11:45 PM, Thursday night

The phone rang in Gary Reynold's apartment. He had almost fallen asleep when it startled him awake. Blearily, he reached for it.

"'ello?" he said.

"Gary? It's Chris." The voice sounded impossibly young and very feminine. Who was this? Then he remembered. It was that new girl in the English department. The bouncy, blonde, impossibly enthusiastic, 22 year-old. Christine Rankin.

Who would have guessed that folktales could be so interesting to 18 year old boys? But this fall, every senior had tried to transfer into her class.

"Hello, Chris," he replied. "It's…" he squinted at the clock, "almost midnight. This can't be good."

"I'm on duty over at Loomis tonight," she said. "I was doing my last round of the dorm before going home and Sean Creeney is nowhere to be found. His roommate said he might be over in Robinson."

Robinson was Gary's dorm - he had been dorm-master for the last ten years, and a dorm advisor for a decade before that. Robinson was one of the older dorms on campus and it was slated to be rebuilt in the next few years. He did not like thinking about that. He liked the beat up woodwork, the ratty 1970's brown carpet, the graceful wrap around porch, all testaments to a different era. Robinson was not like the sleek, boxy new buildings that seemed to be growing out of the dirt every time he turned around.

Gary bit his lip. Sean Creeney was trouble. A legacy. His dad was on the Board. The new athletic center was named after his grandfather. He was a mediocre student at best and last year, when he had failed to pass his science class, Gary had been called into the dean's office to explain the failing grade Sean had earned. It had been a heated discussion, and in the end, Sean had a C in the class and Gary had been tooth-spitting mad.

With a sigh he sat up in bed. "I'll go look for him. Call you back in fifteen."

Pulling on a bathrobe and slippers, he opened the door that connected his apartment to the common areas of Robinson dorm. The lights were out and the log book was lying open on the entry desk. The on-duty teacher of the night was already gone, but as he glanced at the book, he saw that Sean had signed in three hours ago and never signed out. With a sigh, Gary tightened his robe and started up the stairs.

He did not want to knock on every door. The younger boys were supposed to be asleep and the older ones were probably finishing up their homework. He started by just walking the halls, to see if he could hear anything. As luck would have it, he did not have far to go. Near the end of the second floor hall, he heard, "Oh god…" and "Yes…don't stop…" Without thinking about whose door he was outside of, he opened it.

"What is…" he started to demand as he opened the door. The smell of whiskey hit him and he saw Sean sitting on the bed, legs spread and…oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck. "…going..." The rest of his words died in his mouth. He suddenly remembered whose room this was. TJ-fucking-Hammond, the President's son. The President's son! A mid-year transfer, rumor had it he had been thrown out of his last school. T.J. Hammond was on his knees, his back to the door.

Sean, at least, had the sense to lurch to his feet, grabbing his discarded pants to cover himself.

Behind him, the Secret Service agent who lived in the next dorm room over shoved his way through the door.

Gary took one look at Sean and managed to soak his words with as much scorn as he could muster. "Creeney, for god's sake. Use a fucking condom." He turned his back on the boys and leaned towards the agent. "Let me handle this?"

The agent looked from TJ to Creeney to Gary and then nodded. "I am going to have to call this in."

Gary shrugged. "You do that," he said. He turned back to the boys. Creeney had pulled on his pants and TJ was kneeling on the floor, trembling.

"Creeney, you missed check-in. Ms. Rankin is looking for you."

Creeney glanced at the clock and then back at Gary. "Shit," he said. The fact that he did not spare a glance for TJ, made Gary hate him even more.

Gary shook his head at the boy. "You get back over to Loomis and talk with Mr. Fitch. I am sure he will be interested in finding out why you made Ms. Rankin late."

Creeney at least had the manners to look abashed. Ducking his head, he slipped past Gary. Gary looked down at TJ, resting his hand gently on his shoulder. The boy did not look up but he felt the shuddering calm under his touch.

"The alarm is set." Gary said. "I have to let him out." TJ looked up, his eyes bloodshot and his expression hooded and reserved. Gary tried to make his voice sound extra kind as he gave the kid's shoulder a squeeze. "Clean yourself up. I will be back to talk to you."

TJ bobbed his head. Gary followed Creeney down to the common room. He turned the alarm off and stood on the broad porch of the old brick building, watching Creeney make his way across the lawn. Shaking his head, he went back in, reset the alarm and dialed over Loomis. Chris answered on the first ring. "Chris?" he said, "It's Gary. "

"Did you find him," she asked?

"Yeah, he is on his way over now."

"What was going on?"

