Over the next two weeks I started to get frustrated. I wanted to meet Josh, get together with him and just ask him. About our outings, if he thought they were dates. About me. About us.

What were we? Were we simply friends, or something more? I desperately wished for us to be more, but after a certain point, it was out of my hands. No matter how I wanted to, I couldn’t force Josh to like me. All I could do was ask him.

But I just couldn’t find the chance to do so. After our latest outing at the mall, when we’d met Ellie and her mother again, we hadn’t gone out with each other at all: finals week was coming up, and we were both busy studying. Me, because I wanted to keep my high GPA, and Josh because he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t have to get extra lessons over the summer, or risk getting held back in a subject. Because of that, we hadn’t had the time to meet outside the school. And while I sometimes assisted him with his studies if he had a specific subject he needed help on, I couldn’t very well just ask him “Hey, are we dating or what?” out of the blue in the middle of a study session; also, we studied in the library at school, so there was a very high risk of someone overhearing us.

In the end, despite my frustration, I resigned myself to wait until the end of April, when finals would be over, so I could find the time – the right moment – to talk to Josh.

And that’s when it happened.

Troy McPearson finally made his move.

-----

It was Friday, the week before finals week. I’d just finished helping Josh review chemistry; even though he’d gotten an A minus on a test it, was still his weakest subject.

“Mmm…” I mumbled, stretching my arms. “I think we’re done here. You remember the difference between the various chemical bonds, right?”

Josh nodded in reply. “Yes, of course. Covalent, ionic, metallic: it’s not that difficult.” He paused, and then smiled. “Of course I only really got it after you explained it to me. You’re very good at that.”

I blushed slightly, but smiled at him. “Oh, you flatterer,” I shot back. “You should save the compliments for someone you really like.”

He tilted his head to the side and gave me a curious look. “But I do like you,” he replied.

I blinked in surprise; I was at a loss of words for a few moments. Recently Josh had been starting to say he liked me more and more often, dropping the word into casual conversation, just like that. I wondered what it meant. Did he really…?

I shook myself. No, this was not the time, or the place. Later, after finals week was over, I could ask him properly what he meant and, more importantly, what he thought of me.

“Come on,” I said. “I wanna swing by my locker before we go home.”

“Oh, and why’s that?” he asked.

“All my notes are in there,” I explained. “I want to bring them home, so I can review everything over the weekend and be ready for my tests.”

Josh nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

Walking slowly, chatting all the while, we made our way from the library to the corridor my locker was in. It was late in the day, but there were a few people milling around – the school had given us all the after-lunch periods as free study, and while many people had taken advantage of it, some had decided to treat it as free time instead.

“By the way, you never told me how Chloe liked the new Sun Vulcan song,” Josh said as we stopped in front of my locker.

I turned to look at him. “Oh, she said it was a good song, but in her opinion the melody could use some work,” I replied.

“What do you mean?”

“I…” I hesitated. “I don’t actually know. She said something about the bass overpowering the guitar in the bridge section? I’m not sure, I’ll have to ask her again.” I turned back to my locker and started inputting the combination.

“Alright, you can text me the details later,” Josh answered. “After all--”

He was cut off by a loud noise as I opened my locker. As soon as I cracked the door open, it all but exploded outwards: a multicoloured burst of flame escaped from inside the locker, and I stepped back as the door swung violently, hitting me in the hand. I took one more stumbling step backwards, and fell to the ground because of the shock and surprise.

“What the fuck!” I swore, staring wide-eyed at the locker.

“Holy shit!” Josh exclaimed. “Em-- Wilson, are you alright?”

I shook myself. “I… I think so,” I said, completely bewildered.

“What the hell just happened?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. I looked around: everyone in the hallway – several students and a teacher I didn’t know – had stopped, and were looking at the unfolding scene. Then what had just happened seemed to catch up with them.

“Fire! Everyone out!” the teacher shouted; he ran for the fire alarm set into the wall and pulled it down. A ringing noise started sounding throughout the school and the ceiling sprinklers whirred to life, showering us in water.

I looked up into the locker. The inside had caught fire, and the flames, though quite small, were licking at the contents: a change of clothes which I kept in there just in case, my textbooks… and my notes.

“Fuck!” I swore again. “Josh, give me a hand here!”

I sprung to my feet and frantically started pulling out everything from my locker, being careful not to burn myself, and throwing it to the ground, where I stamped the flames out; after a couple seconds, Josh started helping me. Then I felt a hand grab my shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing!” I heard the teacher shout over the din of the fire alarm. “Get out of here, right now!”

“One second!” I shouted back. I looked at the items scattered on the floor and came to a decision: I picked up my notebooks, ignoring everything else, and, after thrusting a few of them into Josh’s hands, followed the teacher to the exit.

