The Education of Bet by Lauren Baratz-Logsted Page A

know what to do half the time."
    "What does that mean?" I demanded.
    "Back there." He indicated Marchand Hall. "You were about to accept Hamish's invitation, weren't you?"
    "Well, y-yes," I stammered. "I thought perhaps he wanted to start fresh."
    "Start fresh?" He laughed. "People like Hamish and Johnny don't
start fresh.
You do realize, don't you, that they are bullies?"
    I must confess that, while I'd recognized them as being somewhat cruel, I hadn't thought about them as actual bullies. Bullies were the sort of thing I'd only read about.
    "Are you scared of MacPherson?" I asked. It seemed a sensible enough question to me. Already, based on personal observation and experience, not to mention what James had just said, I was scared of MacPherson.
    "Don't be daft." James laughed. "But only a fool seeks out trouble if he can possibly avoid it."
    "And how should one behave around here if one wishes to avoid trouble?" I asked. Seeing the skeptical look on his face, I hastened to add, "I only ask in case it's different here than at the four other schools I've been to. My uncle will murder me if I get sent down again."
    "The usual." He shrugged. "Don't talk about home, or you'll be made fun of for being homesick. Answer questions straightforwardly, hold your head up, and you'll get on."
    "Sounds easy enough." I sighed my relief.
    "Oh, and one other thing."
    "Hmm?"
    "Be sure there's nothing odd about you."
    ***
    Back in our room, we passed the next few hours in companionable silence. James removed his tailcoat and tie and loosened his collar, then lay on his stomach across one of the beds, reading a book. I tried to make out the title but couldn't read it from my own position in one of the stiff chairs before one of the utilitarian desks. If anyone had asked what I was reading that night, I could not have said. My mind was too many things at once: exhausted by all that had happened since I'd left Grangefield Hall, just yesterday morning; nervous at the prospect of all the new things that were yet to come. So rather than actually read what was in front of me, I simply stared at the words, my fingers turning pages for no reason as my mind raced and stalled, stalled and raced.
    It was coming on eleven when James tossed his book to one side and gave a great, heaving yawn.
    "I think I will turn in," he said, the first words either of us had spoken in about three hours. "First day of classes tomorrow and I should like to be well rested for it. I suggest you do the same."
    Then he walked over to the twin basins that were kept in the room for convenience sake, washed his face with water from the first, and cleaned his teeth with water from the second.
    I suppose if I had not been so utterly exhausted by that point, I would have guessed what was coming next. But I was exhausted, and I had not guessed.
    Obviously without a thought in the world, James began removing his clothing.
    Too stunned to do anything else, I stared as article after article was shed until finally he stood there as God had made him. I thanked that same God that James was not paying any attention to me and thus did not catch me staring.
    Prior to this, I had seen many pictures in art books of naked people. But even Michelangelo had had only paints and stone to work with. This was a living and breathing boy, muscle and sinew and flesh. He was naked, and, I blush to confess, he was magnificent.
    Thankfully, before I could do something truly foolish—like reaching out to touch that skin to see if it felt as marvelous as it looked—James slipped a nightshirt over his head and climbed into his bed.
    "Are you going to stay up?" he asked, casting a meaningful look at the lamp on my desk.
    "Of course not." I blushed again.
    I too went to the basin and washed my face and teeth as he had done, then I unlocked the wardrobe and removed from my trunk the nightshirt Will had loaned me.
    My mind had been exhausted just a short time ago, but it was fully awake now.
    So many things I