“Apparently a deal came through,” Ben said, and smiled as well. After a moment Markson raised his eyebrows to invite him to continue, but Ben just said, “How was your break?”

“Ah, good,” said Markson, the light in his face turning inward. “I was in New York.”

Ben was relieved for this something-else to talk about. “Is that where you’re from?”

“No, I’m—I’m actually seeing someone there.”

Ben looked again: this was what new love looked like in Markson’s face.

“So, ah, we obviously, we don’t get a ton of time to see each other, so it was great. It was great to have some time there.”

“That’s great,” said Ben, and they smiled.

“I’m happy the tuition thing worked out. I was worried for you.”

Ben forced a smile, but there were no other words he could bring to his mouth.

After another minute of quiet they waved and parted ways—Markson to the Schoolhouse and Ben to the Math Building.

Ben saw Rory coming down the adjacent path, and expected him to walk right past as usual, but he came right for Ben with defiance in his face.

“We got someone else.”

“What?”

“Price recruited someone new, a British kid, Gray Dalton. You were good for here, dude, but this kid is good in England.”

Rory seemed to expect him to crumble at hearing this, but instead Ben shrugged. “I’m not playing squash. I don’t care, man.”

“Bullshit. I know you. When you see him play it’s going to kill you.”

“I guess I just won’t watch him play, then.”

As he walked away, Ben tried to sense the whole campus again to see if he could feel this other player, and then he caught himself.

*  *  *

Ahmed still wore the Marlboro Racing hat whenever he wasn’t wearing the Russian earflap hat, and Ben resigned himself to the idea that Marlboro Racing was now lost. To the benefit of other boys, etc., etc.