Chapter 11

The Next Morning

Larry came out of the shower wrapped in a towel, blow-drying his hair. Ignoring my resolve to avoid referring to the charade unnecessarily, I said, “Zeke, ummm ... your hair’s not going to stay like that for a month.”

Larry set down the hair dryer and unplugged it, brushing his hair into the way he wanted it. “I’m on it, Amy. The salon is going to re-do it every couple of weeks, including the night before we go to Stephanie’s. So twice, I guess, unless Stephanie takes longer to get ready than she thinks.” He grinned. “Don’t worry. There won’t be any blonde roots showing.”

He unwound the towel and rubbed it against a remaining damp spot on his shoulder, then tossed it into the bathroom to land on the hamper. Apparently he felt comfortable now being naked with Grant and me, despite his unfinished skin. He pulled some clean underwear out of the drawer he was borrowing in my dresser, and slipped on a clean shirt and shorts. He looked on the floor and frowned. “Where’s the jogging suit?”

Grant waved a fistful of rolled up cloth. “I went down and traded it for a fresh one while you were in the shower.” Grant smiled. “I know you like baby blue.” He handed the outfit over. I grinned. That was one of Zeke’s preferences, not Larry’s, gleaned from voluminous reading.

It didn’t look like anything was missing on Larry’s neck, though I had never seen Larry without his slave collar, at least not when he was dressed, and rarely when he wasn’t. Looking at Larry, I had such a strong feeling of Zeke’s presence that it seemed right for his neck to be bare. During the coming month, wearing a collar, even one as subtle as the choker all the Third Years and Grads wore, would clash with Larry’s Zeke self-image, and the Dean had given permission for him to forego the universal requirement for slaves. It wouldn’t cause any trouble in the confines of the Academy’s secured student area. And it should help the other boys treat him as Zeke.

Now fully clothed, Larry leaned toward the mirror, and brushed his hair for a moment. He shrugged, took a deep breath, and sighed it out with a smile. “I guess I’m ready.” He gave me a look of complete innocence as he said, “You’ll need to show me the way.”

I blinked and nodded. He’s not going to give up until he’s got me totally convinced he’s Zeke. I opened the door and let Grant go out first. “The caf’s not too far. One of the privileges of being a Third Year is we’re closer to pretty much everything.” There, you’re not going to out-act me, dammit.

There were a couple of open doors in the hallway before we reached the turn, and we heard a gasp come from one of the rooms, followed by a loudly whispered “Zeke Hillcrest!” Grant and I kept going, with Larry a half-step behind, and nearly ran into Lucas coming the other direction. Lucas stopped dead and goggled, and suddenly blurted, “Z... —Mister Hillcrest! Are you ... wow!”

Larry stopped and smiled at him. “Hi. You must be one of the Third Years. The color.” He looked Lucas up and down, as if taking in his uniform.

Still wide-eyed, Lucas held out his hand. “Lucas Ward. Mister Hillcrest, I just loved you in ‘The Charmer.’ I knew you’d end up with Tomasina in the end.”

Larry shook hands with him. “Thank you. I had fun in that movie. Please, call me Zeke.”

Lucas smiled uncertainly, and echoed, “Zeke.” He seemed half dumbstruck. “I ... Oh, don’t let me keep you from wherever you’re going.” He waved Grant on. “I just need to talk to Amy for just a second.”

Grant took a few steps further down the corridor, and Larry followed, walking backward for a moment. “Nice meeting you, Lucas. Good luck with your hanging.”

Lucas nodded his head up and down rapidly. “Thank you.” He watched for a moment after Larry turned to follow Grant, then turned to face me. Making sure the others were out of earshot, he whispered frantically, “I know Larry’s supposed to look like Zeke, but ... I mean, is that him, or did the real Zeke just show up here for some reason?”

I choked back a wild laugh by jamming my forearm into my mouth, and turned to lean against the wall, my shoulders shaking helplessly. When I gained control again, I looked back around at Lucas, coughed, and finally whispered back, “He’s good, isn’t he?”