Gary sighed. "Nothing good. Send him to talk to John when he gets there, okay?" John Fitch was the dorm master in Loomis house. "I am going to have to call the dean on this one."

"Uh…okay." Chris replied. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Not now. I have to deal with the…" he had been about to say, "the Hammond boy" but he thought better of it. "the student in my dorm." Suddenly, it occurred to him that Creeney's dad may demand he be fired, for what he did tonight. "Look Chris, you don't want anything to do with this one. Trust me. Just send Creeney off to John, okay?"

"Uh, okay," she said.

"Talk to you tomorrow? And let me know if he gives you any cheek?"

"Sure," she said. "Ah, here he is."

With a sigh, Gary hung up and walked back up the stairs and down the hall to TJ's room, contemplating loosing his job as he walked. What would he do? Would another school have him? He ran his hand through his thinning hair and then dropped it to his side.

Gary stopped outside TJs door and knocked. He did not wait for a reply before he opened it.

TJ had straightened up, somewhat. The dirty clothes had been tossed in the hamper, the bottle sat capped on the desk. Another unopened one sat next to the first one. Gary had to give the kid points for that. Most kids would have dumped them, trying to pretend it had never been there, or they would have buried them under a particularly nasty pile of laundry, hoping the smell would protect their stash. TJ sat on his bed, his elbows on his knees, his head propped up on his hands. He looked up as Gary came in.

Gary sat next to him on the bed. "Want to tell me about it?"

TJ looked at his hands. "I'm going to get expelled, aren't I?"

Gary shrugged. "Hard to say. It'll go to the Honor Committee. It's your first offense, so if you tell them the truth it might not be so bad."

TJ stared at the floor. "Will my parents find out?"

Gary looked at TJ. "About what?" he asked.

"All of it. The drinking the… the rest."

Gary nodded. "Yeah. They are going to find out. You are probably going to get suspended for a day or two for the" he waved vaguely at the bottles on the table. "Even if you weren't the President's son and you did not have your own security detail, they'd find out."

Silently, TJ nodded. Gary watched him twist his fingers, twining them into each other and he remembered this kid was supposedly some kind of piano genius. He had played in chapel a couple of times at the urging of the chaplain and his playing had been fluid and beautiful, like a waterfall.

Gary started to get up, when TJ said, "Mr. Reynolds" Gary sat back down and looked at him. "Is it true?" TJ asked. "What they say about you?"

Gary's eyes widened. His pulse was suddenly pounding. He knew what was coming next. He tried to say, "And what do they say about me?" lightly, like he did not care, but his voice cracked and shook. He balled his hands into fists, stuffed deep in his robe pockets.

"That…that you are gay."

Gary took a deep breath and let it out as he stood. "Now is not the time for this, TJ. Go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be horrible."

Mutely, TJ nodded. Gary could feel the hopeful eyes, begging for a connection, drilling into his back as he got up. No. He was already in enough trouble. A middle aged teacher? That would really put the nail in his coffin. Who was going to hire him if that got out?

Walking out of the room, Gary picked up the bottles, one in each fist. He probably should have searched the room, but he just did not have the heart for it tonight. He dragged his feet back to his apartment, hating himself. To top it off, he had to wake up the dean of students. Fantastic.

Friday, 1:00 PM

They were standing in the wood-paneled foyer of the library. The walls were covered in wood squares, twelve inches on a side, each one carved by a graduate of the school. This room had panels from the 1930s. Darkened with age, but not so different than the modern panels, these panels told the stories of wealth in a decade of poverty.

The panels were one of the things Gary liked about The Guillory School, the little bits that each kid left behind, echoing over the years. Each one told a story, each one reminded him that even though he taught the sons of wealth, even though these young men came from families with access power that he could not even imagine, no matter how much money they had, no matter how spoiled rotten they were, they were still just kids. Each with his own dreams, each struggling to figure out who he was in a world that wanted to define him.

TJ was facing the wall, his eyes glassy and unseeing as he stared at the panels. He was dressed in the maroon jacket and tie of a Guillory man and he looked good in the blazer. Unlike many of the boys who looked gawky and uncomfortable, TJ wore the uniform well.

Gary walked over to him and put a hand on TJ's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Just tell the truth, TJ. Things will be a lot worse if you don't."

TJ nodded tightly. "Not my first HC hearing."

"At your other school?"

"Yeah," TJ replied.

Gary wanted to ask what had happened, but the door to the reading room opened and the dean of students, chair of the Honor Committee, stood in the doorway. "Mr. Hammond?" he said.

TJ looked up and met Gary's eyes. Gary gave him a tight smile. Squaring his shoulders, TJ walked into the hearing.

