Now it occurred to Ben that he had hardly ever even been embarrassed with his dad, let alone suspicious. When he was young the two of them showered together every morning before school. Ben tried to remember any strangeness about being naked with his dad in the shower and simply could not. It had been simple. Sometimes Ben had stood under the stream of water with his head tilted forward, letting the water hit the top of his head, letting it fill his hair and then flow down and gather above his forehead and stream down. Ben would often hold an empty shampoo bottle and direct the stream of water from his forehead into the bottle, filling it with water and pouring it out and filling it with water again.

What was his father thinking as he saw his son do this strange thing? Didn’t he have to get to work? Ben remembered no sense that he was being watched, but now it seemed impossible that his father hadn’t been looking down at him, baffled that this little boy who hadn’t existed a few years before was caught in this purposeless ritual.

After one shower, as they were toweling off, Ben had asked his dad about his pubic hair.

“What do you mean?”

“How doesn’t it get in the way?”

“How?”

“Where does it go under your underpants?”

“It just stays flat.”

“Flat?”

“Yeah, you don’t feel it. It’s just under your underpants and you don’t feel it at all.”

“It’s not itchy?”

“No, you get completely used to it. It comes in a little at a time and you don’t notice it at all.”

Ben was confused, almost disappointed that this utterly foreign thing really didn’t make any difference.

“So let’s let him concentrate on that, okay?” his mother repeated on the phone.

She was surprised the school had said something to Ben; Harry said he had talked to them about more time. She wanted to be up there with Ben, to lean their bodies together in an easy hug, but she also wanted to convey enough bright, brisk indifference that he wouldn’t worry. She wanted to convey that to herself.

“How are you guys handling Kenyon?”

“He’s working on it.”

Ben stayed quiet.

“It’ll be okay, Ben.”

He didn’t say anything.

“In a year you’ll hardly remember this.”

They said I love you.

5. The Tiny Island

5. The Tiny Island

CLASSES WENT BY IN WORRY, HOURS AND HOURS OF READING, soccer practices, Seated Meals in the High Dining Room and cafeteria lunches, and even though Ahmed seemed not to have let the Jell-O incident touch his serene enthusiasm, he didn’t eat Jell-O at the Dish anymore.

Ahmed loved the rain. He loved the cool greenness. The pool construction was imminent: his father told him they were almost done with the plans.