The boy snaps. Not just his voice, his whole being. “Kevin raped my sister! What sort of man am I if I don’t—”

Benji hugs the boy and whispers in his ear, “I’ve got sisters, too, and if anyone did to one of them what Kevin did to Maya, I’d be full of hate, too.”

Leo splutters in despair, “If Kevin raped one of your sisters, you’d have killed him!”

Benji knows he’s right. So he tells the truth: “So don’t end up like me, then. Because once you do, it’s too late to change.”

28

“Goddamn homo!”

The next morning Ana and Maya stop a hundred feet from the school. They’ve started to do that every day. It’s become an energy-gathering ritual that armor-plates them. Ana clears her throat and asks, very seriously, “Okay . . . have diarrhea every day for the rest of your life or always have to go to the toilet with the door open?”

Maya roars with laughter. “What is it with you and shit these days? Is that all you think about?”

“Answer the question!” Ana commands.

“It’s an idiotic question,” Maya points out.

“You’re idiotic! Diarrhea or an open door . . . always open. No matter where you go to the toilet. For the rest of your life!”

Maya giggles. “I’ve got a class now.”

Ana shudders. “How can we possibly have played this game our whole lives without you understanding the rules! You have to answer! That’s, like, the whole point!”

Maya shakes her head teasingly, Ana gives her a shove, Maya laughs and shoves back, but Ana jumps out of the way so nimbly that Maya falls over. Ana sits on top of her, grabs hold of her hands, and yells, “Answer before I mess up your makeup!”

“Diarrhea! Diarrhea,” Maya half laughs, half shouts.

Ana helps her up. They hug each other.

“I love you, you nutter,” Maya whispers.

“Us against the world,” Ana whispers back.

Then they get ready for yet another day.

* * *

There’s a flutter somewhere between your stomach and your rib cage, like a flag flapping in a storm, those first moments when you fall in love with someone. When someone looks at you, those days after the first kiss, when it’s still your incomprehensible little secret. That you want me. It’s a vulnerability; there’s nothing more dangerous.

By the time school starts for the day, someone has written three words on Benji’s locker with a red pen: “Run, Benji, run!” Because they know that’s what he did last night. He’s been untouchable for so long in this town that the slightest crack in his armor will be exploited mercilessly by his enemies. He ran from a fight. He fled. He isn’t the person everyone thought he was. He’s a coward.

They watch him when he arrives, waiting for a reaction when he reads the words, but it’s as if he doesn’t even see them. Maybe that’s why they start to worry if he’s understood. So when an entire school day passes without Benji showing the slightest sign of regret or shame, someone yells, “GO ON, RUN, BENJI! RUN!” when he walks past the cafeteria. William Lyt and his guys are sitting at a table in the far corner. It’s impossible to know who shouted, but Benji turns around and does as they suggested.

He runs. Straight at them. At top speed, with his fists clenched. Other pupils throw themselves out of the way; tables topple, chairs go flying. When Benji stops dead a foot from William Lyt, one of Lyt’s friends has leaped under the table, two more are practically sitting in each other’s laps, and one moves backward so hard that he hits his head against the wall.

But William Lyt hasn’t moved a muscle. He sits still, eyes open, meeting Benji’s stare. And Benji sees himself in him. He, too, has crossed a boundary. The cafeteria is silent, but the two eighteen-year-olds can hear each other’s heartbeats. Calm, watchful.

“Sore feet, Ovich? We heard you ran all the way from the forest,” Lyt snarls.

At first Benji looks thoughtful. Then he takes off his shoes, then both his socks, and drops them into Lyt’s lap. “Here you go, William. Your only chance of a three-way.”

Lyt’s jaw tightens, and his reply is more clenched than he would have liked. “They’re sweaty. Like a coward’s.”

He’s trying not to let his eyes land on Benji’s watch but fails. He knows who Benji got it from, and Benji knows he knows, so jealousy eats away at William when Benji grins. “I was actually looking for you in the forest, William. But you never dare take part in fights when the numbers are even, do you? You’re only tough on video. That’s why your team never trusts you.”

Small dots of shame burn on William’s cheeks. “I didn’t know there was going to be a fight, I was at home, it wasn’t me who burned the jersey,” he snaps.

“No, you’re not man enough to do that,” Benji replies.

He turns and leaves the cafeteria, and only then does William Lyt shout something. Benji doesn’t hear what, the only words he hears are “GODDAMN HOMO!”

Benji stops so that no one sees him tumbling into the abyss that’s just opened up in front of him. He sticks his hands into his pockets so no one will see them shaking. He doesn’t turn around so that Lyt can’t see what’s happened as he asks, “What did you say?”

Lyt repeats what he said, encouraged by the unexpected advantage. “I said your coach is a disgusting goddamn homo! Are you proud of that? Playing on a bullshit rainbow team?”

Benji fastens his jacket so his pulse isn’t visible through his shirt. Lyt shouts something else, and all his guys laugh. Benji walks out into the corridor, and through the crowd he sees a polo shirt. Green today. The teacher’s eyes are pleading, as if he wants to say “Sorry” but knows that the word is too small.

* * *

There’s a flutter inside Benji then. A flag coming loose in a storm. He can’t let anyone make him that weak, not this season. He leaves the school, walking slowly on purpose, but as soon as he’s out of sight he runs. Right into the forest. Slamming his fist into every tree he passes.

* * *

A younger boy stops at a different locker in the same school. Twelve years old. Covered in bruises. Yesterday he grabbed a branch and threw himself into a fight without hesitation in order to smash the legs of someone who was trying to hurt Benjamin Ovich. That sort of thing doesn’t go unnoticed in this town.

Today there’s something hanging from his locker. At first he thinks it’s a trash bag. He couldn’t be more wrong. It’s a black jacket. No logos or emblems or symbols, just a perfectly ordinary black jacket. It doesn’t mean anything. It means everything. It’s far too big for Leo, because they want him to know that he can’t become one of them until he’s much older. But they’ve hung it on his locker so that everyone in his school will get the message.

* * *

He’s got brothers now. You don’t touch him again.

* * *

It takes a huge amount of trust to fight at someone’s side. That’s why violent people prize loyalty so highly and are so sensitive about the slightest sign of treachery: if you retreat and run, you’re exposing me to danger, making me look weak. So Benji knows he’s let Teemu and the Pack down. And that isn’t tolerated.

Even so, he pulls himself together after a few hours in the forest and walks back into town. He wipes the tears from his cheeks and the blood from his knuckles. He can’t let anyone think there’s anything wrong with him; everything has to carry on as normal. Even when blue polo shirts have torn him apart, even when he knows that the Pack might want to punish him for running from the fight in the forest. Because where would he go if he didn’t have Beartown?

So he goes to work, stands behind the bar in the Bearskin, pours beer. The more crowded the bar gets, the more he avoids eye contact with other people. Several of the guys from the forest are there: Spider, about whose intelligence Ramona usually says, “He’s about as smart as mashed potato, that one.” But he’s loyal; in the forest Benji saw him stick just behind Teemu the whole time, not because he was scared but because he was guarding his leader’s flank. Spider was bullied all through childhood for being so lanky and crazy, but he found a place in the Pack. You can’t buy that sort of devotion.