quite an unexpected display of athleticism and Michael was impressed. Not as impressed as he was with Ronan’s skill in the pool, but he had already spent the morning dreaming about Ronan’s aquatic prowess, so nothing he did in person was really that much of a surprise. Except when he pushed Nakano harshly into the net.
Immediately, Mr. Blakeley blew his whistle and yelled “foul” partly so everyone would remember who was in charge and partly to prevent the boys from upgrading their push into a scuffle. For a moment, only the water could be heard splashing into the sides of the pool as Nakano and Ronan stared at each other, no one, including them, sure of what would happen next. “Gentlemen,” Mr. Blakeley said, “shake hands.”
It was hard to tell what Nakano was truly feeling; his eyes were blurred by his goggles, but he stood as if he was ready to pounce. Head tilted slightly forward, fists clenched, his long, lean muscles seemingly on notice. In contrast, Ronan looked calm; he had regained his composure and watched Nakano, waiting for him to make a move. He looked as if he could wait all day. “I said shake hands!” Suddenly, Ronan reached out his right hand, steady and strong. Nakano now had no choice, so begrudgingly he extended his arm and the two boys shook hands. But the whole scene unsettled Michael. He did feel a surge of pride, knowing that Ronan was the first to concede, but there was also a tinge of anxiety. What caused the incident in the first place? And why did Michael have the strong suspicion that it started because of him?
It was clear that something had happened between Nakano and Ronan, but no one could agree on just what that was. Later on in the locker room while they were changing, Penry whispered to Michael that he thought Nakano hip-checked Roman to throw him off balance, you know, just for fun, and Ronan took it the wrong way. “He can be a bit brash, that one.” But Michael heard two other boys, their heads together, tying their shoes, mumble something about Nakano not knowing when to give up. What did they mean by that? And why did it make Michael feel unsettled? And why was Fritz staring at him?
“Well, Nebraska,” Fritz said, loud enough so everyone in the locker room turned around. “You didn’t suck.”
That was a relief. Maybe Fritz wouldn’t turn into a Mauro after all. “No, Howard, you didn’t. You played rather well, actually.” Michael turned to face Mr. Blakeley. Although he was several years younger than Mr. Alfano, he wasn’t as worked out. Physically, he looked more like a proponent of yoga than of weight lifting. However, their eyes shared the same kindness, the same desire to see their students succeed in and out of the classroom. “You swim as well as you play water polo?”
Hmmm. “Well, since this is the first time I’ve ever played water polo,” Michael said, feeling more confident with every syllable, “I’d have to say my swimming has got to be much better.”
“Let’s put it to the test. Swim team tryouts are Saturday morning,” Mr. Blakeley advised. “Be there.”
Really? Michael thought. A teacher was suggesting that he join a sport. How else was his life going to change? It’s only going to continue to change if I let it, Michael thought, so he decided to do something impulsive for the first time in his life. “Okay, I’ll be there.”
“I think Blakeley wants you to try out just so he can see you in your Speedo again.” Michael blushed before he turned around. He couldn’t believe Ronan had just said that. “It was quite a sight.”
Michael opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t form one word. He glanced around him to see if anyone else had heard Ronan, and while it looked like they hadn’t, he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. “You’re quite a sight yourself,” he mumbled.
“What did you say, Michael?” Ronan teased. “I didn’t quite catch that.”
Now Michael laughed, and it felt so good. “If you’re having trouble hearing me, Irishman, I suggest you clean the potatoes out of your ears.”
Ronan’s mouth dropped and Michael thought for a moment that he had insulted him. He knew the Irish were sensitive about their culture and perhaps he shouldn’t joke about it. But then a roar of laughter burst out of Ronan that surprised Michael. What surprised him more was when Ronan reached out and clasped him on the shoulder. Michael discovered in that moment that an unnecessary touch is just as exciting as an unexpected one. Unnecessary or unexpected, both aroused suspicion.
“Looks like Ronan’s made himself a new friend,” Fritz observed.