Friday Evening, 7:00 PM

Gary poured himself a glass of red wine. He stood at his kitchen counter, watching the burgundy liquid swirl in the clear glass. Try as he might, he could not get brave, stoic, sad posture of TJ Hammond walking into the HC hearing out of his mind.

After the hearing, Gary had walked with TJ over to the chapel. He had not had any classes, and TJ was excused for the day. He had sat in the back of the white-walled building, half heartedly grading tests as the sunlight streamed through the two story clear glass windows. TJ had sat at the piano and played, the music just flowing out of his fingers, song after song. Gary had been amazed that he had never faltered and never stopped to take out sheet music.

When the bell rang for dinner, TJ had begged off, saying he was exhausted and he was going back to his room to sleep. Gary had gone on to dinner in the dining hall.

Now, the door of his apartment stood open to the common areas. He could hear the babble of boys wrestling over the TV remote and discussing what sort of pizza they were going to order. Gary was just considering turning on the TV himself to see what was on when the phone rang.

Had the HC made their decision? They'd call him and he and TJ would go over to hear their verdict. Nervously, he lifted the phone. "Hello?"

A cultured woman's voice replied, "I am sorry to call you on a Friday night, but is this Mr. Reynolds?"

"Speaking," he said.

"Oh, good. This is Elaine Hammond, TJ's mother."

Gary stifled a smile, despite it all. The fact that the First Lady had called herself TJ's mother was almost too much. Like there were many Elaine Hammonds who might call him and he had to be sure to understand which one he was talking to. But then he suddenly was talking to the wife of the president and he had a flood of nerves.

"Ah, hello, mam," he replied, hoping his voice did not shake. His mind was racing. Oh god, what is she going to ask me?

"I just wanted to check in with you about TJ," she said. "I spoke with the Dean of Students twice today, but he does not really know him," she said. Gary took a deep breath, thinking wildly, neither do I!. "How is he doing?"

"Well," Gary replied, trying to find something to say. "The waiting is hard. I was hoping when the phone rang that it would be the HC, er, the Honor Cabinet, calling us in with a decision. After the hearing, he went and played piano for a few hours. I think he is in his room, sleeping now. Surely the Secret Service can..."

"I am sure they could tell me, too, but I wanted to talk with you."

"Oh."

"Is there anything you can tell me about the…uh…boy he was with?"

Gary opened his mouth and then shut it with a snap. "I'm sorry, mam. I can't."

"I understand," she said. "And thank you. If the media gets word of this…" She paused. The silence grew uncomfortable and Gary had been about to assure her that no one from the school would talk to the media, when she said, "Well, will you let us know when a decision has been reached?"

"Of course," he said.

"Thank you, Mr. Reynolds."

His pulse was still pounding and he still had the receiver dangling from his hand when he heard a knock on the open door. Absently, he put down the phone and called, "Come in!"

TJ walked in, carrying a can of Coke.

"Oh, TJ," he said. "Your mother just called me."

TJ smiled with an expression that did not reach his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said.

Affecting nonchalance he did not feel, Gary said, "No worries. What's up?"

TJ shrugged. "I was wondering if I could hang out here?"

"Sure," Gary said. He gestured at the can. "What's in there?"

TJ frowned. "Uh…Coke?"

"Just Coke. No…extras? No booze?"

TJ shook his head. "No, Mr. Reynolds. Just bubbles and sugar."

Gary was not sure if he believed him, but he decided to let it go. "I was just going to see if there was anything on TV."

TJ slumped onto the couch. "Okay."

Gary picked up his glass of wine and sat down next to TJ. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

TJ shrugged. "Sean told Chandler, who told everyone." TJ closed his eyes and Gary could see he was fighting tears. "I…Colin did not make me, you know. I wanted to. He wanted it too."

TJ opened his eyes and Gary met them, "It's not what everyone is saying."

Gary had no idea what everyone was saying.

Looking at him, found himself remembering being his age. Of having the crap beaten out of him by his father because of the way he dressed. Of hours standing in front of a mirror, trying to figure out how to stand like a man. Of taking a girl to the prom, and then having her be mad when nothing had happened in the limo afterwards. Of anonymous liaisons and backrooms in the days before AIDS. Of a habit of lonely celibacy he had cultivated in the years since. With a sigh, he put a hand on TJ's shoulder. "It will blow over," he offered.

TJ looked at him as he shook his head. "You don't know my family," he said. "They are insane."

Gary smiled slightly, reaching for his glass of wine. "I can't imagine. What it was like, growing up in the White House?"

TJ looked away, staring across the room. "When I was eight, it was pretty cool. Doug and I used to roller-skate in the East Room," he smiled at the memory. "And we met the coolest people. Every team that won the World Series. Movie stars. The Queen of England."

