“What’d you get?”
Ramin blinked again. “Zero?”
Noah sighed with relief. “Okay. Me too.” He tried to play it cool, but he really wanted that B. A guy like Ramin who got A’s in everything could never understand that. “Thanks.”
“Sure.” Ramin hunched in on himself again. It made Noah feel weird. No, not weird. Bad? Sad? Definitely something unhappy. He didn’t want Ramin to hunch in on himself, though he couldn’t say why. Ramin just seemed like the kind of guy that shouldn’t have to hide.
The bell rang, and the rest of the class started shuffling out. One guy cuffed Ramin’s shoulder with his backpack. Another muttered something that sounded alarmingly like “Osama Bin Ramen” under his breath.
Okay, maybe Ramin had a good reason for hiding. Noah couldn’t imagine what it was like, being… Persian? Now that Noah thought about it, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure he knew. Regardless, ever since 9/11, people had been saying things about Ramin, or some of the other Middle Eastern students. Like they had anything to do with it. As if they weren’t just trying to get through high school like everyone else.
Something angry and fierce and protective (and maybe a little bit scary) bloomed in Noah’s chest and he stood, nearly knocking his desk over.
“What did you just say?”
Ramin hunched inward even more, which just made Noah madder. Ramin hadn’t done anything wrong. He didn’t deserve that.
“Nothing,” the guy said. Aaron something, that was his name. Noah didn’t like him much. He tried not to hate anyone, but…
“What’s your problem?” Aaron the jerk asked, but he brushed past Noah and out the door before Noah could articulate exactly what his problem was. Namely, the offensive nickname.
As the room emptied, Ramin relaxed a bit. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said softly.
“Sure I did.”
“Why?”
Noah shrugged. Why did he? Because it was right. Because Ramin didn’t deserve it. He didn’t know how to explain that, though, so he said, “Because I don’t like bullies.”
In the hall, a trio of his girlfriend Stacy’s friends walked by the open classroom door. They made brief eye contact with him, giggled, and started whispering to each other. Noah’s ears burned.
He didn’t like bullies, and he didn’t like gossip, either.
Ramin didn’t seem to care about that kind of stuff, though. Ramin might’ve been the only person in the whole school who hadn’t heard the rumors. And Noah liked that about him.
“Well,” Ramin said. “Thanks.”
Ramin smiled at him then, a real smile, one Noah didn’t think he’d ever seen before. He definitely would’ve noticed his dimples if he had. Not a lot of guys had dimples in their cheeks, just in their chins, like Noah did.
And not many people, period, had eyes as green as Ramin’s, like jade catching the light. Stacy had green eyes—she was kind of conceited about them—but they were like, gray-green, not true green like Ramin’s. The color of spring. Stacy’s weren’t nearly as striking. Noah could never tell her that, though.
Ramin was still smiling at Noah, though it had started to fade a bit. Noah smiled back, though.
“Any time, dude. See you tomorrow.”
Now
Noah couldn’t believe his eyes. He nearly took his hand off Jake’s head to rub at them.
If you had asked Noah before today whether he remembered anyone from high school, he would’ve said no. Which would have been half the truth: He certainly didn’tthinkabout anyone. But remember?
Turns out he did. One guy, at least.
He hadn’t seen Ramin Yazdani since graduation, but he knew those eyes. Jewel green, framed with long lashes, beneath heavy brows. A hint of dimples in his cheeks. Noah remembered those dimples. Ramin hadn’t smiled often, but when he had, those dimples really popped.
Noah and Ramin had only really become friends senior year, when Ramin’s mom got sick. Noah hadn’t seen that smile very often, so every time he managed to coax one out of Ramin had felt like a victory.
How on earth was Ramin here in Milan? Did he live here? He was dressed like a local, in a crisp blue polo and linen shorts. His small stud earrings caught the daylight. He was skinnier than he’d been in high school, and he sat up straighter now. He’d used to hunch over himself, like he was waiting for the world to punch him. (Granted, it kind of had.)
