That morning when Seiji came to breakfast, he discovered Dante attempting to take the seat beside Nicholas.
“Hey, dude, no, I’m saving this seat for Seiji,” said Nicholas.
Dante rolled his eyes without a word and went around the table.
Seiji took the seat with a faint feeling of satisfaction. Naturally, Nicholas didn’t want to sit beside Dante. Who would?
“There’s no actual need to save a seat for me,” Seiji informed Nicholas.
Nicholas waved him off as if he were an annoying fly. “I’m gonna, you can’t stop me.”
Seiji supposed he couldn’t. He started eating his breakfast, though Nicholas eyeballed Seiji’s protein-rich green smoothie suspiciously. Nicholas had no idea about the importance of nutrition.
Bobby and Dante were gossiping, which meant Bobby was talking and Dante was listening. Seiji listened as well, to be polite, though it was not a particularly interesting conversation.
“My hand to God, Aiden was asking people out in the hallways,” Bobby said. “I heard it from Brian and Juan told him, and Eduardo was there watching it happen with his own two eyes. So weird. Aiden always waits for them to come to him!”
Nicholas snorted. “Why would anyone come to Aiden? Like, then you have to listen to him talk. Blah, blah, blah, rich boy being rude to people. Um, fascinating, I don’t think so. Dante, are you gonna finish your eggs?”
Dante gathered the eggs toward himself, glowering. “Yes.”
Nicholas drew back a questing fork. “Just asking, asking’s not a crime.”
Seiji mulled over what Nicholas had just said, remembering what Eugene had told him about the boys from Kings Row framing Nicholas. He’d known that Nicholas didn’t like Aiden, but Seiji didn’t like Aiden much himself. He hadn’t realized what Nicholas’s dislike was based on.
“What do you mean,” Seiji asked, “rich boy?”
“Oh, you know, Seiji.” Nicholas gestured with his empty fork. “Rich boys. They’re the worst.”
This was becoming alarming. Aiden’s father was a notoriously wealthy lothario, but Seiji had to wonder what the cutoff in Nicholas’s head was. Seiji was always offending people, and his father’s income was far above average.
“My father is rather well-off,” Seiji admitted.
Had Nicholas not realized?
“I figured. I didn’t mean rich as in rich,” said Nicholas.
“That was the precise word you used!”
It appeared Nicholas really had decided words had no meaning anymore. Life would be so confusing from now on.
“No, see,” said Nicholas, and adopted a peculiar nasal intonation. “There’s a particular type of rich boy, who’s all ‘Daddy, I want this; Daddy, I want that; Daddy, I want to treat other people like dirt because I think it’s amooosing—’”
“Aiden doesn’t sound like this—” Seiji protested.
“It’s a state of mind, Seiji, c’mon,” said Nicholas. “You know the type. You must, they’re all over Kings Row. Bet there’s worse at Exton. They’re so rich but they take cheap shots, and it’s so dumb, right? They don’t even mean them. They’re not sincere enough to mean anything. The point is to say they’re great by saying you suck, and they never do anything great, so why do they open their mouths?” Nicholas shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
Seiji put down his spoon and stared at Nicholas. At this late hour of the morning, the room was social chaos. The very chains from which the lights hung suspended were swaying with the volume of people and conversation, but it wasn’t as unpleasant as usual, because Seiji had something remarkable to focus on.
“How can you tell when people don’t say what they mean?”
“I just can,” answered Nicholas. “And I just don’t have time for it. You know?”
“What if someone who was that type did do something great?” asked Seiji, thinking of Jesse.
Surely Jesse was allowed to say anything he liked. And Jesse didn’t hurt people who mattered.
Except he’d hurt Seiji.
And those Kings Row boys who’d framed Nicholas didn’t matter, but they’d decided Nicholas didn’t matter and hurt him. Maybe deciding other people didn’t matter always ended with someone hurt.
Nicholas considered the question, and then shrugged. “Saying you’re great still shows you’re worried nobody will notice unless you say it. If you have to say it, how great can you be?”
“Where’s Eugene?” Seiji asked abruptly.
Nicholas blinked. “Uh, think he’s eating with his weight-lifting friends this morning.”
Apparently, Eugene enjoyed darting like a hummingbird all over the room. Why could nobody else dedicate themselves to a proper routine? Seiji sighed and scanned the room until he found Eugene at a more crowded table than any other in the room. Not only were there a lot of students at the table, but they all seemed bulky.
Seiji sighed again and surrendered himself to his fate. He finished his breakfast, and then rose.
“You go on to class without me. I want a word with Eugene.” Seiji hesitated. “You can save me a seat. If you insist.”
Nicholas paused, then smiled. His face was a lot more tolerable when he did that. “I will.”
Seiji wandered gloomily over to the weight lifters’ table, then cleared his throat so Eugene would notice him. Eugene glanced up and went still, his eyes going wide.