"Sounds fun."

"It was."

Was. Gary heard the finality of his tone. It was, but it is not anymore, and here was this kid, still trapped by his parents. A Guillory boy to the "T". With a sigh, he took a drink of his wine and picked up the remote. "Shall we see if anything is on?"

"Sure."

Two hours later, half a dozen boys sat around on the floor of Gary's living room, watching Alien, cheering loudly as each monster met its gruesome end. TJ had not moved from the couch. He was sitting with his knees drawn up against his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs, staring sightlessly at the TV.

The phone rang and both TJ and Gary jumped. None of the other boys even noticed as Gary got up to take the call in the kitchen. It was the dean of students. The Honor Committee wanted to see TJ at 10 AM.

Saturday, 1 PM

TJ's door was open as Gary walked up and he knocked on the doorframe. He could see TJ and the secret service agent inside. TJ was stuffing clothes and books into a backpack. He looked up as Gary stepped in.

"Hi Mr. Reynolds," TJ said.

"Hi TJ. You doing okay?"

"I guess."

"Two day suspension is not that bad."

"No," he agreed.

"Sean Creeney got expelled."

TJ looked up, his eyes hollowing and fearful. "I know."

"I thought that would be a good thing?"

TJ shook his head. "I was talking to Doug and he reminded me who Sean is."

Gary frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Sean's uncle is one of the biggest contributors to the GOP."

"What does that have to do with this?"

Smiling sadly, TJ shouldered his backpack. He offered his hand to Gary. Gary took it, giving it a firm shake before pulling the boy into a one armed hug. TJ said, "Thank you, Mr. Reynolds."

"What for?"

"For not understanding."

Gary frowned, "If you say so, TJ. See you Wednesday."

TJ nodded. "Sure thing."

Sunday night, 8 PM

Gary did not usually watch the news, but the rumor mill on campus had been running over all day. This morning, there had been TV trucks parked along the public road that bordered the athletic fields. Students had gawked and pointed, but faculty had steered them away. At the end of Chapel the headmaster had politely reminded the faculty and students alike about the prohibition against speaking to the media. A few hours later, the dean of students had called him and John Fitch into his office to find out what had been said to the boys before they left. Sometime around the middle of the day, word had come out that ABC News was doing a piece on Guillory tonight.

Many of the faculty had gathered to watch, either with kids in the dorms or in small groups in the larger faculty residences. But Gary was watching alone, a glass of whiskey in his hand. When they cut to TJ sitting on a couch, dressed in an impeccable suit, flanked by his parents, he took a large gulp.

Truth be told, he heard next to nothing of what Barbara Walters said or what the Hammonds replied. He watched the boy and he saw the square shoulders, the brave face. His mother put her arm around him. His father, ever the charmer, said that they supported him without question.

But he knew it was just a mask. Poor kid he thought. It's bad enough being a teenager, figuring it all out, but to have to do it in public? On national television? Poor kid.

Epilogue

Wednesday came and went and TJ did not return. A week later, a Secret Service agent appeared on campus and packed up his room.

Sean Creeney's father had come to talk to the headmaster about Gary, and John Fitch, and Christine Rankin, but in the end, the headmaster had prevailed and none of them lost their jobs.

The year ended, and another. Chris married a math teacher. John Fitch retired. The Hammond administration came to a close and for a few years, Gary forgot about TJ. A new wave of kids showed up each year to keep him busy. Then, TJ was in and out of the news again: when his mother bid for president, with a suicide attempt, and another. Each time Gary found himself wondering about the boy whom he had once briefly known, wishing he could have done more.

Three years after TJ left, another student asked him if he was gay, but this time, he answered the question. A year later, he came out in a chapel talk. A few years after that, he met Dave at a GLSEN conference. By the time marriage was an option, he and Dave were truly ready.

One day, in the spring of the year he was to retire, he opened his mailbox and pulled out a card. No return address. Puzzled, he tore it open.

The front was simple. Just a picture of a grand piano, in a large empty room, sunlight streaming in through a single window.

He opened it and read,

Dear Mr. Reynolds,

I hope this card finds you well.

I want to thank you for what you did for me. All these years later, after everything I have been through, and everyone I have hurt, I remember your gentle presence and kind support when I needed it. I have often thought of that afternoon, when you sat in the chapel listening to me play so I would not be alone, and the way you stood by during the waiting. Many other times, when I have done something stupid, I have found myself imagining you were still standing by my side. You can not imagine the relief that has brought me.

Thank you,

TJ Hammond

With shaking hands, Gary slumped back against the wall.