“Great. I’m fine.” My voice sounded different, too articulate.

“Haven’t seen you around at all this year,” she said.

“Haven’t seen you around at all this year,” I repeated. I felt out of breath, and the corner of my eye began to twitch.

“Almost didn’t recognize you,” she said. “I remembered you as having much curlier hair.”

I reached my hand to my head and blurted out, “Oh, I do, but I blow dried this morning.” Then, “Uh, I don’t usually, I never do, but this morning I was fooling around and, you know, I just, you know, I don’t know.” My antlers began to glisten as I confirmed that the blur I’d just seen was a gob of my spit aimed at her face. She wiped it off but kept smiling.

“See you around,” she said and moved along.

“Did you have a nice summer?” I called, but she just walked away.

The next week I spotted Jane several times and it was becoming clear that she had the hots for a new kid named Jack Rafferty. Rafferty was a P.G. student—he’d come to Cornwall after graduating from his regular high school—and had quickly become the star quarterback. He also had black Irish Kennedy looks, a quick wit, and a gift for being extremely obnoxious without being too offensive. He and Jane always seemed to be having a great time, laughing or rushing around in the midst of some exciting plans.

At one of the daily assemblies during the second week of school, Dean Mort ordered Rafferty to stand and recite the Cornwall Academy Fight Song. Jack made up words to the tune of The Star Spangled Banner. He got so wrapped up in his performance that he began motioning for everyone to march around the room with him. Nobody did, of course, but it broke everyone up.

He walked into the dining hall for dinner that evening and got a standing ovation. Rafferty was in vogue, and I felt like a Nehru shirt. So I did what I always did when faced with stiff competition. I bought pot and got creative.

The next afternoon when I spotted Jane in the hall between classes, I walked up from behind and tapped her on the shoulder. She looked a little startled but said hi.

“Howdy,” I said. “I, uh, noticed you checking me out over there.”

She blinked. “You what?”

“I noticed you checking me out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, let’s cut the games, Jane. Every time I walk out of class you’re hanging around here.”

“That’s right,” she said in exasperation, “because I happen to be getting out of the class across the hall.”

“Right, right. And I suppose you haven’t been following me around all year. What, you think I’m stupid?”

“Yeah, I do. And I also think you’re out of your frapping mind.”