Page 29 of And They Were Roommates

“Absolutely. And the Fall Book Club for Young Readers kicked off yesterday. We have more kiddos signed up this year than ever. Sixteen!”

That pulls a small smile out of me. Mom has always focused on putting our community in Queens over profits. Maybe most Valentine alumni make change in the world as doctors and lawyers and professors, and maybe Grandma and Grandpa expected that from her, too, but she’s doing the same in her own way.

“That’s great,” I tell Mom. “I gotta go, but I’ll get my name to the top. Promise.”

“Okay, sweetie. I hope you will.”

Standing in front of Pragma Recreational Center’s workout room door feels like a crime. At least when it’s me. But PE isn’t going to pass itself.

I roll up the sleeves of my new tracksuit from the gift shop, which I could actually afford since my single room check awesomely never cleared. People like Xavier will be in here. Well-liked, high-ranked, textbook-example boys. If they don’t judge me for invading their territory, they’ll judge my lack of mass. Time to blend in.

The second my foot is through the door, my mouth hangs open at how far back the room stretches. Valentine crests border the casement and the top of the walls, watching like surveillance cameras, and everywhere magically smells of lemon disinfectant instead of sweat. The metal machines that could crush me dead are endless. More importantly, abandoned.

I make my way more confidently through the empty room. Treadmills line one wall, but weights are stacked by another. I need muscles to run better. Maybe?

A clink comes down the row, and I jump.

Xavier is bench-pressing, lifting a barbell with two plates on each side. Okay, not alone. The only signs of perspiration are on the collar of his undershirt and his prominent forehead, even though the weight is triple my head size.

If I could become 5 percent as strong, I’d get an A+ in PE.

Xavier glances to the side, sensing my lurking presence. His eyes widen. “Christ—!” The bar slips through Xavier’s grip and nearly squashes his neck.

I rush to spot him, only to end up tossing my hands uponrealizing that I do not know what spotting is. Xavier pushes the bar back into place by himself.

He sits up from the bench, shoving his floppy dark bangs out of his eyes. “You scared the juices out of me, bro.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault. There’s just never anybody in here.”

“Why?”

Xavier smirks like it should be obvious. “Everyone else is always studying.”

“You’re Rank Three for third years. Shouldn’t you be?”

“Just gotta be smart about time management. Training takes an hour out of the day. Plus, I eat on the go.” He taps on his temple. “Were you watching me?”

“No,” I say. “Well, yes. Not because I’m weird. I’m here to train too.”

“You know how to?”

“You just lift stuff, right?”

“If you plan to live at Health Services. Want help?”

For a PE grade this dire, help is what I need. But to have Xavier stand too close?Looktoo close? I wave a dismissive hand. “That’d be a huge favor.”

Xavier digs through his gym bag on the floor. He whips out a sports drink and cracks open the lid. “Aren’t you STRIP’s face now?”

“I guess.”

“You’re technically doing us a favor, yeah?”

“Do you care that much about STRIP?”

“Hell yeah, I do.” He chugs his drink so fast that his Adam’s apple bounces like a pinball. “I was so done with the cockblockade last year. Couldn’t talk to my girlfrie—er, ex-girlfriend—at the sister academy. That’s what led me to STRIP, and then I sawhow happy it makes everyone. I got why this was a tradition for a hundred years, and that’s why I’ve stuck around to continue carrying it on. It’s the right thing to do.”

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