Though the study dates were still few and far between compared to their other activities, Nathan did get over his hesitation at coming to the Crocker house, and learned to ignore Duke's grandmother on the way up the stairs to the bedroom. One day when he arrived, there was a new picture nailed to the wall over the bed, one of those 3D prints showing a jungle. He stared at it for a while, trying to see the hidden animals, until a bored Duke decisively turned his face around and kissed him.

"Get to work, Nathan," he said. "Today's subject is French. Agenouille-toi, ma chérie!"

"I'm pretty sure you mean 'mon cher'," said Nathan, but sank down on his knees as Duke had told him. "And how do you speak French at all? You're never in class."

"Movies," Duke said. "Ouvrez grand la bouche!"

"Like what, Godard?"

"Like all sorts of movies. Nikita, Jean de Florette, Zombie Lake. Have you seen that one? It's really bad. Like really bad, even for a movie called Zombie Lake. But I liked Nikita, she was badass."

"And in which movie did you learn to say 'kneel and open your mouth wide'?

Duke smirked. "I don't remember."

"So you watch French porn too? Where do you get them?"

"Canadian imports. Less talking, more blowing! We'll hold off the French for later."

Nathan obeyed, though he had a hard time sticking to the task, since Duke chose to express himself in exaggerated French-Canadian porn star exclamations. When he felt Duke ejaculate into his mouth, he pulled back, spat, and finally allowed himself to laugh.

"You're killing me."

"I'm killing you? You're the one who kept laughing with my dick in your mouth!"

"You've only yourself to blame." Nathan sat down with his back to the bed and shook his head. "If you want to learn French, why not just go to class?"

"Because I'd be too bored to actually learn anything," Duke said and pulled his pants back up. "Come on, Nate, you don't go there to learn how to speak French, you go to get a grade that says you can speak French. I don't care about that stuff. I want to go to the places they actually do speak French, like Québec, and France..."

"You're gonna use porn phrases in those places?" Nathan asked.

"...North Africa," Duke continued, undeterred. "They speak French in North Africa, don't they?"

"I think they mostly speak Arabic."

"Well, I could learn that too," Duke said, his eyes glittering. "One day, I'll leave this shithole behind, and I'll see it all. Learn from places by being there, not from from some classroom lecture. Start a new life, finally be free. I could learn all sorts of languages. Spanish – that covers all of Latin America."

"Except Brazil, yeah," Nathan said. The thought of Duke leaving felt a bit weird, but it would have to be more than a year down the road, after they graduated, and a lot could happen before then.

"And Russian, and maybe something really out there, like Japanese."

"Why Russian?" Nathan asked, and joked, "Do you want to defect? 'Cause Soviet's not really a thing anymore."

Duke grinned. "Ya govoryu na russkom. I only want to learn more. My mom is Russian, remember?"

The truth was, Nathan barely remembered Duke's mom at all, beyond a vague recollection of having met her once or twice when they were little.

"Do you talk to her often?" he asked and peered up at Duke, though he cursed his curiosity when he saw the grin fade away.

"Hardly ever," Duke said, his expression unreadable.

Nathan tried to picture Duke's mom, but instead raised memories of his own, the old loss welling up inside him with full force. It had been years before he stopped talking to his mom, and she hadn't even been alive to listen. He couldn't imagine what it was like to have a mom who was still there, and not take advantage of that. And as far as the gap between him and his father felt sometimes, at least they talked to each other.

"Do you miss her?" he asked, his voice rougher than he'd have wanted.

Duke stared out the window and answered softly: "I never could understand... yeah, Dad asked for custody, but she didn't have to give it to him. Wade and Aaron's mom didn't. Then after he died, she let Grandma take over... I asked Mom why, and she said, 'You're a Crocker, you should be raised as one.' Like we're the fucking Kennedys. What the hell did Dad ever accomplish except get drunk and treat everyone like dirt? She just never wa..."

He broke off, and when his eyes met Nathan's, it seemed an even chance whose tears would brim over first.

"Do you know who I miss?" Duke asked. "Your mom."

That settled the matter, as Nathan's tears fell, burning and heavy.

"What?"

"She was like one of those TV moms. Like in the winters, when we went playing and she'd make hot chocolate and sandwiches. Sorry." Duke shook his head. "Shouldn't I talk about her?"

"No – do," Nathan pleaded, starved for a conversation he never got to have.

"She made them for all of us," Duke said, his voice filled with wonder. "Not just you. Like we mattered to her."

Nathan remembered those playdates. He remembered the one, in particular, where he'd broken his arm and had to go to the hospital. Mom had been so worried when she arrived, and hugged him as hard as she dared around his cast, but he hadn't been able to feel a thing. The way her hair smelled still lingered in his memory, though, and the little sniffle she tried to hide when she gave him her thank-God-you're-all-right smile. Then she'd turned and given Duke a hug too, for taking him there, and at first Duke had stood with his arms hanging like he didn't know what to do with himself, but then that too-cocky expression had died and he'd hugged back. The memory was so clear, now, and yet Nathan hadn't thought of it in ages.

"She really liked kids," he said.

"Yeah. She was... she was something else." Duke hesitated, and then said, "You know, I don't think I ever told you I'm sorry... for your loss and all that. But I am."

