Patrick has not answered the phone, though Malerie has called him more than a dozen times in the past few days. Three voice mails, the first cheery babble, the second a long sigh, the third asking him what the hell was going on. “Patrick? Seriously. You better call back.” Here her voice grew cruel. “Or maybe it’s time Max finds out about us.” He doesn’t know what he’ll do after the long weekend, the Sabbath on Monday, when she seeks him out at school—tell her the truth? That he had fun? More than fun—the swell of her breasts, the vacuum of her mouth, the thrill of sneaking around—but he’s just not feeling it anymore? Screwing around with her is no way to repay the kindness Max has shown him?He is sitting upright in bed, a pillow braced behind his back, with the laptop warming his thighs. Outside, the sky is a dying purple. The lamp in his room is dim and at odds with the bright glow the screen makes. His eyes ache. He feels mildly nauseous, mixed up inside.He browses the news sites.