“Seiji!” Eugene said. “What are you doing here—I mean, what a surprise. A nice surprise! Hey, guys, this is my fencing bro. And these are my weight-lifting bros, Brad, Chad, and Julian. Brad, Chad, Julian, this is Seiji Katayama.”
Several massive students regarded Seiji with interest. It was like being noticed by mountains in uniform.
“What up, bro?” said Julian, who was the hugest of them all.
Seiji gave him a coolly polite nod.
“Katayama,” murmured Brad. “Right, the one with the stick up his—”
Eugene elbowed Brad with extreme force. Extreme force seemed like the only type of force that would work on Brad.
“Any bro of Eugene’s,” Chad told him benevolently.
Seiji gave him a chilling look, hoping to discourage further awkward conversation. “Indeed.”
He turned to Eugene.
“I was thinking about what you were saying at the midnight feast, about those guys who implied Nicholas would steal. You said we should get them back by, ah… ‘playing a totally excellent prank.’” Seiji had to force out the distasteful quote, and then breathed deeply in relief once he’d accomplished it. “I want to do the prank. What should we do?”
“Oh,” said Eugene. “Oh wow! I totally didn’t think you’d be up for it.”
Seiji leaned forward. “I am. But I’ve never played a prank on anybody before. Explain to me how pranks work.”
A stunning blow landed on Seiji’s back. He supposed this was some of the teen bullying one read about in the newspapers and braced himself for more violence.
Strangely, Chad was grinning at him. The blow was apparently well-intentioned.
“My dude!” said Chad. “Brad was wrong about you. Anyone who’s up for an excellent prank is all right in my book. And you have midnight feasts, too?”
“We drank protein shakes,” said Seiji.
“Righteous.” Chad nodded. “Always keep grinding, but don’t miss out on life. You know how to have fun, Katayama.”
“I really don’t,” Seiji murmured.
The behavior of weight lifters was mysterious, but he had an objective to achieve. Seiji was a goal-oriented person.
“The prank, Eugene,” he prompted.
Eugene blinked rapidly several times. “I hadn’t thought it out. Just that it’d be good to do one.”
“A strategic plan of attack is vital, Eugene.”
Chad was nodding along with Seiji. This was only common sense. Chad understood.
“Uh… okay!” said Eugene. “Here’s a good prank: So you coat a bar of soap with clear nail polish, which I think Bobby has, so we could borrow it from him, and then the soap won’t lather. They’ll be so annoyed in the shower!”
“These people strike me as unwashed miscreants,” said Seiji. “That prank is inadequate. Next suggestion, please.”
Eugene coughed. “Right, so… you creep sneakily into their room and hide an egg in there. Then their room gets really stinky and they don’t know why! Hilarious.”
Eugene nodded with increasing conviction. Chad began nodding, too. Seiji was disappointed in them both.
“No,” said Seiji. “The point of the prank is to teach these people a lesson. What sort of lesson does a smelly room teach?”
“It would be very funny.…”
“Step up your game, Eugene,” Seiji advised severely.
“So…,” said Eugene. “If we hid chickens in their room, and the chickens laid many eggs, but there were also… chickens…”
Seiji only shook his head.
“I see what Katayama’s saying,” Chad observed wisely. “He’s like, where’s the justice, bro?”
“That’s exactly right, Chad,” Seiji confirmed. “It’s about justice. They need to recognize why what they did was wrong.”
Eugene rubbed the place between his eyebrows. He appeared to feel beleaguered by Seiji and Chad’s united logic.
“The best prank would be if we did, like, a jewel heist of the store. Then we’d hide the cache of stolen loot in those jerks’ room, and when it was discovered they’d protest their innocence, but nobody would believe them, and they’d be dragged off screaming to jail. Then they’d see what it was like to be wrongly suspected!” Eugene had brightened during his dramatic recital, but now he dimmed. “Only we’re not master criminals.”
Seiji considered Eugene and his new scheme for a prank. He felt it had real promise.
“That is a much better idea, Eugene.”
“Yeah, except we’re not master criminals,” protested Eugene.
Seiji tapped his finger thoughtfully against his chin. “Leave it to me.”
“Seiji, I’m finding your current lack of expression even more unsettling than your usual lack of expression!” Eugene said. “Bro, I’m feeling a distinct sense of disquiet here!”
Seiji shrugged. He couldn’t be responsible for everyone’s emotions. It was difficult enough being responsible for Nicholas.
“I love this little guy,” Chad announced.
Seiji assumed he was talking about someone else, someone of below-average height, when Chad rose like a volcano from the sea and slammed a meaty arm around Seiji’s shoulders. Seiji gave a faint gasp, partly from horror and partly because he felt as if his bones were being crushed.
“Whoa, be gentle with him,” Eugene advised Chad. “It’s his first brodeo.”