And They Were Roommates(21)

I could never tell Mom. Her worry would soar through the roof. As long as I can avoid that, I’ll hopefully make it out of this call alive. “That’s not why. I said, I’m fine.”

“All right. Oh, that reminds me, you’ve read the guidelines package? You’re making sure to follow it? I know from personal experience that it’s a lot to memorize.”

“Yes.” The guilt for lying hits hard. I don’t even know how she’d react, knowing I’m breaking the number one guideline with STRIP. On top of what I’m hiding.

“Good. As an Excellence Scholar, I remember having to be an example for the rest of the students. And you know what I always say—breaking rules always spirals.”

“I know.”

“Did I tell you about Samantha? My friend I lost touch with because she copied an algebra problem of mine during class and was sent home?”

“I get it, Mom.”

She sighs. “I know. I know. I’m trying to be supportive like you asked. Just promise you’ll let me know the second you have doubts, okay?”

Ms. Lyney shows two fingers. Two minutes.

My conflicting feelings that have built up since stepping on campus sizzle on my tongue. That hiding who I am, let alone at an all-boys academy, is starting to feel impossible. That maybe Mom easily ranked top five because she didn’t fear her own roommate, and she could make friends because there wasn’t any risk of them looking a little too closely and figuring out a hidden truth. That maybe she was right all along, and this is too risky. But Ms. Lyney is here, listening.

“How’s the store?” I ask to change the subject.

A beat passes over the line. Then the sound of shuffling papers, as if this reminded her to keep working behind the cash register that’s always cluttered with mail and administrative files. “Sales have been slow this week. But back-to-school season should bring in our usual local teachers soon.”

It’s not like I expected much change after twelve years of her struggling to keep the lights on after my dad cheated and caused their divorce. Especially now that I’m away from Queens and can’t help. Maybe that’s also why she’s so stressed. “You think?”

“Absolutely. And the Fall Book Club for Young Readers kicked off yesterday. We have more kiddos signed up this year than ever. Sixteen!”

That pulls a small smile out of me. Mom has always focused on putting our community in Queens over profits. Maybe most Valentine alumni make change in the world as doctors and lawyers and professors, and maybe Grandma and Grandpa expected that from her, too, but she’s doing the same in her own way.

“That’s great,” I tell Mom. “I gotta go, but I’ll get my name to the top. Promise.”

“Okay, sweetie. I hope you will.”



* * *



Standing in front of Pragma Recreational Center’s workout room door feels like a crime. At least when it’s me. But PE isn’t going to pass itself.

I roll up the sleeves of my new tracksuit from the gift shop, which I could actually afford since my single room check awesomely never cleared. People like Xavier will be in here. Well-liked, high-ranked, textbook-example boys. If they don’t judge me for invading their territory, they’ll judge my lack of mass. Time to blend in.

The second my foot is through the door, my mouth hangs open at how far back the room stretches. Valentine crests border the casement and the top of the walls, watching like surveillance cameras, and everywhere magically smells of lemon disinfectant instead of sweat. The metal machines that could crush me dead are endless. More importantly, abandoned.

I make my way more confidently through the empty room. Treadmills line one wall, but weights are stacked by another. I need muscles to run better. Maybe?

A clink comes down the row, and I jump.

Xavier is bench-pressing, lifting a barbell with two plates on each side. Okay, not alone. The only signs of perspiration are on the collar of his undershirt and his prominent forehead, even though the weight is triple my head size.

If I could become 5 percent as strong, I’d get an A+ in PE.

Xavier glances to the side, sensing my lurking presence. His eyes widen. “Christ—!” The bar slips through Xavier’s grip and nearly squashes his neck.

I rush to spot him, only to end up tossing my hands upon realizing that I do not know what spotting is. Xavier pushes the bar back into place by himself.

He sits up from the bench, shoving his floppy dark bangs out of his eyes. “You scared the juices out of me, bro.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault. There’s just never anybody in here.”

“Why?”

Xavier smirks like it should be obvious. “Everyone else is always studying.”

“You’re Rank Three for third years. Shouldn’t you be?”

“Just gotta be smart about time management. Training takes an hour out of the day. Plus, I eat on the go.” He taps on his temple. “Were you watching me?”

“No,” I say. “Well, yes. Not because I’m weird. I’m here to train too.”

“You know how to?”

“You just lift stuff, right?”

“If you plan to live at Health Services. Want help?”

For a PE grade this dire, help is what I need. But to have Xavier stand too close? Look too close? I wave a dismissive hand. “That’d be a huge favor.”