CALVIN

eighteen: the train

Patrick and I sat on the flat, concrete steps outside, leading to the back door of the dining hall. Both of us were laden with parkas; I had on a beanie. The thing about the school was that though over a hundred kids lived here, it always felt deserted. There was always privacy to be had in the most public places.

"Was it something you... wanted to do?"

"I don't know," I said. My throat was hurting; I felt like I was about to fall ill. "I... wanted to kiss him more than I wanted to kiss you? Is that bad?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm not gay. He is. You know Hally?" I nodded; she'd made a big show about coming out as bisexual last year during assembly. "She told me that the biggest turn-off for her when it came to girls was if they were straight. Like, if she didn't know if they were bi or gay, she couldn't feel attracted to them. She called it a waste of time. It's probably the same for you. Like, you knew I was straight so you just weren't into it."

"Yeah," I said, giving him the benefit of the doubt. "It's just... more than that, though. I mean, Patrick, trust me, I wouldn't touch Roman with a ten-foot pole, in a hazmat suit. It's not that I hate him, I just don't want anything to do with him. So I don't... I don't know why I did that."

"Mate, you don't have to explain yourself to me. What you do in your bed is your business."

I snorted. "Yeah, that's another thing. Roman made it clear that I'm probably the last one in this school who hasn't had sex."

"That's, like, untrue on a multitude of levels. Half the guys in our house are more virgin than you. Also, when did you become the type of person to care about... sexual reputation?"

"I'm not," I said, but I wasn't sure if I believed myself. "When he said it it just... made me feel weird."

"Everything that comes out of Roman's mouth makes people feel weird." pause. "Weird how?"

I took a moment to let my thoughts trash my brain. I looked at Patrick. "I've never... dated anyone. I've never had a summer romance or... fell in love. And you hear these stories about guys who were prudes in high school but the reason why was because they were... gay. And I'm thinking... I guess my line of thought is, either I'm gay and missing out on building relationships with people because I can't fucking accept the fact that I am, or I'm just... nobody's first choice. Or second choice, or third choice. I'm just that kid nobody wants to see naked, or get to know. And that makes me feel kinda shit about myself."

...

"Elias."

I looked over to see Mr Taylor walking into the foyer, folder under his arm, wearing a dark green blazer. "Hi," I said.

"I wanted to say, well done on the essay."

"Oh." I stared at him blankly for a few seconds. "Uh - what essay?"

"The one you did for English lit a couple days ago? About the - what was it - the E.E. Cummings poem. Ms Vecoli showed it to me."

"Ah," I said, astounded that Ms Vecoli would showcase any of my work to her colleagues, let alone the principle. "Thank you."

"Keep up the good work. And about the newspaper, too, I find your articles very well done. That one about, uh, corporate fraud, very interesting."

"Oh." Awkward laugh. "Yeah, thanks. I..." I shrugged, having no idea what to say, "yeah."

"Calvin tells me you have a lot of talents you don't recognize about yourself." He paused, momentarily, half-smile on his face. "Come by to my office any time, okay?"

"Um - sure," I said, trying to hide how perplexed I was.

"Good. See you, then."

...

In the snazzy old train, dark windows and warm, muted table lamps, an old European tinkle in the air, Calvin and I sat across each other in the booth, a game of chess underway between us. I'd gotten a shot of vodka poured into my beer from the twelfth-grader who sat behind the tiny concession at the back of the train. I was sitting back in my seat, trying to focus on the black pieces on the board. I wasn't trying to win the game, just trying to end it.

"You can't do that," Calvin kept saying, whenever I moved a piece. "It's illegal."

"It's a game. What's gonna happen, are the fucking board game police gonna arrest me?" Lamenting exhale. "Chess is so boring."

His voice was soft when he was focusing. "You need to... acquaint yourself with culture."

I tapped his leg with my leg under the table. He ignored me. I did it again, a bit harder. Suddenly the air in the room got tense, and I wondered if it was because of my leg-tapping, until I saw that Tim Wong had entered.

Roman, sitting across the narrow aisle, hadn't acknowledged my existence since The Night. This, I was fine with. I was desperate to forget what had happened between us, and desperate for him to, as well. When Tim Wong entered, though, I suddenly felt very interested in Roman, and how he had stared in horror, before averting his gaze back to his phone.

Louisa was playing against Patrick, who said, "Great. Now we're even. You can play now, Roman."

"I don't wanna play," said Roman.

Tim Wong walked forward. "I need my CAS hours. Let's just play one game."

"Fuck off."

"Dude." Tim looked around, half-laughing in disbelief. He nudged Roman's shoulder. "One fucking game - "

Patrick tried to intercept. "I'll play with Roman, Tim, you can play with Louisa - "

"You're only saying that 'cause I'm winning," she protested. "Let's just finish."

Tim was incredulous. "What the fuck's the problem with me playing against him?" still standing, he opened a chess board on Roman's table. "I'm not that good - " Roman grabbed the thin board and threw it across the train; it smacked into a window and fell on Calvin. Roman stood up, clenched the front of Tim's shirt in his fist, and pushed him away. He strode angrily out of the train, slamming the door shut.

I felt like from then on the chess club would be two members short, a prospect which meant I had even less of a chance of quietly disappearing from the club altogether. That evening, as it approached Calvin's second check-mate, I looked past him out the train window to see something very strange in the dark. Mid-field, encased by shadows, stood a guy, the front of his shirt illuminated by a phone torch. He seemed to be facing Calvin and I's window, standing, staring. My heart thumping, I leaned forward to try and make out his face.

Calvin noticed what I was doing and looked out the window.

"Shit."

"What?"

He grabbed his jacket and slid out the booth.

"Who is that?" I asked.

"Fucking Marc Riedy. I'll come back." He strode down the aisle and exited the train.

I watched through the window as Calvin walked across the field. He stopped in front of Marc, and they seemed to be engaged in conversation. Then the phone torch turned off, and all I could make out were their darkened shadows, and a flash of movement every now and then.

Before Calvin could come back, I knocked my cornered king over, grabbed my parka, and left the train, heading in the opposite direction back to house 19.