Lucas clenched his fists in frustration. “Just tell me if that’s Larry or not!”

I felt the laughter ready to burst out of me again. “I swear that’s Larry.” I took a deep breath. “Come on, how likely is it Zeke Hillcrest would really be here? And in the secured area, no less?”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “I know that! But he just...” He gestured, unable to find words.

I nodded. “Doesn’t he just?”

Lucas shook his head. “I feel like an idiot.”

I shook my head vehemently. “No! I know exactly how you felt, really. And you acted just the way we’re all supposed to. As long as he’s here, he wants to be treated exactly like you’d treat Zeke.”

Lucas looked down the corridor toward the cafeteria door through which Larry and Grant had just disappeared. “No problem. I don’t know what I was expecting, but ... I mean, he makes me feel like I’m talking to Zeke.”

I gave him a quick hug. “Well, that’s perfect, then. See you later.” I turned and trotted down to the caf, leaving Lucas still shaking his head.

I walked into the cafeteria and got the impression of a gaily-colored room-sized flower; the students in their various uniforms formed concentric circles around Larry. Those in the innermost circle were speaking with him. Several students stood fidgeting a little farther away, looking as if they wanted to approach, but couldn’t quite bring themselves to come any closer. Farther still, more students looked on in wide-eyed wonder, frozen into immobility.

I wove my way through the circles, getting close in time to hear Carla ask hesitantly, “So ... Are you making a movie here?”

Larry looked around at the other students as he spoke, as if understanding they were all wondering the same thing. “I don’t think the filming will actually be done here. I believe they’re building a set that will look something like this. But I want to get familiar with what Noosemeister life is like. You don’t need to let me in on any big secrets, because it won’t really be about that. More of a day-to-day life at the Academy kind of thing...”

Wendi broke in. “Will they need any real Noosemeisters as, like, extras?” Several students around her broke into giggles, one of them saying “Here’s your big chance, Wendi.”

Larry laughed with them. “I’m sorry, that’s not really up to me. Oh, sure,” he said to Cyrus, a First Year, and took the pen and paper Cyrus had thrust toward him. “What’s your name?” As if he hadn’t spent a month as Cyrus’s dorm parent. Moments later, he handed the paper back, and Cyrus laughed out loud as he read it.

I managed to read the note over Cyrus’s shoulder: “Cyrus—Thanks for hanging out with me. Zeke Hillcrest.” Larry had signed it with a flourish, making the dot over the i a tiny heart.

I took advantage of the brief lull in conversation. “Can I get you some breakfast, Zeke?”

Larry looked up at me. “Would you get me a fruit salad and a glass of grapefruit juice? Thanks.” He looked away immediately, as if accustomed to having his orders followed.

I smiled and turned toward the serving line, trying to keep from shaking my head. It was nothing like Larry’s usual preference for breakfast.

Morris, one of the Second Years, fell into step beside me, and whispered out of the side of his mouth, “So is that...?”

I was going to get a lot more of this. I wondered whether I’d have to confirm it to every student individually. “Yes, it’s Larry. Remember to keep acting as if I just told you the exact opposite.” I reached for a tray.

“I promise. It’s just...” He looked back again toward Larry. “ ... really spooky.”

I laughed. “Tell me about it.”

Morris drifted back toward the middle circle around Larry, as I began picking out some food for Larry, Grant, and myself.

I tried to stifle the spasm that went through my body when a voice at my elbow suddenly said excitedly, “Hi, Amy!”

I was glad the tray had been resting on the counter at the time, or it would be on the floor now. I felt the hand briefly on my elbow. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!”

I had no idea why my heart was pounding so hard. Melissa and I had arrived at sort of a distant-friends understanding in recent weeks, and the discomfort at Melissa’s presence had receded to manageable levels. Until now. I put on my friendliest smile, proud that I’d managed to keep the tremor out of my voice. “Hi, Melissa. You look happy.”

