Ben finally saw Gray across the common room; it had to be him. He was tall, like a long brushstroke, with close-cut black curly hair and a maybe-I’m-putting-you-on smile. Gray had several people around him, maybe excited about an English accent, but Ben didn’t need to care.

Hutch kept talking about Ahmed. “St. James is in decline. The administration is trying to, like, mass-market the school, make sure it’s safe for new money to send their kids here for the stamp of approval.”

Ben stayed quiet, hoping it would just dissolve away, but then Evan squinted and said, “Yeah, but what can we do? I mean, if the upper-formers are willing to have things go to shit, how can we do anything about it?”

“Desperate times, man. We have to lead the charge. We have to make it clear that not only can’t you act that way, but the rest of the school in good conscience can’t let it stand. Once we remind upper-formers how it’s supposed to work, they’ll take up the flag.”

“All right,” said Evan. “So what are we going to do?”

Hutch turned to Ben. “What do you think, man? What would work on him?”

Ben wished he could close his eyes and have them forget he was there. “He already feels really bad about it. He told me he wished nothing had happened to Ennis. Yes, it sucks, but it’s on the administration.”

“But see, that’s especially not good enough. Even if the administration doesn’t understand, everyone else has to understand that if you cross authority, you’ll regret it. That’s our responsibility to maintain. My dad would be appalled if he knew shit like this was going on. And people just forgetting so quickly.”

And most people did in fact seem to have forgotten what the problem with Ahmed was supposed to be, and more than a few started to think of him as a funny curiosity. But a core number of guys still turned their shoulders from him when they passed him on the path. Ahmed seemed to be reaching for his old buoyancy, and he joined the robotics team.

In their room, imagining Hutch just outside in the hallway, Ben again started to give Ahmed a little more guidance. Maybe cuff links weren’t always the best idea. Maybe it was time to replace the Coach leather satchel with a JanSport zip-up backpack. Before, Ben would just wince as Ahmed stood in front of the hot lunch options for a minute and a half, inquiring politely whether each one contained any pork while the server and the students in line behind him seethed, but now he tried to take Ahmed aside and explain why people might object. He began to sit with Ahmed at lunch if he could be reasonably sure they wouldn’t be seen, working bits of slang into the conversation.