Nathan turned his face away and buried it in the blanket hanging down from the bed. Through the mattress, he could feel Duke shift and slide down to the floor, and then an arm wrapped around his shoulder as Duke settled with his chest against Nathan's back.

They didn't speak or move, yet when Nathan finally got a grip on himself and let go, he felt exhausted. Any further studies were out of the question, and he walked down the stairs with the homework still undone in his backpack.

"Are you Max's boy?"

The old woman had never spoken to him before, and it took Nathan a moment to react and turn around. The TV was on as usual, showing some daytime soap or other, but her attention was entirely on him. He wondered if dhe'd heard what they'd got up to in the bedroom, and squirmed a little at the thought.

"Uh... I'm Nathan Wuornos. I've been studying with Duke."

She raised her eyebrows. "Ellington?"

Was she pulling his leg? Her expression didn't give him any clues either way.

"Your Duke. Your grandson?"

"I know my grandson," she snapped. "Don't be a smartass. If you're studying, why are you down here?"

"We're, uh, done," he said, which was most definitely a lie. "I'm on my way home."

"So go home! Who's stopping you? I'm not stopping you." She waved him off, with a flick of her hand.

There wasn't really any way to counter that, so he mumbled, "Goodbye, Mrs. Crocker," and left.

Outside the house, he stopped to rub away the last puffiness from his eyes and laugh a little at the bizarre conversation. That was the strangest, most heart-wrenching and least productive visit he'd had at Duke's... but somehow, also the best one.

"Are you coming to Paul's party on Friday?" Hannah asked, intercepting Nathan in the hallway.

Nathan paused to think about it. Most of the time, when guys like Paul had parties, he didn't get invited, which solved the problem of whether to go or not. This time, though, Paul's parents were out of town and the party was open to anyone who brought their own liquor, no invitation needed. Which left only two problems. One was, he had no idea where to get alcohol. The other...

"Dad wouldn't let me anywhere near that party," he said.

Hannah laughed. "Well, you wouldn't tell him. Officially, I'm staying at Jeannine's. A whole bunch of us are. Her sister – who sounds eerily like her mother – is covering for us."

"So you're going?" If Hannah could run a con believable enough to fool her father, Nathan should be able to as well. When it came to suspicions of ongoing vice, even a cop didn't have anything on the reverend. "What about the booze thing?"

"Oh, I've got that covered. I know where my dad hides the whiskey."

His first assumption was that she was joking, but her wicked grin didn't indicate so much joke as juicy secret, and he came to the astounding conclusion that she was telling the truth.

"Whiskey. Your dad?"

"There's a lot you don't know about my dad."

"Clearly. I may have to see this, to believe it."

"I don't think I can find enough for two, though," Hannah said with an apologetic grimace. "But I can at least get Jeannine's sister to cover for you too. I don't think sleepover would work very well, but she could claim to be driving you home. It's twenty bucks a call, but you've got that, right?"

"Yeah."

Would his dad believe a mature-sounding sister pretending to be a mom? Nathan supposed it was worth a try. Further down the hallway, he could see Duke with the McShaw brothers, little Julia Carr on the sidelines, hoping to be included. There were times he felt a lot like that around Duke. It occurred to him that Duke would surely be at the party, and that it was a chance to observe him in another kind of environment.

"I guess I could try," he said.

"Great! I'll feel so much better knowing you're there. I mean, I'll be with the others, no sweat, but if someone is shitty to me you'll punch them, right?"

"Absolutely," he promised. "Likewise?"

She smiled and curled her hand into a fist. "You bet."

Once Nathan had made up his mind, it was a lot easier than he had feared to get permission for the party. Following Hannah's advice, he bribed Jeannine's sister to call his father pretending to be her own mother, and just to make sure, he told her to say that the party was at Robbie's.

His dad seemed to be occupied with some major case, because he didn't react much when Nathan asked about the party. After listening to "Jeannine's mom" on the phone, he asked for the class photo, and Nathan brought it to him.

"Hm," Dad grunted, studying Robbie with a raised eyebrow. "That's the kid?"

Nathan wondered if it was too painfully obvious that Robbie would never host a party – at least not one with any guests – but there was no doubt that his dorky appearance was a lot more trustworthy than Paul's.

The calloused finger moved from Robbie's face to Jeannine's and tapped the page thoughtfully. "Pretty girl."

"Yeah," Nathan said, trying not to fidget under his dad's steady gaze.

"All right, then. Back by midnight, was it? Normally, I would have said eleven, but since Mrs. Atkinson is kind enough to drive you, I suppose it won't hurt to follow her rules, just this once."

Too much relief would be suspicious, but Nathan allowed himself a smile. "Thanks, Dad!"

With that out of the way, alcohol was a minor obstacle by comparison. Nathan chose the obvious course and asked Duke, who agreed without any sign of surprise. On the day of the party, Nathan realized why, when he came to the meeting point and found three other kids already there, nervously fumbling with their illicit gains.

Nathan handed over his money and got a bottle of vodka instead, along with a smile broader and friendlier than Duke usually awarded Nathan around people.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Wuornos. See you tonight!"

"Yeah... see you," Nathan said, wishing everyone would just disappear so he could catch that smile in his mouth. But since they didn't, all he could do was walk away, his excitement about the party a little bit stronger still.