Free Another Pan by Daniel Nayeri Page A

looked nothing like any of the guys she had ever known. How old was he? Wendy wondered. Sixteen? Seventeen?
Must be older to get the RA job. Probably a college student
.

    When Wendy came back out after third period, Peter was standing by the girls’ dorm, helping an eighth-grader figure out why her ID wasn’t working on the doors. He was obviously bored with the task (though he was nice enough to the girl) and cracked some joke about teaching her to break in. Wendy walked by with her gaze on the ground. His long, thin silhouette extended out, imposing itself on the sunny sidewalk as his shadow hand smoothed his shadow hair. Somehow, every time Wendy passed by the crosswalk near the dorms, he froze, his hand in midair. She felt singled out — as if he was watching her. She liked the idea very much, but she couldn’t help but notice that he had a girl, the other RA, who had been waiting for him on the far side of the lacrosse field, a girl that Wendy noticed stood very close to him when they spoke. And what did she care, anyway? She had a boyfriend who had been amazing to her.

    Later that week, Wendy saw the handsome RA walk toward the dark-haired girl and whisper something in her ear. She seemed delighted, leaning forward and looking down at her feet as he murmured his instructions. Lingering only a few feet away, Wendy could see that he was reaching for the girl’s hand and that the girl let him hold it — for only a second — before she threw her head back and laughed, raising her eyebrow at something he had told her.
She must be his girlfriend
. Wendy stepped closer. She couldn’t help it. Something about this boy made her want to listen, despite the guilt and the shame of wanting to be closer to him. So she pretended to walk by several times, hidden by other bystanders. She heard him say something about her father’s Egyptian exhibit, and she grew even more curious. Why would a guy like that, one who probably rides a motorcycle and goes to college parties and only has an RA job for the cash, care about a stupid Egyptian exhibit?

    One day, as Wendy was walking down the halls with Connor’s arm on her shoulder, Peter passed by with the girl, and he and Wendy exchanged a long look, a look that made him smirk and put his arm around the dark-haired RA. A look that made the angry brunette glare as though to say that she was very capable of doing Wendy bodily harm. Wendy pulled away from Connor just as she came shoulder to shoulder with Peter, but she was pretty sure neither boy noticed. Next time, she would introduce herself — just to legitimize their future interactions, because after all, why should she be avoiding a member of the Marlowe staff? She had done nothing, would do nothing, to make herself behave with so much guilt and awkwardness. And she wanted that involuntary part of her mind, the part that turned on when she was asleep or exercising or was supposed to be thinking about homework or exercising, to stop.
    She didn’t have to wait long for an introduction. After school, as she was leaving the building, she saw John at the center of a very amused circle of boarding boys, including Peter the RA.
    “Lost Boys?” John was saying. “I can dig that name. . . . LBs . . . that’s cool. How about you let me join your crew? I got mad skills.”
    “Our crew?” said one of the boys with a laugh.
    “Yeah, crew. Like, lookin’ out for the otha. Poppin’ caps in the suckas. Rollin’ ten deep. Havin’ love for the street. Hustlin’ till we’re bustlin’.” John made all the appropriate hand signs to illustrate his point.
    “Where did you learn to talk like that?” asked a newly minted LB.
    “Gaming, mostly. Everyone talks like that on Xbox LIVE. I got brothas and hos all up on the World Wide Weezy, you know?” said John.
    “We don’t really call girls hos anymore,” said Peter.
    “Why?” said John.
    “Although,” interjected Peter, “we should definitely start saying World Wide