The afternoon of calculus seemed to last for about a week. Vân Ước popped into the girls’ bathroom adjacent to the lockers for a quick mirror check before heading to the common room. She arrived a few seconds before Billy, relieved to see only a few stragglers collecting things left from earlier in the day or killing time before being picked up.
Billy came in and swept them out. “That’s all, folks, thanks for coming, see you tomorrow—show’s over, room’s taken.”
She was intrigued by the willingness of people to do as Billy told them. No one protested or even showed any resentment; they accepted the alpha presence doing what he did best: getting his way. Leading.
She recognized a notebook jammed between two cushions on the corduroy-covered sofa as Michael’s, and picked it up. He was a great absentminded leaver of stuff.
When everyone was shooed away, she expected that Billy might turn to her and throw his arms around her, and the whole soft-focus, swelling orchestral score would happen.
But he had something else in mind. “Have you got your camera?”
She was never without it, just one of the reasons her backpack was always so heavy. As she dug it out, Billy flicked through his phone’s photos and showed her a series of images.
It was the security office’s panel of CCTV screens. Quite modest, just four screens that rotated through images from the various cameras positioned around the school. Two screens were for interiors, and two for exterior views.
“You and I are going to shoot this room, from that angle”—he pointed at the image of the common room—“And make a print we can stick up there, in front of the camera.”
“So it looks like the common room is always empty?”
“Yeah, stop them spying on us, and get our privacy back.”
Vân Ước couldn’t help smiling. “I can’t do it. If I get caught I’m in huge trouble. Scholarship students must demonstrate exemplary behavior at all times.”
“Like I said, I’ll take the blame.”
Now he kissed her. Now, when she was unprepared and unguarded, he leaned forward and kissed her gently, and it felt like a question she’d been waiting to hear for the longest time. She opened her lips and her mouth to his, touched one hand to the side of his face, and wondered how it would be possible to live another day in the world that didn’t include kissing Billy.
He broke away from the kiss, hands still holding her upper arms, took a deep breath, and exhaled shakily. He leaned down, touching his forehead to hers. “Wow. I wasn’t going to do that till Saturday night,” he said.
“You had a kiss plan?” she asked, breathless, amazed that words still tumbled out in order following the reinvention of the world.
“Of course I did. It’s the only reason I asked my parents if I can have people over on Saturday.”
“I’m still not sure if I can come…” she said, falling into the gulf between what his parents might see as normal, acceptable behavior, and what her parents might see as normal, acceptable behavior.
She felt tired and defeated in advance at the acrobatics in reasoning and the half lies that she would have to tell in order to reassure/deceive her parents into allowing her to go out just for one night. “I don’t like my chances for the party. But I guess I can help with this.”
Based on the image on Billy’s phone, it was obvious that it needed to be shot from the security camera’s POV with a long depth of field, sharp focus, and tonal clarity. Simple.
Billy had brought in a tall ladder from the cleaners’ cupboard in the hallway outside.
She set the camera for him. He climbed up, photographed the room, with their bags out of shot, and climbed down for her to check it. A couple more attempts and he had the angle and focus looking right.
“So long as no one was looking at the screen when you took the photo, you’re all sorted. I’ll send it to you tonight.” She packed her camera away, tucked Michael’s notebook in after it, slung her backpack on her shoulders, and said, “I think you’re late for training.”
“Shit.” He folded the ladder and headed out with it, kissing the tips of her fingers as he left.
Michael hurried in, frowning as he crossed paths with Billy. Seeing Vân Ước alone in the common room, his frown deepened. She could swear he knew about the kiss and the rule-breaking.
“This?” she asked, pulling his notebook from her pack.
“Thanks.” Michael’s momentary relief at having his notebook back didn’t distract him from a speech he obviously had prepared.
“It’s none of my business—what I’m about to say—but I have decided to say it anyway.”
“You’re wondering what’s going on with me and Billy?”
“I can see that he conforms to a general consensus of what constitutes ‘handsome,’ and he’s undoubtedly one of the most popular guys in the year, for what that’s worth…”
“But…”
Michael looked at her—his kindness and generosity at speaking out when they really didn’t have that sort of friendship made her eyes prickle with tears.
“You know the but: he’s a self-centered idiot. And I can’t see a happy ending if someone like you gets involved with him.”
“Like me—how?”
“Someone smart. Someone not of his world. Someone lacking the essential superficiality of his preferred companions.” Michael smiled apologetically. “If you can forgive the cliché: I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
Here’s where Jane might boldly have defended her choice of a partner, pointing out that while the world thought one thing about him, she saw another side to his character. But Vân Ước just said, “Thank you.”