His father had still sent him a box of dates—lemon, almond, plain—to mark the end of Ramadan. He was going to ask the school to set aside a place for him to pray. He couldn’t imagine praying in their room if he knew Ben could come in and discover him, or wake up and look down at him in prostration.

“What did your parents say?” Ben asked.

“My father is quite heartbroken. After all that preparation, for me to take those decisions, and be known publicly for doing that. What my father said was, ‘Would he have done this?’ He puts so much power into this stranger, this person he knows nothing about. Maybe Underhill drank with his friends here, maybe he cheated on tests. Maybe he went on and lied to his business partners, to his wife.”

Ben didn’t answer.

“It will be hard for me again after this, like after Ennis,” said Ahmed.

“Maybe,” Ben said.

“I will miss Tommy and Graham, also.” He paused. “It was nice to have friends.”

Ben couldn’t hold his gaze. Eventually he asked, “Do you not want to stay?”

“I don’t know.” Ahmed laughed briefly. “I never thought I would say that.” He looked at Ben. “Do you?”

“Well…Has Alice Morehead taken your picture?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah. I want to be here at least to see her show.”

*  *  *

Green peeked out from the blazing snow. Ben walked out along the Two-Laner in the direction of the crew boathouse, and every few steps he closed his eyes to briefly bask in the sun without stopping.

He came up to Number 40—a white two-story colonial with a garage to one side. He had run through countless scenarios of discovering what the inside of the house looked like, but as he passed a large bush that was budding in the same blush-gray as a female cardinal, he saw Manley Price there in his driveway, kneeling at a jack next to the front driver’s side of his car, a dark green Volkswagen Jetta. Ben didn’t want to wait for Price to find him this time.

Price squinted up at Ben, and Ben saw rare surprise across his face—like smelling something acrid. But then Price smiled and came stiffly to stand. The front of his blue oxford was marked with new grime and many colors of old dried paint. Ben approached and Price nodded but didn’t extend his hand to shake.

“What a surprise about your roommate,” Price said, and laughed. “But you knew all along he was safe.”

“I actually thought the school wouldn’t make an exception.” Ben expected Price to laugh again, but he seemed suddenly chastened, as though tasting the bitterness of what he had said.

“You wish they had lived up to their own standard,” Price said.

“It seems like the whole point of St. James.”