Henry sank his weight into his mattress, letting every fiber breathe and relax. Those carvings on the ceiling played home to his recollection of the day; its struggles, its losses, and its…victory?

 

He managed to secure a club, albeit a bit informal. As it turns out, the Professor isn’t technically a teacher, and only teachers can head clubs. So, on paper, Henry was still clubless, and he’d have a fun time trying to explain that to his guidance counselor tomorrow.

 

Indeed, for his I.D. card should be arriving by sunrise. With it, his designated person to consult him on all his struggles. Uniforms might arrive as well–Henry anticipated that gift more, for having the option between the rags he wore to the Institute and the ones he wore now was a bit degrading, especially when compared to all the button-ups, tailcoats, skirts, and dresses fluttering about the Campus.

 

The knob to his room clicked. 

 

“I smell dejection.” Percy stepped through, his voice sounding slightly raspy–maybe even parched. He rotated the dimmer beside the door and illuminated Henry’s dark world with a painful orange glow. “Moping, are we?”

 

“Just thinking…Where’ve you been? You look exhausted.”

 

Percy cleared a potential lie from his throat. His cheeks burned a shameful rose. “Well, I–uh…well, the optimal plan called for me to–uh, you know–apply for my club just like you!”

 

Henry lifted his shoulders from his pillow. A strange force compelled him to pester further; call it the curiosity of a devious Delcatty “Yeaaaah~?”

 

“Sooo, I did, and—and I may have engaged in a bit of–shall we say–‘debauchery’ with my fellow artists.”

 

Henry snickered.

 

“But only for a short while! And only because I was so ahead of schedule!”

 

“Hey, no judgment–no judgment at all! I’m just glad the ‘no girls’ rule has been revoked~”

 

“It–” Percy took a deep breath, “It was not a girl. She is a clubmate–those two contexts are radically different!”

 

“Whatever you say ‘Romeo’~”

 

“Henry Galileo, do we want a minus thirty from our scorecard?”

 

“Then you wouldn’t be the only one ‘scoring’~”

 

Percy peeled his glitter-bombed shirt over his shoulders and folded it into a neat square. “I refuse to entertain this little game with you. I’ve got sparkles in places where sparkles shouldn’t be.”

 

Henry plopped back into the comfort of his sheets. “Showers are down the hall.”

 

“I’m aware.”

 

Percy rummaged through his drawer. “So why are you stinking up the room with your depression? I thought we got over that.”

 

Henry blew a brief raspberry; it tasted of mud. “We did, and then Forge happened.”

 

Percy admired a sleeping gown and cap he’d brought with him. It was interesting to see–a rare glimpse into the Percival of his home, not the Percival of St.Leonora’s Henry knew him as.

 

“I take it things went poorly,” he said, folding the gown over his arm.

 

“Incredibly so…”

 

“I told you to come to Art Club.”

 

“And get a million glitter kisses like you~”

 

“These are not ‘glitter kisses’ and, yes. Wouldn’t you rather be shimmering and shining than dimming and brooding?”

 

“I’d rather be a Gladiator who knows how to catch Pokémon, instead of some loser who eats mud trying to tussle with an Oddish…”

 

Percy rolled his eyes. “Should I expect this to be the norm with you? Always sad and mopy?”

 

Henry plastered the cheesiest smile he could conjure. “Nooo~”

 

“Good. Then stop. I’ll help you find a club tomorrow but don’t go always expecting old Percival’s help when you’re sinking in the mire. Pretty soon I’ll be just as busy as you.”

 

Henry’s smile softened into a much creamier cheese. Seemed he lucked out in the roommate department, having someone always so willing to help. “Thanks, but I actually sorted that problem out relatively quick. I’m with the Professor and Amber now. We’re the Luminous Lovelies~ Way better than ‘Art Club’.”

 

Percy shook the wrinkles from his gown’s cap and paired the two together. “Amber, huh? Look who’s Romeo now. If everything worked out, then lose the frown. Seriously, I’m bound to break out in a terrifying fit of hives if I have to look at your sour expression every morning.”

 

Percy left to conclude his night at the showers. He was a good roommate, the best Henry could have asked for–considering guys like Forge existed.

 

He was great, but he was just another thing handed to Henry. Just like his admission into St.Leonora’s. Just like all the private tutor lessons and letters of recommendation. None of that, Henry achieved on his own. All of it, was the work of Ms.Marianna. 

 

You expect handouts. That wasn’t true; Forge could kick Exeggcute and lick Geodude if that’s what he thought of Henry. Why should he feel bad for accepting another person’s help? Back in Tinton, the community was the lifeblood of the town–it thrived off neighbors helping neighbors. 

 

That was the motto, yet Henry could never recall a time when his father ever received another’s handout. His own hands would be calloused; his own spine would be worn. If anything, Dad was the one giving the handouts. If their places were switched, no doubt he’d have blown Forge’s socks off and been accepted with aplomb.

 

Start taking life more seriously. Henry gazed into the starry canopy beyond his window. There was that star again, shining brighter than all the others. He reached out and crushed it, smothering its light. When he pulled his hand back, the star was still there.

 

“Take life seriously…”

 

He thought he had been…