“Have a seat.” Dr. Dodd gestured to one of the club chairs arranged in front of his desk. “Don’t be nervous. We’re just going to get to know each other a bit.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

Dr. Dodd asked me a short series of questions that made clear he already knew the answers. He talked about the importance of applying oneself, staying on top of things, showing up for extra help in the mornings. I was distracted—by the pictures on the walls and the windowsills, and the various other objects decorating the office; by the peculiarity of Dodd’s appearance, with his longish silver hair and glinting gold rings and dress watch; perhaps most by Mr. Haltom, whose presence remained unexplained.

I was jerked back to attention as Dr. Dodd shifted off his desk and extended his hand again.

“We know you’re going to thrive here,” Dr. Dodd said.

“I’ll do my best, sir,” I said.

Dr. Dodd pressed a button on his office phone.

“Carolyn?” he said. “We’re ready.”

A moment later, the door opened and closed. I looked up from the floor. There he was: strong jaw and broad shoulders, studiously sloppy sandy-blond hair.

“Hey, bud,” the boy said. “I’m Arch Creigh.”

Arch held out his hand for me to shake.

“I’m your big brother,” he said.

“Archer’s one of our best,” Dr. Dodd said. “You’re very fortunate.”

Dr. Dodd stood; this time, Mr. Haltom came to his feet as well.

“Well then. You boys get acquainted,” Dr. Dodd said. “Archer, take good care of Charlie, won’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Arch said.

I shook Dr. Dodd’s hand for the third time. Mr. Haltom offered his hand as well. I tried not to wince at the strength of his grip.

“We’re glad you’re here, Charlie,” he said.

“Thank you, sir,” I replied.

I followed Arch out of the office, and we descended the stairs and walked out into the quad. The air was hot and scented with ginkgo blossoms.

“So what do you think of Yeatman so far?” he asked.

“It’s great,” I said.

I didn’t want to tell the truth—that I felt frightened and woefully out of my depth.

“Wait until school starts,” he said. “You ever take Latin before?”

“No,” I said.

“It’s an absolute bitch. I think Yeatman might be the last school on earth that still requires Latin. It’s supposed to boost your SAT score, but I think they mostly hold on to it for the sake of tradition.”

I’d not yet heard of the SAT, but I nodded as if this benefit was something I’d already considered.

“That’s a big thing around here, you know,” he said. “Tradition.”

He spoke the word in a tone both mocking and sincere.