CALVIN

thirty-eight: the empty human

There was something a bit funny about the way things were after that. It suddenly felt like my life had known nothing other than Neal, Ana, Roman, Marc and Calvin. As I walked through the steely, unusually warm afternoon past the rows of houses, all I could think about was how the latest events confirmed all my worst suspicions about rich people. I didn't know what I was going to do first: tell Mr Taylor about what's been happening, or confront Marc again. 

"ELIAS!"

I looked behind me and stopped. Ehsan, Nikita and Jesus. They came jogging up to me, Nikita almost tripping over his Gucci slides. "We know what you're going to do," he said.

"And we won't let it happen," Ehsan added. 

Nikita went on. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I kind of like being your friend. I think you're an OK guy. And damn it - if you aren't up on that stage with me next year holding our diplomas, I'll probably... die of grief, or something."

"We know about what happened last night," Ehsan went on, "but don't let that drive you into this."

"We can find another way."

"Exactly. Pat told us everything. And... it's noble, but you don't have to be noble. Just for once. Think about it, Elias. Don't give the Bona Fide club away to the cops - not yet."

"Seconded," said Jesus.

I stared at all of them. I couldn't quite believe what I was hearing. Mostly because I wasn't heading for Mr Taylor's house at all. "Guys..." I said, "...I'm just returning something to Ana."

Nikita looked down, saw what I was holding. "Oh... is that...? Oh - because - right, right. Of course." he looked at his comrades. "False alarm, boys, false alarm." started shooing them away. "But you're not going to tell Mr Taylor, are you?"

I shook my head. "Not now."

"Not ever." he took a step towards me, as Jesus and Ehsan were walking back to our house. "You're too good to go down with all those dipshits." he leaned in close, lowered his voice. "Look - if you need Neal... gone," winked at me, "say the word. I know a guy who knows a guy. I can have it done by the end of the week." I stared at him, disbelieving. "He got eighty headshots in Afghanistan - "

"Jesus, Nikita, I'm not going to snipe Neal."

He put his hands up. "It was just a suggestion! Harmless suggestion! Okay, I go now."

"Good."

He started backing away, but pointed an accusatory finger at me. "Stay here, Elias. Stay here."

...

Entering Ana's room was like stepping back in time. I remembered guiltily the things we'd done - or tried to do - in here. 

She was at her desk, wrapped in a blanket, on her laptop. There wasn't much light coming in through the windows, and her main lights were turned off, but her study lamp was turned on. I put her undergarments on her desk. "I still had these," I said. 

"Thanks." she took them, looked confused, and smelled them. "Did you laundry them?"

I sat down on her filing cabinet. "Obviously."

"Not obviously. You didn't have to do that."

"Lake water is pretty nasty. I didn't want all that bacteria... festering."

She threw the undergarments onto her bed. There were a few seconds which passed. I could tell we were both mustering the courage to say what we wanted to say next.

"You know..." she began, "I've been thinking about what you said to me, that night. The night of the Valentine's dinner."

"Right."