Julian

I. January, Ch. 6

     Calvin's freshmen students stood up the moment the bell rang.

     He announced the next day's assignment, but not one student acknowledged him.

     Calvin didn't take it personally, which wasn't hard. An hour of alone time was the only thing he craved for lunch.

     Calvin opened his drawer and took out his copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. He leaned back on his chair, basked in the silence for a second, then cracked the book open.

     He was two pages into the book when a soft, brown square slammed against his face.

     Calvin gasped. He dropped the book and placed his hand over his nose. "What the... "

     On his desk was a Little Debbie snack cake, still in the wrapper, with a small dent where the brownie hit his nose.

     He lifted his gaze up and saw Roger, leaning against the doorway with his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His tie was loose around his collar, and his right hand held an open paper bag. "Lunchtime, loser."

     It wasn't the first time Roger used unnecessary violence to get Calvin's attention. He grabbed the brownie and threw it back at Roger. "I'm not hungry."

     Roger dodged the flying pastry and laughed. "You're never going to meet women this way."

     "I don't want to meet women at work."

     Calvin brought his gaze back to the book, but as he reread the first paragraph, the same snack cake crashed into his left cheek.

     "Drop the book and get some fresh air," said Roger.

     Calvin closed his eyes, reminding himself that Roger meant well.

     He closed the book, got up, grabbed his coat and keys, and locked the classroom door. "What else did Cookie pack you?"

     Roger looked inside the bag. "M&M's and a butter sandwich."

     "A peanut butter sandwich?"

     "No, just butter."

     Calvin slid his coat on as they walked down the empty hallway. "You're going to die young if you keep eating like that."

     "Hopefully, yes."

     Calvin chuckled. "Morbid punk."

     Roger gave Calvin a friendly push.

     "How're the kids?"

     "They're great. Not many familiar faces."

     "What did you expect?" said Calvin "These parents would rather home-school their girls than send them to school with boys."

     "I know what you mean. The Andrade population here is slim, students and teachers."

     As the men walked, one of the doors on the far end of the hallway opened. The sunlight piercing through the window made the image a silhouette. The shadow closed the door and locked it, oblivious to Roger and Calvin's presence.

     Roger threw this voice down the row of lockers. "Well, speak of the devil."

     Calvin squinted into the distance, trying to sharpen his vision of the shadow. He recognized Genevieve, and his stomach sank.

     She took dominant steps in their direction. The click-clack of her heels against the linoleum floor responded to Roger's salutation. "Roger Stuart, why do you keep getting in my way? Desperate for a muse?"

     "I'm immune to writer's block."

     Calvin watched them go back and forth, feeling out of place.

     He slid his hands in his pockets, hoping Genevieve would acknowledge him or Roger would bring him into the conversation.

     "Bring that humor of yours over Friday night. I'm having a homecoming at my place."

     "Hm. I can dig it. What's for dinner?"

     "Fondue."

     Roger twisted his lip. "Fondue? That's not dinner."

     Genevieve released one of her signature raspy laughs. "Are you coming or not?"

     Roger lifted his chin two inches. "We'll see. Talk to my management team."

     Calvin thought this was a reference to him. He frowned, coming to terms with the fact that their conversation didn't include him, and that only Roger was getting invited.

     Jealousy squeezed Calvin's shoulders. He looked around for an excuse to leave.

     "You mean your old lady? Bring her along. And bring some granny smith apples," said Genevieve.

     Ingrate, thought Calvin. So much for giving you my coffee.

     He looked at Roger. And so much for keeping a low profile.

     Seeing them interact left him as insecure and alone as an abandoned child at the fair. He couldn't be there any longer.

     "I'll get a head start on that walk," said Calvin, louder than normal to announce both his presence and his exit.

     He walked past Genevieve, giving her forehead a polite nod to avoid her eyes.

     Genevieve stopped his shoulder with her hand. "Wait a minute, Tang."

     A wave of surprise washed over him. Is she talking to me? What did she call me? Tang? He turned his head.

     "What are you bringing?" she said.

     Calvin blinked, like he was caught daydreaming in class. "What?"

     Genevieve and Roger looked at each other in silence. After a moment, they laughed so hard they didn't sound human.

     Calvin's angry muscles tightened. He swore he'd never show kindness again.

     "What are you bringing on Friday?"

     Is she serious? "Nothing. I wasn't invited."

     "She's inviting you now, fathead," said Roger.

     Genevieve waved her index finger in Calvin's face like a wand. "White wine. Bring white wine."

     She turned to Roger. "Still have my address?"

     "Sure do."

     She turned around so that her eyes were last to look away. "Groovy. See you there."

     Calvin understood that the words were meant for him and Roger, but he swore she looked directly at him when she spoke.

     Was that slow turn for him, too? He closed his mouth to swallow.

     A confusing sense of accomplishment settled into his mind. It sent a pleasurable tingle across his skin.

     Then, Calvin wrapped his head around his situation. He'd gone from envy to confusion to anger to more confusion to guilt. Had I not promised Marlo I'd keep to himself?

     Roger gave a loud sigh. "Well, look who's playing nice with the other kids, Tang."

     "You're really a gas," said Calvin. "Marlo's going to be there and he's going to know I wasn't true to my word."

     "Marlo won't be there. Vivi never invites administration."

     "But she said it was a homecoming."

     "An Establishment-free homecoming. Nothing personal."

     Calvin's guilt grew. He couldn't let Marlo find out about his plans.

     And he needed to do his homework on white wine.