Page 108 of Ancient History

“I’m keeping an eye on our students. Making sure none of them try to sneak pills, drugs, alcohol, or sex into the prom.”

He had the determination and seriousness of a Secret Service agent canvassing a new location. I half-expected a white wire to be coming from his ear.

“I didn’t take you as such a strict guy.”

“I’m doing my job.” He laughed under his breath. “Sometimes being a narc can be fun.”

Raleigh had layers to him I didn’t have time to unravel. And how could kids sneak in sex?

“Hey, have you heard from Hutch?”

“Negative.”

“Oh. Okay. You know, my phone is busted. I forgot to charge it. Could you shoot him a text? He was having car trouble, so I want to make sure he isn’t having a problem getting here.”

“I have a portable charger with me.” He pulled from his pocket a black wire attached to a thick keychain-sized charger.

Damn. I didn’t take him for the type of guy to walk around with a portable charger. He had some nerdy dad vibes to him.

“It’s not a charging issue. My phone is broken. Can you just text him?”

“Yo Hutch, where you at?” Raleigh narrated as he typed. He made a whole thing about hitting send.

“Thanks.”

“Excuse me.” He moved me to the side and launched up to a trio of guys congregating by the wall. He stormed into the middle of their huddle and smacked a container of pills to the floor.

“And what were you planning to do with those, huh?” He towered over the meek-looking students, who cowered in his presence. Their already pale faces turned whiter. “Get high? Drug some student’s drink?”

“It-it was allergy medication,” said a carrot-topped student. “There’s a h-h-high pollen count in the air.”

Raleigh’s face dropped into the core of the earth. “Oh. Well, let me help you pick those up. The nurse may also have some non-drowsy Sudafed if you need.”

He got onto his hands and knees with the guys and scavenged for pills. So much for being suave like a Secret Service agent. It would’ve been a perfect thing to text Hutch, if only he’d text me back first.

Soon, the music picked up, and kids flooded the dance floor. My sinking feeling sank lower and lower.

Something serious might’ve happened to Hutch, but Occum’s razor was pointing to a more logical explanation, one that already had an established precedent. Hutch got cold feet about us. We could have sex and make eyes at each other in the halls, but publicly being together was a bridge too far for him. All this openness was too much, and he wanted to run back into the closet. Or maybe I was just the kind of guy not meant to be boyfriend material.

I leaned against the wall with the other social rejects as we watched South Rock High have the times of their lives. If Hutch and I were a no-go, maybe this was the definitive sign.

When I took out my phone to check for three little dots, I got an even more definitive sign. Hutch was calling me.

“Hey,” I said tentatively.

“Amos.”

I immediately picked up on the stress in his voice and told all of my neuroses to take a hike.

“Hutch, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Pop. He’s in the hospital.”

“Hutch. Oh my God. What happened?”

“Heart attack.”

I felt like the biggest asshole. Here I was worried he was standing me up only to find out he was dealing with his dad in the hospital. I wanted to hold him and tell him everything would be all right.

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