This wasn’t news to Nakano and he had to control every muscle in his body not to lash out at Fritz for stating the obvious. “Looks like you’ll need a new date for the festival.” Nakano ignored Fritz’s comment and even the boy entirely and stared at Michael and Ronan. It was a good thing that Nakano had replaced his goggles with dark-tinted glasses because one look into his black eyes and his secret would be revealed. He was consumed with a white-hot rage.
The second-largest building on campus was St. Martha’s, where all the students had their meals. It was cavernous and consisted mainly of one extremely large dining hall filled with rows of long rectangular tables, each lined with ten chairs apiece. The chairs were upscale folding chairs, cushioned, and made of heavy-duty plastic in a silver color designed to look like metal. They were modern utilitarian and completely out of place with most of the decor in the rest of the school, but they were efficient since their sole purpose was to temporarily house hundreds of hungry boys.
Michael sat across from Ronan, but the distance between them would have been less if Michael were sitting back at the lunchroom in Two W. On the way from gym to lunch, something else happened between Nakano and Ronan, something else that Michael didn’t fully understand but was determined to figure out.
While Penry informed Michael that he and his girlfriend, Imogene, had just this morning decided to date each other exclusively, Nakano and Ronan fell to the back of the crowd. With one ear listening to Penry gush about how Imogene was his first real girlfriend and how she thought she needed to lose five more pounds, but how Penry thought she was perfect just the way she was, Michael used his other ear to try and pick up Nakano and Ronan’s conversation. Unfortunately, he could only pick up a word or two. Never, forget it, don’t interfere. Fortunately, between those words and the stern tone of Ronan’s voice, he knew the conversation was not a pleasant one. By the grave expression Ronan now wore on his face, Michael was convinced it could definitely be categorized as unpleasant.
“Your eyes bothering you again, Nakano?” Penry asked. Nakano’s sunglasses reminded Michael of the ones his driver wore and he wondered if they were considered trendy here in England. “Chlorine turns my eyes red,” Nakano said. “I keep forgetting to take my contacts out.”
Penry regaled them with a story about how Imogene had to be rushed to the emergency room once because she couldn’t see out of her left eye after wearing her contacts for a whole week. She was fine now and there was no permanent damage.
“Are you sure about that?” Nakano asked, fiddling with his mashed potatoes.
“Oh yes,” Penry confirmed. “Right as rain.”
“Then if she can see, why the hell is she still with you?” A few of the guys at the table laughed, including Penry. It was kind of funny, but Nakano’s face remained serious. Michael got the distinct impression that he hadn’t been trying to make a joke; he was just being mean-spirited. Fritz might be obnoxious and loud, but Nakano appeared to have a bit of a nasty edge to him. Maybe that’s why Ronan pushed him; maybe he said something spiteful about me, Michael thought. Ronan could have been defending him. But if Nakano did say something against him, something that made Ronan respond physically, why was he sitting next to him now? Granted they weren’t having a friendly conversation, but they weren’t arguing and they weren’t completely ignoring each other either.
“You trying out for water polo on Saturday?” Nakano asked. Although he looked straight ahead, it was clear that his comment was directed to the person to his right.
“I’m the captain,” Ronan said.
“Was,” Nakano corrected, raking his fork through a pile of creamed spinach.
Ronan stared at his food. “And will be again,” he seethed. He got up so suddenly, everyone at the table was startled, even Ronan himself. He didn’t move, he didn’t look at anyone. It was as if his action took even him by surprise and he didn’t know how to follow it up. He pressed his left index finger into the table so hard that the white flesh turned deep red, and then mumbled to no one in particular, “Excuse me.”
Helpless, Michael watched Ronan walk away from the table, from him, and down the aisle. He felt all the energy in his body will him to get up, to go after Ronan, but he stayed in his seat. Something within him told him not now, he needs to be alone. Nakano’s inner voice was telling him something completely different. “Guess I have to make things right with my mate,” he announced.
As he got up, Nakano looked directly at Michael, his sunglasses slipping down just a bit on his nose. Michael
