THE FIRST EVENING BACK, WRESTLING HAD A THREE-HOUR practice. Simon was there and trying to act as though nothing was different. Ben was relieved that he hadn’t been kicked out for a thing that Ben was partially responsible for. They did all the same drills and everyone said the same things, but Weber had lost faith in them after the Dragon, and making eye contact still seemed too hard to manage.

Ben was amazed at how glad he was to see Ahmed again back in the room. His hair was neatly trimmed and parted, and it was shocking that it looked intentional again. For a short moment each of them looked hard at the other one to see if their arrangement was there behind the eyes. Instead of hugging they traded a handshake and then Ahmed asked him how his break had been. There was something more careful about Ahmed; his smile was more subdued and his voice quieter. Ben saw this new quiet even when Ahmed was turned away, occupied with his shoe trees or three-ring binder.

Ben imagined the conversation Ahmed had had with his father; maybe it hadn’t even come up between them after that first arrangement. Or maybe it had blown apart how they imagined the Underhills of the world to be. Would Underhill ever let himself be so vulnerable? Or could Underhills always expect this kind of service from those around them?

Ben expected to feel relieved as he walked around campus. Money was settled and he could finally get back to the things he should have been attending to the whole time: girls, excelling, the right path. But at dinner the first night the group around Hutch seemed suddenly cemented with Ben outside: disposable camera pictures had come back of them getting wet in Kyle’s room a week before break, and all of them had several nicknames for the others, each a differing degree of insult. But they just called Ben “Ben” or “Weeksy.”

There in the dining hall he sat with them and laughed, and wondered when they would find out that Ahmed was paying his way. He remembered the whiskey he had brought back, and wished he could put it right out on the dining hall table. Hutch looked at Ben and said, “I spent all break hoping Ahmed’s dad would withdraw him. Fuck.”

The next morning as all the students streamed out of Chapel through the grit on the path, someone arrived at Ben’s shoulder. In the sun off the snow after the chapel’s darkness, Ben had to stare for a moment before he realized that it was Markson, who was now leaning into him gently and then away.

“I know I should probably keep my mouth shut, but I had to check with the Bursar.” He smiled. “You must be so relieved! What did your parents say?”