They kissed furiously, Ben trembling. Then he stopped and stood there, a low sound in his throat. What showed was not anger but anguish, all the trouble heaped on him, this was just one thing too many. Ronny flushed with shame. “You better go,” Ben said, and he did.

The next day Ronny skipped class, stayed in his room, lay facing the wall while Lucy and Kelly moved about, Lucy asking him whether he felt all right, whether he needed anything; when they were gone the room was quiet and dim, the shade pulled, the lights out. A cloudy day, promising rain that began to fall at midmorning. He had ruined everything of course. There could be no doubt of it. Except that Ben knocked on the door about lunchtime, came inside, said, “Look. I got a B on my education midterm.” Just as if nothing had happened.

When spring practice was over, there was a public scrimmage, the Blue-White game, and Ronny went to watch Ben play. Ben’s family had come up as well. There was never much of a crowd for the spring game, and the players lingered among their friends and the members of their families, helmets in hand. Ben introduced Ronny to his parents. “This is the guy who keeps me on track,” he said, telling his mother about his grades, standing beside her with his arm around her. Mrs. Nickelsen was tall and thin, a bit stooped, holding her purse in both hands. You could see she was struggling to stand at moments, and her husband had hold of her arm.

She said, “I’m so glad to meet you, son. I never would have believed anybody could have got Ben to settle down to his schoolwork so regular.”

“He’s really doing it himself, ma’am.”

“I know that’s not so because he tells me.”

Mr. Nickelsen pulled off his felt hat and scratched at his ears. His nose was red and he smelled of beer, just a bit, and appeared content to stand next to his wife and say nothing other than the occasional monosyllable. He was mostly watching her, as if she were dissolving.

There was a girl standing near Ben, Jennifer somebody, pretty and graceful, and he introduced her to his mother, too. His girlfriend. They had just met. She was composed and tall and wore a modest skirt and carried a clutch. She smiled at Ben’s mom and they chatted. Ronny let go inside, just a bit, and said how nice it was to meet everybody, and Mrs. Nickelsen said something to him, but he didn’t hear it. Walking away toward Ehringhaus.

Almost April by then. You could not be an English major without hearing, every year, that April was the cruelest month.

Jennifer was something different. She was disciplined, demanding, someone Ronny could have liked, in other circumstances. She brought her books to Ben’s room and studied with him herself. In the study lounge, she took up the space between Ben and Ronny on the couch. They took many meals together, Ben and she. They walked hand in hand along the balcony toward his room. He was on good behavior with her, at first. The other side also came out to play. Ben was one of the people who threw the vending machine off the sixth floor; he set fire to his own shirt in the parking lot of a bar, came home with it scorched at the hem; he went to a frat party and helped move a Beetle out of the parking lot into a rose bed. He ate glass and threw up blood. Ronny heard the stories from Otis and Tate. A variant of spring fever, maybe.