Yet a Stranger (The First Quarto #2) - Gregory Ashe Page 0,23

the blackboard. He scrawled his name, Dr. Wagner, and glanced around until his eyes landed on Theo. Without a word, he handed Theo his briefcase and then shrugged out of his suit jacket and handed that to Theo too.

Auggie had seen that look on Theo’s face before. Once, it was when Theo discovered that Auggie had eaten all the rocky road ice cream.

“Oh shit,” Auggie whispered.

The girl in the next seat glared at him.

Dr. Wagner was as awful as he looked. He droned on, spending most of the first class reading the syllabus and punctuating his remarks with scathing anecdotes about students who had failed to live up to his expectations. Theo stayed frozen over the Riverside Shakespeare, only occasionally turning a page. After finishing the syllabus, Wagner explained the semester’s literary theme—something about nascent ephebophilia and the natural erotic potency of the adolescent, with a charming little riff about the first time he had masturbated. The whole thing sounded misogynistic and a little molesterish. Then a bell announced the end of class, and kids shot to the door.

Auggie waited for the crowd to clear, and then he started toward Theo and Wagner. Theo talked to Wagner in a quiet voice, shook his head to a question, nodded another answer, and then he limped out of the room. Auggie veered after him.

“Mr. Lopez,” Wagner called.

Oh shit, Auggie thought.

When he got closer, he could smell something like rubbing alcohol on Wagner. The professor’s eyes were whitish with cataracts, but his gaze was unpleasantly sharp as he focused on Auggie. “I understand that you and Mr. Stratford have a previous relationship.”

“No—I mean, we’re just friends.”

“Yes, well, just so we’re clear, I will be grading all of your work.”

“Yes, Dr. Wagner.”

“We don’t play favorites.”

“I understand, Dr. Wagner.”

“I could ask you to drop the class.”

And then Auggie understood. “No, please, Dr. Wagner. I can tell this is going to be a really great semester. Your literary theme is so interesting, and it’s a perfect fit for what I want to study.”

“This is a favor, you know. I have a TA so I don’t have to do the grading.”

“I know, Dr. Wagner. Thank you so much.”

“It’s really not fair to the other students.”

“I promise I’ll work really hard, and I know you’ll be tough but fair. All your online evaluations say that you are.”

“Yes, well.” Wagner stuffed himself into his jacket. “I suppose I am. Dismissed, Mr. Lopez.”

Auggie raced out of the room, but the halls of Tether-Marfitt were already emptying. No Theo. Auggie took the stairs down two at a time, thinking he might catch up with Theo because Theo was still limping, but he didn’t see him on the ground floor, and he didn’t see him outside. He checked his phone and saw that Theo still hadn’t replied.

Ok, Auggie thought. We can do it this way.

He went to Liversedge Hall next and took the elevator to the third floor. He passed the main office for the English Department and kept going to the end of the hall. The last door had a plaque next to it that said GRADUATE STUDENT OFFICE. Under the door, the lights were off, but Auggie knocked anyway.

No response.

Ok, Auggie thought. We can do it this way too. He started the route in his head: the library, the student union, Tether-Marfitt again to check the classroom from last year. And if none of those panned out, Auggie would head west to the street with the little brick house. Theo Stratford didn’t stand a chance.

12

Theo went to Downing Children’s Healthcare Center after Wagner’s horrible class. The bus ride gave him time to process the uncomfortable sheen of sexual arousal that had overlain Wagner’s lecture. At Downing, he packed up those thoughts and signed in, and then he spent a couple of hours with Lana. His daughter had been seriously hurt in the same car accident that had killed his husband, and although Lana was getting better, the doctors had warned Theo that the most serious disabilities were likely permanent. He held her, her little helmet bumping against his shoulder. He read to her. He checked her for bruises and for signs of bedsores. He didn’t cry anymore on the ride home, the way he had for much of the first year. He leaned against the window, watching the city ebb around him. The bus’s vibrations passed through his head; they ran all the way through him. Mostly, he felt hollow. By the time he got home, he had almost convinced