It was almost the end of breakfast time, and Terence hadn’t risen. His hands were still curled around the sheet pulled to his neck. His eyes were open and staring at the ceiling.
“Can’t I stay here?” he said without looking at me. His words were a surprise and moved up my spine where I stood at the foot of the bed.
“I wish you could,” I said.
“Don’t make me go back.”
“But you have to eat.”
“Not now.”
“I know, but try. You don’t have to go back to your cubby. Go back to the dorm, and ask somebody for clothes, okay? Your pajamas are cute, but school clothes are better.”
He tipped his head toward his toes, and his neck got thick. His smile was part boy, part old man, and his eyes were still windows without light.
“I’ll meet you in the dining hall.” My hand was big over the blanket covering his foot. A few steps down the hall, and the door pressed into place on my way out.
The way into the dining hall was the far end. Students were two-deep around tables by the mural. The dining hall was quieter than it had ever been. The laughs of the kitchen workers and the clatter of dishes loading into the washers broke the quiet. No students cracking up. No students yelling to each other. No talk at all.
Jack Song was at one table, Carla at another. Everyone bent over something. Carla’s curls fell down. She didn’t see me.
If I went to her right now, I could tell her not to meet me after breakfast. If I called her away from the table, I could tell her it was wrong to kiss her. If she knew how bad I was, she wouldn’t meet me after breakfast.
But I didn’t go to her.
Outside a window on my end of the dining hall stood a large person with a pink shirt. Outside was a covered walkway of stones going this way and stones going that way.
Alex Jeffers was bent over, holding on to the railing of the stairs, students passing him, not stopping. All six feet, five inches of muscle-bound Alex Jeffers were shaking in that covered hallway outside. One hand across his forehead covering his eyes, his huge hand making his head look like a child’s, he was crying. He leaned into the stone wall, one of his feet on a higher step than the other. Students stared as they passed him. Nobody stopped.
This was the man who followed me into the ladies’ room at the first faculty party, who held me after Sarah drowned. This was the big man who turned boy rowers into champions, the man who tried to save Kyle.
“Alex,” I said. I stopped on a stair above him.
He looked up, and his hand slid from his eyes to his mouth. His big hand couldn’t stop the high notes leaking from his mouth. His eyelashes were red rims and water caught thick. Terror was stuck in his eyes.
“Come here,” I said, and I stepped into him. He tried to speak, but high notes came out instead. My arms went wide around him, and I held him for all that he had seen, for all he couldn’t do. I held him for all I couldn’t do. Students passed us and pretended not to see.
I held him to keep from being bad.