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Dustin banged his locker open and pulled on a muscle tee that Bren was sure hadn’t seen a washing machine since last year.

“It’s unfair, right? Pulling high eighties, built like this.” He slapped his chest like it was the hood of a car and flared his nostrils. “And I’ve got that Barry White baritone,” he sang in the lowest part of his register, while making what Bren could only assume were bedroom eyes. If he wasn’t built like a tackle bag covered in shag carpet, it might have done something for him. It was something to think about if Arlo ever wanted to grow a beard.

“D’you do it last year too, or are you just stalkin’ me?”

It was a fair question. Between the three classes they shared and the fact that he usually made an appearance on days when Bren decided to hit the weightroom, the two of them were seeing more than their fair share of each other.

“Do you guys not have friends in Ireland or something?” he asked, shutting his locker with a punch. “And I’ve been in the musical every year since grade nine. When you’ve got legs like mine, you don’t hide ’em. It’s why A.J. and me are buddies.”

“Your legs?” Bren tried not to snort. He’d told Arlo that Dustin had said they were buddies after he’d first mentioned it. The news seemed to surprise the lad as much as anyone, although Arlo did admit that he thought Dustin was, “OK as far as jocks go.”

“How come you’re here buggin’ me and not at choir practice with him then?” Bren asked as they left the locker room. The school’s weight room was next door, and they were surrounded by clanking steel when Dustin answered.

“Between hockey, musicals and staying buff for the ladies?” he asked, flexing his arm again. “I don’t wanna spread my thickness too thin.”

A guy in a sweat-drenched T-shirt and a pair of black shorts scoffed as he racked his weights. “Bro, Sarah dumped you ’cause you kept bailing on her for fag-practice.”

The slur made Bren’s back tense but he did his best to shake it off. It helped when Dustin reached over and punched the guy in the arm.

“Alan here’s pissy cause he couldn’t hack Mikado in grade ten. And cool it with the fag talk, Bren’s half gay.”

Bren couldn’t decide if he was thankful or wanted to give him a punch of his own.

Alan grunted.

“My bad.” He nodded to Bren like they’d reached some kind of understanding and leaned back against the machine he’d been using. “But they wanted to put us in dresses, man. I don’t know what else to call that other than faggy.”

Bren’s fist clenched. He’d let shite like this fly with Cian and look where that’d gotten him.

Again, Dustin beat him to the punch.

“Seriously, man. Watch it or Ireland’s going to have to kick your ass.”

Alan didn’t seem to know what to make of the threat, and Bren was right there with him. In the end, he laughed about it.

“Nah, I can take a joke. Just haven’t heard one yet.” Bren grabbed a pair of thirty-pound dumbbells—unsure if they were the same as the fifteen kilos he’d been using back in Ireland.

“You want a joke?” Dustin said, picking up the fifties and curling them. “Wait till dress rehearsals. I’ll pull it off, but this body wasn’t built for spandex.”

Alan groaned like his soul was leaving his body. “Now I need brain-bleach. Fuck you.”

“How do you think I feel?” Bren asked as his arms reached failure. He let the weights fall to the floor with a clunk. “I’m gonna have to watch him jigglin’ up close.”

“Just ’cause I’m not all twiggy doesn’t mean I jiggle when I wriggle,” Dustin grunted as he racked his dumbbells. “How’re the baby weights treating you, by the way?”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck me for not being built like a fridge, like,” Bren said, debating if he should go for the fifties for his next set.

“I’d be more offended if chick’s didn’t dig it.” Dustin bounced his chest and gave Bren a grin before nodding towards Alan. “And, you know, the musical’s like eighty percent chicks, right? Gonna be drowning in spandex and pussy.” His face brightened. “Both kinds.”

Bren laughed, but Alan just shook his head.

“Whatever you say, man. Still gonna leave that fag”—his eyes darted towards Bren whose jaw clenched—“theater stuff to you.”

“More for me and Ireland.”

Bren managed to duck the arm that Dustin tried to throw around him this time.

“Or the half of him that’s into chicks, anyway.”