Free The Education of Bet by Lauren Baratz-Logsted Page A

concertos.
    I know I must have stammered out something, but later on I could not for the life of me remember what that something had been. I do know it was a long moment before I had the presence of mind to thrust out my own hand and feel the warmth of his fingers as he grasped it.
    "You should be safe enough, at least while you are in here," Mr. Winter said, clapping his hand on my shoulder briefly, preparatory to his departure. "Tyler is one of our more, er,
human
students." He left the room.
    "Shall I show you around?" my new roommate offered.
    "I wish you would," I said, only belatedly remembering that it was high time I let go of his hand. I prepared to follow him wherever he might lead, anywhere.
    "Wouldn't you like to stow your things first?"
    "Hmm?" I was still dwelling on the warmth of those fingers touching mine.
    "Your things." He indicated the trunk behind me.
    "Oh!" I said, surprised to see the handle still in my hand; I looked at the trunk as though it were a persistent stranger who had followed me in.
    "I've already put mine in the wardrobe on the right," he said helpfully.
    Glancing over, I saw that he'd left the wardrobe slightly ajar, and I observed all manner of masculine clothing peeking out. That casualness certainly wouldn't do for me, not when in addition to the suits and other articles I'd packed there was also a dress and wig.
    Opening the wardrobe on the left, I inquired, casually, I hoped, "Are there, um, keys for these wardrobes?"
    "Should be one on the top," James said, reaching over my head and, sure enough, producing a dusty key.
    "Thank you." I deposited the trunk hastily in the bottom of the wardrobe, turned the key in the outer lock, twisted the handle to make sure the door was secure, and pocketed the key.
    "You don't need to do that around here," James said, giving me an odd look. "No one will steal your suits."
    "Well"—I forced a cheery smile—"with boys being boys, one never knows, does one?" Before he could say anything else, I added, "I'm ready for that tour now!"
    ***
    I may have been overwhelmed by the beauty of James Tyler initially, but I got over it just as quickly when we exited our room and I caught sight of the same three boys I'd seen earlier. Funny how quickly violence can make one forget all about beauty.
    James hurried us toward the game of human catch, seemingly as oblivious to what was happening as Mr. Winter had been.
    "Tyler," the hulking one said with a curt nod before tossing the boy ball to the string bean once again.
    "MacPherson." My roommate returned the nod, curtness and all, as we passed.
    "Looks like New Boy's almost as delicate as Little here," the one my roommate had referred to as MacPherson said. "It's amazing the trouble he had carrying his own trunk. I'll bet New Boy'd make a fine new ball for us."
    The string bean snickered.
    "I wouldn't try it if I were you," my roommate said cheerfully enough, not even bothering to turn around as he led me briskly back down the stairs.
    ***
    As James showed me around the grounds that afternoon, he spoke very little other than to name the buildings he pointed out and sometimes add a sentence about what each was for. He was neither friendly nor specifically unfriendly; he was merely there.
    Walking past the school gates with the oriel window soaring above, traversing the gravel walk to the side of the commons, I got the sense he was leading me on the tour more because he felt it was his duty rather than because he took any joy in my company. Indeed, something about him said that he almost always preferred being alone to being with others. Still, I was grateful at least to have someone to walk with—already I sensed that it could get lonely for me here at the Betterman Academy—and I sought to enliven our walk with a little conversation.
    "Those three back there," I said, with a nod at Proctor Hall. "Who are they?"
    "The large blond one is Hamish MacPherson, Proctor Hall's school prefect. The tall thin one is Johnny