the entire college, later the science building, now closed off except for the first floor. The labs themselves, lining the hall, had thick wooden doors with windows in them, and he’d peered through them all in the first weeks of the semester.
“Here,” he said at the end of the hall, and one of the girls banged the door open. The fish was no longer wriggling in his hands, not moving at all; it was coated in some sort of invisible slime, but Nat could feel the rough scales underneath. He went straight to the dozen numbered tanks on the counter at the back wall, began lowering the fish into the nearest one.
“He can’t be with other fish,” said one of the girls; the darker-haired one.
“He can’t be with other fish?”
“Not ones he doesn’t know. They might hurt him.”
Nat glanced in the tank, saw three brown fish, half the size of the gaudy one, checked the other tanks, all occupied. “Is that something scientific, or just a feeling?”
“Blah, blah, blah,” said the lighter-haired girl, Grace. She leaned over the aquarium, scooped out the three brown fish with her hand, flipped them into the next tank. “Dump him in,” she said to Nat. He had never seen eyes like hers in his life.
“Not so fast,” said the darker-haired girl, dipping her finger in the water, tasting. She nodded to him, finger still between her lips. Nat saw eyes unlike any he had ever seen until moments ago. The fish slipped from his hands, fell into the tank.
“For God’s sake,” said Grace.
“Sorry.”
“He’s sensitive, that’s all,” said the darker-haired one.
The fish sank down in the water, floated there, but upside down.
“Swim,” said the darker-haired one.
But the fish just hung upside-down in the tank. Grace reached in, turned him over, swam him vigorously back and forth.
“You’re hurting him,” said the darker-haired girl.
“Zip it, Izzie,” said Grace.
Izzie bit her lip. Grace gave the fish a big push and let go. He drifted forward for a moment, listed to one side, almost capsized. Then one indigo fin began making tentative fanning movements, the blue-and-gold tail flicked to one side, back again, and the fish stabilized itself and swam with increasing strength to the middle of the tank, sending a hazy jet of fecal matter to the bottom.
“You stud, Lorenzo,” said Grace.
“The Magnificent,” Nat said.
They both turned to him, their eyes somewhat similar in color to Lorenzo’s, but toned down.
“How did you know that?” said Izzie.
“It fits.”
“I meant how do you know about Lorenzo the Magnificent?”
Nat shrugged; it was just one of those things he knew. Their eyes narrowed on him. “What’s your name?” They spoke together, didn’t appear to notice the overlap.
Nat told them.
“Well, Nat,” said Grace. “I guess we-”
“Thanks,” said Izzie.
“Yeah,” said Grace. “Thanks.”
“He means a lot to us,” said Izzie. “We caught him.”
“You caught him?”
“Grace did,” Izzie said.
“But Izzie kept the sharks at bay.”
“The sharks?”
“With her bangstick.”
“You’re making this up,” said Nat.
“Why do you say that?” said Grace. “Sharks are wicked off Bora Bora, common knowledge.”
“But thanks, is the point,” said Izzie.
“Right,” said Grace. “You saved the goddamn day.” She reached into the pocket of her jeans, pulled out a wad of bills, removed some without counting or even looking, held them out.
“What’s this?” said Nat. He felt his face reddening.
Grace turned to Izzie. “Not enough?” she said in a stage whisper.
Her eyes on Nat, Izzie said: “I think we’ve made a-”
“-mistake?” said Grace. She turned to Nat. “You’re not maintenance or something?”
“I’m a student, actually.” That sounded so stiff, but was how he felt.
“Yikes. What year?”
“Freshman.”
“Oh, God,” said Izzie. “We almost tipped a classmate.”
“Not PC,” said Grace; and then to Nat: “Well, do you want it?”
They all laughed, Nat as hard as the girls, although he was aware of, and despising, the little part of him that did want the money. He reddened some more. Izzie stopped laughing; then Grace.
“Sorry,” Grace said, putting the money back in her pocket.
“Very,” said Izzie.
“Hey,” said Nat.
An awkward moment. Their gazes all went to Lorenzo, the path of least resistance. He fluttered his fins.
“Will anyone mind if we borrow this one little tank?” Izzie said. “We’ve got to get Lorenzo home for Christmas.”
“I guess not,” said Nat, turning to the adjacent tank in time to see the remains of the three brown fish spiraling slowly to the bottom, milky gobbets trailing black nerves and threads of blood. A single pink fish, smaller than what any of the brown ones had been in life, was swimming lazily around the tank. There was a silence.
“Maybe we should leave a note,” Nat said.
“Saying what?” said Grace.
Izzie patted his arm. Her hand felt neither warm nor cool, meaning they were at exactly the same temperature, a thought he probably would have had nowhere else but in the bio lab. “We’ll bring back some brown ones after vacation,” she said.
Nat carried Lorenzo’s tank out of the bio lab by himself. “Sure you don’t want help?” Izzie said.
“It’s not heavy.” But it got heavier, and Nat was glad they were walking ahead of him, unaware that although he was carrying it, and would do so for as long as he had to, he wasn’t doing it with ease. Glancing down, he caught Lorenzo shitting again.
Grace and Izzie led Nat over the hill, back to the freshman quad, around to the parking lot behind Lanark. There were two cars in the lot; the nearest was one of those second-generation Volkswagen Beetles, a very cool car in Nat’s estimation, and he could easily picture them buzzing around in it. He moved toward it, but they kept going.
The second car was something Nat had seen only in movies, the kind of movies with big stars and holes in the plot. Huge and creamy-the color of farmer’s cream his mom sometimes brought back from the stand on the edge of town-with the top down, despite the cold, and inside soft red leather and dark gleaming wood.
Grace held open the rear door. Nat started to set the tank on the floor, but she said, “Seat’s okay,” and so he put it there. The leather didn’t feel like any leather he’d ever come in contact with. It was a perfect car for Lorenzo. That was what Nat thought.
But what he said was: “I thought freshmen couldn’t have cars on campus.” A dumb remark that came out all by itself.
“We don’t,” Izzie said, tearing off a length of plastic wrap and covering the tank. “We’d been home for two days before we realized we’d forgotten him.”
“You had fish for supper?” Nat said.
