He began to behave nicely toward Gideon. He would walk with him to and from class (it was no longer a stigma to be seen with “that Stone boy”), and they spoke of Star Trek and science fiction and horror novels. Just being around this seemingly new person made Horace glad. It was as if he had met someone entirely different. Where was the sin? he thought. Each night he would resign himself to tell Gideon he loved him. And each morning when he looked into those brown eyes and saw those strong teeth, he would become afraid, afraid of what he would say, afraid of what it meant. Afraid that Gideon would laugh at him and tell everyone and make a fool of him. It was then that he would realize that he was different and vulnerable and that the simple joy of being in love and expressing it with straightforward passion was denied him, and he would retreat into an indigo funk, to be rescued only by the thought of Gideon’s remarkable presence. The little things—Gideon’s laugh, Gideon’s smile, the way Gideon would phrase a word, the way he would cup his chin when he was pensive . . .

But Gideon gave no indication that he too was infatuated. He seemed so self-contained, almost aloof, which was something that often infuriated Horace. Gideon didn’t appear to need anyone or anything, just his music, his books. He had been taunted and excluded for so long that he had built a world of his own within himself. Other people simply did not matter to him. His new-found popularity, this sudden attention he was getting, made him even more withdrawn. But Horace was an exception: He was fond of Horace, and this made Horace bold and hopeful.

Horace wrote a letter. Actually he wrote about twenty-three letters. By writing and destroying and putting away for a while and starting over from scratch, thinking, No, I can’t say that, I won’t say love, I’ll say . . . like strongly? really like? love? he finally finished and stuck it into Gideon’s locker. It consisted of three paragraphs:

First it swore Gideon to secrecy, and explained how much nerve it had taken him to actually write down what he was about to say and then to deliver the epistle, and exactly what he had to lose in reputation and peace of mind if such information as he was about to disclose ever got into the wrong hands.

Second, he said that Gideon was the first and at present the only person he had loved (yes, loved) and he was both confused and happy and frightened.

And third, he admonished Gideon to respond in some fashion, soon, once again reminding him that his reputation, his very life rested on Gideon’s goodness.