The entire school had been evacuated: we were the last three out, everyone else had already gathered at the assembly points. As we stepped out of the door I spotted Troy McPearson, standing less than twenty metres away with a group of students I assumed were his classmates; he saw us too, and he flashed us an amused and sinister grin.

After we’d stopped and caught our breaths, the teacher turned to me and grabbed my shoulders. “Are you out of your mind?” he said, his voice trembling, water dripping from his wet hair down on his forehead. “When the alarm rings, you stop whatever you’re doing and go for the exit! You could’ve been injured, or worse!”

I opened my mouth to protest, but then realised he was completely right: in my panicked grab for my notes, I hadn’t considered I was endangering myself… And Josh, too.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I… I just wasn’t thinking.” I turned to Josh and continued, “I’m sorry for putting you in danger.”

The teacher held onto my shoulders for a few moments, then dropped his hands and slowly nodded. “So long as you understand,” he answered. “Do you have any idea what happened? I mean… the locker just burst into flames when you opened it. I was even looking at it.”

Yes, I did know what had happened. There was only one explanation.

McPearson.

I exchanged a glance with Josh, and saw in his eyes he was thinking the same thing. But we couldn’t just throw around accusations. Even though he was a miserable bully who loved nothing more than tormenting other people, Troy was crafty; he was sure to have covered his tracks very well.

“I don’t know,” I replied instead. “There was nothing in the locker that could cause that.”

“Okay,” the teacher said, nodding again. Then he looked around; “You two stay here, I have to go look for the principal. I’ll be right back.”

I nodded back, and he turned around and walked away; I took in a deep breath, and slowly let it out.

“Thank you,” I said, turning to Josh.

“For what?” he asked.

“For helping me with my notes and stuff,” I replied. “I think we saved most of them.” I looked down at the notebooks I held in my arms: they were a bit charred, and definitely soggy, but it looked like the damage had been minor. “Yeah, looks like…”

“You’re hurt,” Josh said suddenly.

I looked up at him. “Huh? What?”

“Your hand,” he said, pointing.

Puzzled, I transferred my notebooks to my left arm, and held up my right hand, turning it this way and that to inspect it. There was in fact a cut on the side of my hand, which I weirdly hadn’t noticed, or even felt, before then, probably because of the adrenaline from what had happened. It didn’t look deep, but it was bleeding quite a bit; as I looked, a couple drops of blood fell to the ground.

“It’s nothing,” I said, looking back up at Josh. “Just a scratch, really.”

He just looked at me.

“Josh, seriously, it’s nothing,” I repeated. To demonstrate, I touched the wound with my left index finger, and I felt it burn; even though I tried not to, I grimaced. “See?” I said, giving him a brittle smile.

I saw something change in Josh’s eyes, like a switch flipping, all of a sudden; I’d never seen him looking like that before, and it gave me a bad feeling.

“Josh, don’t…”

“McPearson!” Josh bellowed, whirling around to face Troy. “McPearson, you fucker!”

“Josh!” I snapped, but he paid me no mind; he bent down and set the notebooks he was holding on the ground, then started at a run towards his target.

“Josh, no!” I shouted; I dropped my own armload of notebooks and took off after him.

“Oh, hi, Woods! How are you?” Troy said as Josh closed the distance. “Can I help you with something?”

“Why you…” Josh replied, stopping in front of him and grabbing him by the collar. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Troy blinked, his face the portrait of innocence; he was actually quite a good actor. “Why are you angry with me?” he asked, blinking in fake surprise. “What did I do?”

“What did you do?” Josh growled. “You know perfectly what you did!”

He cocked his fist backwards, preparing to punch Troy in the face.

By that time I’d reached them, and grabbed Josh’s arm in as firm a grip as I could manage. “Josh!” I said. “Stop!”

He turned towards me, his face contorted with rage. “But…”

“Don’t let him bait you into this,” I hissed, staring into his eyes. “If you punch him, it’ll be you who started a fight, and you can get suspended, or worse, for that. That’s exactly what he’s hoping for.”

Josh’s expression was conflicted now: he understood where I was coming from, but on the other hand he really wanted to punch Troy in the face. To be completely honest, I couldn’t fault him for that – the Germans have a word that translates to ‘a face in need of a punch,’ and that was all I could see when I looked at Troy. Still, it would be a bad idea to do so right at that moment.

“But…” Josh repeated.

“Josh. Please,” I said.

He looked into my eyes for a few moments, then sighed; I felt his tense muscles relax.

“What the hell is going on?!”

That was Principal Carlson’s voice; I turned my head and saw him approach us at a half run, flanked by two teachers – the one who’d rung the fire alarm and another.

“Is there a problem here?” the principal asked when he reached us.

“Yes, Principal Carlson!” Troy said. “Josh Woods--”

“No, no problem at all,” I said, raising my voice above McPearson’s and cutting him off. “Right, Woods?”

I released his arm, and when he turned to look at me I gave him a significant look.

