disclaimer: I have no right to do this

Jake wasn't so bad. He turned out to be a sympathetic listener, who drew Hamilton into talking about anything and everything. They went outdoors, and, cross legged in the Dean's private garden, Ham told him how weird it all was. The light that day was very golden and everything in the small enclosure looked as distinct as the objects in a medieval tapestry. A dog nudged Jake to be petted, as he offered to give Ham the lowdown on unofficial Rawley. "There's so much the staff are clueless about" Jake sounded matter of fact.

"That's reassuring" Ham said sarcastically. He leaned forward suddenly and tweaked Jake's baseball cap off.

Jake grabbed, a moment too late. "Why'd you do that, man?"

"I couldn't see your face." The dog got the cap. "I'm a photographer. I need to see things."

"Really."

He'd made a misstep. "Put the stupid cap back on."

Jake arched an eyebrow. "I'll pass; it's covered in dog drool."

Ham felt uncomfortable. He shifted, and said "What don't the teaching staff know?" Jake had a dry way of mocking everything Hamilton had been told to take seriously. He didn't know what to say back without sounding like some stupid kid.

"They don't know anything" Jake told him with relish. "Ryder has regular gambling-"

"Ryder!"

"You remember? Oh wait. You knew him before." Jake had pressed him a couple of times now, about whether the doctors expected him to recover his memories.

Jake was saying Ryder was running some kind of amateur casino. Hamilton didn't get why the other guys were covering for the jerk. He'd spent years at the dinner table listening to his folks discussing dealing with stuff like this.

It used to be, he wouldn't have told his Dad either, but that was then. He knew how to talk to his Dad now, and he totally could explain things.

Openmouthed, Jake heard him out. "I thought you said you weren't a narc."

"What? I'm not."

Jake regarded him, cautious, judging.

"I can keep a secret. It's just, I don't owe Ryder anything. Do I?"

Jake grunted.

"Tell me he's changed." Ham didn't have much hope.

Jake shook his head. "Nah. He failed English, so he's retaking Lit class. With us."

Hamilton flung himself on his back and groaned dramatically. He closed his eyes.

"He'll never graduate. He'll be retaking Finn's Lit class when he's forty." Jake had a low, smooth voice.

"Making my life a misery" Hamilton grumbled.

"Hey, you'll be out of here by then, dude."

Ham looked up and Jake was grinning at him. It was infectious. He found himself smiling back. "I'm going to be retaking Finn's class when I'm forty." Whatever he said about a poem or a book was wrong. Finn was cool and everything, but Hamilton was starting to feel really dumb.

Jake shook his head and changed the subject. "Let's move. Marcus and the guys should be playing football on the south lawn. Think we should go join them?"

That evening, Ham's parents were delighted by his suggestion that he start attending summer session.

:

Ham couldn't sleep. All the lessons he remembered were one on one home schooling. He'd envied guys in class. Apart from anything else, if their attention wandered, they didn't get called on it right away. He had this memory of English class on a raft on the lake. Someone else was answering a question - unnecessarily fully, in his opinion - and he was watching light reflect off the water and feeling a warm summer breeze on his skin. Or that could be a daydream. He did a lot of that.

Lit class. His answers never impressed Finn much in the tutorials he remembered. Every comment he made was wrong or trivial. He was afraid he might be stupider than the other guys. If class was going to be one long humiliation this summer would suck. Mom said he was smart, but her opinion didn't prove anything.

He'd been in classroom teaching. He'd had a year of this.

Yes, but he'd forgotten it.

He'd made friends. This was going to be so weird, total strangers who might be friends. Or not. Easier to make a fresh start. Mom kept saying that "a fresh start," like putting a positive spin on it. OK. He had done this, so he could do this.

Dad kept asking him school questions now, and he got them right, mostly. He knew the work.

He just didn't know how he'd measure up.

Fresh start. He could do this.

The crack on the ceiling was shaped just like the coastline of Florida.

He was thinking too much.