"That's a cool bike"
I look up, and my eyes connect with the bluest eyes I have ever seen.
"You know, students aren't allowed to have motorcycles," he says.
"Yeah, students aren't allowed to do a lot of things," I have to look away. The feeling that hits me is totally unexpected. I clear my throat as I feel my voice cracking. "Hasn't stopped me yet."
"Well, I guarantee you, if you keep riding around on that hog, someone will. Unless you got an ally. Someone with connections high up. Someone that wants to take a ride on that bike sometime."
Right. I can see where this is going. Of course he didn't come up to me just make an accountancies. Upper class people don't make accountancies that way, they are introduced. He just wanted me to know that he had something on me. But, that is life, isn't it? We don't have friends, we have people that can do us favors, that we step on to reach our destination in life. My mother taught me that when I was eight.
"I'm like a Swiss vault, I can keep a secret."
"Can you?" I reply, and look him square in the face.
Fortunately, we were interrupted by Finn, "no mister", crew-coach-slash-lit- teacher. Good timing. The guy is a total loon. He makes you look at things in a serious, non-serious way, if you get my drift. All the other teachers are pushing a 110% effort at all time, but in Finns classes we're allowed to relax as long as we stay focused and doesn't goof off too much.
Today we had to go through "the swimming portion of our summer curriculum" as Finn called it. That is, we where given the opportunity to go for a swim in the middle of class. Most of the boys already had their shirts off, and went right inn, just their shorts or sweatpants still on. I hesitated but couldn't bring my self to strip down to bare chest and sweats. It's not that I'm conscious about my body. I mean, compared to these crew-boys I know I have inferior upper body strength, there's a reason I'm the coxswain, but I'm not that scrawny for my age. Consuela always comfort me, that boys stretch, then fill out. I guess I've done most of the stretching, but everybody seems to fill out ahead of me. It's just that growing up around the stage I have seen too many actors and dancers been judged solemnly by their appearance and nothing else. Then there's that big-ass scar on my chest. People stare. They don't mean, but they do. So, I started to hide. The less they see, the fewer flaws they can pick on, right? So I only take off my cap. I even leave the bulky hooded sweatshirt.
\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/* \*/*\*/*\*/*\*/
"Hey"
I turn towards source of the noise to identify the person that deem it self important enough to interrupt my quality time with my laptop. Great, it's "mister Swiss Vault".
"Feel free to barge right in."
"Sorry", he indicates the open door behind him, looking rather confused, remembering the unwritten rules of privacy, but not quite sure if he has broken any. I cannot help but to smile at his perplexed look, and he relaxes.
"So, you find a place to stash your bike yet?"
"Well, after six schools you get a handle on these things." As if I ever needed his help!
"Parents move a lot?" It is more a statement than a question, so my response surprises him.
"Nope."
I keep tapping along on the keyboard, partly hoping he will take the hint and leave, partly hoping that he won't.
"Oh. So why would you keep switching?"
"Waiting for someone to notice." I say it like it is the most obvious thing in the world.
"They don't know?"
"Nope. Get inside my mom's email account, send a letter as her, and her attorney wires the money wherever I say. The wonders of the digital age."
"So, that's how you scammed the single room?"
"Scammed the single room? You should see what happens when I hack into your dad's database."
I nod at him, indicating for him to join me at the computer, as I start working my way into the schools database. It is childs play now that I have done it a few times, and I'm in in under 3 minutes. Hamilton looks at the screen in aw. He's impressed, and I feel a tingling sensation of pride in the pit of my stomach. I've never showed off my hacking skills to anyone before. I mean, I've shared experience with people I've met on news-groups and chat rooms, but I never had any real life friends that would even be remotely interested.
We goof around for a while, checking out every students grades. I don't know most of these people, but Hamilton fills me in. Before we know it's dark outside, but we're having too much fun to notice, as we snoop around every nook and cranny of the school database.
"The lunch budget is 86 cents per student? I don't think so." I lean in to do a small correction. It's a good way of getting caught, but this is just too extreme not to be tampered with.
"Wait." I look up at him, and in a mock seriousness he claims, "I think it's only fair that as the Dean's son, I should rectify this."
"All right." I laugh and lean back, giving him access to the keyboard.
He thinks for a while before he states with childlike enthusiasm, "Lobster for everyone," and move the comma two places to the right. Good move. That doesn't really leave a hacker trace as it could just as easily be an original typo.
"You smell good." My heart leaps as we both realize what he just said. "I meant."
"No, it's OK."
"But no, I didn't mean."
"No, really."
There's a light knock on the door and Finn peeks in.
"OK, boys. Lights out. Hamilton, you should head home."
Saved by the bell. Or by Finn, anyway. That man has impeccable timing.
"I'll, uh, see you tomorrow."
"Yeah, I'll see you."
I just hope we can pick up with out the awkwardness. I've enjoyed hanging out with Hamilton. With having someone like him to hang out with maybe this summer session won't be such a drag.