Melissa’s whole face was glowing, making her look more like Miranda than ever. “I just got my report card. I’m up to number six in the class! I was number nine for the first grading period...” I nodded. “ ... and I really did feel like I was doing better this time.” Melissa laughed. “I guess I won’t be ‘guest of honor’ at our first party, this week.”

“Melissa, I’m sure you’re not going to be ‘guest of honor’ at any of the parties or demos.”

Melissa bubbled, “I’m so excited about the party. I want to meet some outsiders so they can see me as a Noosemeister! Will you be doing one of your shows?”

I shook my head. “The Dean gave us a little time off from that. We’ll be pretty busy with Larry.”

Melissa’s glow diminished only slightly, a look of disappointment passing through it like a momentary cloud across the sun. “I’ve heard so much about your shows from the older students. I want so much to see you do that!” As an afterthought, she added, “And Grant.”

I smiled. “You will before long.” I changed the subject. “How’s Jana doing? She must have got her report card too.”

“Uh-huh. She’s seventeenth. She’s a little disappointed, but that’s in the top third. I’ve been helping her. I was going to ask, could I come by your room later? After dinner, maybe? Like I said, my overall grades are good, but my hanging grade is down. I’m almost up to five minutes now, but most of the students are passing me up. Maybe you could see something I’m doing wrong?” Melissa bit her lip, her eyes looking hopeful.

I had watched Melissa practice many times, but suddenly found myself looking for any excuse to avoid that sort of contact now. I always saw Miranda superimposed over Melissa whenever I watched her hanging—seeing Melissa naked reminded me that her resemblance to Miranda didn’t stop with her face—but I’d thought I was coming to terms with that. I suddenly remembered I actually had an excuse. “I’m sorry, Larry’s getting some cosmetic surgical work tonight. I promised I’d stay with him for that. And that’s going to occupy the next few evenings. But I’ll try to get with you soon, okay?”

The cloud over Melissa’s face was darker this time. She nodded. “Okay. I’ve gotta run, but I’ll talk to you later.” She took off and dashed out of the caf, not even glancing at the man who absorbed the attention of everyone else in the room. I looked back toward Larry, and saw Grant watching Melissa, saw Grant suddenly blink as the she ran past. I suspected Grant must be as surprised as me that Melissa had completely ignored Larry.

Minutes later I came back to the table with a tray full of food, took a seat and passed a fruit salad bowl and drink cup over to Larry, who absently said “Thanks” and resumed signing autographs and chatting with his “fans” about his most recent movie. Grant, scooping up a forkful of scrambled eggs, gestured with his head back toward the serving line. “What was that about?”

I looked back at the serving line, and then realized what Grant was referring to. “Oh, with Melissa? She was excited about her report card. She’s doing really well.”

“Did she want something?”

Even after years of living surrounded by boys who all had that skill of reading people, I was a little surprised. “Just to come by later for some practice. I told her we’d be with Larry in the evenings for a few days.”

Grant looked at me a bit longer, then nodded. I wondered if I’d missed something, then shrugged and turned my attention to my food. I heard Larry saying, “ ... it’s funny, he’s really such a sweetheart normally, but his character was such an asshole, and he wouldn’t come out of character even during breaks in filming. So he’d be a total asshole to the sandwich boy when we’d stop for lunch. I think he apologized to him later.”

Grant tapped my elbow. “Can you take care of our guest on your own a while? I want to get to the library.” He’d already wolfed down his food.

Something in the way Grant said that struck me as odd. Wherever he’s going, I don’t think it’s the library. I shrugged mentally. Whatever it is, he’ll let me know soon. Probably setting up some surprise for Larry. I leaned over to kiss Grant and said, “Sure. See you in awhile.”

I winced as Larry convulsively squeezed my hand again. Larry was on his back on the padded table, with Dr. Perrin sitting on the opposite side, bent over in close concentration, his tattooing pen hopping slowly from point to point on Larry’s nose. Larry’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and he was hissing through clenched teeth.