“Hence all the Latin.”
He nodded. He hadn’t touched the cocktail I’d made him, because I’d poured myself only water. He never drank unless I did.
“Speaking of incorporation,” I said, “how’s your roommate?”
“Doesn’t talk much. I’m trying to loosen him up, but there’s no big parties because of the fires. And the wholeTomthing annoys him.”
Tom’s roommate was the eldest son of a Guyanese diplomat, Thomas Clive Gibbs, a first-generation Hellion and a long shot for incorporation. Aunt Minerva at Campus Housing thought that sharing a first name would spur a connection.
“Someone called him Black Tom. He was not pleased. I don’t much like White Tom either. Anyway, he’sThomasnow. I’ve lost my extra syllable permanently.”
“Noted. What’s he into?”
“Avoiding other human beings. He reads a lot of books about cricket, which is some kind of sport.”
“Talk to Rishabh Seth. He’s obsessed.”
“Noted,” he echoed me. Because it was Tom, it was respectful, not mocking. He’d always copied everything me and Sebastian did.
Hopefully, that would apply to Care as well.
“Thomas reads engineering journals for fun. He should be at MIT, except he can’t handle any kind of pressure. Not even having a paper graded.”
“You can use that,” I said.
“When I mirror the way he speaks, I sound like a toffy-nosed twat, explaining the abstruse, obtusely.” He shuddered.
“You should hear me and Faraday, dear.”
“How’d you get her to trust you?”
“All the ways Minerva taught us. Memorized everything about her family, listened to her dreams, made her feel seen.”
Tom looked out the window at the smoky sky. “I don’t think Thomaswantsto be seen. He’d rather curl up in bed with a book of cricket stats.”
“Then put yourself in his shoes,” I said.
Tom turned back to me, frowning at the unfamiliar phrase. “You mean, pretend likeI’mscared of everything?”
“Pretend, but only in your head.”
I gave Tom a moment of silence, letting him imagine what it was like to be an ordinary, anxious boy, afraid of tests, competition, grades.
He shook his head. “That’s fucking weird.”
“It takes time,” I said, wondering if all those hours I’d spent mirroring Faraday had taught me to care for her, a little. “But you’ll get used to it. That’s what Minerva means when she sayslisten.”
Tom crossed his arms. “Seems like a lot of work.”
He was obedient though. He would take up this small task of empathy. Maybe a little of Thomas’s uncertainty would rub off on him.
“Welcome to college,” I said, “where you get your assumptions challenged.”
My door sprang open.
“Jessica!” cried Faraday, reeking of brush smoke. Her face glistened with sweat, and a mask hung from her left ear. “It’s an emergency!”
I turned to Tom. “See you later?”
