What happened. It was eight on a sultry July evening, after dinner. Kofi and Rashid were sitting in their airless living room, silent under the fan’s useless whir. Neither boy moved more than necessary, just turned the pages of the books they were reading—trying to read. After a while, Kofi spoke. “Man, it’s too hot. I’ma run down to the corner and get a Coke or something. You wanna come?”

“No.” Rashid didn’t feel like moving.

“Well, I can’t sit here anymore. You want anything?”

“Naw. I’m all right, I guess.”

Kofi yelled to their mother that he was going to run to the corner, that he would be right back. She cautioned him not to stop anywhere and asked him to pick up some milk. He left. That was the end. The next time Rashid saw Kofi, he was on his back in a pool of blood. His mother’s screams could be heard for half a block. Rashid hadn’t even looked at him as he’d walked out the door. Why should he have? He was coming right back.

Gerald listened as Rashid talked. He didn’t interrupt. He asked no questions. He sat without seeming to breathe. When Rashid was done, he did something he’d never done before. He got up and walked over to Rashid’s bed, sat on it, and put his arm around his friend. They sat like that for a long time, while tears streamed down Rashid’s face. The room was very quiet.

“You could have told me sooner, man,” Gerald said after a while.

“No, I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell anybody.”

Gerald nodded. “Well, what happened? Why you telling me now?”

“That thing that we had to write for English class. That essay that Hendrickson wrote. I felt like the top of my head was going to come off. Ms. Hansen asked me to write something and I wrote about Kofi. Now I just wish I could get it back. Fuck. Then somehow Washington found out. I don’t know, maybe she told him or something. You know how teachers are. Or maybe Fox told him. Anyway, that’s what he wanted to talk to me about.” He brushed fiercely at his eyes. “And he was so weird, man. Telling me to be like some kind of damn Roman and that I was lucky to have this chance, I shouldn’t blow it. And he kept rubbing my shoulder. The guy’s a freak, man. You know what I’m sayin’?”

Gerald was silent for a long time before he spoke. “Washington didn’t try anything faggy, did he?”