“Right,” he said, letting go of Troy’s shirt.

“But that’s--” Troy began again, but was cut off once more.

“Good,” the principal said. “Then we can just forget about this.” He turned to me, and frowned. “Mr. Wilson, are you hurt? You’re bleeding.”

I quickly put my left hand over the gash I had in my right. “I’m fine, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not for you to decide whether an injury is something to worry about or not, not as long as I’m in charge here.” Mr. Carlson said, shaking his head. “Go see the school nurse.”

“But the fire…” I began to protest.

“It’s been put out already. And besides, the nurse’s office is in a completely different building.” He stared right at me. “On your way, Mr. Wilson. Now.”

His tone of voice clearly told me he would hear no more objections; I sighed and nodded. “I’ll talk to you later,” I told Josh.

He nodded in return. “I’ll take care of your notes,” he said. Then he lowered his voice and mumbled, “Thank you for stopping me.”

“You’re welcome,” I said with a smile.

I started towards the school building, but I made it three steps before Principal Carlson spoke up again. “When you’re done with the nurse, please come to my office, Mr. Wilson,” he said. When I turned towards him he continued, “Mr. Ortega told me what happened with your locker, and I want to talk to you about it.”

I nodded, turned my back to him, and started walking again.

-----

As it turned out, I’d been right: my wound really was nothing to worry about, it didn’t even need stitches. All the nurse did was disinfect it, slap a plaster on it, bandage my hand for good measure, and then chide me for injuring myself yet again. I grumbled a bit at her nagging, but thanked her as I left her office to make my way to the principal’s.

When I reached it I knocked on the door with my good hand and, when I heard Mr. Carlson answer, went in.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Wilson,” he said. “How’s your hand?”

“It’s fine, the nurse said it was nothing serious,” I answered.

He nodded. “Alright. Please close the door.”

I complied, and then took a seat. The principal put his hands together, fingers intertwined, and rested his head on his closed fists, his elbows propped up on his desk.

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

“Well, this is a goddamn mess,” he said. He opened his eyes again and looked at me. “A fire is a serious matter. There will be an investigation, the fire brigade will have to get involved, maybe the police. This is a goddamn mess.”

“Mr. Carlson…” I began.

“Oh, I know perfectly well this isn’t your fault, Mr. Wilson. It wouldn’t make sense to set fire to your own locker, and you’re not the kind of person who does something like this anyway.” He paused. “In fact, I don’t think you’ve done anything at all since you started hanging out with Josh Woods, and neither has he. You’re clearly a good influence for each other.” His lips drew back into a smirk. “Either that, or you’ve gotten really good at hiding your misdeeds.”

I blinked in surprise. “You know about me and Josh?” I asked.

“Of course,” he nodded. “I make a point of keeping tabs on the more… troublesome students. To make sure they don’t step too far out of line, or to help them out if needs be. And, about that, I have to ask you something.” He paused. “And I promise you, whatever it is, your answer will not leave this room.”

“Okay,” I replied, nodding hesitantly. “What is it?”

Principal Carlson stared directly at me.

“It was Troy McPearson, wasn’t it?”

I looked at him in amazement: I hadn’t known him to be so perceptive.

“…Yes,” I said, nodding once again. “Yes, it was. I don’t have proof, but I’m sure it was him.”

The principal sighed deeply, closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t it be Troy McPearson again.”

“You know about him? About what he does?” I asked.

“I do,” he answered, looking at me again. “Remember? Keeping tabs. I have a list a mile long of stuff I know or suspect Mr. McPearson is responsible for. But… Well, you know who his father is, right?”

“The school district superintendent,” I said.

“Yeah. So my hands are tied, you see. Unless he’s caught red-handed, in front of lots of witnesses, I can’t touch him.”

He sighed again, and this time it distinctly sounded like a sigh of defeat.

“Go home, Mr. Wilson,” he continued. “You must be tired after all this. You’ll probably be called on to answer some questions later on, but if you answer truthfully I can guarantee there won’t be any consequences for you.”

“…Thank you, Mr. Carlson,” I said, standing up from the chair.

He smiled wryly. “No need to thank me. Taking care of students is a principal’s job.”

I nodded, walked to the door, and made to open it.

And hesitated.

Mr. Carlson seemed like a decent guy. And Josh had even mentioned he’d helped him keep the fact that he was trans hidden from the majority of the school.

Maybe…?

Principal Carlson saw me stop. “Was there anything else, Mr. Wilson?” he asked.

I hesitated again, but then I nodded. “Mr. Carlson… I… Well, I have something I need to talk to you about, actually.” I turned to look at him. “Can I have an appointment for the week after next? After finals are done. With my mother, too.”

The principal nodded. “Of course,” he said. “Any time. Tell your mother to call the office on Monday to arrange it.”

I nodded back at him. “Thank you,” I said.

I opened the door, stepped out, and closed it behind me.