today.”
Wagner chewed on this for a minute. Then he said, “You’re very lucky you have such a good friend, Mr. Lopez.”
Auggie tried to melt into his seat.
“Not everyone gets that kind of special treatment,” Wagner said before turning back to the board, where he began scribbling dates again.
“Oh my God,” Auggie whispered, his eyes screwed shut.
“Forget that old fuck,” Theo whispered, “and open your eyes and take some notes.”
After that, Auggie assumed class couldn’t get any worse. But Wagner had clearly marked Auggie for punishment, and his retribution took the form of questions.
“When was the first, unauthorized quarto version published? Anyone? Mr. Lopez?”
Auggie’s mind went blank. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
A few minutes later: “And, of course, the authorized quarto was published, yes, anyone? Mr. Lopez?”
“I’m—I’m sorry.”
“I thought maybe you were late because you were doing the reading,” Wagner said with a kind of ghoulish glee. “I see that I was wrong.”
Auggie sank down in his seat.
“1609,” Theo whispered.
“What?”
“The third quarto was printed in 1609, and it’s the version the editors of the First Folio used in 1623.”
Auggie shook his head.
“He’s going to ask you,” Theo said; Wagner was still droning on about the authorized quarto.
“I did the reading. I did it, Theo. I swear to God.”
“I know.”
It was the way he said it, so matter of fact, that helped more than the words themselves.
“And of course,” Wagner said, “the third quarto emerged in, yes, Mr. Lopez, I’m sure you can help us with this one.”
“1609.”
Wagner stared at him for a long, silent moment. Then his gaze slid to Theo. “Well, we can’t all have the TA sitting next to us, can we?” Then he began to talk about the textual variations of the third quarto.
Auggie started to pack up his laptop.
Theo’s hand was warm when it closed around his wrist. The calluses were always a surprise; somehow Auggie forgot, again and again, how rough Theo’s hands could be.
“Don’t give him the satisfaction,” Theo said.
“I’m getting you in trouble,” Auggie said.
Theo rolled his eyes. “Wagner couldn’t get me in trouble even if he wanted to. He’s a thug and a drunk, and he’s taking out his complete failure at life on you.”
Auggie grabbed his backpack.
“Don’t you dare put the laptop away,” Theo said, squeezing Auggie’s wrist. “Your ass is staying in that seat, and you’re going to take notes and get an A in this class.”
“What the hell kind of teaching assistant are you?”
“The kind that specializes in bullying smart but annoying undergraduates into reaching their full potential. Laptop open, Auggie. You’re missing stuff that will be on the test.”
The class got better after that. Not much, but better. Theo didn’t stick around to talk; he was out the door before Auggie had finished packing up his stuff. Auggie thought he might find him downstairs, where they could talk without Wagner listening to them, but Theo was gone.
Auggie dug out his phone and checked Snapchat. He was surprised to see he’d gained over a thousand followers in the last hour. And he was even more surprised to see a snap from dylan_j199. It was clearly an answer to Auggie’s first snap: it showed Dylan in bed, his blond curls tousled, his eyes sleepily half open, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He’d scrawled across the bottom of the snap, nice way to wake up.
Auggie hesitated. Then he took a snap of himself grinning and giving a goofy thumbs up and scribbled very nice and sent it back.
16
After the debacle in Wagner’s class, the rest of Theo’s day had been smooth sailing. He went to Downing, saw Lana, and made it back in time for class. He was taking a class on Renaissance lyric poetry and another class on the Victorian novel; the Victorian class was a required one, which meant reading a lot of ‘greatest hits’ along with a generous helping of Matthew Arnold. When classes were over, Theo held his office hour—nobody came, which he assumed was partly because it was the first week and partly because he was only a teaching assistant—and then biked home a little before five.
Cart’s truck was in the driveway, and Theo did some mental juggling as he coasted to a stop. The day was hot, the air thick with humidity, and the chickweed and dandelions in Theo’s front lawn were growing rampant in what was for them perfect conditions. The summer perfume of charcoal and searing meat floated to him from the back of the house. Theo wiped sweat from