7

“Okay.” Normally I don’t like people ordering me around, but with Rafael I’m just going to have to deal with it. The alternative being, of course, getting found out.

Rafael grabs his lighter and pats his pockets a few times to check for the cigarettes we both know are already there. It’s a nervous habit.

“All right. Let’s go.”

I nod and follow him out of the dorm, down the stairs, and into the courtyard. Rafael keeps muttering instructions out of the corner of his mouth in a never-ending stream.

“Walk faster. Head up. Don’t use your hips like that, Jesus Christ, Alex! Do you want both of us to get expelled?”

I try to keep everything in mind, but it’s a lot to keep track of. An impossible amount to keep track of. Just moving my body feels different, unnatural, like I’ve been possessed by a demon that’s fighting me with every step. It doesn’t help that I’m easily distracted by the swarms of people in the hallway so much that Rafael eventually grabs me by my hood and throws me out the main doors and into the fading sunlight.

I pat myself down as he follows me out and around the corner, out of sight of the main hall. “Can you please stop that?”

Already lighting a cigarette, Rafael doesn’t reply. He just jerks his head to indicate I should follow him as he walks off toward a couple stone benches beneath a hardy mountain pine. I do as I’m told.

I sit down on one of the benches, wincing as the cold surface pushes right through my pants and almost freezes my ass. Rafael shoves a cigarette in my face. When I don’t immediately take it, he rolls his eyes and jams it right against my closed lips.

“You don’t have a choice, Alex,” he snaps.

I swipe it out of his hand. “Fine. Just give me the lighter.”

He obliges, and I struggle for a few moments to light the cigarette in my hand. Once I finally have it lit and inhale my first lungful—quickly followed by raucous coughing—Rafael snatches the lighter back from me and leans against the trunk of the pine tree.

“Opening week,” Rafael says simply.

I finish coughing and squint up at him. “Yeah?”

He closes his eyes as he takes in a long draught of his cigarette. I wait for him to breathe it out and flick the ash away.

“School’s going to be holding sign-ups for clubs and stuff. You should really think about what to join.”

“I’m just gonna lie low,” I say with a sigh. I attempt another inhale of my cigarette, and though I cough less this time, my voice is even hoarser when I add, “Don’t want to draw attention to myself.”

Rafael shakes his head. “Nope. Doesn’t work that way.”

“Why not?”

He exhales a line of smoke again. “Anybody who’s anybody is a part of, well, something. Not in a club, you’re a loser. A target.” He flicks the ashes off the end of his cigarette, and they fall and fizzle out in the dirt.

“I’m already a target.”

“Which makes it even more important for you to blend in. You’re going to need friends. Allies. And by that … I mean you’re going to need someone other than just me.”

“And here I was thinking we were going to be bosom buddies.”

He ignores my comment.

“So, the real question here, is what kind of boy you’re going to be.”

“What?”

“There’s all sorts,” he continues. “I’m the gay one, obviously.” He says it flat and dry, almost stoic, his gaze fixed on the mountain peaks. I wonder what kind of boy he wishes he could be. It’s got to be something more than this self-proclaimed stereotype. “That Neville kid, he’s the wimpy, nerdy kind. The Brotherhood are the alpha male type, obviously.”

It’s my turn to squint up in the direction he’s been staring. “Do I have to pick a type? I mean, can’t I just be … me?”

He lets out a single syllable laugh. “You gave up that right the minute you accepted your spot here.”

“Okay,” I reply, my brow furrowing. I look down at my lit cigarette and try to think. “What if I want to be the sensitive type?”

He nods, still not looking at me. “That’s fine. That’s good.” I smile to myself as he sucks in smoke, then pushes it out in a long, grey cloud. “If you want to get found out and expelled in literally four days.”

My heart sinks.

“We’re not going in until you finish that cigarette.”

I begrudgingly continue smoking. I never thought I’d be the smoking type, it’s just never had any draw for me. I caught my brother Caleb smoking out behind the barn once and he made me swear never to start. If he could only see me now.

But I have to get my voice deeper somehow, since walking around sounding like a cartoon character isn’t going to be very convincing. Even still, I’m going to have to pretend my voice just hasn’t broken yet and hope that charade lasts long enough for everyone to get so used to it that they forget.

After a long bout of silence, Rafael throws down the butt of his own cigarette and stomps it out. “All right, I’m going in. You stay,” he says, adding the last bit hastily as I go to follow. “You’ve still got half that thing left.” He pulls a fresh pack out of his pocket and tosses it into my lap. “Start chain-smoking. It’ll help with the gravel.”

“Wait—can’t you come with me to sign ups?” I ask. “Is that what everyone was doing in the hallway?”

“Yep, that’s what they were doing. And no, I’m not coming with you. You’ve got to do this on your own, little bean.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and strides his way across the courtyard. I watch him until he disappears through the main doors.

I painstakingly, torturously, finish my cigarette and stomp out the butt like Rafael did.

I do not, however, light up another one.

I shove the rest of the pack into my pocket, gather up my courage, and walk alone across the courtyard into the main doors of the castle-like school. I don’t need Rafael. I didn’t need him to get here, I don’t need him now. I can’t always expect him to stick by my side, can’t expect him to fight my battles for me.

It’s warmer in the hall than outside, thankfully, but I still keep my oversize hoodie on. The entrance hall is full of students and professors alike. There are no signs advertising that this is club sign-ups, but I suppose everyone but me already knows. Just like how everyone else knew this was a school for boys.

Everyone but me.

I watch as my uniformed classmates filter in and out of nearby rooms. Desks are lined up inside the classrooms, neat hand-lettered signs hanging above them advertising the available clubs. There are so many. Chess, shuffleboard, cooking, finance—there’s one for everything. No topic goes untouched.

Under any other circumstance, I’d sign up for everything. You just don’t get opportunities like this where I come from.

But I have to stop myself and think about what Rafael said.

I have to pick the kind of boy I want to be.

I can’t just be Alex in a boy’s disguise. A bad boy’s disguise at that. I have to be Alex, the boy. But I’m not sure who that is yet.

I’ve started to head away from the tables when a hand catches my elbow and yanks me around, bringing me face-to-face with none other than Jasper. Head of The Brotherhood.

He looks like he’s always known the boy he would be. It was laid out for him before he was even born. Just like the two others flanking him on either side.

“Signing up for clubs, little man?” he hisses between his teeth.

It’s not even a joke, but the two boys behind him chuckle. Beck glares at me, his cheekbones looking deadlier by the second.

Jasper

’s hand clenches tighter on my elbow. I’ve taken too long to answer, so he wrenches me closer. “I’m talking to you,” he snarls in my face.

“Yes,” I reply simply, biting back the reply of isn’t that obvious? that I wish I could make.

No need to antagonize them, to invite more trouble on myself. Or Rafael, for that matter.

“Which one were you thinking of joining?” Heath asks, nodding back towards the tables now behind me. He cocks his head to the side and gives me a rakish grin. As nonchalant as he seems, there’s a certain edge to his voice.

“I’m not sure yet.” I look from Heath, to Beck, to Jasper, to Heath again, my eyes flicking so quickly they ache. I don’t dare move or try to tug my arm away.

“Perfect. You can forget about choosing.” Jasper takes his hand off my arm only to clamp down on my shoulder. “All four of us are signing up for lacrosse.”

“Lacrosse?” I echo weakly as he steers me toward another open doorway. I don’t know the first thing about lacrosse. There are sticks involved, I think?