

"I thought you were ill."

He put a cigarette between his lips. "Cigs cure illness, man."

"Pretty sure it's the other way around."

"Come on. I got this new smoking spot. You know, since I can't smoke in the parking lot anymore."

"I'm just going - I'm going somewhere."

"Where? Mr Taylor's house?"

I looked down.

"Hey, Taylor can wait. I can't." He started walking away from me, and I decided that I had to follow him.

"You're not as angry about this as everyone else is," I said, as we walked quickly off campus. Down the empty narrow road, up a grassy bank.

"Man, being angry is for losers."

"Yeah, but." I shrugged. We were walking through a field, grass and ground crunching beneath our feet.

"Let's not talk about it, though."

I nodded.

We dusted the frost off a bench and sat down. He lit a cigarette, then looked at me. "Don't you have one?"

Shook my head.

"Fuck, Elias." he started digging his pack back out of his pocket. "I can't keep giving these things out. Drix bled me dry - you know, he owes me twenty-nine cigs. I told him I'll start charging interest at the end of this week. Each day he doesn't pay me back, he owes me a foot rub."

"It's fine, I don't want one."

He put a cigarette in my hand anyways and I sighed.

His smoke tumbled down the field with the wind. All the leaves around us were rustling slightly. I put my feet up on the bench and hugged my knees close to my chest.

"What are you thinking about?" he said.

I shook my head. Kept my eyes on the bank across the meadow. The tiny black birds tumbling half-frozen through the breeze.

"Whenever I'm not thinking about anything in particular, I try to imagine what it was like for you to walk into the shower room and see Schneider there."

I took a couple seconds to swallow the stone in my throat. "I hardly got the short straw."

"You know, I've thought about it. And don't you think Schneider must be in celebratory mood, right now, in heaven. Because he got what he wanted."

A chill zapped up my spine. "I still don't know why he wanted it."

"Why's that." he was half-distracted, bent cig between his lips, looking down at his lap as he rolled another.

"Because nothing bad happened to him. It was always just a bit normal. Maybe he was ignored by his family, I don't know. Or maybe - like all the kids here - he was burdened by the pressure of his wealth." I scoffed, and then caught myself. Scoffing at the speculation of Schneider's suicide? "No," I said, shaking my head. "I mean... I know he was depressed."