“Shut the fuck up, Cho. You know you’re going on this little boat ride, too,” said Gerald. His voice had taken on the teasing aggressiveness that he affected in public. “’Sides, it’s like Rashid here said—we could use a little color up in here.”

Sean laughed. “Don’t I know it? To tell the truth, I was a little surprised Fox asked me along for the ride.” He looked suddenly embarrassed, his smile fading. “I mean, there’s a lot more guys like me here than guys like you.”

Rashid looked at him evenly. “Well, in the city, the best schools are half Asian as it is. I guess Fox didn’t want to pass that up, either.”

The boys were briefly silent. Then Sean spoke. “I didn’t run into you guys to get all heavy, actually. I wanted to invite you for a little nature walk.” He waggled his eyebrows. “If you’re free this period.”

Rashid felt the knot in his stomach loosen. “I could definitely use a nature walk. Let’s go.”

Gerald shot a surprised look at Rashid but nodded after a moment. “Cool, I got this period free, too.” The boys returned to their lockers, got their coats, and pushed through the school’s front doors at the same time. They teased and joked as they walked into the dense woods surrounding the tennis courts. The air was tense with cold, sharp and glassy, and as they walked away from the school, gradually the only sounds to be heard were their heavy hiking boots breaching the light crust of snow and ice on the ground and their voices bouncing through the air. Their breath puffed before them. After a while, they came to a small clearing, not far from the barn, that was littered with cigarette butts and the tag ends of joints. A few large rocks were arranged into a rough circle of seats. Sean dug around in his overstuffed backpack for a while and finally produced the small, soft bag of pot. He rolled a joint, quickly and expertly, picking the seeds out carefully. He held it up for brief admiration when he was done and then said, “Nature. Nothing quite like it.” Gerald and Rashid both laughed as he lit up, took a hit, and passed the joint to Rashid.

After the first couple of hits, Rashid’s head started to feel light and full of air. Latin class seemed very far away and the test in his backpack—the one that just a few minutes ago seemed as though it would burn right through to his skin—no longer even bothered him particularly. The dusting of snow on the ground took on a delicate glow. He felt as though he could see each flake if he only looked carefully enough. It had been a long time since he’d smoked—he’d done it only a couple of times back home and hadn’t done it at all at Chelsea—but the feeling of warmth swaddled him like a blanket from his childhood. Everything that had been so difficult began to shift and slip easily away, the edges softening and blurring. His friends looked particularly kind and beautiful to him. They talked for a while of many things in a circular, laughing way—football, music, girls, reading, music, girls. After a little while, Gerald and Sean were laughing about some girl who had been at the last dance they had had with Langton Day, the one where Washington hit the dance floor. “Yo, did you see that girl? That one, what’s her name, Sheila Jackson? You couldn’t miss her. She was like the best-looking honey in the place,” said Gerald.