I look up, and my eyes connect with the bluest eyes I have ever seen.
"You know, students aren't allowed to have motorcycles," he says.
"Yeah, students aren't allowed to do a lot of things," I have to look away. The feeling that hits me is totally unexpected. I clear my throat as I feel my voice cracking. "Hasn't stopped me yet."
"Well, I guarantee you, if you keep riding around on that hog, someone will. Unless you got an ally. Someone with connections high up. Someone that wants to take a ride on that bike sometime."
Right. I can see where this is going. Of course he didn't come up to me just make an accountancies. Upper class people don't make accountancies that way, they are introduced. He just wanted me to know that he had something on me. But, that is life, isn't it? We don't have friends, we have people that can do us favors, that we step on to reach our destination in life. My mother taught me that when I was eight.
"I'm like a Swiss vault, I can keep a secret."
"Can you?" I reply, and look him square in the face.
Fortunately, we were interrupted by Finn, "no mister", crew-coach-slash-lit- teacher. Good timing. The guy is a total loon. He makes you look at things in a serious, non-serious way, if you get my drift. All the other teachers are pushing a 110% effort at all time, but in Finns classes we're allowed to relax as long as we stay focused and doesn't goof off too much.
Today we had to go through "the swimming portion of our summer curriculum" as Finn called it. That is, we where given the opportunity to go for a swim in the middle of class. Most of the boys already had their shirts off, and went right inn, just their shorts or sweatpants still on. I hesitated but couldn't bring my self to strip down to bare chest and sweats. It's not that I'm conscious about my body. I mean, compared to these crew-boys I know I have inferior upper body strength, there's a reason I'm the coxswain, but I'm not that scrawny for my age. Consuela always comfort me, that boys stretch, then fill out. I guess I've done most of the stretching, but everybody seems to fill out ahead of me. It's just that growing up around the stage I have seen too many actors and dancers been judged solemnly by their appearance and nothing else. Then there's that big-ass scar on my chest. People stare. They don't mean, but they do. So, I started to hide. The less they see, the fewer flaws they can pick on, right? So I only take off my cap. I even leave the bulky hooded sweatshirt.
\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/*\*/* \*/*\*/*\*/*\*/
"Hey"
I turn towards source of the noise to identify the person that deem it self important enough to interrupt my quality time with my laptop. Great, it's "mister Swiss Vault".
"Feel free to barge right in."
"Sorry", he indicates the open door behind him, looking rather confused, remembering the unwritten rules of privacy, but not quite sure if he has broken any. I cannot help but to smile at his perplexed look, and he relaxes.
"So, you find a place to stash your bike yet?"
"Well, after six schools you get a handle on these things." As if I ever needed his help!
"Parents move a lot?" It is more a statement than a question, so my response surprises him.
"Nope."
I keep tapping along on the keyboard, partly hoping he will take the hint and leave, partly hoping that he won't.
"Oh. So why would you keep switching?"
"Waiting for someone to notice." I say it like it is the most obvious thing in the world.
"They don't know?"
"Nope. Get inside my mom's email account, send a letter as her, and her attorney wires the money wherever I say. The wonders of the digital age."
"So, that's how you scammed the single room?"
"Scammed the single room? You should see what happens when I hack into your dad's database."
I nod at him, indicating for him to join me at the computer, as I start working my way into the schools database. It is childs play now that I have done it a few times, and I'm in in under 3 minutes. Hamilton looks at the screen in aw. He's impressed, and I feel a tingling sensation of pride in the pit of my stomach. I've never showed off my hacking skills to anyone before. I mean, I've shared experience with people I've met on news-groups and chat rooms, but I never had any real life friends that would even be remotely interested.
We goof around for a while, checking out every students grades. I don't know most of these people, but Hamilton fills me in. Before we know it's dark outside, but we're having too much fun to notice, as we snoop around every nook and cranny of the school database.
"The lunch budget is 86 cents per student? I don't think so." I lean in to do a small correction. It's a good way of getting caught, but this is just too extreme not to be tampered with.
"Wait." I look up at him, and in a mock seriousness he claims, "I think it's only fair that as the Dean's son, I should rectify this."
"All right." I laugh and lean back, giving him access to the keyboard.
He thinks for a while before he states with childlike enthusiasm, "Lobster for everyone," and move the comma two places to the right. Good move. That doesn't really leave a hacker trace as it could just as easily be an original typo.
"You smell good." My heart leaps as we both realize what he just said. "I meant."
"No, it's OK."
"But no, I didn't mean."
"No, really."
There's a light knock on the door and Finn peeks in.
"OK, boys. Lights out. Hamilton, you should head home."
Saved by the bell. Or by Finn, anyway. That man has impeccable timing.
"I'll, uh, see you tomorrow."
"Yeah, I'll see you."
I just hope we can pick up with out the awkwardness. I've enjoyed hanging out with Hamilton. With having someone like him to hang out with maybe this summer session won't be such a drag.